A few seconds after the knock we agreed upon, the door opened. There was my Olga. Like an angel in the doorway she stood. We embraced each other immediately. It was such a relief to hold my one and only child in my arms that I didn’t want to let go, but she pushed away and quickly pulled me in.
“We must still be careful,” she said as she closed the door behind us. “It’s not safe.”
“What do you mean? Are the police still looking for you?”
Olga looked at me for second before answering, “Come. Let’s have some tea.”
I followed my daughter thinking she seemed a little distant. Did she not miss me? Does everything have to be about her and the paper?
“Papa, you must understand, for my safety and that of the paper, you cannot tell anyone that we have met or where I am.”
“Yes, of course. But what is happening? I don’t understand.”
‘The authorities have not stopped looking for me.”
“They haven’t? This is the worst it’s ever been.”
“The paper is coming out with a story that will prove once and for all how corrupt our government is. Everyone in Leningrad will know that our officials have lied to us over and over.”
“Are you crazy—?”
Olga stopped me and grabbed my hand. “Listen to me, Papa. This will be the beginning of the revolution. It is important that my comrades and I work underground until we go to press.”
“Don’t you realize how much danger you are putting yourself in? I will not be able to help you if you get locked up. They might even charge you with treason.”
Olga let go of my hand and sat back in her chair. “It must be done. I’m doing it.”
“Aren’t you listening to what I’m saying? You can be executed for treason.”
“Papa, after this story comes out, there will be thousands and thousands like me, angry at the government. What are they going to do? Kill their own citizens?”
I let out a large breath and rubbed my face. It was clear that she did not understand the gravity of what she was about to do, nor did she care. But what about me? I cared. I didn’t want to lose her.
“Look Olga, I don’t think you are fully listening to me—”
“No, Papa,” she interrupted. “You are not listening to me.”
This is exactly what the Prividenie had been telling me all along and now I was seeing it. She did not listen to me. She had never listened to me. In fact, my Olga was a very disobedient person. It made complete sense as to why she would rise up against the government.
I rubbed my aged hands together and leaned forward. “You don’t listen, Olga.”
“I do, just to myself.”
“What about me?” The words spewed from my lips uncontrollably. “You never listen to what I say. You ignore everything.” I pounded the table with a fist. I was losing control of my anger. “I am your father.”
Olga sat quietly. She did not move. She had never seen such behavior from me, and certainly did not expect it directed at her.
Just as I was about to apologize she spoke up.
“You’re right, Papa. I am a grown woman. I make my own decisions and I take orders only from myself.” With that, she stood up and walked toward the front door. “I think it’s time for you to leave. You’ve been here too long.”
I sat at the table in stunned silence. I had no authority, no influence at all over her. I stood up and walked to the door.
Olga kissed me goodbye. “We’ll visit again. I’ll contact you.”
“How? By phone? Are you staying here?” I had so many questions still, and here she was, forcing me out of her life.
“Yes, I am staying here. But please do not come unannounced. It is not safe.”
My attention had now turned to the small flat where she was staying. Whose was it? Certainly someone else lived here. The entire décor of the house was devoid of a woman’s touch. It was then that I realized the shirt my daughter was wearing was a man’s shirt. How could I have not noticed this before? I reached out and touched it.
“Whose shirt is this?” I asked.
Olga looked away, avoiding my eyes.
“Are you involved with someone?” I waited for an answer I knew wasn’t coming. My daughter is having premarital relations with a man? “What are you doing, Olga?” I asked, my voice now louder. “This is not right!”
“Papa, I love him.”
“I forbid it. This goes against the church. I will not have a tramp of a daughter embarrass me. You will end this now.”
“I will not. I am an adult and am free to do what I chose. You don’t even know who he is. How can you judge?”
I looked around the apartment for something that might give me a clue to who this stranger was. It wasn’t hidden. In plain sight was a jacket lying on a chair, a jacket I knew all too well.
I picked up the jacket. “Tell me this isn’t true.”
“We’re in love.”
“Love? Alexi Litvak is a drunk.”
“How dare you speak of him that way? He is your friend.”
“He is old enough to be your father. Did he take advantage of you?”
Olga yanked the jacket out of my hand. “How could you say such a thing? He is a kind man who loves me just the way I am. He is not trying to change me. He supports my ideas, unlike others,” she said, sneering at me as she shepherded me out the door.
And then I found myself standing alone in the stairwell, feeling like a foolish old man.
Twenty-Five
Had I become so insignificant to my daughter that I was no longer privy to what was happening in her life? I felt pain and anger: pained by the distance that was widening between us and anger from Alexi’s betrayal. How dare he soil my daughter with his foul touch?
As I walked the streets of Leningrad, I reflected back to that late-night conversation we had at the church. How stupid I must have looked in his eyes. Telling me how beautiful my Olga was, how she was like a daughter to him—that liar. He took advantage of her innocence. He took advantage of our friendship, and he was no longer welcome in my church.
I was so angry at what Alexi Litvak had done that I wanted to crush him. He deserved to be dammed for eternity. He was the root of the divide that erupted between my daughter and me. I can only imagine what nonsense he had been filling Olga’s head with. It’s no wonder she is the way she is. It’s why she doesn’t listen to me. He has turned her against her own father.
I clenched my fists and clamped my jaw as my breathing grew forceful. I was on the verge of boiling over. I wanted to kill Alexi Litvak.
Had I finally understood what the Prividenie was saying?
He had been able to bring himself to kill on numerous occasions but it was not with justified rage. He did not know his victims. They were strangers. He might as well have picked out targets at random. There would be no difference.
I, on the other hand, had been given good reason. It is the right of a man to protect his family, is it not? Surely the Prividenie would agree with my situation and see my point.
I could not imagine any other outcome.
Twenty-Six
“Whore?”
I did not expect this from the Prividenie. Alexi Litvak was the filthy one here. He was the one who took advantage of my daughter’s innocence and turned her against me.
“Father, do you honestly think this man is the cause of your daughter’s insubordination?” he asked.
“Why not? He has lived a long life and nothing good has come out of it.”
“Your daughter is a smart woman. She knew exactly what she was getting into when she got involved with him. Do not lie to yourself.”
“I’m not. You don’t understand, I—”
The Prividenie’s voice grew louder and his cadence faster. “Father, your daughter is a whore, a curious whore who wanted to know what it was like to fulfill her desires, so much so that she chose to do it out of wedlock. She knew Alexi Litvak was a weak man, weakened by the Russian nectar
that destroyed his last marriage, even his life. She knew she could control him just like she controls you. She is the instigator in this relationship. Alexi Litvak cannot control his actions and she took full advantage of it. She seduced this man. She made him bow before her and with his filthy tongue service her. In return she allowed him to mount her where they would fornicate until the hours were lost. She is such a whore—a dirty whore with no self-control who willingly drank his milky substance without nary a spill. You have no idea how whorish your daughter is. You cannot blame him. He’s a dumb animal who does what he is told. She used him to satisfy her carnal desires. It is a relationship of pure, unadulterated fucking. And you know it to be true just as I do, so stop this silly lying, old man, and face up to what is really happening here.”
I sat there dumbfounded. I didn’t know what to say or think, but I tried once again to explain my point of view. “You have it all wrong.”
“Oh, do I? I have it wrong? You daughter has always disrespected you, even as a child. Are you sure she wasn’t out fucking the boys on the playground? She’s never listened to you, just like you are not listening to the voice in your head, the one that is speaking the truth.”
He’s right. Olga has always been this way. I chose to ignore it. I thought I was solving the problem, when in fact I was only perpetuating it. Now she is this ungrateful person who does whatever she pleases without any thought to the repercussions her actions may have on others, including me. I should have been hurt. I should have been saddened. Instead, I was angry, much more than I ever had been. I felt used, taken advantage of, and treated like the village idiot. Damn this girl. Damn her!
The Prividenie snapped his finger, grabbing my attention. “What are you going to do, Father? Soon everybody will find out about your precious whore of a daughter. Your friends, the church, the congregation—they will not respect a man who raised a whore. You, Father, are done.”
“I am not!” I shouted, exploding from my chair, sending it crashing into the wall behind me. My heart pounded inside of my chest. Sweat snaked down the sides of my face. My hands shook. I was no longer a man of the cloth, but one of rage.
The Prividenie rose from his chair, his shape larger than life. “No, you say? Then what. Will. You. Do?”
“I… I…”
The Prividenie moved closer to me, within a foot. “At a loss for words?” He asked. I could hear his large chest drawing in breaths of air. His smell was stale. “That’s because you know you will do nothing. You are but a weak and pathetic man.”
The truth was too much to bear. I felt my fists tighten into hard knots. My body shook uncontrollably. I couldn’t let this happen. I had to stop it.
My daughter would not destroy me.
I ran from the church, not knowing where I was going at first. I trotted aimlessly across the frigid city while a thousand images ripped through my mind, each one showing me over and over how my daughter had her way with me. And all I could hear besides the pounding of my chest was the Prividenie taunting me, telling me I was the weak one—not my daughter and certainly not Alexi Litvak. He wouldn’t stop. Over and over, he blamed me. He called me a spineless man who chose to hide behind the church. I knew then where I needed to go.
I climbed the wooden staircase of the brick building I had visited once before. This time I was focused. I knew what I had to do.
When I reached the fourth floor, I gave the secret knock and the door opened. I pushed my way in and began speaking my mind. I wasn’t about to let Olga change the tide.
At first she tried. She told me I was wrong, that she did not understand why I was saying these things about her. I continued to speak and she continued to interrupt. She wouldn’t let me finish. She kept going on and on about how I had it all wrong. I began to lose my voice in the conversation. She was doing it again. I had to stop it.
“Olga, will you shut up for one second? How am I to express myself if you won’t let me say my piece?”
“Papa, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re doing it right now. Can’t you keep quiet? Can’t you?” I kept repeating that phrase over and over. “Can’t you?” I just wanted, just for once, for her to keep her mouth shut.
By now my emotions were in overdrive. My body shook beyond my control as I held my arms out rigid in front of me. “Can’t you?”
My hands wrapped tightly around her neck. “Can’t you?”
The weight of my full body, as I straddled her tiny frame, pinned her to the floor. “Can’t you?”
Her expression changed from shock to fright to regret. Her eyes shouted apologies. They said, “Forgive me.” But I couldn’t. I continued to grip my hands tighter around her neck, squeezing and tightening. “This is what happens when you disrespect your father. Sorry doesn’t begin to make up for the years of disdain you have shown me.”
Again and again, I pounded her head against the floorboard. “Why, oh, why did you do this? You left me no choice. You know this, don’t you?” I screamed whilst saliva spilled from my mouth with each emphatic word.
Twenty-Seven
Fast-forward to the beginning
“Ten minutes,” said the guard as he rapped his wooden baton against the metal door.
I looked at my long time friend, Father Dmitry. He sat patiently on the edge of the cot, listening to my every word, not once complaining or asking for a break. Hours had passed since I had started my story, but I was nearing the end.
“I was still breathing heavily when I released my grip on Olga’s throat,” I continued. “She lay on the floor beneath me. Her eyes looked off into the distance but she saw nothing. Her grip on my shirt had long ago loosened, allowing her hands to fall to the side. Slowly, realization had set in. My Olga was gone.”
Father Dmitry finally broke his silence and said, “Why?”
“It was the Prividenie,” I quickly responded. “He is the one to blame. I’m here because of him. Did I not make that clear?”
“But Fedor, it was you who admits to having your hands around Olga’s neck.”
“Yes, but it was the Prividenie who made me do that. All this talk about killing and then how my daughter was disrespectful and painting me as a fool… Don’t you see it? He had purposely discussed the details of his kills over and over so that it no longer seemed taboo or foreign to me. I had become numb to murder.”
“Do you honestly believe this?”
“Of course. I had become a pawn in his game. He used me.”
“What did you do after you realized Olga was dead?”
“I immediately returned to the church.”
“The Prividenie was still there.”
“He was. When I opened the gate to the sanctuary, he was sitting quietly in his corner. He asked me, ‘Is it done, Father?’ I nodded at him and then asked why he had me do such a thing. He laughed. ‘It was part of the plan,’ he said. I remember it exactly. He then said, ‘I often wondered if I could kill without killing.’”
“He said that?”
“Yes. He had a smug look on his face, too. He then went on to say how he was the best of the best, the most inventive. No one was better than he. And then thanked me for helping him complete his one-hundredth contracted kill. Olga was his target. I was his experiment. The next thing I knew, I blinked and he was gone.”
“Did you see the face of this person?”
“I told you; it was dark in the sanctuary.”
I watched my old friend bow his head. He remained silent. He clasped his hands together and rubbed them gently. He breathed in deeply. I assumed I had made my point. Clearly he saw my innocence and was formulating a strategy to see to it I was released right away. I was sure of it until he turned to me and said, “Fedor, are you trying to tell me a faceless ghost made you do this?”
If you enjoyed reading about the hit man Ghostface,
be sure to read Stroganov, Book Two in the Darby Stansfield thriller series.
He makes an appearance.
The Novels of Ty Hutchinson
Darby Stansfield Thrillers
Chop Suey
Stroganov
Loco Moco
Abby Kane Thrillers
Cork Town - Coming Soon
Other Books
The Perfect Plan
The St. Petersburg Confessions
A Note From The Author
Hey, you finished the book. Congratulations. You rock. If you liked the book, tell your friends and family about it. Tweet it. Update your Facebook status. Blog about it. Give it a shining review. I would genuinely appreciate your kind words. Also if you like to cook, email me a picture of your Chop Suey, Stroganov or Loco Moco creation. I’ll post it to my blog.
If for some reason something in the book rubbed you the wrong way, or you have questions about it, email me. I’d love to hear your feedback. I can be reached at [email protected]
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author, Ty Hutchinson.
Chop Suey Copyright © 2011 by Ty Hutchinson
Stroganov Copyright © 2011 by Ty Hutchinson
Loco Moco Copyright © 2012 by Ty Hutchinson
Cover Designs: Josh Witherspoon
Box Set Design: FlipCityBooks
The St. Petersburg Confessions Copyright © 2012 by Ty Hutchinson
Darby Stansfield Thriller Series (Books 1-3 & Bonus Novella) Page 80