Gray Shadows: Russian Historical Thriller

Chapter Two

The afternoon was fresh and crisp, rare for Moscow’s usually wet winters, his leg felt better, so Nikolai started walking. The office was only three blocks away from the apartment he shared with Olga, and a walk would help clear his head and work out any lingering soreness in his body. The apartment was his, but Olga was as much in charge of it as Nikolai was. It was their joint decision to rent out Olga’s place and live in Nikolai’s: hers was closer to a metro station and yielded slightly higher rent, thus, more extra income for them, and his was closer to Nikolai’s office. Olga’s work was a few metro stations away from either one, so that was not a factor in the decision.

Living together was a new arrangement for them as of the past two months, and Nikolai knew that Olga wanted more than just a joint living arrangement, and she deserved more, too. She was caring, ambitious, successful, and pretty, and all these were qualities that any man would cherish and admire. Nikolai did, too, he just did not feel ready to completely commit to a life, marriage and kids, with Olga. He did not want her to spend her life worrying about him, or worse, becoming a widow and a single mom after an assignment gone wrong for Nikolai. There was another issue in their relationship, too, that made it difficult for him to propose to Olga, but he did not want to admit it, even to himself.

He crossed the street and turned into a small lane leading to their building. He had lived in the center of Moscow since he was a little kid, and loved everything about it: the mix of the old and the new architecture, the narrow streets punctuated by small parks and playgrounds, the proximity to famous theatres and to the Red Square, with its beautiful red brick architecture, the ancient towers, and the newly re-opened cathedrals. He liked being close to all the important places, yet away from big streets and noise. The area and the apartment were familiar and, therefore, pleasant and comfortable.

Looking at the few remaining Soviet-style buildings, at his old school that had stayed unchanged since his childhood, and at the little bakery on the corner, Nikolai felt immersed into his own past and into the old Russia. The new Russia offered many more work and travel opportunities for him, but he sometimes felt nostalgic for the old times, for the simpler times, when he and his friends sat in the kitchen late at night, drank endless cups of tea, played their guitars, and debated the meaning of life. Now, people were different: even young people were concerned with money, business successes, purchases, and other material things. They did not seem as idealistic and as pure as Nikolai and his friends used to be.

Maybe, that kind of thinking was a sign of old age creeping slowly into Nikolai’s life: the grass was greener, the snow was whiter, and everyone was better when he was young. Probably, he and his friends were just like all young people in the world are before life gets busy with work, relationships, and everyday routine. He shook off these thoughts: he was not even thirty yet, so old age was a long way from now, if he even lived to see it.

Nikolai punched in the door code, pulled open the spring-loaded front door, and entered the dark coolness of his building. For a moment, he debated walking up the stairs, but his leg was starting to ache, so he took the elevator up to the fifth floor.

The door to his apartment opened even before Nikolai could turn the key. Olga stood in the doorway, dressed in a red cocktail dress and high heels. And she looked mad.

“Olechka, are you back already?” Nikolai said.

“I’m back, and you are late.” Olga sounded irritated.

“Late for what?”

“The big corporate dinner party. The one you were supposed to come with me to.” Olga shook her head dismissively, turned around and walked back inside the apartment.

Nikolai followed her. “I’m so sorry, Olechka. Of course, I’ll come. When do we have to leave?”

“In fifteen minutes,” she said without looking at him.

“That’s plenty, and I’ll drive fast.” He came up to her and gently kissed her on the cheek.

“Wear something nice,” Olga said, her tone softening.

Nikolai walked through the small foyer into the bedroom, took a dark suit, white shirt, and a red tie out of the closet. He placed the items on the bed and stepped into the shower. Ten minutes later, Nikolai was in the foyer, all dressed up, clean-shaven, and ready to go. His dark curly hair was still damp from the shower, and his Makarov pistol was tucked away in the shoulder holster, away from sight. Olga used to argue with him about taking his Makarov to social functions, but has lately resorted to pretending she did not know it was there. On some things, Nikolai was not willing to compromise, and Olga learned to accept that.

Nikolai had been to many corporate events before, both with Olga and with Vasily Petrovich, in many different restaurants, but tonight’s restaurant was truly spectacular. And it was not just the immaculately starched white tablecloths, the elegant arrangements of fresh flowers on each table, the crystal chandeliers, and the tasteful oil paintings on the walls that were impressive and sophisticated. What was most striking was the large picture window overlooking the entrance to the Red Square and the street below. Standing next to the window, Nikolai felt as tall as the magnificent red towers of the Kremlin, and almost as powerful. Maybe, that illusion was intentional, and that’s what created the special appeal of the restaurant.

“Quite a sophisticated venue,” Nikolai commented to Olga. He felt out of place among these wealthy people, men in their expensive suits and women sparkling with diamonds. Over the last few years, as he worked with the wealthiest businessmen and their partners, he had developed a distrust for most of them. The more he learned about the way business deals were made, the less naive he was about free enterprise, at least in its Russian version.

“Do you like it here?” Olga said.

“It’s spectacular,” Nikolai said. There was no need to share his thoughts and spoil Olga’s mood.

Olga smiled, looking perfectly comfortable. Over the last few years, she had grown accustomed to this lifestyle. Nikolai had not. She never said it to Nikolai, at least not yet, but from some of the comments she made in front of him to her friends, Nikolai was getting a distinct feeling that she needed somebody more sophisticated, more stable, somebody whose job did not involve crawling around attics and basements or dodging bullets, and somebody who could make money, more money than Nikolai, without risking his life every day. And there were plenty of available men at these corporate functions.

One such man, dressed in an elegant business suit, enveloped in a cloud of expensive cologne, and wearing a charming smile, was heading their way. He was not as tall as Nikolai but handsome and well-groomed, with broad shoulders, probably a reminder of his younger, more athletic days. Now, his most prominent feature was a mid-riff bulge under his elegant jacket, a tell-tale sign of a desk job and too much indulgence at frequent social functions. Olga rushed towards the man, pulling Nikolai with her. The man handed Olga a glass of champagne and introduced himself to Nikolai as Denis Fedorovich.

“You’re lucky to have her,” Denis Fedorovich said to Nikolai, and turned his attention to Olga. “We can’t wait for you to start working with us. Please stop by the office on Monday afternoon, to get oriented and what not. Once the merger is complete, I will need a chief accountant. And I can’t think of a better candidate than you.”

Olga blushed. “I’ll be happy to join you.”

“And you’ll be even happier when I tell you about the bonuses I’m ready to offer you.” He smiled. “But enough business talk. Enjoy the evening.”

Denis Fedorovich nodded to Nikolai and headed towards the buffet table.

“What’s that merger he was talking about?” Nikolai said.

“He didn’t tell me the details. He said he’s too superstitious to say, but it sounds like a big deal. Two or three companies coming together. I’ll know more soon. The merger is scheduled to be complete by the end of the month.”

“You should find out the details before you agree to the job,” Nikolai said. “You have to be careful.”

“You’re too suspicious. Relax. It’s all fine.” Olga took a sip of her champagne. “You sure you don’t want to try it? It’ll lighten your mood.”

Another couple came up to them, making small talk and admiring Olga’s dress and shoes. Nikolai pushed his thoughts about the merger aside and tried to enjoy the evening. But when they got back home and Olga started talking about how much she looked forward to her new job as the chief accountant and what a wonderful person Denis Fedorovich was, Nikolai could not hold back.

“Do you realize how dangerous this job can be for you?” Nikolai said, interrupting Olga’s happy chatter and erasing the smile off her face.

“Dangerous? It’s an office job. You’re seeing felonies and criminals everywhere, Nikolai. You need to learn to compartmentalize.”

“But you don’t even know what merger he’s talking about.”

“What difference does it make? Mergers happen all the time, and it’s just one of them. Accounting is accounting. And he’s offering me more money. It’s a great deal,” Olga said.

“Being a chief accountant is never a great deal.”

“I realize I’ll have longer hours, but you have long hours, too, so what difference does that make to you?”

“It’s not about the hours,” Nikolai said. “If something in the books goes wrong, for any reason, the chief accountant is responsible. Prisons are filled with chief accountants who thought they were getting a great deal.”

“Again? Felonies and criminals everywhere? Why can’t you just support me and be happy for me, for once?” Olga glowered at him. “Good night. I hope the couch is comfortable.”

When Nikolai woke up the next morning, Olga was already gone. Nikolai had always been a light sleeper, but the post-surgery medication was obviously still affecting him and his sleep. He left an apologetic message on Olga’s phone, and turned on his laptop. Maybe, he could find out something about the merger that Denis Fedorovich was talking about. You could never have too much information.

He scrolled down the results pages, trying to make sense of them. Denis Fedorovich was a board member of a large conglomerate company that operated a number of different businesses, mostly retail and telecommunications. His conglomerate also owned some construction companies, a small medical research office, an environmental consulting company, and a chain of popular toy stores.

It was unlikely that there was going to be a true merger. Most likely, another acquisition of a company in one of these fields. And if the deal had not been finalized, it made sense that Denis Fedorovich did not want to give the details to Olga.

Nikolai pushed his laptop aside and got up. That search was pointless. He would not find any information that would convince Olga not to accept the job offer. Nikolai rolled out his yoga mat and started doing physical therapy exercises that he was taught in the hospital. He needed to recover.

A few minutes into his stretches, Nikolai’s phone buzzed.

“You’re in luck, professor,” he heard Anatoly’s voice. “I got an easy assignment for you. Can you be here in an hour?”

“Of course.”

Fifty-five minutes later, Nikolai, dressed in jeans, heavy boots, and a winter jacket that easily concealed his shoulder holster, walked into Anatoly’s office. Anatoly was at his desk, dressed in his white karate uniform. His black belt hung on the coat rack in the corner.

“New dress code?” Nikolai said.

“This client was a last minute thing, and I got a karate class to teach. But don’t worry, I changed into the uniform after I called you. The client had already left by then,” Anatoly said. “Have a seat.”

Nikolai leaned his cane against the wall and sat down across from Anatoly.

“From what I can tell,” Anatoly said, “it’s a case of an overprotective dad who’s worried that something bad will happen to his young daughter or that she’ll get in trouble once she’s away from home.”

“How young are we talking about? A child? He’s concerned about kidnapping?”

“No, nothing like that. The girl is twenty-two but sounds immature and prone to bad decisions. And dad can’t control what she does anymore,” Anatoly said.

“And how can I help with that?”

“How would you like to get away for a while?” Anatoly said.

“Olga would like me to, no doubt,” Nikolai said.

Anatoly kept his gaze on Nikolai. “Are things okay? Is there anything I need to know?”

“As okay as they have been lately,” Nikolai said. “Some time apart will be good for both of us. So, how far are we talking about?”

“A couple of hours by plane. Your client is going to a small town in Komi Republic to work as an interpreter for an oil company.”

“An interpreter of what?”

“A Russian-English interpreter. She has a linguistics degree and impressive experience from what I’m told, despite her young age, so the company hired her right away. It’s a joint company with the Canadians. She’ll be working with the director of the company.”

“And that’s her first job? Sounds pretty high-level.”

“First job away from home, lots of short-term free-lance assignments in Moscow. Most Moscow interpreters don’t want to travel to a small town that far north, but she’s adventurous enough to want to go.”

“Or desperate to get away from her overprotective father?”

“That’s possible, too.” Anatoly nodded.

“How far north are we talking about? Siberia north?” Nikolai asked.

“Farther.” Anatoly got up, pushed his chair back in, and turned to the large map on the wall behind his desk. He circled a large area northeast of Moscow. “This is Siberia.” He traced a line straight up on the map. “This is Komi Republic.”

Nikolai followed the line with his eyes. Komi Republic was further north than he had thought.

Anatoly glanced at Nikolai, then moved his finger up on the map, all the way to the Arctic Circle. “And this is Upper Luzinsk.”

Nikolai shook his head. “She must like the Arctic cold weather and remote places.”

Anatoly did not respond. He simply turned back to his desk, sat down and looked straight at Nikolai, probably expecting him to say something else.

“What’s my role exactly?” Nikolai said. “What am I protecting her from?”

“Not much, and I don’t see much danger there, to anyone, so mainly your job is to demonstrate that she has a bodyguard, a chaperone of sorts. Contrary to what we usually do, feel free to tell everyone you’re her bodyguard. I think that’s what the dad wants. That way, nobody will mess with her. No dubious boyfriends or married guys looking for adventures. Are you good with that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You could stay at home and recuperate.”

“I’m going to Komi,” Nikolai said.

“Good answer,” Anatoly said. “I know it’s more of a babysitting assignment than a real one, but you need time to recuperate. Nevertheless, I’m taking it seriously, and so should you.”

“Of course. A job is a job. Tell me more about her and her family,” Nikolai said.

“Her dad worked abroad for many years, which means he was making decent money even when she was still little. They lived all over Europe, but mainly in Germany.”

“What did he do?”

“Trade attache for the Russian embassy,” Anatoly said.

“I see,” Nikolai said. “Does he still work for the government?”

“Not anymore. As soon as they got back to Moscow, he left his job, got into the banking business and made some serious money. And, like many people who suddenly became rich, he lost his head.”

“Can you elaborate?” Nikolai asked.

“Fancy cars, exotic vacations, that kind of thing. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he was always raising his daughter like a princess, and the new wealth made him want to spoil her even more. He bought her anything and everything she wanted, and that ruined their relationship. She started seeing him as a source of new fancy things and easy money, nothing more. Not my words, his.”

“Where’s the mom?” Nikolai said.

“That’s another problem in that relationship. Her mom died when the girl was very young. The dad never remarried and devoted his whole life to his daughter. His way to make up for the loss of her mom was to spend more and more money on the daughter. Good intentions, and we know where they lead. Now, he’s worried that she’ll go wild as soon as she’s on her own for the first time. She graduated from college last spring, and this will be her first job away from home,” Anatoly said.

“Got it. What does the dad do now? Any background on him?” Nikolai said.

“Any background? No. Complete background? Yes. He’s a banker. Quite successful. Nothing fishy in his business. Other questions?” Anatoly said.

“No. The task is clear. Keep the girl out of trouble. Not too exciting but better than sitting at home,” Nikolai said.

“Excellent. You’re on the charter flight tomorrow. Here’s all the information.” Anatoly handed Nikolai a printed page. “The dad and the girl will be at the airport. She’s Natalya Abramova. Dad’s name is Konstantin.”

Early next morning, Nikolai woke up alone. Olga had spent the night at her parents’, at least according to the curt message she left on his phone. Nikolai wrote a long apologetic note, attached it to a bouquet of flowers, and dropped both off at Olga’s office on his way to the airport.

When he got to the charter flights terminal, he spotted Natalya and her dad immediately. In the crowd dressed in long thick pants, big boots, heavy parkas, and carrying drab-looking luggage, Natalya in her expensive mink coat and her dad holding two Louis Vuitton suitcases stood out. Natalya was tall and slender, with an unruly mane of red hair showing from under her fur hat.

Nikolai came up to them. “Natalya and Konstantin?”

Konstantin, a middle-aged man with tired eyes, greeted him politely and shook his hand.

“Ah, the bodyguard,” Natalya said. “Can you help?” She pointed to two bags on the ground next to her.

Nikolai picked up one bag with his left hand. His own luggage consisted of an old backpack and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“And this?” She pointed to the other one.

“Sorry. It’s yours to carry. My right hand always needs to be free.”

She chuckled. “In case somebody starts firing?”

“Exactly. Let’s go.” Nikolai pointed towards the airport checkpoint.

Natalya huffed, picked up the other bag, and started walking. Nikolai and Konstantin followed a few steps behind her.

“She’s trouble,” Konstantin said. “I don’t envy you. I’ve spoiled her and now can’t get any control back. Maybe, this job will be good for her. She needs to feel responsible for something. Anything.”

They checked in their larger bags and came up to a checkpoint where a uniformed officer checked off their names on the passenger list. There were no metal detectors and no x-ray machines, just an officer with a clipboard.

“Need our passports?” Nikolai asked.

The officer shook his head. “It’s a charter flight. Your names are on the list. That’s all that matters. Have a good flight.”

“You never check passports?” Nikolai asked.

The guard shrugged. “Why check? Nothing bad has happened yet. And charter flights are always safe.”

Nikolai patted his pocket, feeling the extra cartridge for his Makarov. “As you say.”

Natalya waved good-bye to her dad. No kisses, no hugs, and no attempts for either from her or the dad. Nikolai sighed. She must be real trouble for the dad. He seemed relieved to have handed her over to Nikolai.

They walked down the hallway, then out onto the tarmac, and climbed into a small van that took them to a far corner of the airfield where a YAK-40 plane was waiting for them. Nikolai had flown in enough of them to know that they were not the best of what Soviet aviation industry could produce, but because of their compact size and ability to land in small airports, YAK-40 planes were a popular choice for charter flights to remote areas.

They entered the plane through a narrow ladder in the back and walked into the cabin lined with two rows of seats on each side.

“Take the window seat,” Nikolai said.

“Thanks. You’re such a gentleman,” Natalya said. “Are you that nice to all your women?”

“Let’s establish something once and for all. You are not my woman. You’re a client. I’m your bodyguard. That’s the extent of our relationship. No more and no less.”

“For now,” Natalya said.

“Yes, for now. Until the mission is over. No relationship whatsoever after that. Please keep that in mind.”

Nikolai knew he sounded a little harsh, but he wanted Natalya to know the limits from the very beginning. Later on, he would need to talk to her more, get to know her better, and help them both develop trust in each other. With other clients, that was the first step. With Natalya, considering the nature of this assignment, her personality and her history, that would have to wait. Maintaining a distance was more important right now.

“Champagne?” The flight attendant, a short young brunette, came up to them with a tray filled with champagne flutes.

“I’ll take one.” Natalya grabbed a glass.

“None for me, thanks,” Nikolai said.

“You’re so perfect. You don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you don’t swear.” She took a sip of her champagne. “It’s delicious.”

“I don’t drink while on duty.”

“But you must have some vices. What are they? Can I help you find them?” Natalya smiled mischievously, put her glass on the tray table in front of her and turned to Nikolai.

“None. I’m perfect. You just said it yourself.”

“Too bad,” Natalya said. “I hope you change your mind. And not about the champagne.” She turned her head to Nikolai and leaned towards him, her face inches away from his.

The intercom buzzed, followed by an announcement to fasten seatbelts. Natalya leaned away from Nikolai and reached for her seatbelt. Nikolai reached for his. A moment later, with a jerk, the plane started taxiing and gaining speed. Soon, it reached the end of the runway and lifted off into the cloudy milky sky. Soon, Moscow disappeared behind a thick white blanket.

As it attempted to reach the cruising altitude, the small plane trembled and shook. The engines whined like a wounded seal. With each twist, tremble, and whine of the plane, Natalya grabbed his arm and whimpered, “Are we going to die, Mr. Bodyguard?”

“We’ll be just fine. Turbulence is not unusual. Just relax.”

It will be a long assignment, Nikolai thought as he tried to unclutch Natalya from his arm. He had forgotten how immature twenty-two-year-olds could be, and Natalya was at the top of that list. No wonder her dad barely said bye. He was probably relieved to get her off his hands for a while.

As the airplane gained altitude, it stopped shaking and dipping, and the engines went from pained whining to a dull roar. The flight attendant brought more champagne. Natalya took another glass, retrieved a glossy magazine from her purse, and started leafing through it. Soon, she was fast asleep. Nikolai got out a paperback mystery he brought along and started reading.

After two hours of the flight, cabin lights dimmed, and the engines started their high-pitch whining again. The change in the cabin woke up Natalya. She opened her eyes and looked at Nikolai, then out the window.

The airplane dropped altitude, broke through thick clouds, and lunged towards the grayish white ground below.

“Please fasten your seat belts and prepare for landing in Upper Luzinsk International Airport,” the flight attendant said through the intercom.

“International?” Natalya said to Nikolai. “Look at that.”

A dimly lit weathered shack with hardly discernible letters “Upper Luzinsk” decorated the end of a lonely runway. Nikolai could not see any other buildings in the twilight, just boundless snow and ice. The plane screeched to a stop, and cabin lights flickered back on.

“Local time is half past ten in the morning. Welcome to Upper Luzinsk,” the flight attendant said.

As passengers around them jumped up from their seats, Nikolai grabbed his bag and followed Natalya to the back of the airplane. Passengers in front of them were cautiously walking down a small shaky ramp.

“It looks slippery,” Natalya said.

“Hold on to the rail,” Nikolai said. “With your free hand. Put your bag strap over your shoulder.” No matter how much she whined, he was not going to let her turn him into a porter.

As Nikolai took the first step out of the airplane, a blast of cold air hit him in the face. In front of him, Natalya lost her footing and slipped. Nikolai grabbed her to stop her from falling.

“Thank you, Mr. Bodyguard. You’re so strong,” Natalya said.

“Watch your step, please.”

“You can pick up your bags in the loading zone of the airfield,” the flight attendant said and pointed to a fenced-in area where an open-bed truck stood loaded with suitcases.

The air and the ground were so cold that Nikolai felt like he was barefoot. With every step, the cold from the ground radiated up through the thin soles of his boots intended for a much milder Moscow winter. He kept walking on the airfield next to Natalya, his wounded leg aching with each step, probably from the cold weather.

“Welcome to Upper Luzinsk,” yelled a man in a parka from the top of the baggage pile. He motioned for the passengers to walk off the airfield through the small iron gate. “I’ll throw all the bags over the fence; it’s much faster that way. If you try to find your own bags in the pile, it will take too long. We’ll all freeze here.”

Natalya gasped, probably horrified at the thought of her fancy suitcases being thrown over a shabby fence onto the freezing ground. Nikolai tightened his scarf and stepped up to the fence.

A tall man in scuffed-up boots and a thick winter coat, handmade woolen scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, came up to them. He was thin and looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. “I’ll catch your bags,” he said. “Where to? I’ll drive you.” He pointed to his snow-covered rusty Lada. “Not fancy, but the heater is working. My name’s Oleg.”

“The main square,” Nikolai answered, each word accompanied by thick white vapor. Brushing the snowflakes off her face, Natalya stood shivering next to him. Her eyes were watering from the cold and her nose running.

“First time here? Jump into the car. You’re lucky it’s a warm spell. Much easier to get used to this place if you’re not hit with the real cold right away,” Oleg said, rubbing his red weathered hands together and stomping his feet.

Nikolai wondered what the real cold felt like as he watched their fellow passengers, all dressed in bulky coats and boots, scurry around the ramshackle airport building, load their suitcases and bags into rusty cars, and venture into the icy and snowy twilight of Upper Luzinsk.

Oleg threw the bags in the trunk. “Luzinsk Oil, right?”

“How did you know where we are going?” Natalya asked Oleg when they were inside the car.

“Not too hard to guess. Luzinsk Oil has been hiring a lot of people lately. And that’s the only real oil company in town. There’s also Luna Oil and Gas, but they are a much smaller operation. There was talk of expanding and new hires, but not much movement in that direction so far.” Oleg steered the car out of the small parking lot and onto the only road to town.

“Who owns Luna Oil?” Nikolai asked.

“I don’t know,” Oleg said. “They’ve been bought and sold so many times, it’s hard to keep track. And they don’t have nearly as many computers as Luzinsk Oil. As I said, it’s a much smaller operation.”

“How do you know how many computers they have?” Nikolai said.

“I do a little bit of computer work for both companies.”

“And you drive, too?” Nikolai said.

“Sure. I run errands for anybody who’s willing to pay me. I’m not too proud to make money any way I can. We need it now that my wife can’t work anymore.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Natalya asked. “Is she sick?”

“No, no,” Oleg said. “She’s pregnant. I can’t wait to become a dad. And when I make enough money, I want to buy a small place down south, maybe even on the Black Sea. Young kids should not live in this harsh climate.”

Nobody should live in this harsh climate, thought Nikolai.