by Blake Haugen
It was a stretch, but Persephone remained alert nonetheless. She flipped through magazines, read her book, and gazed out the window at clouds. None of it took her mind off Vanya.
Usually, Persephone was decisive. As far as she was concerned, leaving Vanya was the best course of action and resulted in the most efficient outcomes for all parties. She and Vanya were safe from her enemies, she’d prevented a confrontation with Kirill, and her secrets remained safe. She’d made the right choice, and Peter made sure to remind her of this during their phone call an hour or so ago.
“I love him so much,” she sniffed, finally letting some more of the tears she’d been holding fall. “Some part of me thinks I’m making some huge mistake, not sticking to my original plans and staying here with him.”
“Perry, it says a lot about you that you’re able to do this. You can’t always bend to what’s expected of you. I’m proud of you for not giving in to the pressure stay and get married and all that,” Peter answered in his twangy, fatherly tone.
“It’s not just that. I mean, I wanted that eventually, but, Jesus, I don’t know. I feel like I’m walking away from the rest of my life.”
“Ah, honey, it’s just new stage in life – one where you’re being responsible and protecting yourself and the people you love. An egotistic fool would have stuck around and taken the risk of running into that crazy bastard again. One friendly run-in with that son of a bitch is enough. Who knows what Trask had planned for you. I hate to even think about it… damn. We’ll take care of this in time, Perry. Now you just worry about meeting up with Benny at the airport. There’ll be a guy stoppin’ around the alley in about seven minutes. He’ll tell you ‘Greetings from Texas.’ Don’t get in otherwise.”
She smiled at the reference. “God, that sounds so stereotypically clandestine. I guess it goes without saying that I won’t be in contact with any of you for a long, long time, right?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean we’re not here for you. I take my godfather duties seriously and I’ve got your back – always.”
“Peter, I – thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Hell, you don’t need to thank me. I love you, kid. We all do. Now take care of yourself; I know you know how. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Peter’s heartfelt words had relieved some of the anxiety threatening to spill out of her. Even so, there was a niggling at the back of her head, telling her she’d done something irreparable. She had to close her eyes and breathe deeply to keep from shouting or bursting into tears. She didn’t know which one it would be; she wasn’t quite sure what her post-Vanya meltdown would look like. She just wanted to be alone so she could get it over with as soon as possible.
The plane landed some eight hours after takeoff. Velasquez took her only luggage – a medium sized weekend bag – when they deplaned. He placed the bag in the backseat of a small navy sedan that was waiting for them. An airport employee handed over the keys and they sped through the rainy city. The large street was lined with European apartment and office buildings. Everything seemed to be closed; there weren’t even pedestrians caught in the rain.
For safety reasons, Persephone hadn’t been informed of where she’d be going before she arrived. They’d used a private plane and hangar and went straight to the city without entering the airport. From what she could discern from shop and road signs, the city was French but not Paris. She would’ve recognized Paris. Things would have been much busier.
When they slowed momentarily at a light that had just turned green, Persephone caught some branding on the side of an orange public bus as it turned away down another street. “tran… publics genevois” is what she’d been able to put together. Genevois.
“Geneva,” she said aloud turning to Velasquez. The well groomed, peppered hairs of his mustache and beard shifted as he preened. He maintained his focus on the road as traffic picked up.
“Frankly, I’m surprised it took you that long to figure it out. I thought you had all the cities your parents ever worked in completely mapped.”
“Only the ones I’ve been to,” Persephone commented absently, still staring at the road through her window. They turned off of the big street, Avenue Louis-Ca-something-or-other and things got tighter. The apartment buildings got closer and older. The streets were smaller and lined with cars and she saw some of those scurrying pedestrians she had been wondering about earlier.
Mopeds, motor bikes, and motorcycles were everywhere. Persephone nearly rolled her eyes before she realized this meant she wouldn’t have to be so paranoid when riding her own bike. Drivers here were probably used to dealing with bikes and were less accident prone because of it. The constant smattering of graffiti amazed and repulsed her. They mostly consisted of unimpressive tags and a thought of gangs flitted through her head.
There was a sudden dearth of buildings in the view up ahead and she knew they were near water. Sure enough, they soon crossed a river that was smaller and cleaner than any other she’d ever seen in a city.
“What’s the name of that river?” Persephone asked, looking back at it as they drove on.
“The Rhone. It’s the major river in the city. You’ll be living on it. There’s a balcony and everything.”
“Major river!” she exclaimed. “That little thing? How many people are there in Geneva?”
“Just under two-hundred thousand. What’s the big deal, Peterson? I thought you would have liked less hustle and bustle.” Velasquez navigated some turns and parked in from of an old white industrial building. His lips still hinted at a smirk; it was difficult for her to tell if he was teasing. “This is your parking space.”
“Oh?”
“Yep, this is your building. It used to be a watch factory. I think you’ll like it.”
They pulled the luggage to the elevator and Velasquez relayed information about her neighborhood, La Jonction, named for the junction between the Rhone and Arve rivers. It was raining now, but soon enough the rivers would be filled with swimmers and kayakers. Persephone shrugged when Velasquez twirled his wrist to make a little show of presenting her with keys. She made a mental note to have the locks changed. It wouldn’t keep out anyone who really wanted to get in, but it would certainly make her feel better.
The door opened into a large loft, more modern, open, and sophisticated than anything she would have chosen for herself. She swept through the mostly empty spaces. The living area was actually on the second floor which she sort of hated. Even more offensive was the hanging bubble chair. That was coming down as soon as humanly possible. She walked through the space to open the door to the balcony which was more of an outdoor lounging terrace. Looking down at the Rhone she could almost hear the annoying screeches of tourist swimmers when the rains stopped. Persephone let go of a sigh and continued to stand in the doorway entranced by the rain on the river.
Velasquez must have sensed her displeasure because he followed her to the doors and defended himself. “What? You don’t like it? This is a great place! A high class place with a great view!”
Persephone shrugged, “A bit expensive for my tastes; and for the government’s tastes for that matter.”
“It’s nothing you can’t afford. We got it at just under three million. Besides, things have changed since you went to school. We’re more parastatal, I suppose, with more of a private budget. You’ll be reimbursed what you pay for after the subsidy if you stay over three years.”
“Incentive, eh?”
“Hey Peterson, it’s nice work if you can get it. Need I remind you that there could have just as easily been an order placed for your detainment at a private facility? It would be comfortable, mind you, but still detainment. Peter worked hard on this. Damn, I even worked hard on this so don’t just shit all over it.”
Persephone unclenched her fists. She turned to face Velasquez with a penitent frown. “It is nice, and I’m glad that you and Peter worked this out, Benny. I just don’t want to be here right now and I need some time to deal
with it. A long time to deal with it actually.”
“Well, heartbreak is a part of this life, girl. I know your parents taught you that.” Velasquez shrugged his eyebrows, looked out over the Rhone, and drummed his fingers on the threshold. He shuffled from foot to foot, feigning an interest in the view. Persephone could feel his anxiousness for her response. She let him stew. He may have been right, but she wasn’t going to let him know she agreed. A few more awkward moments passed and he cleared his throat.
“There’s a bed in the room downstairs. It’s decent, but I took the liberty of compiling a list of furniture stores.”
“Um, thanks,” Persephone said taking the crumpled sheet of folded paper. She laughed to herself, imagining Benny Velasquez, international intelligence officer and former U.S. Army Ranger, researching the best interior décor hotspots in Switzerland.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” Velasquez said, moving away from the door. “We’re having dinner with your handler a few blocks away.”
“Handler? Jesus.”
“Handler, contact, attaché, whatever you want to call it. Your new Peter, basically. I’ve forgotten his name, but they said he’s good. Besides, he’s paying for dinner. I’m down with that.” Velasquez yawned and headed downstairs. Persephone escorted him to the door and she was suddenly alone.
The shower was nice. Thousands of little square tiles, light greens and whites, complimented the clinical minimalism of the rest of the bathroom. She lathered her body with the toiletries she’d packed. As she moved her hands over her skin, she realized this was first chance she’d had to bathe since Vanya had washed her following their antagonistic coupling. That had only been ten or so hours ago. Her pussy still ached – and in more ways than one. The memory of Vanya’s touch still ghosted over her nipples. He was an ocean away, but she could still feel him. She found the combination of anger, despair, and arousal incredibly unpleasant.
Persephone spent most of her hour quietly sobbing as she sat down just outside the spray of the stainless steel jets. When she realized just how much time had passed, she unwillingly exited the shower. She removed her shower cap and did a shoddy job of drying herself off before applying lotion to her skin.
She didn’t bother with makeup and decided a thorough tooth brushing, large brown sunglasses, and pearl earrings would be enough. She left her hair down – it was the only thing that would cover up the large hickey Vanya had left on the right side of her neck. Pathetically, she found herself hoping it would stay for a while. She snorted at herself and rummaged through her bag for clothing. Velasquez hadn’t given any instructions on what to wear, so she played it safe with a navy embroidered lace overlay sheath dress and strappy brown wedge sandals she didn’t mind getting wet. She slumped down on the low bed after dragging on her large hooded canvas jacket and waited for Velasquez’s call.
Without the task of dressing appropriately to distract her, Persephone’s thoughts wandered back to Vanya. Right now she figured he must have found out that she hadn’t spent the night at Finn’s and was driving back to Emma and Ariana’s place like a bat out of hell. She hoped he took Max with him on his rampage; that way he would be forced to act civil with everyone.
Poor Gretchen. The girl had been thrilled to learn that she could take on the next lease and the contents of the apartment were hers to keep or sell. Although Persephone had woken her at one-thirty in the morning, Gretchen was accommodating. That was before learning she didn’t have to pay for a security deposit or the first month’s rent. Gretchen was also the new owner of Persephone’s forty-two inch plasma television. After that, she was so excited about the TV that she’d helped Persephone pack. She’d been sweet, but this afternoon Vanya was going to rain all over Gretchen’s parade.
That scene would take place around the time Persephone was finishing dinner. She wondered how long it would take for Vanya’s rage to give way to sadness. He was so much more sensitive than most people thought. Although she was angry with him, deep down, something screamed that she’d gone about this all wrong and had left in the worst way possible. That sentiment was quickly tamped down by her more practical, logical self. Hurting Vanya, being away from Vanya, and leaving the country were terrible, but necessary costs.
The rainy walk to the restaurant was unpleasant but short. Persephone’s umbrella kept bumping into Velasquez’s head due to their difference in height. When they arrived, they were immediately seated at a table for four on the raised level of the one room Italian restaurant. Velasquez ordered Carpaccio of grilled eggplant with olives and lamb. Persephone sipped her glass of Amarone and stared at the chandelier. It hung over the row of tables for two in the center of the small establishment. Crystals on the metal fixture made dots of light illuminate the small bar in the back corner. Large mirrors softened the gray stone walls and Persephone was struck by the intimacy of the place. Why would her handler choose to meet here?
Her answer came when a tall dark-haired man ducked in from the rain. He shook water off his trench coat while standing on the rug in front of the door. His eyes locked with Persephone’s, and he hardly acknowledged the hostess that took his coat and umbrella. When he was free of his outerwear, Persephone darted past the tables separating them and threw herself into his arms. He embraced her fully after a moment of surprise.
“So, I take it you like Switzerland?” Timothy chuckled as he held her close.
“No, I’m – I’m just so happy to see you!” Persephone exclaimed. She smiled and tried to keep her tears at bay, but knowing that Timothy Kim was in Geneva, that she would get to keep one friend in her new life, was overwhelming. She pulled away trying to compose herself. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Timothy smiled kindly. He released her and led her to the table by the arm. She didn’t miss Velasquez roll his eyes when Timothy pulled out her chair.
“You didn’t act like that when you realized it was me who was escorting you over here,” Velasquez grumbled.
“Are you staying in Geneva, Benny?” Persephone quipped.
He merely harrumphed and shoved some bread into his mouth. Dinner was pleasant for a while. After they’d eaten they went over procedure and her identity in Switzerland.
“A language studies student?”
“Yes, it’s corny, but you don’t know French. Just English and Spanish,” Timothy shrugged.
“I’m getting to be decent with my Russian, too. I can ask for directions and order food.”
“Yeah, well, we’re not trying to advertise that,” Benny rejoined.
After two hours of dining, Persephone informed them that she’d soon pass out due to exhaustion. The men escorted her back to her new digs. Once inside, she stripped out of her clothes, searched through her bags for pajamas, but stopped when she remembered what she’d planned while packing. A folded white pillowcase sat in the bottom of the suitcase. She unraveled it to reveal one of Vanya’s blue dress shirts.
Persephone donned the large shirt and fitted the pillowcase onto one of the fluffy pillows of her new queen-sized bed. Jetlag left her with no energy to cry. She cuddled the pillow, inhaled, and fell into a hard sleep.
☐
Vanya didn’t sleep well that Saturday night. He’d finally passed out at five o’clock in the morning. He’d expected that Max’s call would wake him when Persephone attempted to leave to attend nine o’clock Mass. So, when he woke up at noon, he was annoyed with himself for not making sure his phone’s ringer was on.
Sitting up he snatched the mobile device from his bedside table. There were no missed calls or messages. “Call Max,” he barked at his phone.
“Да?” Max answered after one ring.
“She hasn’t come down yet?” Vanya asked hurriedly.
“Что?” Max asked confusedly.
Vanya took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He instantly felt that something wasn’t right. After pausing, he remembered to speak in Russian. “I said ‘She hasn’t come down yet?’ It’s Sunda
y – she should have left for Mass already.”
“No, she went to the redhead’s apartment and she hasn’t been down. I’m still here. She didn’t even have a change of clothes. I guess they must be talking things over or sleeping in.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Vanya brushed his teeth, took a thirty second shower, and threw on the first dry cleaned shirt and slacks he could find in his closet. He threw a blazer over his shoulder on the way out the door. His plan was to look as intimidating as possible if he had to go through a wall of Finn to get to Persephone.
Finn’s apartment was only four minutes away by car. He parked illegally hoping that this ordeal wouldn’t take long. A ticket was the worst he could get in this type of upscale residential area before a tow truck came. Up the street he spotted Max’s nondescript navy sedan and gave a nod after taking Finn’s stoop two steps at a time. It was a struggle to keep himself from pushing the intercom bell incessantly.
“Hello?” Finn’s voice came over the line. She sounded groggy and curious.
“Hey, it’s Vanya.”
“Oh, okay…” After a pause, the entry buzzer sounded and Vanya entered the building somewhat bewildered. He’d heard only confusion in Finn’s response. No derision, no suspicion – just confusion.
Unwilling to wait for the elevator, he made it to Finn’s luxurious loft after four flights of stairs. The sight of Lauren Vickers in a white t-shirt and boxer shorts greeted him when he reached the landing. She her stance in the doorway was casual enough, but Vanya saw it for what it was. It hadn’t been too long ago that he’d eyed Finn with the mistrustful look Lauren gave him now.