They had one more quick embrace and then Vladimir walked through the automatic double doors into the terminal, turning back just once to glance at Casey who waved and smiled.
* * *
Miriam Konitska was almost out of money. It had been almost eight weeks since she arrived in Washington DC from London after receiving instruction to travel to the US Capitol and wait there for further instructions. Since then there had been no communication. She kept her cell phone charged and with her at all times but as always, there were no calls. She had arrived in Manhattan with just over ten thousand dollars, but after eight weeks, the cost of the hotel and meals, had depleted most of her funds.
At the beginning of the sixth week she twice approached the Russian Embassy, tempted to make contact. But each time she walked by, her controller’s admonishment never to make contact rang in her ears. Finally she was down to just enough money to change her plane ticket, settle the hotel bill, and pay for transportation to the airport. She was nervous about leaving without authorization, but felt she had no choice. Also, she was tired of being away for so long without contact with friends or family. On her last morning, she was conflicted between wanting the phone to ring and at the same time wanting so badly to go home, so she left the hotel and boarded the shuttle to the airport.
* * *
Vladimir eased his seat back, stretched out his legs as much as possible in the narrow economy seat and sighed deeply. He had surprised himself when he kissed Casey but was very glad he had. He smiled at the thought of her, and could still feel the taste of her lips on his. For the first time in a long time, perhaps ever, he felt a sense of ease and peacefulness. The reunification with his sister, despite the difficult circumstances in which it had occurred, was bittersweet. He had always felt so guilty when she had been dragged away from him at the orphanage and then never really got used to the permanent emptiness that stayed with him, never knowing what had happened to her and reluctant to put himself or her at risk in the old Soviet regime by using his rank to try and find her. For years he had borne the guilt of their cruel separation.
Myda had asked to see him as soon as she came out of surgery and he had approached her bed nervously, not sure what to expect from her. She was lying on her side, eyes closed, her blond hair spread across the white pillow.
As he stood beside the bed, she opened her eyes, slowly adjusting to the light and peering around the room without moving her head. Looking up, she saw Vladimir and with lips barely parted she whispered his name.
“Vladi.”
“Yes,” he answered quietly. “It’s me.”
She pulled her hand from under the sheet and said softly, “Give me your hand.” Vladimir gently placed his hand in hers, and lifting her head just slightly, Myda placed the palm of his hand under her face so it cupped her cheek on the pillow and then closed her eyes, a small smile etched on her face as she drifted back to sleep. He had stayed like that for an hour holding her face in his hand, gently caressing her cheek with his free hand. It was only the need for the nurses to provide additional postoperative care that had forced him to leave her again, but just briefly.
Sitting on the plane as it reached cruising altitude he wondered how she was doing in first class, disappointed not to be sitting with her. Glancing up the aisle he saw the flight attendants beginning the beverage service so he decided to wait before moving forward to check on her. Finally, about three hours into flight, he unbuckled his seat belt and stood up and started to make his way to the first class cabin. He stopped to help a woman who was struggling to pull her computer bag out of the overhead bin. A few rows ahead, a couple of boys were already fighting over a hand held video game despite the best effort of their mother to get them to share.
The business class cabin was separated from economy class by a curtain drawn across the isle. He drew the curtain back and stepped through.
“Excuse me, Sir,” said a flight attendant serving drinks to the business class passengers, “you can’t come through. This cabin is reserved.”
“Yes, I know. I just wanted to check on my sister to make sure she’s all right.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the attendant, her tone softening, “you mean the Red Cross passenger in first class. She’s towards the front on the right hand side. Please, go ahead.”
Vladimir thanked the woman and walked in to the first class cabin to his sister’s seat. She had the chair fully reclined, a blanket wrapped around her body.
She saw him and smiled at him as he bent down to kiss her.
“How are you?” Vladimir asked. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, I ‘m fine. In fact I think I could get used to this, just lying here, having people bring me food and drinks. Not a bad way to live.”
“Can I get you anything, something to read, perhaps?”
She reached over and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand and shook her head.
“No, Vladi, I’m fine, thank you. I just wish you could sit with me.”
“Me too,” he responded with a smile. “I don’t think I am going to eat as well as you tonight.”
“I’ll save you something. Come back later; we can share my dinner.”
“You eat everything they give you,” he admonished her gently. “You need to build up your strength.”
They chatted for a few more minutes then Vladimir leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.
“I’ll come back to check on you later.”
He walked out of the first class cabin through business class and back into the economy section. Flight attendants were serving dinner, the carts blocking both passageways. He declined the attendant’s offer to try to squeeze past, happy to remain standing for a while. Stepping back towards the plane’s center doorway, he leaned down to look out the small window. There appeared to be cloud cover as far as the eye could see. He stepped back into the aisle and slowly followed the flight attendants, casually glancing at the faces of his fellow passengers. His eyes moved indiscriminately, stopping briefly at the sight of a man wearing a very obvious toupee. Something else made him linger and take a second look at a woman about three rows back who was thumbing through a magazine. Even with her head turned slightly down, he could tell she was quite pretty. His stared at her for a moment until she lifted her head and gazed straight at him. Then she dropped her eyes and looked back at her magazine.
Vladimir felt himself take a step back. Reaching out, he steadied himself against the seat next to him, closed his eyes, and shook his head just slightly. Then he looked at the woman again. Miriam Konitska. He was certain it was her. He had been studying the pictures of all the women in the assassin program for days with the FBI task force and had practically memorized each woman’s face. Miriam Konitska was sitting almost directly over the wing in a window seat. Vladimir glanced back at the front of the aircraft and for a moment, thought about approaching the pilot. He looked at his wristwatch. They had been airborne almost four hours. The flight was scheduled to take nine hours. If they turned around now, it would still take them at least three hours to land at the nearest airport. He glanced over at the woman again. She had put her magazine down and was staring out of the window. He closed his eyes briefly, and then with one last look at the woman continued towards his seat. It was going to be a long flight home, he thought to himself, a long flight home.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ROY BERELOWITZ was born in South Africa in 1960. As a young man, Roy served as a paratrooper in the Israeli Army and later immigrated to the United States. After graduating from college, his professional career has focused on computer software in the banking industry, but his avocation has always been writing stories and poems, as well as storytelling. He lives in Orange County, California with his wife and two sons.
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Eves of Destruction Page 32