by Risk, Mona
“For heaven’s sake keep your eyes on the road and let me talk to Natalia.”
Their driver apologized and resumed her driving at a slower pace while listening to the backseat conversation.
Natalia bent to kiss her on the cheek. “I am so happy for you. Oh Sissyl, I am glad you will live in Minsk. We can be good friends. I will teach you to dress well and you will teach me to be like you, a strong woman.”
Cecile clasped her hands in her lap, wondering how to broach her demands.
“Why are you so nervous? I will help you with the wedding arrangements,” Natalia said with a bright smile.
“Thank you, Natalia. There is something terrible you can help me fix. Last night some photographers took a picture of Sergei leaving my room. He got so upset and ended in a big fight with them. The National Security guards interfered.”
The pretty woman gasped. “They arrested our Major Generalle? Impossible. All Belarus will protest.”
Cecile reached for her hand and patted it. “No, no. They didn’t arrest him but I got Sergei into big trouble. Natalia, I was supposed to pay for the reception at the restaurant but I was so tired. You know how gallant the general is.” She was giving the story a romantic twist. “He took the envelope containing the money and went to pay for me. But he got into the fight before he had time to pay. And Roussov found the money.”
“So what is the problem?” Natalia narrowed her almond-shaped eyes.
“The money was in dollars,” Cecile said with a sigh.
“Oh.” Exclamations echoed from the front and back seats.
Cecile continued to press her point. “I explained to the National Security Director the money was mine. Sergei was going to pay the restaurant on my behalf, but the officer wouldn’t listen.”
“Are you talking about Colonel Roussov? Of course, he wouldn’t listen. He hates the Major Generalle. He was Sofya’s father. Everyone knows that. Oh I am sorry, maybe you do not know?”
Exasperated by the slow-motion discussion, Cecile almost shook the manicured hand. “Natalia, I need your help. Can you talk to your husband? Ask him to help Sergei?”
Chapter Twenty-four
Sergei glanced at his watch. Two in the afternoon. The Minister of Defense had not returned his call. Sitting behind his desk, he sighed in frustration.
Unable to cope with the demoralizing inactivity, he headed down the dark hallway and stomped up the stairs to the minister’s office. He knocked on the door of the antechamber and admitted himself. “Dobroye deen, good day, Mikhayel, is our minister here?”
The officer straightened up and saluted, “Yes, Generalle Fedorin. I will tell him you are here to see him.”
Sergei raised a hand toward the secretary. “Don’t bother, Sergeant. I know my way.”
Without giving him the time to protest or move away from his desk, Fedorin wrenched the door open, entered and closed it behind him.
“Dobroye outroh, Minister Anatov.”
The minister bolted from his chair. “Generalle Fedorin, how dare you?”
Sergei strutted to the desk and leaned toward his boss, both palms braced on the shining wood. “Minister, you haven’t returned my calls. You should have expected me to come,” he flared through clenched teeth. “I wasn’t going to spend my day and evening waiting like a lamb to be slaughtered while others shredded my reputation.”
His boss slumped back into his chair and folded his arms. He leveled an icy stare at Sergei. “Fedorin, you have a lot of nerve to force my door and complain. The Major Generalle fighting photographers, beating the Director of National Security, accepting a foreign bribe and consorting with the American Program Manager. And you claim others are dirtying your good name?”
Sergei settled in a chair facing his boss and recovered his usual calm. Dealing with ministers often amounted to playing diplomatic games with a sober and rational mind.
“Minister Anatov, your reports are false,” Sergei declared with aplomb.
His boss banged a fist on the desk. “I saw pictures, Fedorin.”
“Pictures can be deceiving. If you listen for a minute, I’ll explain.”
The minister balked at his cool assertiveness. “You were always the most aggressive in the war field. This is not a war, Fedorin. You cannot hit and win. I have no time for your crap. Answer my questions. Were you in the American woman’s room last night?” he bellowed while hunching over his desk.
Sergei shoved his hands in his pockets and clenched them in tight fists. The blood pounding in his ears, he itched to hit the man who was muddying his relationship with Cecilya. “Yes, I was in my fiancée’s room.” The truth could not hurt, even if in his heart, it wasn’t the truth anymore. He waited for the minister’s response.
A blank expression answered him. Then his words began to sink in and jerked the minister out of his stupor. “Your what?”
“My fiancée, sir. I asked Dr. Cecile Lornier for her hand in marriage. She agreed to marry me and stay in Minsk. She will become Belarusian and will volunteer at the Belchem Lab.” He dared the man to find a wrongdoing. “Our engagement is official. I gave her my mother’s ring two weeks ago.”
The minister lost his voice for a moment. “Well, well.” He fidgeted with a pencil. “Oh well.” For a second, Sergei noticed a glint of admiration and envy in his boss’s eyes. “You always manage to find an answer and a way out,” he mumbled, then seemed to reconsider and resumed his arrogant stance. “Regardless of this love story, you accepted foreign money from her and hit several men.”
Sergei forged a quick plan to deflect the resentment of his superior onto the Director of National Security. “Minister Anatov, you attended the inauguration and the evening party. You witnessed Dr. Lornier’s effort. My fiancée was exhausted. She still had to pay the restaurant. I tried to save her the task and asked her to rest while I paid for her. Any gallant man, you included, would have done the same for his lady.” It sounded reasonable to his ears and probably to his boss’s ears. The minister cleared his throat.
Sergei pressed his point. “Minister Anatov, like everyone else in this ministry, you’ve heard of Colonel Roussov’s hatred for me. Don’t let his personal vendetta discredit me and overshadow your organization.” He was pleading now, knowing damn well his boss’s patronizing taste.
Sergei followed the relaxing of the minister’s scowl and its sudden reappearance. “Fedorin, I’ve seen Roussov this morning. You almost killed your father-in-law. His face is black and blue. His jaw is swollen and his eye sunken. I promised him justice will be done.”
Time, he needed time. “Yes, sir. I too want justice. But don’t let a scandal spatter over the Ministry. It will affect you as much as Roussov and me and each one of your officers. It will also reflect on your superior, the Vice-President. Stop the press from printing the misleading pictures that Roussov ordered a dishonest journalist to take.”
His fingers thrumming on the desk, the minister stared at the wall, a sure sign of concentration. “Damn it, Fedorin. Why couldn’t you control your temper? My organization has been running smoothly. I don’t need a scandal to mess it up. I will stop the printing of these pictures. But I warn you. I’ve started a full investigation. Dobroye deen. Good day, Generalle.”
Sergei released a heavy breath. He’d convinced his boss to stop the printing of the pictures that would damage his public image but until he turned the table on Roussov, he was still in a mess.
* * * * *
Colonel Nicouvitch was waiting for him in his office. “Dobroye deen, Generalle. Yelena cooked stuffed cabbage today, your favorite. She wants you to come for dinner. Here, she packed a sandwich and her famous brioche for you.”
“Give her a big hug for me. I will come but I may be gloomy company tonight.” He frowned and his lips stretched with bitterness.
The colonel settled in a chair and stretched his long legs in front of him. “Did you hear from our Minister of Defense or from the Vice-President?”
“I left a messa
ge at the VP’s office requesting an appointment and I forced the door of Minister Anatov.”
Sergei related his visit. “I managed to stop the printing of the pictures taken last night in front of Cecile’s room and during the fight in the hotel lobby.” He sighed. “Not a big achievement but it gives us time to plan a strategic approach and solve this problem.”
“My Generalle, you have had ample opportunities to eliminate Roussov in the past. You’ve never seized them.”
Sergei stared blankly at the wall. “I couldn’t. Sofya’s death tied my hands. I wasn’t present when she died. I couldn’t destroy her father.”
The colonel bolted out of his chair. “Sergei, stop feeling guilty. It wasn’t your choice to stay away from her. We were in the middle of a war. You couldn’t desert your position and run to her side. Roussov was here in Minsk. He never went to see her. What kind of father resents his daughter until death?” He waggled a finger. “Stop him before he hurts more people. He has already tried his dirty tricks on Cecile.”
Sergei’s chair scrapped on the hardwood as he stood and faced his colonel with anger. “Dr. Lornier is a strong woman who can take care of herself. She never asked for my help.”
“You’re unfair, Sergei.” Nicolai sent him a pointed look and shook his head.
“Don’t tell me you’ve defected to her camp, Colonel Nicouvitch?” Sergei bellowed unable to prevent his resentment from clouding his judgment. He heaved a deep breath and bit ferociously into the sandwich Yelena had sent him.
“Generalle, justice will prevail. You are our Major Generalle and only you have enough dedication to save our country,” the colonel declared with excitement.
Sergei threw him a disillusioned look and attacked his brioche. “Any vodka to clear my head?”
“Here. Enjoy. I am going back to my office. I called a meeting with a dozen colonels. I need to round up their support for you. If nothing else works, tomorrow, we will rally in front of the Ministry to protest in your favor.”
The phone rang. It was the Vice-President’s office confirming an appointment for the next day.
* * * * *
The van parked in front of the Vice-President’s residence. The Second Lady bit her lip and allowed her forehead to wrinkle into a hint of a frown. “Sissyl, you should talk to my husband. He may listen to you because of his respect for the Major Generalle. And of course, because he dislikes Roussov. Come with me inside.”
Cecile followed the sinuous siren up the marble stairs leading to the front door. The guard rang the bell to announce their arrival and immediately opened the door. Inside the parlor, an antique console, needlepoint French chairs, carved tables and Oriental rugs spoke more of the czars’ fabulous era than the simplicity of communism.
Her hostess must have noticed Cecile’s surprised admiration. She smiled with proud satisfaction. “I redecorated the whole mansion and changed the furniture. It was horrible when I moved in, two years ago. My husband gave me carte blanche.” She bent toward Cecile’s ear. “Even the First Lady is jealous of my house,” she whispered in a confidential tone.
Natalia Galinova gave an order to a maid and ushered her guest to a sumptuously decorated side room. They sat next to each other on a gold silk sofa. Cecile was done admiring the overwhelming décor. She forced a smile. “Everything is so beautiful here.” Her leg bobbled in a nervous tap. She glanced impatiently at the grandfather clock. Already four in the afternoon. She prayed she could visit the Minister of Defense before the release of the pictures.
For heaven’s sake, call your husband. A wave of nausea gripped her stomach. Her general was in trouble, his future collapsing and her dreams shattering and here she was listening to the inanities proffered by this witless doll.
“Here is my husband.” Natalia went to kiss the tall skinny man on the cheek and looped her arm in his. Cecile tried to repress a loud breath of relief.
Natalia spoke in English. “My darling, this is Sissyl Lornier, the great woman who refurbished the Belchem Lab to help the fight against cancer. She just told me her wonderful news.” Cecile realized she’d misjudged her. The woman was a born manipulator. “Darling, imagine, the Major Generalle has asked her to marry him. Sissyl will stay in Minsk and work for his cause.” She grabbed Cecile’s hand and extended her fingers under her husband’s nose. “Look at the beautiful ring he gave her.”
The stern man listened without betraying any emotion. Cecile wondered if he even paid attention to his pretty wife’s babbling. Then she noticed the thin line of his lips stretching into an imperceptible smile. “Hmm, Generalle Fedorin finally hooked.”
Without releasing his wife, he bowed to Cecile. “Miss Lornier, I am pleased to meet you. I read in today’s newspaper an account of your excellence performance at Belchem.”
He threw a lopsided glimpse at his wife. “My darling, remind me to congratulate the Major Generalle on his excellent choice. A beautiful and intelligent woman like Miss Lornier would be a perfect wife for this great hero. In fact, I will see him tomorrow. He asked to meet with me.”
Deciding not to waste any more time, Cecile took the bull by the horns. “Mr. Vice-President, my fiancé has a lot of respect for you.” She crossed her fingers behind her back. I hope my bullshit rings true. “As you know, he’s a man who fights his own battles. Unfortunately, last night after a fantastic day and a fun evening, the general got very upset at some reporters for taking undesired pictures of me. He hit them.”
She waited, holding her breath for the man’s reaction. He didn’t flinch. Natalia batted her mascara-shining lashes and jerked her shoulders in a big shiver. “This is so romantic. Remember, darling, the fabulous punch you gave the drunken officer who ogled me the first year we were married?”
“Miss Lornier, we understand the Major Generalle’s motive. Is there more to your story?” He peered at her. She realized the Vice-President had earned his high-power position.
“Yes, sir. And I take full responsibility for it. Just before Sergei was accosted by the reporters and their cameras, I asked him to spare me the trouble and fatigue of running downstairs to pay the restaurant for the reception.”
“And…” the Vice-President asked, his impatience becoming visible.
“And I gave him an envelope with a lot of money to cover the expenses for the reception.” Cecile couldn’t get herself to confess the crucial detail.
The Vice-President eyed her with an icy look that pulverized her hopes. “I hope you haven’t given him an envelope full of dollars?”
She swallowed hard and stared at the unsympathetic politician, a lump in her throat preventing her from uttering a single word.
His mouth pursed into a disgusted line as he lost his apparent indifference and glared at her. “It takes years for a hero to build and maintain a glorious reputation and five minutes for a woman to destroy it.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “It’s my fault,” she mumbled.
“Oh, I believe you, my dear. I believe you.” He hissed with scorn. “I know Fedorin better than you think. He would never betray his country or break a rule. It takes the negligent foolishness of a woman to bring him down. If only you’d have warned him that the envelope contained foreign currency.”
Cecile didn’t specify she did warn Sergei but he was too incensed to listen. So far, the Vice-President was irked by her revelation and the fall of a favorite hero. She waited for him to suggest his contribution to help Sergei.
Natalia listened in silence. She nudged her husband. “My darling, Sissyl has told me Generalle Roussov was present and his National Security guards attacked the Major Generalle.”
“Is it true?”
Cecile nodded.
The Vice-President disentangled himself from his wife’s loving arm and marched to the old-fashioned onyx telephone. “I will talk to Minister Anatov and will demand an explanation. I want to know why his Generalles are washing their dirty laundry in public and rattling our establishment.” He settled in a chair and talked
in Russian for fifteen minutes.
Natalia tried to reassure Cecile and distract her with details of her husband’s powerful achievements. A maid in a black dress and white apron entered carrying a tray of tea and cake. Cecile gratefully accepted a cup of tea but was unable to swallow a bite of the orange cake. As long as the Vice-President supported Sergei and discussed his case with the Minister of Defense, there was nothing else she could do.
At that moment, a butler announced the Minister of Environment. Natalia’s husband put back the receiver in its cradle and stood, his arm extended for a handshake. Minister Letovin stopped in his tracks and gawked at Cecile. “Dr. Lornier, how…how do you manage to be here?”
Natalia dazzled him with a smile and answered for her. “Sissyl is a good friend and we are trying to help Generalle Fedorin.”
The Minister of Environment shook his head. “Wait until my wife hears about this one.”
The Vice-President rolled his eyes. “Women,” he muttered. “Heaven, help us.”
“My darling? What were you saying?” Natalia trilled.
“Nothing, my love.” Amazingly, the powerful VP cowered under the scowl of his pretty wife. “Miss Lornier, you put in motion several branches of our government to save your Generalle. You will back off now and let me handle the situation.”
“Can you tell me what you plan to do, please?”
He stared at her. “No, Miss Lornier. I am not used to discussing my plans with a woman. You can stay and enjoy your tea with my wife.”
“But, sir. Sergei is―”
“I will take care of your Sergei and his father-in-law,” he sputtered. “Now, stay out of the mess you started.”
“Sir, I haven’t reached my position by comfortably staying out of messes, whether I started them or not. I’m used to coping with pressure and solving problems.” She crossed her arms on her chest while trying to control her rising temper.
The two men looked at each other and scowled at her. Natalia tugged at Cecile’s sleeve and squeezed her hand in warning. The Vice-President’s mouth flicked a light smile, the first one she’d seen on the stern face. “Heaven help Fedorin if he ever survives this mess. The man has designed his own punishment and deserves it for allowing this headache to disturb my afternoon.”