by Risk, Mona
She stifled a sob and kissed him with love and despair. He pulled her away from him. “Go, before I stop you forever.”
“When will I see you again?”
“I don’t know. Go, please, go.”
“Sergei, will we see each other again, alone?” She was waiting for his verdict as if it was her fault, as if she was responsible for messing up their relationship.
“I don’t know.” He didn’t touch her anymore.
Her eyes welled with unshed tears. She started running toward the hotel, unaware of her surroundings and the sudden cold that stiffened her spine. As she reached the glass door, she turned around. She couldn’t see him in the darkness but guessed he was still there, against the tree, protecting her from afar, and she swallowed a sob.
Chapter Fifteen
Cecile reached her room in a daze. She found two aspirins in her medical kit, then reconsidered. They would upset her stomach. How she wished she could swallow a shot of vodka, the efficient and universal remedy in Minsk. She already regretted her foolish refusal.
Sergei wanted her as his wife…
Why hadn’t she accepted? Why didn’t she ask for time to consider his proposal? Would she always put duty before happiness? His duty to his country. Her duty to her lab.
Be honest with yourself. It wasn’t just about duty and work.
She was afraid.
They were two strong personalities used to being in control of themselves and others. As his wife, she would give up everything that had been her life and become his shadow. Granted it was the shadow of a hero, a wonderful lover who made her yearn to stay in his arms but still a shadow without personality, without position, without personal achievement.
As an American woman in love with her freedom, how could she survive the continuous surveillance?
Could she share his fierce patriotism?
Too many questions with negative answers.
No, a marriage would not survive. They were too similar and their countries too different.
With pain clutching at her heart, she recognized she made the right decision.
* * * * *
Sergei stood to greet the American delegation. Cecile’s perfume invaded his nostrils as soon as she entered his office, and he noticed the dark edges shadowing her eyes. His back stiff, he nodded to avoid the torture of shaking her hand in an official way.
Last night, he had promised himself he would smother his love and snatch her out of his thoughts. Too restless to sleep, he’d drunk a whole bottle of vodka and smashed it against the wall of his antechamber. Cecilya didn’t understand his patriotism. She’d refused to share his simple life and glorious dream.
So be it, he would continue to live only for Belarus. As an officer, he could accept hardship without complaint but a rampant pain gnawed at his heart.
“Dobroye outroh, good morning, my friends. I’d like to see the analytical results of the samples and discuss the equipment retrieval from the airport.”
She had already given him the results of analysis and he trusted her professional opinion but this morning, he wanted to see her again. He’d called the meeting just to keep her beside him as long as he could. But he wouldn’t trust himself alone with her. He wanted to take her in his arms, crush her lips with his mouth and cover her with caresses and kisses. Instead, he forced himself to listen to the technical details.
Cecile rummaged through her briefcase and pulled out a yellow folder. She handed it to him. “General, these numbers represent the concentration of carcinogens in your sample. The values are high, too high for safety. In the U.S., we would say that they are above the maximum allowable limit for healthy conditions.” With a yellow marker, she highlighted the numbers on her report sheet.
Sergei inhaled deeply then exhaled, a terrible load weighing on his chest. The results showed that more people were going to die if nothing was done to alleviate the pollution.
His gaze scanned the little group, resting on each one of them. “What can we do to clean the environment? We don’t have the means or the money.” He stiffened, refusing to give in to despair about Belarus’ terrible hazardous waste situation.
Silence hovered over the group. Nicouvitch raised helpless hands. “Dr. Lornier would do her part, set up the lab and train the chemists but the environmental cleanup is way beyond her budget and the scope of her contract.”
John banged on the desk. “I think we can help you.” His voice thundered through the room. They all snapped to attention. Cecile spun toward him.
Nicouvitch grabbed John’s shoulders. “Speak, my friend. What’s your suggestion?”
A huge smile spread on John’s face. “Simple, another contract. EAL contract encompasses the refurbishment of the lab and training of the chemists. But the extent of the U.S. aid goes beyond the few millions allocated to Cecile’s project. Here’s what we should do.”
He inched toward the desk and scribbled on a blank pad. They gathered around him.
Cecile snatched the sheet of paper. “Go ahead. Think out loud. I’ll write.”
In spite of himself, Sergei smiled, touched by her eagerness to help.
“The general will request more aid. Cecile, you and your guys can write the requirements for the environmental cleanup. I’ll set up a contract and include your proposal in a formal request. I’ll ask my department to approve it and will highly recommend EAL. Who knows, maybe your company will win this second phase and provide the equipment necessary for the cleanup?”
Sergei extended his arm and shook John’s hand. “Thank you, my friend, you are helping me to fulfill the goal of my life.” Once more the American delegation had brightened his life and the future of his citizens.
Nicouvitch added his thanks to John with a bear-hug. The contract director seemed as pleased as if he had received the Nobel Prize.
John turned to Cecile and spread his arms wide open. “Hey, where is my hug, lady?”
She wrapped her arms around the large shoulders and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. “I think you deserve thanks for this brilliant idea.” Hmm, a brilliant idea. Except that…she’d have to involve Rob in this new contract. Would she ask Rob to come? Could she stand his patronizing attitude and belittling comments?
“Am I not a genius? You’re going to do all the work, Dr. Lornier and I’ll get the credit.” John’s booming laughter filled the office and they all chuckled.
Sergei stared at them. How he longed for a hug and a kiss, too. But he couldn’t take her in his arms. She had turned him down because of his love for his country.
He raised a hand. “My friends, can I ask you a favor? There are people who will try to stop any plan originating from my office. I would like to keep this new project secret until it is approved by the USA and officially announced here. No one, absolutely no one, should know about it.”
Nicouvitch cleared his throat a couple of times, requesting their attention. “The second item on our agenda is tomorrow’s visit to the airport to retrieve the equipment. I filed an application with the customs bureau of the Ministry of Defense. It should be signed and sent to the airport. We’ll find it there.” He sighed. “If everything goes well.”
Cecile’s frown deepened. “Why would things go wrong?”
Sergei shook his head. “Because the officer who is supposed to sign the application is my dear father-in-law. The customs bureau is under his jurisdiction and he seems determined to undermine every one of my projects.”
With a shrug, Sergei dismissed the potential problem. He’d found a way to accomplish his dream of ridding his country from carcinogens and was not going to worry about the details right now. His colonel could handle the situation with his usual efficiency.
Cecile turned to face him. His body ached with need for her, yet he made a superhuman effort to appear unperturbed by her pleading look.
“General, as soon as I retrieve the equipment from the airport I’ll work with you on the requirements of the new proposal.” Contradictory emotions
played on her face, assertiveness, reassurance and supplication.
He arched an eyebrow. She wanted to see him but on her own terms. Without smiling, he acknowledged her offer.
“Thank you, Cecile. We’ll see how things work out tomorrow at the airport.”
He was losing his grip on his control with every passing moment. He stood, signaling the end of the meeting and bowed, formal and polite, without handshakes or hand-kissing. Her gaze, puzzled and sad, pierced his heart.
In the past, even with people around them, he’d managed to reach her directly or through his colonel. Today, he’d turned a page, a very short one, crowded with feelings.
There was no room for feelings in their worlds.
At the door, Cecile paused and turned. She threw him a desperate look, her eyes a shining green pool of tears. He clenched his jaw and sat at his desk, his muscles rigid and tense. How long could he ignore her?
* * * * *
In complete arctic weather attire, Cecile braved the frigid winter to head to the airport at two o’clock in the afternoon. Paul, Jeffrey, John and Dr. Kadelov settled in the back of a large military Jeep driven by Colonel Nicouvitch.
At the airport, Nicolai parked in front of the customs zone. He knocked on the door of an office, then entered. Cecile and Kadelov followed him while the others waited outside the cramped little room. Nicolai greeted the clerk. “Dobroye deen, Comrade.”
After five minutes of animated conversation and hand gestures, the colonel’s face turned red. His voice rose. Through her limited vocabulary and their facial expressions, she could guess the discussion was not proceeding in the right direction. Cecile waited for Nicolai to translate the Russian conversation.
“The clerk has not received the permit from the customs bureau. He cannot release the equipment without it.”
Damn Roussov, he hadn’t sent the permit.
Nicolai pointed to the decorations on his chest and shoved what looked like his identity card under the man’s nose but the other just shook his head.
She heard a lot of Niet, niet, niet.
Nicolai banged on the desk. The clerk sprung up from his chair and spread his arms with his palms open, then nodded and dialed a telephone number.
This time, the words uttered were, Da, da, okay, okay, before the clerk hung up the phone and talked to Nicolai. He shook his hands several times, crossing them back and forth on top of each other, in a denial gesture. The colonel hammered the desk while shouting.
At least she understood the body language and put a restraining hand on Nicolai’s arm. “Calm down. I’m sure there must be some confusion here. Explain to me what this guy said.”
“He has not received the permit.” Nicolai inhaled and exhaled deeply. “He called to inquire. They said, ‘the permit would be signed when Colonel Roussov has time’. And now, this man can’t release the analytical equipment and can’t break the regulations.” Nicolai rubbed his forehead and hesitated before adding, “They also told him that if the American Program Manager wants a permit for her equipment she has to call Colonel Roussov herself.”
Cecile gasped. “The jerk, he wants me to call him.”
“No way, Cecile. Don’t.” Nicolai shook his hand.
“I need this equipment out of the airport and in the Belchem Lab as soon as possible. Tell this guy I will call Colonel Roussov and I will be back tomorrow to get my stuff.”
Kadelov translated. “He says, ‘make sure you come tomorrow because after that he will be away for the rest of the week and his substitute is not a patient man.’ We cannot stay longer in his office, Cecile. He has to take care of other people.”
She stubbornly refused to leave and moved her chair to the corner of the room watching a new petitioner fill out a paper and hand it to the clerk. “How come this guy has no permit?”
Nicolai talked to the clerk who sighed and raised his arms up with hands wide-open. “He said you are a very difficult woman. This man is retrieving agricultural machines and doesn’t need a special permit. You are dealing with chemical and analytical instruments. They are listed as dangerous and cannot be released without a permit from the Bureau of National Security. Now, can we go?”
Cecile chewed on her lip for a moment. “Who told him that our equipment is ‘chemical and analytical instruments’?”
Nicolai fixed a questioning look on her. “As soon as we entered, I told him that the permit for ‘chemical and analytical instruments’ should have been sent to him.”
She sighed. “I see. So he wouldn’t have known otherwise. Too bad you talked too fast.”
“But you cannot hide that fact.” Nicolai’s face reddened with righteous indignation.
In the hallway, they explained to John, Jeffrey and Paul the outcome of their useless conversation with the clerk.
During the drive back to the hotel, the men discussed the best approach to solve the problem, mingling advice and suggestions. Cecile remained quiet, immersed in her own thoughts. She would meet with Roussov, and if he still wished to play his dirty tricks, she would use a last desperate approach to retrieve the equipment.
After he dropped them in front of the hotel, the colonel took her aside. “Please, for your own sake, don’t call Roussov. Sergei will never forgive you.”
“How else am I going to get the equipment? I have to set the lab in order to fulfill both my contract and Sergei’s plan for analyzing the soil of Minsk.”
“Forget the soil. Forget the lab for a moment. Think about Sergei and how mad he will be,” he said with earnest.
“Today, he already seemed upset at me.” She scowled, bitterness overwhelming her heart. “Believe me, Nicolai, I care more about Sergei’s plan than my own contract now. I can always have other contracts. For him, it’s the goal of his life. I have to get the equipment from the airport. Please, don’t tell Sergei about my meeting with Roussov.” She may lose her general but she would give him a proof of her love and set up the lab as fast as possible.
“I’ll keep your secret. Do what you think is best but be very careful. You’ll be dealing with the devil himself.”
* * * * *
Lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, Cecile debated how to handle Roussov. With a Machiavellian mind like his, she needed a good plan of action and a backup one. She had to see him all right but in a way that meant he couldn’t harm her or force himself on her, in case he’d ever consider it.
On a sudden impulse, she jumped from her bed, took her key and rushed down the corridor to John’s room.
Cecile knocked a couple of times before and opened the unlocked door. “Hey, what a good surprise,” John said. “Come on in, my dear, join us.” She entered and found Paul sitting in a chair across from the bed.
He stood and gave her his place. “We were drinking and brainstorming about the best way to handle this difficult situation.” They both sat on the bed facing her. John reached for the vodka bottle.
“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka, even when you are alone without Belarusians around,” she said with a half-smile.
John filled a shot glass and handed it to her while Paul laughed. “The Belarusians are right. This liquor has incredible benefits. Two days ago, it cured you and right now it’s stirring our brain cells into action.”
“Well, I didn’t come to drink but if your head is still clear, I’ll ask for your opinion. We have a big problem here. I need to solve it without ruffling too many feathers.”
“Why do you think Roussov insists on you personally calling him?” John raked his frizzy hair with a nervous hand. She could see that he didn’t dare ask a more specific question.
Paul didn’t have such qualms. “Hey boss, did he make any unpleasant advances?”
“No but…” She paused and they both narrowed their eyes. Her gaze flicked from one to the other. “I think his attitude is more directed at harming Sergei. But I don’t know how he plans to achieve this goal if that’s what he has in mind.”
They forgot to drink fo
r a moment, John staring straight ahead and Paul fixing a bleak look at his shoes.
“When you’re done squeezing your brain for a plausible explanation, I’ll share my plan with you.” They both focused an expectant gaze on her. “I’ll call Roussov and ask him for the permit. Now if he insists, I’ll agree to meet with him.”
She hesitated, not sure about how much she wanted to reveal. Paul arched a questioning brow. He knew her well enough to guess her nervousness. “Is there anything else we need to know? You can trust us. It wouldn’t be fair for you to cope with all the problems alone.”
He was right. They wanted to help her and she owed them some explanation. She related her previous encounters with Roussov but didn’t mention her relationship with Sergei.
They listened intently. “If you insist on meeting with him, do it in a big restaurant. We’ll drop you off and wait for you outside,” Paul suggested.
Cecile shrugged. “I don’t think he would physically attack me. I’m more afraid of what he’ll say or ask.”
Paul swallowed a sip of his drink. “In that case, take your little memo recorder. Turn it on. If he harasses you, we’ll have proof of it.”
“Great idea. I’ll do that.”
John scratched his head. “We better take the bull by the horns. You should call him right now, Cecile, so we can listen to the conversation.”
He handed her the telephone. She dialed the number of the Ministry of Defense, asked for Colonel Roussov and was transferred to his office. A secretary put her on hold, then she heard the syrupy voice of Sergei’s father-in-law greeting her as if she was his longtime friend.
She went straight to the point. “Colonel Roussov, we were at the airport this afternoon to retrieve the equipment. I was told that you hadn’t signed the permit yet. Are you by any chance opposed to the U.S. aid to Belarus?”
“Dr. Lornier, please, I am shocked.” On the other end of the line, his voice grated on her nerves, polite but chiming with righteous indignation. “How can you ever imagine such a thing? I am so grateful for the aid provided by your country.”
If she hadn’t seen Roussov on two previous occasions and personally felt the sting of his malevolence, she would have sworn he was the sweetest man on Earth.