Russia Girl

by Kenneth Rosenberg

  “Tell me about the house. The layout, how many guards he has, where the master bedroom is located. Tell me about this man, Kemal. What does he look like? Does he have any other family? Any eccentricities?”

  “Natalia, you’re making me nervous.”

  “Why don’t you just leave this place? You, me, Rita… When this is all over, why don’t you come with us?”

  “And go where? Back to my parents’ house?!”

  “Is it so terrible?”

  “They think I’m a model now. They think I’m rich and famous. What would I tell them?”

  “Why not the truth?”

  “Is that what you did? Did you tell your mother? And how did she take it?!”

  Helena was right about that much. Just thinking about it now, Natalia felt the shame all over again; the disapproving stares of the townspeople, the clucking of the old women’s tongues. “No. I didn’t tell them,” she admitted. “But somehow they knew. Everybody knew.”

  “I just need to earn some more money. Enough to be proud when I go back, so they’ll believe that I’ve made something of myself.”

  “And how much money is that?”

  Helena pushed the map aside and rose to her feet. “Look, I’ve told you where to find your sister, let’s just leave it at that.”

  “Don’t go, Helena! I’m sorry. Can’t you tell me a little bit more about the house?”

  “Honestly, I don’t even want to be seen with you…”

  “My friend’s apartment isn’t far away. Besides, I think you should meet her.”

  “I’ve risked enough just coming here.”

  “Please, Helena. We girls need to stick together. Can’t you see that? What happened to the old Helena? The Helena I knew before? The one with some fight in her? Is the fight all gone? Have you given up completely?”

  “Who said I’d given up at all?”

  “But haven’t you?”

  Helena’s eyes took on a glassy cast.

  “I’m sorry,” said Natalia. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Helena wiped at one of her eyes. “It only hurts because it’s true.”

  “So help me then,” Natalia urged her. “Show me you’ve got some fight left in you.”

  Helena nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll tell you what I can.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The local ferry was nearly empty as it plied the darkened waters of the Bosporus. Natalia stood at the rail in her skin-tight red dress, steadying herself atop her matching stilettos. Her hair was shoulder-length and blond; another of her carefully crafted wigs. In one hand she held a black leather purse, feeling the hard outline of her Glock inside. She stood tall and proud, playing the role of a confident, self-assured woman as they sailed past mansions of the Turkish elite. Hidden within swirled a mixture of apprehension and rage. Natalia’s beautiful, innocent little sister was being given away as an offering to the god of wealth and power. Natalia did her best to focus that rage, for as dangerous as it might be if left unchecked, it was also a source of strength. It would allow her to do things she might not otherwise be able to do, acting as a counterweight to her fear.

  Natalia heard the party before she saw it. Music mixed with the sounds of conversation and laughter drifted across the water. As the ferry drew close she saw an enormous two-story home, just as Helena had described, with faux-Greek columns, an outdoor swimming pool and a massive yacht tied up to a private dock. Guests gathered in tuxedoes and fancy gowns on the patio, serenaded by a live band. Atop the yacht, a tuxedoed man with a bushy black moustache stood between two women. The man’s eyes locked onto Natalia as the ferry moved past. His were the eyes of a hunter, unconcerned at being caught in the act of devouring his prey. Kemal. Natalia dared not release her gaze. This was her adversary. She couldn’t back down. Not now, not ever. The ferry moved on until his figure shrank away.

  At the next stop, Natalia was the only passenger to disembark. Deckhands watched with sad eyes as she shimmied down the gangway. The boat pulled away from the pier, leaving her all alone in the dark of night. Natalia reached down to take off her stilettos. Under a pale sliver of moon she began to walk, purse in one hand and shoes in the other.

  As she made her way down the road past waterfront mansions, Natalia thought over her strategy. She was counting on the dress and heels gaining her entry to the party. It seemed unlikely that the guards would turn her away. What worried her more was whether they’d try to search her purse. No matter what, she couldn’t let them. Once inside she’d get a drink at the bar and try not to attract any undue attention while she assessed the layout and security, then make her way upstairs and search from room to room, starting with the master suite. If Rita was in the house, Natalia would find her, but she’d have to think on her feet, making decisions quickly and wasting as little time as possible. She had to be ready, mentally, to deal with any unforeseen problems. Hesitation could mean the end of both her own life and her sister’s. Natalia tried to calm herself. She had to maintain composure. Stay focused.

  Coming up the road from behind her, Natalia heard the roar of a sports car approaching at high speed. Turning to look, she was caught in the headlights before the car flew by. She saw the brake lights flash and the car slowed and turned around. As it came back, Natalia knew she was being watched. The car crept past and then turned again, pulling to a stop beside her. The passenger side window slid down. Natalia peered inside. A young man gazed back. Not much more than a boy, really. He leaned close to the open window. Smooth face. Short black hair. “Bir gezinti mi?” he said, but Natalia merely stared back blankly. “English?” he tried again. “You speak English?”

  “Yes, I speak English.”

  “Why you doing walking here in dark?”

  “I am going to a party.”

  The boy reached across and opened the passenger door. “Get in. We go same place.”

  Natalia did a quick appraisal. She could walk to the party, appearing by herself from out of the darkness and try to talk her way in as she’d planned, or she could pull up in style with an escort. She climbed into the car, sinking into the contoured leather seat, and pulled the door closed.

  “Where you walk from?” he asked.

  “The ferry.”

  “Ferry! Ha!” He revved the engine and took off down the road, throwing Natalia backwards. “You like my car? I just get it.”

  “Yes.” Natalia gripped tightly to the door handle. “Very nice car.”

  “Where you from? From Russia?”

  “Yes. From Russia.”

  “How come you not with a man?” he asked.

  “How come you are not with a woman?” she countered.

  “Now I am!” When the boy smiled, Natalia saw the glow of his white teeth.

  Kemal’s mansion was in sight up ahead, bathed in light. The boy slammed on his brakes and pressed a button on the car’s sun shade. The front gates swung wide and he drove on through, past two security guards in dark suits. “What is your name?” he asked her.

  “Sophia.”

  “I call you Natasha. We call girls like you Natasha.”

  “Ok, I am Natasha.”

  “Good,” said the boy. “I am Yashar Kemal.”

  “Kemal?”

  “Yes. My father’s house.”

  He drove past a row of Mercedes, Jaguars and Porsches, pulling around a giant fountain and stopping in front of a wide stairway leading to the mansion’s front door. Natalia looked to the upstairs windows. Rita was here somewhere. She could feel it. When Yashar stopped the car, two tuxedoed attendants rushed forward, one for each door. Natalia and Yashar climbed out and took a better look at one another as he walked around the front of the car. He was thin and gangly. Probably about 17 years old, she figured, with a loopy smile on his face as though he couldn’t quite believe his luck. The car, she saw in the light for the first time, was a yellow Ferrari.

  “Welcome to our home, Natasha.”

  “Than
k you.” Natalia forced a smile herself and then leaned down to put on her shoes. When she stood back up, Yashar offered an arm. In her heels she was a good 5 centimeters taller than he was. Natalia took his arm and together they climbed the stairs where a stocky security guard in a dark suit nodded deferentially. A doorman in a white jacket pulled open the front door. So far so good, Natalia thought, still clutching her purse. They entered a round foyer with a grand staircase wrapping up along the right wall. Moving on past, they entered a giant living room with a vaulted ceiling and second-floor indoor balconies on three sides. Massive windows faced onto the patio, the swimming pool and ships plying the strait beyond.

  Guests gathered inside and out while uniformed waiters flitted amongst them, filling glasses and offering small delicacies on silver trays. Yashar led Natalia across the room and out onto the patio. So far he’d asked her nothing about who she was or what she was doing at his father’s party. Apparently girls like were the norm, no explanation necessary. He probably didn’t care, as long as he could exert some claim upon her. A few guests danced to the live music while others gathered around the pool. Most of them were men and women doing their best to age gracefully with expensive clothing, fancy jewelry and an aura of wealth and privilege that Natalia had never encountered before. Her eyes came to rest on Kemal, who had moved from the boat to a table on the patio where he held court with a small knot of men drinking cocktails and smoking cigars. A bulky security guard hovered close by, his eyes constantly moving, wary of any possible threat. Two more guards were positioned on the corners of the property. Lounging on some patio furniture near the water, Natalia spotted a younger set of guests, a boy and two girls. The boy waved a hand in the air and rose to his feet. “Yashar!” he shouted.

  “My friends!” said Yashar eagerly, putting a hand on Natalia’s back as they moved across the yard. When they’d approached, Yashar grasped his friend’s hand firmly and wrapped an arm around his back in a masculine show of affection. “Ahmet!” he said.

  The girls remained seated. “Sonunda yapti,” said one of them as she looked Natalia up and down, making little effort to hide her derision.

  “This is Natasha,” said Yashar. “She speaks English.”

  “But no Turkish?” said Ahmet. He was short and thin, with dark hair and an easy-going air.

  “No,” said Natalia. “No Turkish.”

  “Ok, we speak English. Please, sit!”

  Natalia took an empty chair next to the other girls, careful to face the party so that she could see who came and went. Zigic might show up. Or even Rita, though they’d never parade her in front of the other guests. If she were here at all she’d be locked away somewhere, out of sight. Natalia eyed a balcony that stretched above the pool on the second floor. She knew from her conversation with Helena that this was the master bedroom. The lights were off. She looked back to Kemal. As long as he was in her sights, Rita’s honor was temporarily secure, but time was not on Natalia’s side.

  Yashar flagged down a server and procured two glasses of sparkling wine, handing one to Natalia. “Welcome!” he said.

  Natalia smiled and touched her glass to his, gazing into Yashar’s eyes before taking a sip. “Thank you.”

  “What brings you to our country?” Ahmet asked.

  “Excuse me?” Natalia turned toward him.

  “Why have you come to Turkey?” The slight smile on Ahmet’s lips gave away that he already knew. Or thought he did, anyway.

  “I am a tourist,” Natalia answered.

  “I see. And how do you find our country?”

  “On the map!” Yashar gave a hearty laugh.

  “Pardon my countryman and his weak sense of humor,” said Ahmet.

  “Why you are here at this party?” One of the girls came straight to the point.

  “She is my date!” said Yashar.

  The girl lowered a stinging gaze, first at Yashar and then at Natalia before rising to her feet and stalking off. Her friend quickly followed.

  “Is there a problem?” Natalia asked.

  “No, no problem.” Yashar took a seat beside her and placed a hand on Natalia’s thigh. She let the hand rest there, fighting the urge to push it away. When she looked back toward Kemal, he was staring directly at her from across the patio, as though she were already a part of his property, just like the house or the yacht. As though anything in his purview was his for the taking and Natalia especially. Their eyes stayed locked together as he excused himself from his guests and moved toward her.

  “Father!” Yashar took his hand from Natalia’s thigh and rose as the senior Kemal approached.

  “You come to my party without saying hello?!” Kemal admonished his son.

  “Happy birthday, father.” Yashar embraced his father.

  “And who is your friend?” Kemal eyed Natalia.

  “Natasha,” said Yashar.

  “Natasha, welcome to my home.” Kemal took her hand in his and bowed slightly as he kissed her fingers.

  “Thank you,” Natalia answered with a light smile, the hair standing on the back of her neck. Over his right shoulder she saw the light come on in the master bedroom.

  “My son has excellent taste in women,” said Kemal.

  “You have a beautiful home.” Natalia tried to maintain her composure. Upstairs the lights in the bedroom switched back off.

  “Thank you very much,” Kemal answered. “I would like to give you a tour.”

  “I will give her tour!” Yashar reached out eagerly to take her hand. Natalia grasped his fingers and stood.

  “As you wish.” Kemal was mildly perturbed. He leaned close and whispered into Natalia’s ear, “But I will see you later.” It was a command and not a suggestion. Natalia moved away with Yashar, back across the patio and on inside, eager to escape from Kemal’s sight.

  “I show you best room in house!” Yashar escorted her through the living room and down a long corridor, through double wooden doors to an interior room with a pool table on one side and large couches on the other. A massive TV screen was mounted to the wall. Yashar turned on the monitor and picked up a remote. He sat on the couch and loaded a video game. “Come, sit!” he said.

  Natalia stayed where she was while Yashar lifted a controller and loaded a game. She watched for a minute or two as he manipulated a soldier running through trenches and blasting his enemies with a machine gun. “Bam! Bam! You dead!” he shouted with glee.

  “Yashar!” said Natalia to no effect. “Yashar!” she raised her voice, moving between him and the screen.

  “Hey, what you doing!?”

  “Maybe you show me the rest of the house?” Natalia put her hands on her thighs. “Maybe you show me the bedroom?”

  Yashar’s face brightened. “Yes, of course, bedroom!” He hopped to his feet, tossing the controller aside. She followed him back through the doors and into the corridor. They turned right, away from the entryway. When they came to a smaller, back staircase, Yashar took her hand again and led her up. Natalia’s senses were on high alert. With her free hand, she still held tightly to her purse. When they reached the second floor the hallway was empty. Yashar pulled her into the first room on the left. Posters of soccer players and half-naked women adorned the walls. On one side was an unmade bed. Dirty clothes littered the floor. “This is your room?” Natalia asked.

  “Yes. You like?” Yashar flopped down on the bed.

  “I would like to see your father’s room.”

  “No. This is good room.” Yashar patted the bedspread. “Come.”

  Natalia moved back into the hallway, unzipping her purse as she went. “I would like to see more.”

  “Hey where you go?!” Yashar called after, but Natalia kept moving, wrapping her fingers around the grip of her pistol. When a door to her right flew open, Natalia jumped backwards. A woman came out, laughing playfully as she went past. A man followed, barely glancing at Natalia before chasing the woman down the hall. Natalia moved to the doorway, peering inside. It was an office.
Desk, computer, bookshelves lining the walls. Nobody else was there.

  “Come back!” Yashar poked his head into the hall. “My room is good. Nice bed.”

  Natalia moved on, stopping at the next door. “What is inside here?”

  “Bathroom,” answered Yashar.

  “Show me.”

  Yashar sighed deeply, resigning himself to her games. He padded down the hall and opened the door, standing aside so that she could see. “You need to use bathroom?”

  Natalia flipped on a light switch and moved inside. Marble counter, twin sinks, large bathtub and a toilet, but no people. “I can show you guest room!” said Yashar with a hopeful smile. Natalia nodded and then followed him into another bedroom, this one clean and unoccupied, with a double bed in the middle and a dresser to one side.

  “You will show me your father’s room?” asked Natalia.

  Yashar’s frustration was evident in his pleading expression. He held his arms out by his sides. “But my father…!” he tried to explain.

  “Please?” Natalia begged.

  Yashar narrowed his eyes. “Ok. I show you room, but after we go to my room.”

  “Fine.” If it came to that, Natalia could knock him unconscious and continue the search on her own.

  Yashar approached a set of double doors. “My father’s room.” He turned a knob and pushed, then a step inside and switched on a light. Nobody was there. “You see? We go now.”

  Natalia moved past him into the room. On the left was a massive bed, cleanly made. Directly ahead, a set of curtains framed French doors leading to the balcony. Natalia made her way across and peeked through one of the window panes. She opened the door and walked onto the balcony, scanning the party below. The swimming pool was directly beneath her. Guests mingled around the edges, including Kemal who stood talking with two older gentlemen.

  “You like view, yes?” said Yashar.

  “Yes, very nice.” Natalia saw Yashar’s friends with a few other young people gathered on the yacht.

  “We go to my room?”

  “Later.” Natalia could tell that his frustration was at a breaking point. “Yashar, I think you are very nice. A very nice boy.”