Master

by Catherine Taylor

  A loud howl emitted from the crib and Vera went to move.

  “Stay there,” Jahn demanded and looked at the nurse. “You may have a seat over there.”

  He stood back to let her go around the bed to a chair in the corner. Taking his plastic ties from his pocket, he secured her wrists and ankles. The baby’s cries were demanding attention.

  “Let me go to him,” Vera pleaded.

  “And I said stay where you are.”

  Tucking his gun into the back of his jeans, he retrieved the syringe and put it out of Vera’s reach, before gazing impassively at the screaming baby. As he picked him up, Vera began to wail.

  “No, please, no. Don’t hurt him.”

  Jahn looked at her coldly. “It didn’t even fucking cross my mind. For every cunt of a thing I’ve ever done in my life, I can at least say that I’ve never hurt a child, which is more than you can say.”

  “You don’t understand…”

  “Lena loved her baby too. It is people like you and Makarov that make me think there might be something decent left in me yet.” He lay the baby in her arms. “Right now I want to walk down to that car and put a bullet in Makarov’s head.”

  “Do it,” Vera snarled. “He’s nothing but a betraying, murderous pig.”

  “And that’s the difference between you and Lena. Even after all he has done to her, she wouldn’t want me to kill him.”

  “So you’re just going to let him go? He will try to kill me again and take my baby.”

  “Which is why you are going to push the emergency button behind you, after I leave. When the matron comes, tell her what this bitch tried to do and get security out to the car, a beige Mercedes Benz. They can’t miss it.”

  “He has lawyers, hundreds of them. He’ll be out in a few days at most.”

  “Which is why I’ll be sure to pass on his whereabouts to some other people who are looking for him. You just worry about that child you have in your arms.”

  Jahn went to walk out when Vera called to him.

  “Wait. There are things you need to know.”

  * * * *

  Opening her eyes, Lena lay still, gazing towards the thin strip of light between the curtains of the unfamiliar room. Too frightened to move, she strained to remember what had happened and where she was. Her body and face were sore, and she could feel swelling in her cheek and a cut at her mouth.

  Greta was still in her arms and she remembered going back to the apartment, and Gregor, betraying her, being one of those men with their evil faces and bald heads. She sat up, and screamed out for Jahn.

  No one answered and she sat there, breathing heavily, sweeping her gaze about her. The room was feminine with a floral bedspread and a dresser littered with make-up, perfumes and jewellery. A rack of dresses sat against the wall, with a row of high heels at its base.

  Her hand touched something cold and she picked up the chain lying on the bed. A medallion slid to the base and she brought her hand under it and stared at the design. She recognized the unmistakable image of Lenin, and the hammer and sickle above it. The raised casting of the head was surrounded by sheaves of wheat.

  Turning it over, she saw that it had been engraved with a serial number, a date in the year of 1989, and a name, Major T. Kravec.

  The name seemed familiar to her, but she couldn’t remember where she had heard it. Her mind was too occupied trying to clarify a myriad of other events. Her heart wrenched as she remembered her baby. Greta, the real Greta, was gone.

  Lena moaned out her agony. “No please, it isn’t real. She’s not dead, she’s not dead.”

  For the next hour, she was overcome by her anguish until there was nothing left in her. She was all cried out and it had made no difference. Greta did not come back. Nobody came to her, and nobody cared that her heart was broken.

  She thought back to what was clearest in her thoughts; the fight, watching Jahn in the cage, smaller than the brute he was up against. She remembered how close he was to victory and then the spray of blood, Rabinov going down. He’d been shot.

  She remembered her grandfather’s cursing, his shock in the silence which had fallen over the crowd, and then the miner collapsing against the cage. From there, the suited men had surrounded them, nearly carrying them down the stairs and out to the cars. The panic, men shouting, her grandfather demanding to know what was going on, Vera being shoved into the car, screaming.

  Gradually she recalled each event, going back to the apartment with Gregor and then finding herself at the back of that nightclub. From there, it became more like a dream, being in Jahn’s arms, hearing his deep, masculine voice soothing her.

  Looking down, she saw that she had a strange t-shirt on, and a lack of underwear. Putting the chain around her neck, she got up and pulled the sheet away from the bed, wrapping it around herself.

  Wandering over to the dresser, she put the chain with the other jewellery, and looked at the multitude of cosmetics. There was a small amount of perfume in one bottle, and sniffing it, she recognised the lovely scent she had smelt on Natasha.

  Lena smiled with relief and called out to her.

  Again, there was no answer and she shuffled to the open door, tentatively peering into the next room. It was light enough to make out the furniture, but there was no one to be seen. Beyond it she could see a kitchen basking in sunlight.

  It was there that she found her dress and underwear. They had been washed and draped over two chairs placed near the window. They were dry, and looking out the window she knew it was well into the afternoon.

  Moving closer to the glass, she peered out and saw that she was a few floors up, in a district similar to that of her home. It was modern and occupied, with a steady stream of traffic and people. There were shops and a café, and further down the street, a large crowd was gathered, a perimeter of yellow tape and uniformed men keeping them back.

  Several police vehicles were parked, obstructing their view, and an officer was directing traffic past the scene. Lena watched for a while, but eventually turned back to the kitchen. With much delight, she discovered two photos of Natasha held to the fridge with magnets.

  Natasha’s absence didn’t seem so ominous. Lena figured that, if she had been left alone, then she was safe. Natasha was probably out at the shops and would return in time. With a renewed confidence, Lena continued to explore her surroundings.

  The front door wasn’t even locked, and opening it, she looked down the hallway. This was a bigger building with three other apartments down from her. There was a windowed wall where she could see the stairwell.

  Back inside, she marvelled to find a bathroom, with a shower and basin. There was a mirror too, and Lena stared miserably at her face. One eye was swollen and bloodshot, and there was yellow and purple bruising under it. A deep split ran from her mouth.

  “That’s what make-up is for,” she tried to reassure herself.

  There was a pile of clean, fluffy towels in the cupboard under the basin, and the thought of a hot shower was heavenly, especially with Natasha’s range of soaps, lotions, sprays and shampoo. There was even a hair dryer.

  An hour later, Lena was satisfied as she gazed into the mirror. At least she wasn’t going to look so damaged. The same could not be said about how she felt. It was like there was a dark shadow over her soul, making her shaky and gloomy. Her mind was racing with jumbled thoughts that wouldn’t clarify and a deep sense of fear remained.

  Another hour, and there was still no sign of Natasha. Lena was determined to use a few new skills, and managed to cook some eggs and toast without burning either. She killed more time with cleaning up her dishes, but with her hunger satisfied, she was growing anxious to learn how she had got there. Memories of Jahn were growing clearer and she yearned for him, avoiding any thought that he might be dead.

  As the light grew paler outside, she could sit still no longer and went to the front door, opening it and looking down the hallway. She could hear the muffled sounds of movement and voices in t
he neighbouring apartment. At least she wasn’t entirely alone. She had energy wanting to be used, but found herself hesitant to venture further.

  She knew what was stopping her, and it made her smile. It was an unnecessary concern of finding herself over Jahn’s knee again, being disciplined for leaving the apartment. This was not his apartment and circumstances were different, but the trepidation still came. It was the first feeling of normality and it was wonderful. Instead of ignoring it, she allowed her thoughts to wander.

  She could almost imagine him catching her, leading her back inside and pulling her over his lap, scolding her as he took down her panties. Their last interaction was still sorely felt, and it was easy to imagine his hand descending upon her bottom. The fantasy encouraged her, and closing the door over behind her, she walked slowly down the hallway.

  At the stairwell, she looked down, grinned and began to take a step at a time. Jahn didn’t come, nor did Natasha, and she soon found herself staring at an open door into the street. She could see cars driving by and hear voices, and slowly she walked out.

  It was a strange feeling, suddenly finding herself among people again, ordinary people of all ages, children holding their parents hands as they walked along, others sitting at the café across the road, laughing and chatting. She nearly rushed inside again, but forced herself to stay where she was. This was real life, people living their ordinary lives, without danger about them, or misery or suffering.

  The aroma from the café was real too, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and pastries. She had no money, but she could enjoy being part of it, as long as she didn’t wander too far. Nobody paid any attention, and she found herself sitting on a walled flowerbox, one of many decorating the street.

  Looking down to where she had seen the crowd, there was still a number of people hanging about, and police vehicles present. Getting up, she wandered closer to the scene, stopping well away from everyone.

  An older woman broke away from the group and headed past Lena, shaking her head. Lena called out to her. “What happened?”

  The woman came to her and kept her voice low. “It is terrible, a young girl has been murdered. I saw them bring the body out earlier, beautiful young woman, face as white as a statue.”

  It seemed the violence hadn’t disappeared. Lena felt sad. “Do they know who she was?”

  The woman shook her head. “Not from around here. I heard them say she was a street girl, those silly girls who sell their bodies. Well, that’s what happens to them. It’s a shame, a terrible waste of life.”

  Lena didn’t want to be there anymore, and smiling at the woman, quickly turned and headed back, hoping that Natasha was finally home.

  “Please be home,” she whispered, aware that the night was not far away.

  She was trembling again, with the air getting colder and her courage draining away. In panic, she ran past the apartment and found herself in unfamiliar surroundings and quickly looked back to see the café.

  Her heart was beating harder, but she ran, getting her bearings until she found the door to Natasha’s building. It was closed and locked. She shook violently on the handle to no avail.

  “No,” she cried out, turning back to the street. How could have Natasha left her all alone? Why wasn’t she here?

  Her eyes drifted back to where the yellow tape had come lose at one end and was fluttering about in the air. A policeman ran to secure it.

  Lena shook her head and whimpered. “It wasn’t Natasha. It wasn’t. She’s alive.”

  Heaving sobs became a drawn out howl. Lena looked about wildly, and seeing the café, she ran to it, straight onto the road.

  A car screeched to a halt, narrowly missing her. More cars behind it, squealed to a stop, blasting horns. Lena stood transfixed, looking about wildly. At the café, people stood up from their tables and gaped at her, while others came out from the shops. The driver from the first car got out angrily, shouting at her.

  “Are you fucking crazy? What the hell are you doing, you stupid bitch?”

  She stared at him, her body shaking. “I want Jahn.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Get off the fucking road.”

  Lena stepped away, but into the oncoming lane, where another car had to make a loud, abrupt halt. By this time, a few people from the café were running to help her, but as they got closer, she backed off and screamed, “Leave me alone.”

  For a moment, everyone was still, unsure of what to do. Lena looked about at all the strange faces staring at her, frightened and confused. Suddenly someone was saying her name, not shouting, but calling her softly. Her eyes searched the faces desperately, and her tears began to fall as she saw him. He approached her slowly, his smile trying to reassure her, but she stared at him fearfully.

  “You’re not real,” she sobbed. “You’re just a fantasy. I’ll close my eyes and you’ll be gone and I’ll be alone.”

  “I’m real, Lena.” Jahn came closer, a slight frown on his face. “You stop this nonsense right now, and get into my arms, before I get angry. You’re in enough trouble, young lady.”

  She cried as he scolded her, and threw herself into him, grasping his hard body, breathing in his scent and feeling how very real he was. He picked her up, and she cared nothing about the faces staring at her, as he carried her away. Nothing mattered anymore, except feeling his arms around her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Her eyes never left him, as Jahn put a cup of steaming tea down on the little table in the kitchen, and sat down next to her. His hand reached across and stroked her face.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She clutched his hand. “Just better for you being here.”

  He talked quietly to her. “Lena, do you know where Natasha is?”

  “She wasn’t here when I woke up, hours ago.” She gazed at his anxious face. “I don’t remember seeing her, but I don’t even remember coming here. Everything is fuzzy. The fight, Gregor…

  He placed a finger on her lips. “Shush. You have nothing to be worried about anymore. Nobody is going to hurt you. Your grandfather, Gregor, Novikov, they are all taken care of, and won’t be bothering anyone ever again.”

  She stared at him blankly. “Did you kill him, my grandfather?”

  “No, Lena, I didn’t.” He clasped her hand in his. “He’s been arrested. He tried to kill Vera and take the baby. The police have him now.”

  “The baby,” her face lit up. “Was the baby alright?”

  Jahn nodded. “A little shy of six pounds, but a healthy baby boy born by caesarean section. Vera is doing alright, but is a little shaken up. She will remain in hospital for a week, and then I’m not sure what will become of her.”

  “Has he got a name yet?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask, but I was at the hospital, and I did speak to Vera.”

  Lena’s expression soured. “I don’t want to talk about her. The baby is my blood, my family. He was supposed to be my brother, but I suppose he is now my uncle. It doesn’t matter. I will love him anyway.”

  Jahn’s frown deepened, and he gazed at her with concern. “Gregor is also in hospital, but he’s badly burned and he’s been shot.”

  “He was one of them, those men who killed that girl. That’s why he shaved his head, to be like them.” She stared down at the table. “Andrei made jokes with Poppa about him, and they would laugh together. Gregor hated it, but he kept it shaved anyway. I never understood why, until now.”

  “There’s a conception that a bald head obscures recognition, and makes it harder for them to be identified in crimes.”

  “It works,” Lena said with disgust. “They all look like pure evil.”

  Jahn grinned. “Not all bald men are criminals.”

  “Andrei was balding on top,” Lena smiled. “But it just made him look friendly with his beard and moustache.” Her lip quivered. “My grandfather killed him.”

  Clasping her hand between his, he leant down to look up into her face. “Lena,
there have been a lot of deaths, people close to you, and you’ve been told a lot of lies. There are things that I will talk to you about, but not now. First, I want to find out what happened to Natasha. What can you remember?”

  She shrugged. “I woke up and no one was here.”

  “Did you tidy anything up? Was anything knocked over, like there had been a struggle?”

  “No, it was just like it is now.”

  “Was the door locked?”

  Lena thought for a moment and shook her head. “No, it was unlocked. Maybe, she had to go somewhere.”

  “She would never leave you alone.” Jahn sat back, frowning and staring toward the window.

  Lena followed his gaze and suddenly sat up, her hand going over her mouth, fear filling her face. She shook her head frantically.

  “What is it, Lena?”

  “There was a girl, down on the street…”

  Jahn grabbed her hands. “It wasn’t Natasha. I know about the girl who was killed, and it wasn’t Natasha.” His head bowed. “But it was someone… Never mind.”

  “Who was it?” Lena demanded.

  “Lena, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me,” she told him firmly. “I know I am pathetic, and am constantly falling apart, but I know now, that my child is dead, and Andrei is gone, and for me, it doesn’t get any worse than that. I thought I had lost you, too, but I haven’t, and now that you’re here, I feel stronger. I want to help.”

  “Come here.” He encouraged her onto his lap and held onto her, leaning his face against her breast. Her arms went around him, and she leant her cheek against his hair.

  For a long time, Jahn was quiet and she could feel him breathing deeply, struggling with his own turmoil. He blew out a long thin breath and gazed up at her, his face close to hers.

  “It was Oleysa,” he told her quietly. “She was here with Natasha.”

  Lena felt the shudder through her body, but she was determined to remain calm. “Why would anyone want to hurt her?”