by Alta Hensley
“Everything okay?” I had been worried about her since she’d left the theater, afraid, despite her reassurance, something would go wrong.
“I’m all right,” she said, her words those I wished to hear, but her tone one that had me betting she was anything but.
“Come to me,” I said, no longer the least bit tired. “I need to hold you.”
Not a lie, yet not the complete truth either. It seemed Clara wasn’t the only one capable of fudging the facts. I needed to see for myself that Nikolai hadn’t harmed her. Who was I kidding? Of course the bastard had hurt her just by forcing her to dance to his fucking tune.
“I can’t,” she said softly. “I need to go home to Baba. I just wanted to let you know I’m okay.”
She sounded exhausted, and I wasn’t going to put any more pressure on her. “All right, but before I let you go, know your babushka was a real help tonight. She has the memory of an elephant and, by the time we left, we had a plan in place. I’ll go over it with you tomorrow.”
“All right, and, Alek? Thank you… and regardless of what you’re about to say, know I believe it is necessary for you to know how much you mean to me… how much not seeing you turn your back and walk away means to me.”
My heart broke thinking of the fear she’d obviously harbored, the guilt she refused to set aside in the name of survival. “You’re welcome,” I said. “And so I can say goodbye thinking of your smile, I want you to know Yuri is head over heels in love with Babka.”
The sound of her laugh loosened the band of iron that had been wrapping around my chest since learning Nikolai was back in her life. “Baba tends to have men falling in love with her,” Clara said.
“As does her dorogoy granddaughter,” I said. “Good night, Clara.”
“Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I sat looking at the phone in my hand long after she’d disconnected. Glancing at the screen, I saw it was 2:30 in the morning. With the eight hour time difference between Chicago and Moscow, that made it half past ten. I hadn’t yet discussed the plan with Clara, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t set it in motion. Pulling up a screen, I pressed the button I was placing all my chips on.
“Da?”
“Gospodeen Petrov,” I responded in Russian, using the formal word for mister, letting him know he was talking to a man offering him respect. Switching to English, as I knew he spoke it fluently, I continued. “You probably don’t remember me, but I am Alexei Volkov. I’m the son of—”
“Maxim and Nadia Volkov,” he said. “I do remember you. And your brother Yuri as well. I was very sorry to hear of your mother’s death. She was truly a treasure.”
“Thank you,” I said, both a bit surprised at Grigori Petrov’s instant recognition and hoped he meant every word he was saying. That would make him more receptive to the plan I was about to explain. “I’m calling you to let you know your son didn’t kill himself. He was murdered.” I heard the quick inhale across thousands of miles and could picture the man dropping into a chair, hoping Grigori’s health was as sound as I pictured a man in the top echelon of the Russian bratva had to be in order to survive.
“That claim demands an explanation,” he said.
“It does, and not one I make lightly,” I said. “I can’t offer you any solid evidence, I don’t have a written confession, but I am willing to bet my life on the fact what I’m telling you is the truth.” Taking my own breath, I added, “Though it might not be a truth that brings you any comfort.”
“If you can validate that my son didn’t take his own life, that is all the comfort I need,” Grigori said. “All the comfort his mother ever wanted, and the one thing I couldn’t give her before she died.”
“I’m sorry for your loss as well, sir,” I said respectfully, wondering how he would react to knowing his own nephew had been the one to kill his only son. Olga had confirmed that Nikolai’s father had married another mobster’s sister, making Grigori Petrov not only his uncle, but his second father when Ivan Kosloff had been killed. There was only one way to find out. “I will tell you everything but ask you allow me to do so in person and ask you not tell a soul we’ve even spoken. I know it’s a lot to ask from a person you last saw as a boy, but there is another person in danger if it is discovered this information has been leaked.”
I paused, bracing myself to hear the man tell me to fuck off and just give him the name. Patience was not something I associated with the mafia… but perhaps I should have remembered this man was the one who had financed my mother’s move to the States, had insisted she accept funds to open her school, stating it was restitution for the crime his son had committed against her husband. Even as a teen, I’d known my mother had to make the decision to stay in Russia and fight for a justice that would never come — not when the bratva owned the people in authority, or accept the money and move on. She’d chosen to leave the land she loved to take her sons to safety, to build a life for Yuri and me that didn’t include the ugliness of drugs and death.
“I’m listening,” Grigori said.
“I can only offer you this,” I said, ready to lay all my cards on the table. “If you turn me down, then know I will still make sure the right person pays for the crime of murdering my father and your son. But if you’d like to look this person in the eye and demand your own justice—”
“I’ll be there as quickly as I can make arrangements,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.
“Good, I was hoping you’d say that,” I said, releasing a breath I’d not been aware of holding. “I’ve taken the liberty of gathering some information for you. My brother and I will meet your flight and tell you everything.” I spent the next several minutes dictating the information to him, neither one of us willing to put anything in writing by sending a text or email. Phone records could be pulled, but I was counting on the fact conversations weren’t recorded unless there was some sort of suspicion already in place.
“That’s it,” I said when I finished, sitting back on the couch, relief flooding through me.
“Then I’ll see you soon, and, Alexei?”
“Yes?”
“Whoever the bastard is, don’t harm so much as a hair on his head. That is my job as a father who wants revenge. Is that clear?”
“As glass,” I said.
“Do svedonya.”
“Do svedonya,” I repeated, pressing the end button and sagging back against the couch while considering the words I’d exchanged with the man.
Until we meet again.
It had been almost twenty years since I’d last seen Grigori Petrov, but I’d been a confused kid. Now, I was a man and knew exactly what needed to be done.
30
Clara
“Are you sure you’ll recognize him,” I asked, as Alek drove toward the airport.
“I doubt I’ll have to,” Alek said, glancing over at me. “I’m sure the man has already done his own research and knows exactly what Yuri and I look like.”
“And me?”
Alek shook his head, releasing the wheel with his right hand, dropping it on my thigh. “I didn’t mention you by name. No reason to do so until we are sure he shows up and agrees with the plan.”
I nodded though every nerve I had was zinging. Everyone had been surprised when Yuri entered the theater and stated rehearsals were canceled for the day. With the New York performance looming, it was expected we’d continue to work longer hours than normal. But when Yuri had clapped his hands and shouted to “get the hell out of his theater,” every single dancer had fled the stage. I was the lone dissident, knowing everything that was happening could be placed directly at my feet.
“Alek is right,” Yuri said from the back seat. “Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.”
“But this man, Mr. Petrov, isn’t really our enemy… I mean, I know he is involved in the bratva, but… he doesn’t have reason to hurt either of you… right?”
“Right,” Alek was quick to answer. “He knows
we have information that will clear his son’s name though his son was never charged with the actual murder of our father. It was ruled a hit-and-run accident, and, since the driver of the car committed suicide, there was no reason to look any further.”
Knowing the truth made what happened seem ridiculous, like some sort of small town volunteer deputies versus the formidable force of the police in Russia. But knowing how the bratva’s influence permeated all aspects of government, I couldn’t really say I was surprised.
“We’re here,” Alek said, jerking my attention to the matter at hand.
Planes flying overhead and a tower that loomed several stories high told me we were indeed at an airport, but it wasn’t O’Hare. I looked out the windshield as Alek pulled to a stop outside a hangar.
“I’ll meet him and, if everything is as it should be, I’ll bring him to the car,” Alek said.
“And if everything isn’t as it should be?” I asked, the tension I already was experiencing ratcheting up several notches.
“Then Yuri will take you to safety,” Alek said and, when I opened my mouth, I felt a hand descending on my shoulder.
“It’s the only way this is going down,” Yuri said.
I could argue, I could fight, I could demand… or I could trust these men knew what they were doing.
“I understand,” I said but still turned my hand over in order to squeeze Alek’s as he lifted it from my leg. “Please… be careful.”
“I plan on it,” he assured me, leaning down to brush his lips over mine before turning to nod at his brother.
They opened their doors at the same time. Alek moving toward the hangar, Yuri moving to slide into the driver’s seat.
“I… I want to thank you, Yuri,” I said. “I never meant to cause any trouble.”
He turned his head, his eyebrow lifting in the same exact way his brother’s did. It made me smile though I was sure that was inappropriate considering the position we were in.
“Okay, I mean that while I had no intention of keeping away from Alek once we both discovered we truly cared for each other, I never meant to put him, you, or the other dancers in danger.”
The silence stretched out for several minutes, until he nodded. “I know, and it’s not your fault. It’s not even Alek’s. It’s mine. He might be the oldest, but he gave me the final word on whether or not to accept you. I wasn’t ignorant of your past, and yet I wasn’t about to let the chance of working with you slip through my fingers because of it. You’ve done nothing to dishonor yourself or the Volkov Ballet. If anyone should apologize, it’s me. You’re a good woman, Clara, and while my brother doesn’t deserve you, I’m glad you both ignored my wishes to stay away from each other.”
Inappropriate or not, I couldn’t keep the smile from my lips. Nor could I stop myself from scooting over until I was close enough to lift up and plant a kiss on his cheek. To say he was surprised was an understatement, but I really didn’t care. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said and then looked toward the hangar where the huge double doors were slowly opening. “That doesn’t mean you can disobey me today. If I say get down, you hit the fucking floor and don’t dare move until I give you the all clear. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, turning my gaze toward the sky where the plane that carried a man who could either change my future for the better, or send me to hell with a single order, was descending.
It was an eternity and a single moment. My life played out before my eyes, and my death made its own appearance. I was terrified and yet I felt hope like none before as I waited. Neither of us spoke… there was really nothing left to be said. Either Alek would convince Grigori to help me, or I’d learn I was responsible for another’s pain.
“Here they come.”
My head jerked up, and I saw Alek walking toward us, an older man at his side.
My throat closed as the plan presented to me became a reality. This wasn’t some sort of game. There were no true winners here. This man had come to exact vengeance on his own flesh and blood, on the nephew who had killed his son. Alek and Yuri were here to demand the same in honor of their father.
And me?
I was the catalyst that brought the story full circle… Nikolai sealing his own fate the moment he’d bragged about his crimes in order to keep me too frightened to fight back.
“Oh my God,” I said, finding it difficult to breathe. “What… what if I’m wrong? What if Nikolai was lying to me… confessing something he never actually had the courage to do? Why else would his cousin call him a coward—”
“You’re not wrong,” Yuri said. “He gave you details he wouldn’t know unless he was there. Your own grandmother confirms the story of Luke committing suicide by shooting himself exactly between the eyes was not only implausible, but most likely impossible. As for being a pussy… that is exactly the sort of man Nikolai is. No man who tosses a woman off a balcony simply because she won’t do as he says is a real man. No man who runs over a man barely able to stand simply because he might have witnessed a murder is a man.”
I shuddered as Yuri’s words filled the car, each given in a tone that spoke of absolute conviction. He turned his head to meet my gaze.
“No man who lays a hand on a woman in anger, who feels the need to terrify her, to threaten her with those people she loves is a man. Nikolai Kosloff is nothing but a bully, a coward, and a dead man walking.”
I nodded as he opened the door and stepped outside. Though I’d not been given permission, I did the same, and we both moved around the hood of the car to greet Grigori.
“You must be the one,” Grigori said before he’d yet reached us.
“The one?” I asked, puzzled at what he might mean.
“The woman Alek is determined to protect with his very life,” Grigori said, looking from me to Alek and then back again. “And I can’t say I can blame him.” He held his hand out, and I took it, shaking it as if we were meeting at some party after a performance instead of in the shadow of a hangar plotting the death of a man.
I knew Alek was trying to keep me safe, to let me skirt along the sidelines, and yet I couldn’t allow him to do that. I was just as responsible for what we were planning as the three of them.
“My name is Clara Simyoneva, Mr. Petrov. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I know it’s not. I’m so sorry about your son. I… I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
He nodded. “I believe you do,” he said, releasing my hand and offering his to Yuri. “Despite what Miss Simyoneva said, it is nice to see you again, Yuri.”
Yuri shook his hand and nodded and, after releasing it, he gestured toward the car. “Shall we?”
Grigori nodded as well and when Yuri opened the back door, I said, “No, why don’t you sit up front, Mr. Petrov? You’ll be more comfortable.”
The man smiled, and years fell away from his face. “That’s not necessary. I’d rather Alek keep his attention on the road than be looking back to assure himself you are all right.” After speaking, he got into the back seat, and Yuri closed the door and walked around to climb in on the other side.
Alek took hold of the door handle but didn’t yet pull it open. Instead, he used his free hand to cup my cheek. “You okay?”
“I think I will be,” I answered honestly. “He’s nothing like Nikolai.”
“No, no, he’s not,” Alek said. Bending, he kissed me all too briefly before pulling the door open and then closing it once I was inside.
Once we were back on the road, the final details were shared with Grigori who nodded occasionally.
“You have any questions?” Alek asked me as he pulled the car down a side street.
“No,” I answered, my nerves settling, a calm descending over me that I hadn’t expected, but was grateful to experience. “If something goes wrong—”
“It won’t,” Alek cut in, but I shook my head.
“If something goes wrong, promise me you’ll take care of Baba.”
His eyes softened. “You don’t even have to ask, Clara.”
“I-I… thank you, Alek.”
“I’ve told you, no thanks are required between—”
“Enough already,” Yuri said. “Go ahead and kiss her, and let’s get this done.”
Alek chuckled but bent forward and did as his brother instructed; taking my face between his hands, he kissed me… not the gentle brush of his lips as before. This kiss placed his claim on me, let me know I couldn’t let anything happen… not when I had this to come back to.
Pulling away, he gave me a final long look before reaching into the trunk and handing me my bag. Taking it, I didn’t say another word, simply turned and began walking down the block toward the hotel… toward my future, whatever that might be.
31
Alek
It was surreal and yet everything seemed in sharper focus, every sound amplified, each minute drawn out until I’d swear I could actually see the individual seconds passing until finally I said, “It’s time.”
Yuri adjusted the suit jacket he’d donned to better cover the holster he’d also added to his attire. I’d done the same, tucking the Glock 19 into the holster and adding a Glock 43 into the holster wrapped around my ankle.
“Remember, he’s mine,” Grigori said as he watched us.
“We remember,” I assured him. “That doesn’t mean we’re going in unprepared. Clara can only hope Nikolai continues to keep their activities private. There is no guarantee he will be the only one in the room.”
“I understand,” Grigori said. The muscle in his jaw jumping, spoke of how learning it was his own nephew who’d been responsible for the murder of his son affected him in a way I knew I’d never truly understand.
I might often want to knock Yuri’s head off his shoulders, but I knew he’d give his life for me if he had to, just as I’d die to protect him. I could only pray that the only person dying today would be Nikolai Kosloff.