Russian Connection

by Lakes, Lynde

  “Ever eat Russian food?” he asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  She laughed. “Only Russian rye.”

  “Doesn’t qualify. I picked up some of my favorites from Vladimir’s place.”

  “Well,” she said, “please don’t expect them to be mine. I’m slow to warm up to exotic foods.” And entirely too quick to warm to this exotic man, she thought, fighting the electricity sizzling between them.

  “Surely an adventurous woman like you won’t count out something unique until you try it, right?” His deep voice turned her knees to jelly.

  “It’s your story,” she quipped, enjoying the light banter, but unable to stop trembling as sexual vibes charged between them.

  To keep her hands busy, she lit the candles waiting like phallic symbols on the dining room table. Good, Lord! Phallic symbols. Where is my mind?

  She glanced at Dayd to see if he’d noticed her flaming face.

  He smiled.

  Oh, no. She sighed in relief when he turned away. He sauntered to the China cabinet and removed gold-trimmed white china and Bavarian crystal. It was amusing to consider eating take-out food on such elegant ware. The grandeur made her feel special, like a princess. But things weren’t what they seemed, and she’d better not forget it for a moment.

  After they sat down, Dayd gestured to each item of food, extolling its wonders. “You’ll love the cod. It’s prepared the way they make it in Suzdal, baked in covered crock cups with milk and a touch of cinnamon.” He made the O sign of perfection with his thumb and forefinger. “There’s no hint of a fishy taste, and it melts in your mouth.”

  “Suzdal?”

  “A city of ancient Russian windmills with oblique glistening vanes surrounded by miles of wheat-gold hillside.”

  “Ah, a Don Quixote paradise.” She could see a parallel between Quixote and Dayd; both jousted with windmills.

  They ate silently for a few minutes. The steaming scalloped potatoes topped with a rich cheddar would add pounds to her hips. It was so delicious she didn’t care. The asparagus was fork tender, and the real butter melting on contact with the loaf of black bread made it even more delectable.

  She ate enthusiastically and followed the food with tiny sips of vodka. At the end of the main course, Dayd served a dessert of rolled white cake filled with whipped cream and minced almonds accompanied by a strong pot of dark Russian tea and more vodka.

  Was he plying her with rich food and vodka to seduce her? As much as she might enjoy finding out how this mysterious man made love, she had no intention of making that mistake. She didn’t take making love lightly.

  Dayd touched her bell-shaped glass with his. “Miru mir, peace to the world,” he toasted in a deep voice.

  “I like that.” Her face flamed hearing her own sexy purr.

  “Miru mir is the kind of Russian slogan that appears quite often in the streets of Moscow, painted on billboards, or on the sides of buildings by students.”

  A sense of power pulsated from Dayd like a flame. The strange and rare quality in his face, in his strong jaw, and in his intense eyes spoke of an iron will and inner strength beyond anything she’d ever experienced in a man.

  His fervor both fascinated and frightened her.

  “Were you one of the artists?” she asked, trying to control the quiver in her voice.

  He grinned. “I may have been.”

  She would bet on it. “You make Russia sound softer and more pleasant than I ever imagined.”

  He chuckled. “Soft it’s not, but the people have heart and are gracious and hospitable.”

  One of Nikki’s friends had told her that when she visited Moscow the thing that struck her most was the silence in the streets, how the people didn’t speak or even look at one another. “It must be difficult to be outgoing while needing to remain guarded and wary.”

  “It can be done,” was all he said, without debate or denial.

  ****

  Dayd flipped a button to turn on his tape deck. Music from his favorite Russian string quartet filled the silence that had fallen between them, dispensing its magic like gold dust. He leaned back in his chair, feeling more relaxed than he’d been in a very long time. He was getting a hell of a bang out of watching Nikki. She was a bright new copper penny, all shiny and aglow. Slowly, very slowly, she sipped the vodka with the relish of a connoisseur. She was easy to be with, easy to talk to.

  He loved the way her auburn hair brushed her shoulders when she shook her head. It unfurled shiny and thick and tempted him to tangle his fingers into it. Maybe if they’d made love once, he could stop wanting her. Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. She was in his blood and there wasn’t a thing in the world he could do about it.

  It wasn’t just a physical thing; he respected her. She was tough and committed to her goals. What would it be like to have her committed to him? He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a second. Face it, he told himself, it’d be great. But impossible.

  Wanting to keep his mind off making love to her, and her mind off the abduction, he found himself telling her things about Russia that he wouldn’t normally speak of, except with Boris or other close friends who truly understood. He explained that the country was now becoming overrun by strangers who felt no love for Mother Russia.

  A certain Russian sentimentality he’d learned while living in Moscow, which allows total strangers to address one another with the greatest intimacy, came gushing forth. He barely knew this woman, yet he was confiding in her as though they’d been childhood sweethearts. The thought warmed him. He would’ve loved to have known her growing up, imagining she’d been a spunky handful, a tomboy.

  “I didn’t know the Mafia existed in Russia,” Nikki said softly.

  He didn’t want to talk about that. Did Nikki know how lovely she was? Her big emerald eyes caught the lights from the candle flame and sent them back to him in teasing fireworks.

  “It’s deeply rooted,” he said. “The Mafia kingpins know a great deal about psychology, parapsychology and black magic. Where possible, they use those forces to control their victims. If they can’t, they eliminate them.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and with an anguished little cry, she rearranged the silverware strewn about her plate. “And they have Glenda…”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dayd cursed himself, raging at his own stupidity. He’d meant to keep her mind off the abduction for a while and failed. He longed to take her in his arms, console her, but if he touched her now they might cross a threshold with no way back.

  He touched her hand, but even that was risky. Her skin was so soft, her bones so delicate, so feminine. “We’ll find her,” he promised. What if trying his best wasn’t good enough? He pushed the possibility of failure from his mind. “Don’t upset yourself tonight. You’ll need rest and a clear mind for tomorrow.”

  “Then stop refilling my glass with vodka. I’m already feeling lightheaded.”

  Dayd doubted that. When she thought he wasn’t looking she’d been pouring her vodka into his glass.

  “Isn’t it hard to have loyalties to two countries?” she asked.

  “In truth, I am richer, having both Russian and American lineage. Of course some people with both ancestries become neither, and are lost, with no heritage at all. It isn’t like that for me. Boris tends to fit in the somewhat-lost-category, but his stout Russian heart helps him handle it.”

  “It’s comforting to know he has some kind of heart. Is he a friend, or your partner in crime?”

  Dayd couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Both.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Reliable. You’ll like The Bear. Women always do. He’s a man of many talents. Bomb expert. Artist. He has a wonderful tenor singing voice and plays the flute. As a boy he hunted with his father and is an excellent shot. If he aims at you, he won’t miss.”

  “Remind me to stay out of his line of fire.” She leaned forward, sending perfume spiraling around Dayd. “But let’s get
back to you. Were you a poor little waif whose childhood would tug at my heartstrings?”

  “Far from it. My family never lacked for money. We spent the summers by the seaside.”

  “You’re still very Russian, aren’t you? You eat Russian food, drink Russian vodka, and you certainly have the accent.”

  “What can I say? The country rubbed off on me.”

  “You liked it then?”

  “Absolutely, my life there was good. On holidays my parents entertained crowds of people, important people, mayors, generals, ministers who came to celebrate in our home. And I had a beautiful nanny who spoke six languages.” He couldn’t help smiling. “I had a devastating crush on her. Because of my adulation, I studied hard to impress her. I learned to speak English, Polish and German fluently.”

  Nikki’s eyes twinkled. “Crushes can be overwhelming. I remember my first crush. I fell hard for Mr. Roth, my seventh grade math teacher. Since then I have had an affinity for pushing numbers around.”

  She was quiet for a moment, then met his gaze. “Sorry about the detour down Memory Lane. Back to you. Any brothers and sisters?”

  Dayd could understand and respect her quest to learn more about the man with whom she was about to spend the night, but talking about himself always brought forth painful memories. “A brother,” he said. Laroslav was someone he didn’t discuss with anyone, except Boris once in a weak moment. Feeling his throat begin to tighten, he rushed on. “And there’s my parents and my grandmother.”

  “Leaving Russia must have been hard for a ten-year-old,” she said softly.

  “I had mixed feelings about it. But Mother Russia is a state of mind as much as a place. And I never got completely weaned.”

  Nikki leaned forward. “How did you get involved with all this?” she asked, seemingly hanging on his every word. He liked that about her. She was a good listener.

  “With glasnost, the ban on subversive literature ended. The same with the limits on pocket currency, and as the rich people emerged, so did the criminals, ready to steal their wealth.” Dayd took a gulp of vodka to ease the anger that eroded the thin veneer of his soul. “When there are new structures and bad laws, scum like Luke Brown and Ivan Godunov rise to the surface. And men like Boris and me have to take them down.”

  Nikki was silent for several minutes. “You’re so…so intense. I can’t imagine you ever being a child.”

  “My childhood passed a very long time ago.” Dayd missed those seemingly endless days. He recalled a choir of girls in flowered vests and garlands in their hair singing a Russian anthem. Afterward he had to get up and recite a new school oath: We must study for Mother Russia, he’d said with a tremor in his voice. “I guess I was intense even as a child,” he admitted, realizing the fact for the first time. “But why all this talk about me? What is Nikki Brown all about? What are your dreams?”

  Nikki laughed. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how good you are at switching the flow of information.” She tilted her adorable head. “I’ll let you get away with it for now. And as far as my dreams go, when I find out myself, I’ll let you know.”

  “Ah, a mystery woman.”

  ****

  Nikki felt a tingle shoot through her. Dayd’s voice was as sonorous as the deepest Russian seaport, she thought. However, he was wrong. She wasn’t at all mysterious, but he was. What would she find if she scratched deep below the surface of Dayd Radlavich?

  When he had touched her hand earlier, she’d felt an electric thrill, a charge of delight.

  Dayd scooted his chair a bit closer, not close enough for any part of them to touch, but close enough to make her heart pound in hard thuds.

  “Come on,” he said, “I want to hear about you. What made you decide to become an air traffic controller?”

  “I sort of fell into it. I decided the quickest route out of my dad’s house was military service.” Her cheeks warmed, showing her embarrassment that she’d taken what she’d believed was the easy way out. “When I joined the Air Force, the personnel section decided I had an aptitude for numbers and communications. Since I got a kick out of monitoring gauges, radar scopes and screens, I stuck with it.”

  “Doesn’t the high stress get to you?”

  “I’m trained to handle it. Mostly the work is routine. I direct flight operations within a small specific area, advising pilots about altitude, weather, wind direction, other aircraft and proper approaches and runways, things like that.”

  “Do you see manifests? Personnel? Cargo?”

  Nikki’s neck prickled. Whoa. The conversation had suddenly shifted to an interrogation. “I have access to some of that data,” she said, speaking slower now, weighing what she wanted to divulge. “Why do you ask?”

  “Luke questioned you about the same thing, didn’t he? Even before you were married.”

  “As a matter of fact, he did. He was always curious about where the planes were going, the cargo, and so forth.”

  “What did you tell him?” Dayd’s eyes probed hers.

  She cleared her dry throat. “Just what everyone knows. Besides monitoring gauges and screens, I maintain contact with traffic control centers, record messages and operate runway lights and other electronic equipment. Nothing mysterious.”

  “Tell me more about your contact with pilots.”

  “Not much to tell. Primarily it’s based on their flight plan.” She glared at him. “Why are you so interested?”

  “Did Luke ever hang around your office?”

  Back to Luke again. “Sometimes, why? What’s with all the questions about Luke?”

  “You have a computer at work. You use disks. What if Luke hid his disks among your work files?”

  Ah, ha. Of course, the disks. “I brought a container of files home the day before he was killed. I wanted to delete the outdated info and never seemed to have time at work.”

  Dayd squeezed her hand, his eyes glinting bright. “Luke returned to town several days ahead of schedule, and showed up at your place when you weren’t home. He could’ve ditched his disks among yours for safekeeping.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. She sprang to her feet. “Let’s go. I won’t sleep until I know for sure.”

  “Any problem getting into the operations building this late at night?”

  “None. It’s our team’s rotation for the midnight shift. I’ll know all of them.”

  He glanced at the partially empty bottle of vodka. “I’ll call a taxi,” he said, dialing. “Neither of us should drive tonight.”

  She laughed. “Good thinking.” She started to leave the room but stopped dead in her tracks and swung around to face him. He wanted the disks desperately. Would he try to take them away from her? “Dayd—”

  He shoved a jacket into her arms and grabbed her hand. “Taxi’s waiting downstairs. Let’s go.”

  An icy sensation slid down her spine. What had she done? They both wanted the disks, but for different reasons. Once he got them would he leave her and forget the rescue? She couldn’t let that happen. She crossed her fingers for luck. Let me find the disks at my office and come up with something clever to keep them from Dayd.

  ****

  As the taxi headed for the former Norton Air Force Base, now a cargo airport with associated businesses, Dayd frowned. What was going on with Nikki? Suddenly, she was just too damn quiet for what could be their big break. If he correctly judged the way her mind worked, that meant trouble.

  Because she didn’t trust him, and really had no reason to, she might try to keep him from getting his hands on the disks.

  He’d have to watch her closely. No problem. He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do. Nikki really had him going. Lately it seemed his every waking moment was spent either with her, or thinking about her. In the past, due to the nature of his job, he’d kept his relationships with women free of commitments. Keeping things uncomplicated was an unwritten rule. He’d never questioned it. Until now.

  Dayd’s gut tightened. Why was he having a
ll these confusing feelings? His emotional doors had been battered down when he’d least expected it. He’d tried to convince himself his interest in Nikki was just one of those chemistry things that would pass. But it wasn’t passing. And, it seemed the more he wanted her, the more she fought the attraction. Yet she was attracted to him, too. He’d seen it in her eyes, felt it in her kiss, and in the way, for an instant, her arms had yielded to him.

  Dayd looked out the taxi window into the darkness and saw a street sweeper. It must be later than he thought. He glanced at his watch, 2:00 A.M. Nikki had to be exhausted, yet she seemed tireless, animated.

  They headed down Third Street, past decaying housing, honky-tonk bars, cheap motels and trailer parks. The taxi turned onto the Norton grounds, driving past dark, vacated barracks and warehouses, then stopped in front of the Air Traffic Controller and Operations Building. Dayd paid the driver and asked him to wait.

  “You can wait here, too,” Nikki said. “I won’t be long.”

  “We stay together,” he said flatly.

  ****

  Nikki’s heart sank. Now what was she going to do? “I’ll have to enter your name in the log. Are you sure you want that, being with the CIA and all?”

  “I’ll chance it.”

  His answer proved that he wanted the disks at all costs.

  Nikki lifted her jacket collar against the chill of the October night air. The only warmth came from Dayd’s firm grip on her elbow. Even after they entered the building, she found herself gravitating to his heat to quiet her shivers. Because of all the computers, the air-conditioning was set on high. Still, she had to leave his warmth to reach her goal.

  She entered his name on the security log, then introduced Dayd to two of her work team, Smiley and Tucker. Both teammates were good-natured and loved to tell jokes. Tucker cornered Dayd to tell him the latest. Dayd reciprocated with a joke of his own. Curt Harrison, the chief controller, pulled her aside. “Why did you bring this guy here?” he growled.