“So you finally deemed me worthy of a visit?”
Natalia held up her bag. “I thought it might be a bomb. I was afraid to open it.”
“A bomb?” he scoffed. “Why would I send you a bomb?”
“How was I to know it was from you? There was nothing on the box but my name!” she accused him. “You could have given me some idea!”
Multinovic shook his head and laughed lightly to himself. “You have a point, though I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to give you a gun in the first place.” He reached out a hand. “Let’s forget all about it, shall we?”
Natalia pulled the bag away from him. “Oh no you don’t! You gave this gun to me. You can’t just take it back.”
“And what will you do without any ammunition?”
“If you won’t give me any, then I’ll find some on my own.”
“Around here? Good luck.”
“Why do you have to make this so difficult?”
“Because I’ve changed my mind.”
Natalia’s anger mounted. “You think that I can’t take care of myself? That I don’t know how to use a gun? Is that it?!”
Multinovic had a pained expression on his face. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Why did you give it to me if you feel that way?” Natalia kept at him.
Multinovic dropped his head, gazing at his hands while he thought it over. When he didn’t answer right away, Natalia knew that she had him. After a few more seconds he looked back up at her with determination. “I’ll teach you the proper use of this weapon on one condition. If I’m satisfied that you can operate it safely, then I’ll give you the ammunition. If I’m not satisfied, then I keep the gun and the ammunition and you get the hell out of here and leave me alone.”
“I’m not asking for anything more.” Natalia pushed past him, moving on inside. The room was large and spare, with tall windows opening onto an enclosed courtyard. A set of oversized double doors was shut tight. Unmarked wooden crates stacked one atop another lined the left-hand wall. To the right, a portion of the room was modified into a living space. A couch faced a large television set. Four tall chairs were arranged around a matching table. A kitchen area had a refrigerator, sink and oven. The furniture and appliances were stylish and modern; unlike anything Natalia had ever seen.
“I know it’s not the warmest of places, but it’s home,” said Multinovic.
Natalia saw dishes drying by the sink, crumbs on the kitchen counter and an empty vase on the table. It seemed so terribly lonely. She sensed that she was the first visitor to ever to lay eyes on this inner sanctum. A million questions swirled through her head, but she was afraid to ask them. She moved toward a bookcase, stacked floor to ceiling with titles in Serbian, Russian and English. Natalia reached forward and removed one, a hardcover edition of Anna Karenina.
“You’ve read it?” Multinovic asked.
“Of course. It’s one of my favorites.” She returned the book to the shelf and ran her fingers across the spines of some others. Dostoevsky, Hemingway, Victor Hugo. “This is quite a nice collection.”
“I do have time on my hands, living here.” Multinovic walked across the room where he slid a bolt and pushed open one of the double doors. “Please,” he said, “Follow me.”
Natalia pulled herself away from his small library and Multinovic led her through the courtyard, past more stacks of wooden crates. At the far end was another large door. He opened it to reveal an industrial-sized elevator. It was a giant cage, really, with a floor of worn wooden planks. Multinovic walked inside and waited for Natalia to follow. Her fears resurfaced once again but she tried to push them aside. She was going through with this; she’d already made up her mind.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, fine,” she answered, but her voice lacked conviction.
Multinovic rubbed one hand across his cheek. “I’ve already told you, I know what people think of me around here.”
“I’m not one of those people.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I’m sure.” Natalia walked into the elevator.
Multinovic shifted. The tension drained from his body. He seemed… grateful. With those two words, the dynamic between them seemed to change. “Ok, then.” He closed the door and pushed a button.
“I’d like to think that maybe we could even be friends,” she added. The elevator lurched downwards.
“Let’s take things one step at a time.” When they came to a halt, Multinovic opened the door once again and then reached out to the wall and flipped a switch. A long bank of lights came on above them, illuminating a cavernous subterranean space. At one end, perhaps 30 meters away, bales of hay were stacked nearly to the ceiling. Attached to the front of each bale was a white paper target with red bulls-eye in the center. Each target was riddled with a profusion of holes.
“Your own private firing range?” Natalia asked with incredulity, stepping out of the elevator.
“Whatever you see here, I would appreciate if you keep it to yourself.”
“All right.”
“I mean it.”
“I understand,” said Natalia, but then chuckled to herself. “And you said you didn’t have any guns.”
“That was not entirely true.”
“No kidding.”
Multinovic opened a cabinet above and thumbed through cardboard boxes until he found what he was looking for. Natalia saw rows of ammunition magazines packed tightly. He pulled out a clip and held it in his hand. “Forty caliber. Each clip holds 15 rounds.” Taking the paper bag from her hands, he removed the gun and then slid the magazine into the handle until it locked in place, holding it out to show her. He flipped a release and took the clip back out, then did it again slowly before handing the gun and the clip to Natalia. “Your turn.” He watched her carefully as she did the same. “That’s good.” Multinovic took the gun back again. “This weapon has no traditional safety, so be careful when your finger is on the trigger. Never point it at anyone you don’t intend to shoot. The safety is an extra lever in front of the trigger, here,” he showed her. “Like two triggers, first your finger pulls the safety back, then the trigger. It’s best to hold your finger off completely until you’re ready to fire. Stand over here,” he positioned Natalia, facing the hay bales and handed back the gun. “Point at the target down there.”
When Natalia followed his instructions she felt a rush of adrenaline, with her finger just off the safety lever. She’d fired her rifle countless times, so why was this any different? Perhaps because it was different. She’d never fired a pistol before. She was also being judged by her mysterious mentor. She needed to impress him; to prove herself worthy in his eyes.
“Hold the gun tightly. It will kick. Now disengage the safety,” he said.
Natalia carefully pulled back on the first lever until her finger felt the trigger.
“And squeeze.”
Natalia did as she was told and the gun jumped in her hand as a blast shot from the barrel, the noise echoing through the room, reverberating in her ears.
Multinovic turned back toward the wall behind them and took down two headsets from a hook, handing one to Natalia. “I’m sorry. Put these on, and try to use the sight when you aim this time.”
Natalia put on her headset and then continued firing, feeling a little bit more comfortable with each shot, even as her arm began to ache from the recoil.
“Not bad.” Multinovic eyed her grouping on the target at the far side of the room.
Natalia’s heart swelled with pride as she took off her ear protection. “Thank you.”
“Don’t’ let it go to your head. I’ll give you four clips. That should be plenty. Next I’ll show you how to clean it. Follow me.”
Multinovic handed Natalia the ammunition clips and led her back to the elevator.
“What was this place before?” she mused as they climbed inside. “Some kind of warehouse?”
“It w
as a vodka distillery at one time. There was nothing much left of that by the time I got here. All the equipment was sold off for scrap years ago.”
They rode back up and she followed him across the courtyard to a small workshop. From a drawer in an old metal desk he took out a small bottle of oil, a brush and a rag. Natalia handed him the gun. “Always make sure there are no rounds in the chamber. He removed the clip and checked inside. You’d be surprised how many people kill themselves while they’re cleaning their guns.”
“You still haven’t told me why you gave it to me in the first place. What made you decide to help me?”
“I guess I’m a soft touch.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe what you will.”
“Do you think it will make a difference? If they come for me?”
Multinovic paused, as if weighing whether or not to tell her the truth. “Probably not.”
“Probably not?”
“I wanted to give you a chance, at the very least.” He seemed overcome by sadness. Something bigger than Natalia. Bigger than this one gun.
Natalia considered his words. “I see. So you think I have one?”
“I’m sorry about your friend,” he avoided her question. “She was a nice girl.”
“She didn’t think the same of you.”
“I know.”
“You were the father, weren’t you? The father of her baby.” The words hung in the air between them. She looked Multinovic in the eye, daring him to tell her. The sadness was still there, but the question hadn’t surprised him.
Slowly Multinovic shook his head. “No.” The resignation in his voice told Natalia that there was more to it than that. He was keeping something from her.
“Did you know who it was?”
“Yes. I knew.”
“How could you possibly? When even I didn’t?!”
“Believe what you want.” Multinovic seemed annoyed.
“There is no way she told you about that.”
“She didn’t have to tell me.”
“Somebody had to...”
“Nobody had to tell me anything! He came in to the restaurant one night. The young man. They got in a big fight. I saw the whole thing.”
“Young man…” Natalia repeated the words. “Who was he?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not? Don’t you know his name?”
“I know it.”
“But what then? Why won’t you tell me?” Natalia was exasperated.
“She asked me not to.”
“She asked you? Sonia? Asked you not to tell me?”
“She asked me not to tell anybody. I promised her that I wouldn’t.”
“But she’s gone! There’s no reason you can’t tell me now!”
“A promise is a promise,” he said. “If she’d wanted you to know, she’d have told you herself.”
Multinovic turned his attention back to the gun, using the oil and brush to clean the inside of the barrel.
“What did they fight about? Can you tell me that?”
Multinovic stopped cleaning the gun and looked back to Natalia. “He wanted to take her to Tiraspol, to a doctor there. The kind she didn’t want to see. Your friend refused. She told him she was going to keep the baby.” Multinovic took on a distant expression as he remembered the incident. “He was very angry. I thought he might hurt her.”
“But he didn’t?”
“No. I…”
“What?”
“I wouldn’t let him.”
“You intervened?”
“I made sure he didn’t hurt her, that’s all. He got red in the face and ran off, making some threats as he went. Your friend Sonia, she was strong. She surprised me.”
Natalia looked away. Poor Sonia. What she’d gone through, all alone. It seemed the whole world was against her. And who was the father? A young man from the village, but it wasn’t Ivan. She’s said that much. Besides, Ivan didn’t have the temper to make threats. Natalia ran other possibilities through her mind. There weren’t many. A handful at most...
Multinovic put the gun back together and placed it in the paper bag along with the brush, rag and oil. He handed them to Natalia and walked out of the workshop, turning to wait for her. Natalia didn’t move. It stung that this man, this near total stranger, knew more about Sonia than she did.
“That’s all I can tell you. After what happened I thought that she might be a little kinder to me, but… maybe I expected too much.” Multinovic walked on and this time Natalia followed him into his living area.
“I’m sorry she didn’t treat you better.”
“I never blamed her.” Multinovic opened the front door and stood aside to let Natalia out.
“Is that all?”
“What else do you want?” He seemed perplexed.
“I thought maybe we could have some tea.”
“Tea?” He said the word as though he’d never heard of such a thing.
“Yes, tea. You do drink tea, don’t you?”
“You want to have tea with me?”
“Why not?”
Multinovic frowned. He seemed more surprised at this question than at any of the others she’d asked so far, as though the concept of someone choosing to spend time with him was one he couldn’t quite comprehend. “All right. We could have some tea.” He eyed her carefully, pushing aside his incredulity.
Natalia placed her paper bag on the dining table and took a seat. She watched as Multinovic moved across the room and into the kitchen area where he thumbed through a selection of teas arranged on a wooden shelf. “Any preference?” he asked. “Green, black, herbal…”
“Black, please.”
Multinovic put one of the boxes on the counter, then took an electric kettle and filled it with water before placing it in a cradle. “Milk and sugar?”
“Yes, both.”
Multinovic took two mugs from another cabinet and put them on the table, along with a bowl of sugar. When he opened the refrigerator, Natalia managed a peek inside. She saw vegetables, some cheese and a few white-paper packages that would have come from the butcher. Multinovic pulled out a glass milk bottle and put it on the table next to the sugar.
“Who does your shopping?” Natalia asked.
“I do. Who else?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen you around the village except at the restaurant. You seem to spend a lot of time here at home.”
“I get out,” he seemed offended. “From time to time.”
“It must be hard for you, without any friends here.”
“I manage.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t difficult. Don’t you get lonely?”
He took two tea bags from the box and handed one of them to Natalia. “I try not to think about it.”
“How can you not think about it? Sitting here by yourself, day after day? Don’t you have family somewhere?”
“Is this why you wanted to have tea?” Multinovic took his teabag from its paper sleeve and lowered it into his mug. “To question me about my personal life?”
“I don’t mean to overstep my bounds. I’m just curious.” Natalia wondered if this was such a good idea after all. Perhaps she should just go. She cleared her throat, about to say so, when the kettle let out a siren wail. Multinovic lifted it from its cradle and then poured the steaming hot water into Natalia’s mug first and then his own. She lowered in her tea bag, bouncing it lightly up and down, watching the color escape in a swirl of circles.
“You’re right that it hasn’t been easy. Living here, I mean.”
Natalia blew on her tea and remained silent, afraid to pry any further.
“Sometimes I think I might go mad, to be honest.”
“I know I couldn’t do it. All alone like this...”
Multinovic cleared his throat, as though searching for a response. She wondered if he might actually want to talk about these things. Most likely this was his first social visit in as long as
he’d lived in the village, and that was several years. She knew better than to coax him too hard. Perhaps if she simply let him guide the conversation some fragments of his story might spill out.
“My life wasn’t always this way,” he said.
“No, I wouldn’t suspect that it was.”
Multinovic drifted off a little, thinking of days long past. “I was young once, like you, full of dreams. Nothing extraordinary, of course, but I never expected this.”
“What did you expect?”
He rubbed one finger along his chin. There was a faraway look in his eyes. Natalia wasn’t sure if she was witnessing sadness or merely introspection. “I was a mechanic’s apprentice for the national railways. I thought I would make a career out of it. You know, forty-five years and then a pension. Maybe a wife and a few kids along the way. Holidays on the Adriatic sea.”
“So what happened?”
He leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “We had a war. Maybe you heard about it.”
“I heard about it, but that was before I was born.”
“Well, it was the end of my plans.”
“But that war is over. It’s been over for a long time, more than twenty years! Perhaps somebody told you?”
Multinovic glared at her. “I am aware of that.”
“Were you injured? You seem fine to me.”
“Thank you for your appraisal.”
“A lot of people fought in that war. They’re not all living in Transnistria, smuggling weapons for a living.”
“No, some of them are living in Istanbul, smuggling women.”
Natalia put her mug down on the table, the edges of the room receding into a fog. “You knew him?”
Multinovic looked away, seeming to regret his words. “Yes. I knew him.”
“Tell me.” Natalia was done cozying up. “Everything.”
“He is a cold-blooded killer and a psychopath. What more is there to tell?”
“Are you running from him, too?”
“No. I would never run from that man.”
“What then?”
“I suppose you could say I’m running from what he did to me. To my reputation.”
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