“After Anna’s death, we were all devastated. Alyssa, me, and yes, even Kamila. I was trying to fix everything, take care of everyone, like I had promised Anna I would. Kamila was worried about going back home to Chechnya. She went on and on about how horrible it was, what they did to people there. I wanted her to feel better.”
“So you did what to make her feel better?”
“I told her I would take care of her.”
“Marry her?”
“No…I mean, I don’t know how she could assume—”
“And you think it takes that much effort to make a woman fall in love with you? Just the words ‘take care of you’ are enough to send some women into orbit.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he said.
“I am. That was pretty careless if you ask me.” She twisted in her seat so that she was not facing him.
As far as Marcus was concerned, he’d said enough. It wasn’t like he had grilled her about every detail of her past relationships.
“None of this has anything to do with what’s happening now.”
“I don’t know that,” Stormy replied.
“You don’t know what?” Marcus asked defensively.
“It doesn’t matter. I mean, you’re telling me there was nothing between you and Kamila. I believe you.”
Marcus wasn’t sure if she was being honest, or just ending the conversation out of frustration. He’d take either option, as long as they could move on from this topic.
“Thank you for believing me,” he said. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “And, you were right. I needed your help.”
“You mean needed, or need? We’re not done yet.”
“Well—”
“Don’t tell me,” Stormy said. “You’re going off to Russia on your own to find Alyssa and Kamila.”
“I mean—”
“Just hop on a plane, without a plan, start chasing people around, maybe get yourself arrested, right?”
“Hey…”
Stormy poured another half-glass for each of them.” Maybe you know someone who can keep their head, and yours, on straight, who can talk to police without getting sent to jail? Any ideas?”
Marcus smiled. “Well, there’s you, I guess.”
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses,” she said. “I already told my father I can’t make the Alaskan cruise we had scheduled later this month.”
“You didn’t have to—”
“Don’t start that again. Besides, I’ve been to Alaska. But who would pass up a chance to travel to war-torn Chechnya? I’m assuming your passport and Russian visa are a little out of date? I need one too.”
“When I worked for the government, they took care of all of that for me,” Marcus said.
“Under normal circumstances it takes weeks,” she said. “I’ll find a way to expedite the process.”
“You know about these things, huh?” Marcus said.
“You forget, I have experience with Russia too.”
“International environmental law.”
“That’s right. And since I didn’t work for the government, I had to take care of my own travel arrangements. So yes, I know a thing or two about international travel.”
“Okay. But how’s your Russian?”
“Neeploha!” she said, smiling.
“Not so bad. I guess that will have to do.”
Chapter 12
Marcus and Stormy sat in silence as the taxi followed the highway into downtown Moscow. The sun, dim as a 30-watt bulb through a smoke-stained lampshade, had set soon after their arrival in Russia.
The last time Marcus was on this road he was with Anna, travelling the opposite direction: to America to start a new life together. Now he was back, this time to save Alyssa, who was nothing more than the hope of a dream back then.
If Anna were still alive, none of this would have happened. Anna would have known how to handle Kamila, how to stop her descent into madness. But she wasn’t here, and it was up to Marcus to fix what Kamila had done.
It had taken six days to get their documents in order. That was six more days for Kamila to put Alyssa in harm’s way. Six days without a phone or credit card to track her whereabouts.
But they were here now, and that was better than being stuck back in America, where the best Marcus could do was check in with the police. No new information. They’d let Marcus know right away if anything changed. Marcus didn’t tell the detective he was leaving for Moscow. The less they knew, the better.
Marcus and Stormy had tossed around several ideas for getting a track on Kamila’s location, from searching the streets on foot to interviewing ex-patriots—or anyone for that matter—who might have seen a confused, mentally ill Chechen with a young American girl.
The first step, they decided, was to visit the embassy. Marcus had tried calling and emailing Neil, his old supervisor there. Apparently he’d been transferred, along with several others. The new staff had never heard of Marcus and treated him like any other American citizen.
Marcus didn’t need pat answers, he needed to figure out the best way to find Alyssa.
The embassy staff wouldn’t find it so easy to dismiss him in person.
Minutes later, they were in central Moscow. The driver parked in front of the Metropol hotel. Well-placed lights illuminated the hotel’s ornamented facade. Smooth walls dissected by balconies reached up to a colorful yet fading mosaic of tiles above. Marcus had let Stormy make the hotel arrangements. It seemed a bit much.
“Have you stayed here before?” she asked.
“No,” Marcus said. He hadn’t been to the hotel—that much was true. But he had been to Theater Square, the district directly in front of the Metropol. Russian theater was one of the things Anna had missed the most when she moved to America. At one end of the square sat the Bolshoi Theater and its thickly columned portico, giving the impression of a Greek temple.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just brings back memories.”
Their rooms were on the third floor and the bellhop set their bags down and opened the first door with an electronic card. He looked questioningly at Marcus but Stormy spoke first. “These can go in this room,” she said, pointing to her luggage. “The others in the room next door.” Marcus handed him a tip and followed Stormy into her room.
The room was small by American standards, but what it lacked in size it made up in décor. The bed frame was maple with a gold-striped comforter. The walls were gold as well with a fleur design; there was a television and small desk.
“Embassy first thing tomorrow morning?” Stormy asked.
“It’s a long shot, but someone there may be able to help.”
Stormy began unpacking her suitcase. “If the Embassy can’t help, then what?”
“I have an address for Kamila’s aunt.”
“In Moscow? You didn’t tell me about that.”
“Grozny, in Chechnya. I found the letter when I was going through some of Anna’s things. I hope to God Kamila doesn’t go there.”
“Why?”
“It’s only going to make it worse for her. Grozny is where her mother and sister died. Where a lot of bad things happened. We have to find her before she takes Alyssa there.”
Stormy walked over to Marcus. She held his hands.
“We will find her.”
He pulled back a little. “Why don’t you get some rest? It's the middle of the night back home. I’m setting my alarm for 7 am.”
“All this hotel just to sleep in. What a waste,” Stormy said.
Marcus glanced back at her. “Yeah, a waste.”
Stormy smiled, let go of his hands, and turned him around. She kissed him on the back of the neck and gave him a little shove out the door and said, “Goodnight.”
Back in his own room, Marcus tossed his suitcase onto the floor and fell onto the bed.
Alyssa could be anywhere in Moscow, a city of nearly t
welve million people. If she were here at all. Kamila might have taken her to Chechnya, might have done a lot of things to her by now. Fighting for Alyssa wasn’t the hard part. It was keeping hope that she was still alive, that there was something still there to fight for, even when he couldn’t hold her, see her face, hear her voice.
He sat up on the edge of the bed. Alyssa is still alive. That’s why you’re here, to bring her back home. In less than twelve hours they’d be at the Embassy, and after that, they wouldn’t leave Moscow until they’d found Alyssa.
Chapter 13
Alyssa followed Kamila into a storefront in what would have been one of the worst neighborhoods in Seattle. The sign painted on the dirty glass window was in Russian, just like everything else. It had been days since she had seen her father. She knew Kamila was lying when she refused to call him at the airport. Now her aunt was talking to herself more than ever, and getting more upset at little things.
Alyssa was hungry. Each day they ate less. Now it was one meal a day and even that was shrinking. Had Kamila just screwed up and got lost? That didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t as if Kamila liked being around her in the first place. Why take Alyssa with her to another country when she could just go by herself?
She had already missed tons of school, and at least three of her basketball games. Everyone would freak out, wondering where she was.
If she could just get a hold of her dad. He would know what to do. He would tell her everything was going to be all right. That he was on his way.
But what if it wasn’t all right? What if something happened to him—like what happened to her mom? She would be alone, except all the way this time. Kamila didn’t count as family, and she had told Kamila a hundred times that she wanted to go home, had screamed it at her. She wasn’t listening.
Alyssa spun the friendship bracelet around her wrist. It was something she did when she was nervous. She had made a bracelet for her dad too, hoping the bright colors would cheer him up. He had been depressed for so long after Alyssa’s mom died. It seemed like he was doing better now, too.
And then Kamila had to freak out and take her halfway across the world.
If she was ever going to see her dad again, she would have to do something on her own. Waiting for someone to rescue her wasn’t enough. Alyssa wished she had her cell phone. If only she could have found it before she left. Even Kamila’s new cell phone was different—it was one of those cheap ones you get at the store. Not the smart phone Alyssa’s dad had bought for her.
She knew her dad’s phone number by heart, and she had studied the out of country public phone instructions at the airport when Kamila wasn’t paying attention. But there wasn’t a phone in their motel room, and she wasn’t sure what Kamila might do if she caught her trying to leave.
Kamila approached the counter in the little storefront and spoke to a woman in Russian. Alyssa didn’t understand any of the conversation and didn’t dare ask Kamila. She wondered what it was this place sold. The room smelled like cigarettes. There were dark squares on the wall where pictures used to be, but now there were no decorations at all, as if someone had abandoned the place.
“Stay,” Kamila said.
Another woman arrived and led Kamila away to a different part of the office.
Alyssa sat down and wondered if this would take as long as the other place she had to wait. The one with the American flags and people who spoke English. Now she wondered how far away that building was. If she could find it, they would help her.
After a long time, Alyssa approached the receptionist at the counter. Maybe she would understand Alyssa. If she did, she might tell Alyssa where to find others that spoke English too.
“Excuse me.” The woman didn’t look up. “Hello?”
The woman mumbled something back.
“Do you speak English?” Alyssa asked.
More mumbling.
“Do you speak English?” Alyssa asked.
Then, Kamila returned.
She looked from Alyssa to the woman, then said something in Russian. The woman looked at Alyssa and smiled as if she and Kamila had shared some secret about her.
Kamila pulled Alyssa back outside where it had started to snow again. A few steps down the street, she turned, gripping Alyssa’s shoulder.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing.”
“Why did you ask if she spoke English?”
“I wanted to know where the restroom was.”
Kamila stared back at her. She wouldn’t believe anything Alyssa said
That made them even.
“Don’t do it again. Or else.”
Alyssa wanted to ask, or else what? But she didn’t want to make aunt any more upset. Kamila didn’t know it, but Alyssa had seen the knife her aunt had been holding before they left for the airport. At first, she thought it was because her aunt was thinking about hurting herself again. Alyssa knew her aunt did things like that, even though her mom and dad had tried to hide that sort of stuff from her. But now, after spending over a week with Kamila, Alyssa wondered if the knife was meant for her, not Kamila.
Kamila could do what she wanted with herself, but Alyssa wouldn’t stop trying to get back to her dad. She would have to be more careful, though. Or she might never make it home.
Chapter 14
The Embassy was there to help American citizens, but just like any other endeavor, it made a difference who you knew. Having a contact within the Embassy was the difference between being buried under bureaucratic red tape and getting real help, including connections within Russian government. Marcus had made an appointment online, and they arrived fifteen minutes early. The appointment wasn’t going to be with anyone he knew, but it at least would get him into the building. Once there, he hoped to find a familiar face.
After making it through security, Marcus and Stormy approached the receptionist, a young woman with wide red curls held back by a hair tie. She was wearing a stylish dress with a white and blue flower print. She looked nice enough, but she was probably in high school the last time Marcus worked for the Embassy.
“My name is Marcus Shelton. I used to work here.”
She regarded him, noticeably unimpressed. “And?”
“I need to speak to someone about my daughter. She was abducted.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes.”
“Have a seat, then.”
“Right, but I was hoping to talk to someone else.”
“You want to cancel your appointment?”
“If I talk to someone I know.”
She rolled her eyes, gave him a look as if she was considering asking security to deal with him.
“Anyone in particular?”
“You probably have a list of Embassy staff on your computer. If you let me take a look, I might recognize someone.”
“You seriously want me to let you look on my computer?”
“Marcus Shelton?” a voice called from across the room and Marcus’s intestines contracted at the sound of it. It belonged to Steve Jones. He was the one person at the Embassy Marcus did not want to see right now.
“Jones,” Marcus said hesitantly, taking his extended hand.
It had been over ten years since Marcus left the Embassy. The lines on Jones’ face cut deeper than before, but his hairline had advanced—with the help of plugs. Some things hadn’t changed: Jones’s practiced smile and an aura doused in cologne.
“What are you doing here?” Jones asked.
“I was hoping to find someone I recognized,” Marcus said.
Not you, though. Anyone but you.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“It’s my daughter. She’s missing.”
Jones’s phone buzzed. He tapped on the device, walked across the lobby and began talking.
“Who is this guy?” Stormy asked. “Isn’t’ there anyone else who can help?”
“He’s bad news
.”
In his early days at the Embassy, Marcus had gotten along fine with Jones. But things took a turn when Marcus challenged the ethics, and legality, of some of Jones’s business dealing in Moscow. From then on, Jones took every opportunity to undermine Marcus’s work in Economic Affairs, usually through carefully placed insinuations about Marcus’s over-friendliness with locals.
When Jones learned that Marcus was dating Anna, a Chechen, it gave him all the ammunition he needed to bring Marcus down. According to Jones, dating a Chechen was practically treason. She was a security risk, Jones insisted. Never mind that half of the staff at the Embassy befriended locals. And that Jones, who was married, had a well-documented penchant for the seedier side of Moscow’s ‘dating’ scene.
Marcus knew he was being watched, but refused to end his relationship with Anna, even after the higher ups at the Embassy took Jones’s advice and issued Marcus an ultimatum. A few months later, Jones was promoted and Marcus knew his time at the Embassy was over.
Jones called Marcus in to give him a final warning—break it off with Anna or he was done at the Embassy. Marcus didn’t budge, and Jones explained in simple terms that Marcus needed to make plans to leave Moscow within the month and “Take your Chechen dog with you.” It took one punch for Marcus to make his point. Anything more and he would have ended up in custody.
A few weeks later Marcus was on his way back to Seattle. He and Anna kept in touch by phone until she finished her residency. One long year later, she made it to America on a work visa.
As for Marcus, his experience at the Economic Affairs section in Moscow had landed him the job at Cook and Daniels. Anna passed her exams and was working at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle. Next came marriage, and a baby, and it was all supposed to be happily ever after.
Marcus stared at the back of the man who had cost him his career at the Embassy. He should thank him; it was Marcus’s decision to leave Moscow that had given him Anna, and Alyssa.
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