by C. G. Cooper
Anna stood at the top of the front steps and waved to her mother when she stepped out of the car. There was something funny in her look, like she was unsure of something. Anna wondered if her mother had been as nervous as she was. No way, she thought. My mom’s too cool for that.
Her next surprise came when the bald guy who’d stepped out of the passenger side door walked to the back of the limo, popped the trunk, and pulled out a wheelchair. Was someone hurt? Was her grandfather hurt?
Anna’s heart raced as she watched the man wheel the chair to the opposite side of the limo. He opened the door, bent down, and a moment later Anna saw the silvery white hair of someone being lifted out of the car. The bald man said something to the elderly man, who nodded in response. Anna still couldn’t see his face.
She’d been so entranced by the spectacle on the street that she hadn’t noticed her mother now stood next to her. She touched Anna on the arm.
“Anna, come inside. I must tell you something.”
“But Grandfather…”
“You will see him in a moment. Come.”
Anna took one look back and saw four men bending down to take hold of the wheelchair, whose back still faced the brownstone.
“What is it?” Anna asked as soon as they stepped inside.
There was pain in her mother’s eyes, sadness. A new thing for Anna.
“Your grandfather is not well,” her mother explained.
“Why? What happened?” Anna had so many questions and had to bite her tongue to keep them all from spilling out.
Her mother hesitated. “The people who had your grandfather were not kind. He is much different than the last time I saw him.”
Anna’s chest tightened. “Is he going to die?” she blurted.
Her mother smiled. “I don’t think so. Your grandfather is made of stone and sea. There are few things that can break him.”
Anna didn’t understand what that meant, but she nodded and turned back to the door. The servants had set the wheelchair down just inside the door, and Anna got her first glimpse of the man with silver hair. She inhaled sharply, taking a tentative step forward. He waited for her, and then nodded for Anna to come closer. She did, taking in every aspect of his shriveled body. But Anna quickly dismissed those things as her eyes came to rest on his. She inhaled again, and to her surprise, so did he. She felt caught, like an invisible magnetic beam had latched on to her and had frozen her body. And yet she felt herself moving, and he opened his arms. A moment later, she was hugging him and he was holding her to his chest.
Her tears ran freely and she felt wet droplets landing on the back of her head. A heart thumped steadily in the chest next to her ear and she listened like it would give her some insight into this man’s soul, her grandfather, a man she never knew existed. So when she pulled back and looked into his clear eyes again, eyes that she now realized looked just like hers, a feeling hit her like she’d been touched by a fairy’s wand. She knew it with every ounce of her being. She knew it more surely than she’d ever known anything in her life.
This was home. He was her home.
Chapter 19
We had the beginnings of a plan. Over coffee in a 24-hour diner the night before, Pastor Walker and I discussed our options. He was more engaged this time, offering suggestions and even poking little holes in my plan. It would’ve been easy to put him in his place, some of his ideas being plain ludicrous, but I let him talk. With each word he uttered, I saw the flickering bulb of bravery doing its best to come full on. He was trying. I was glad for that.
Our first mission was to recon the area and get a better idea of the security in and around Natasha’s home. The location was perfect for what I had in mind. Situated a block off of the Boston Common (Walker informed me that it is the oldest park in the country), any number of joggers and pedestrians would pass by the large brownstone on any given day. It was also right next door to the Massachusetts State House and the State Library. If I’d had more time I might’ve gone to public records to see what I could find, but my gut told me we didn’t have the luxury of an extended surveillance operation. Besides, the intel I’d gathered from the guy at the car wash concerning a new gathering had me worried. The assassin made it sound like a big deal, like some kind of pivotal convergence.
Walker pressed me to allow him to come along, even going so far as to tell me that he was in great shape because he ran a few miles at least four times a week. Sorry, Pastor, you have no idea what great shape means. Most people thought that having a killer 5K time made you “fit.” I’d seen fat body Marines who could barely finish morning PT carry a wounded buddy over a mile, never complaining despite the shrapnel wound they’d neglected to tell the Corpsman about. Combat fit and civilian fit were two very different things.
Instead of telling him this, I instructed Walker to make a series of purchases that would not only keep him busy, but save me time when I returned. He had his list and a strict warning not to purchase more than three items in each place. I gave him a wad of cash from the stack I’d gotten from an ATM and told him I was going to get a couple hours sleep in our motel room. He finished his apple pie while I headed for the door.
Like a trained animal, I moved off to find what sleep I could. But the growling inside my chest urged me to move out now, to find out what I could, expose some weakness and exploit it. It wasn’t hard to ignore the thought; hours of combat operations had instilled the importance of sleep and nutrition. It was strange to think that only days before I’d been on a collision course to wreck my body and silence my mind. Now I needed both if I was going to exact my revenge and save Anna.
+++
Click.
My eyes snapped open. No alarm clock needed. My body knew the hours just before sunrise well. I snatched up the pile of athletic clothes and the matching running shoes from the pile Walker had left next to my bed in the middle of the night. He was still asleep, snoring lightly as I went to the bathroom and changed.
Two and a half minutes later, I was out the door and headed for the street. It was an easy three mile run to Boston Common, and I took it at an eight minute pace. By the time I arrived at the park, the sun was saying its first hellos, and a light sweat ringed my new t-shirt.
I slowed and jogged over to a wooden bench to stretch my legs. I looked around to make sure the map in my head matched what I was now seeing. There were fewer joggers than expected. Not a problem.
A homeless man shuffled by with his shopping cart full of blankets, and as a gaggle of moms and their jogging strollers pushed by, I stretched and took it all in. It was habit. Just like when you take your first steps into a forest or God-forbid a jungle, you always stop and listen for a while. It enables your senses to get used to the sounds and smells around you. It allows your body to ease into the mugginess or the cold, your instincts slipping from human to animal.
I watched the cars pass by on Beacon Street, the congestion already clogging the city’s arteries. Thousands of Bostonians on their way to work, bored and on auto-pilot, completely oblivious to the sniper lurking in their midst.
When enough time had elapsed, I headed for the crosswalk over Beacon Street that dumped me onto Joy Street. I took it slow, not knowing how far from her enclave Anna’s mother would spread security. There were no heads in the parked cars I passed, no roving patrols.
Barely a block up on my right was Mount Vernon Place, not really a street but a dead end road that you might consider a blunt cul-de-sac without the rounded end. I passed it, noting the pair of men standing on the top of the stairs of the address I was looking for. They were smoking and chatting, and neither man looked my way as I jogged half a block in the distance.
Two blocks later, I decided to take my chances. I turned around and jumped to the other side of the street. Soon I was approaching the same turn onto Mount Vernon Place. I had a half-ass plan in my head and figured I should give it a shot. I’d only get one, but maybe I’d get lucky.
This time the two guys did turn, b
ut kept talking as I jogged by. I ignored them and kept running. At the end of the short road was the official looking state building, and I stopped in supposed confusion. I turned, looked back the way I’d come, then whirled around, looking for a sign or a familiar landmark.
I huffed in frustration, still looking around. My eyes settled on the two guys guarding 7 Mount Vernon Place, the enemy’s lair. I jogged back their way and waved a greeting, trying to look embarrassed.
Neither man waved back, but they leveled me with their best “What the fuck do you want?” gaze. I ignored the looks like some naive tourist and said, “Hey, I’m supposed to be meeting a friend at Ashburton Park. Can you tell me how to get there?”
I jogged in place and waited for a reply. Finally, after a look passed between them, one of the guys said, “Keep going that way,” he pointed to where I’d turned around a moment earlier, “and skirt around the big building. On the opposite side you’ll see the park.”
“Great, thanks,” I said, nodding to each man. As they turned back to their conversation, I did a quick scan of the windows on the second and third levels. My scan stopped on a pair of ice blue eyes staring down at me from the middle window on the third floor. Anna.
I tried to look away, but couldn’t. The two guys noticed and one of them said, “Hey, keep moving okay?”
I shook my head like an idiot. “Sorry, I just love old architecture,” I said in a way of an apology.
I waved to them again, and shot one more glance up to the third floor. Anna was staring at me and she put up one hand in a silent greeting. I blinked twice and headed away, my heart thudding in rhythm with my feet pounding on the pavement. She hadn’t looked in pain. Truthfully, she looked happy.
That made my mind blare a warning, something I hadn’t considered before, or maybe I didn’t want to believe. What if she told her mother about me, and what if she told her mother that she’d just seen me again?
Chapter 20
“Come in,” came the quiet call in response to Vasily’s knock on Anna’s door. The bald Russian opened the door to its full width and pushed his master into the room.
“Thank you, Vasily,” Georgy Varushkin said.
Vasily nodded, and left the room.
Anna was sitting on the window ledge, staring at him with unabashed curiosity. They’d had little time to get acquainted the night before. The gaggle of doctors Natasha had waiting were quick to get him into their hastily made examination room.
So as they’d asked questions, taken vials of blood and probed his entire body, Varushkin went along with the show, polite and uncomplaining. As the physicians and their assistants went about their business, he replayed the greeting with his granddaughter over and over again in his mind. It was one of the few benefits of his incarceration, the ability to recall certain memories in vivid detail, as if he were experiencing them again.
Ah, and this memory was the sweetest he could ever recall. Something had happened when he saw Anna. She had his eyes, the Varushkin eyes his mother said could cut through stone with their intensity.
But there was only love and curiosity in Anna’s eyes, like a flower just coming into bloom. It was overpowering to the weakened Varushkin, and it took his nearly empty reserve of strength to only let out a few tears instead of the uncontrollable sobs that howled to be unleashed. Later, as he’d pondered the introduction, Georgy would have explained the feeling as being similar to an electric shock. In his years of service, he’d been shocked on one occasion. The ailing Soviet fleet had sagged under the weight of political pressure and the constant American presence. Despite the proactive measures of commanders like Varushkin, supplies were limited, and ships were often undermanned and less than well-kept. This resulted in accidents, mishaps that only years before could have been prevented.
On one occasion, an electrical wire had somehow become frayed from a line running alongside a ladder well. It just so happened that not long after, Varushkin, on his way to the bowels of his ship, had grasped the metal railing that was now charged with enough electric current to hold him in place for a moment, and then his body weight dropped him back. There was not much pain, but the captain could never shake that feeling of being held in place, and until the night before, he’d never felt it again.
When he had lain in bed thinking more of that moment, he knew in his heart it was some sort of sign, like the stars were aligning and Anna was the final missing piece. It stirred a youthful excitement in him, and kept him from sleep. He’d woken Vasily at first light, and waited as long as he could to visit Anna. It was good to see that she might feel the same way.
“I could not sleep,” he said.
“Me neither.”
“Was there a reason?”
She smiled. Ah, that smile. “I kept thinking of you, and I wanted to know that you were okay.”
“You mean because of the doctors?”
She nodded.
He nodded back.
“I’m sure they will return with the following prognosis: Mr. Varushkin is malnourished, severely underweight, infested with this and that parasite, and we recommend a trip to the dentist.”
Anna giggled. He didn’t want to scare her. There was most certainly more wrong with him, but at least he didn’t feel like he was dying. For some reason, he’d always known that he would have a premonition before his death. He’d thought his time in prison would have elicited such a feeling, but it never had, not in five years.
“How do you feel?” Anna asked.
He shrugged. “I have been better, but I am sure that with the help of the doctors, I will be fat in no time. Enough about me, please, I want to hear all about you, Anna.” He held out his hand, and she grabbed it. Her hand was soft and clean where his was wrinkled and dry. An old prisoner’s hand.
“Well,” she started, “I’m fifteen. I guess you can say I’m pretty smart. I love to read and I love music. Oh, and I want to travel around the world!”
He couldn’t help but smile. Her exuberance filled him with warmth and made the pain in his body subside.
“And where would you like to travel, Anna? Paris? London?”
Her eyes lit up like he’d read her mind. “Yes! Oh, and I want to go to Russia, to see where our family is from.”
The cold that enveloped him felt like a wraith had entered the room and cast its shawl across his body. He shivered, momentarily losing his grip on Anna’s hand.
“I’m sorry, Poppa, did I say something wrong?” Anna asked, taking his hand again and stepping closer.
He hadn’t realized his eyes had closed. He opened them and shook his head.
“I am fine. It must be the medicine they gave me.”
She did not believe him, but she didn’t push.
“Poppa?” he asked.
Anna blushed, the possible transgression already forgotten.
“I’m sorry. Is it okay if I call you that?”
“I would be honored, Anna,” he said, the warmth returning to his body.
They sat there for a long moment, both wearing contented smiles, not saying anything, as if to do so would break the spell in the room, their private domain.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Poppa,” Anna said at last, taking his hand in both of hers. “I wish we could have met before.”
He nodded knowingly and said, “I have found that it is best not to live with regret. It is better to look to the future and create a joy that will outshine the shadows of our past.”
Her mouth twisted in a funny smile.
“Do you always talk that way, Poppa?”
Varushkin coughed out a laugh. “Maybe it has been too long since I’ve had a proper conversation. Perhaps you can help me sound less…grandiose?”
Anna nodded and they both grinned.
He didn’t know the whole story yet, didn’t know how Anna had come back into Natasha’s home, but he would get it soon. There was much to discuss in the coming days. His daughter seemed to have things well in hand. Like an old general bein
g called out of retirement, he had to be careful how he moved back into the arena. Five years could change many things. He had changed, and from what he’d seen of Natasha, so had she. He was glad to see she’d turned her life around. From the occasional reports he’d received while behind bars, everything indicated she had conducted herself in a manner befitting his command style. It would be good to see it firsthand.
For now he put those thoughts out of his mind as he focused on the most important thing in that moment, his granddaughter. There was so much he wanted to know, and yet, where to start? Simple. Start simple, he told himself.
“So, tell me, what did you see looking out the window this morning?” He had a new fascination with windows. It was only natural considering the rare minutes he’d been gifted to gaze out the small portals in his prison stops. But the innocent question did not elicit what he expected. Instead of answering, Anna hesitated and even looked away. “I’m sorry, Anna,” he was quick to add. “Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head, still looking away.
“Then what is it, child?”
Anna let go of his hand and walked back to the window. She looked down at the street and even touched the pane of glass. With what? Longing?
“I thought I saw a friend,” she said, tracing a finger along the edge of the window.
“Who, Anna? Who did you see?”
“I don’t think I should say.” She was still staring out the window. What was it in her tone that made him worry?
“Anna, look at me please.”
She turned and met his eyes.
“Anna, if I have learned one important lesson in my life, it is that you should never keep secrets from the ones you love most.”
She perked up a bit at that, and asked, “What if the secret protects a friend?”
He grunted his understanding.
“That must be a very good friend to need such a secret.”
“It is,” Anna whispered.
“And who is this friend?”