Gray Shadows: Russian Historical Thriller

Chapter Three

The narrow road leading from the airport into town was surrounded by vast open space from horizon to colorless horizon. Low rays of the hazy sun lit up a greyish-white sky. Vegetation was sparse: lining the road were dwarf pine trees barely visible behind snowdrifts, as if nature itself objected to being here, in this unforgiving climate that offered nothing to any living creatures. The only reason anybody would ever move to this desolate area was the allure of the wealth promised by the oil field. Some got that wealth and moved away, but most stayed and kept working, insufficient income or other life circumstances prohibiting them from finding a more hospitable place to live.

Along the edge of the road, electric posts were stuck in the ground at random angles. Not a single one pointed straight up. Many almost crossed each other, and from a distance created an image of a gigantic surreal cemetery peppered with misshapen crosses.

“These posts are so crooked,” Natalya said.

“It’s the permafrost,” Oleg said. “When the top layer melts, the trees and posts lose their grounding and lean. When it freezes again, they freeze, too, right where they’ve leaned.”

“I’ve never seen that before,” Natalya said.

“You’ll see lots of things here you’ve never seen before,” Oleg said. His Lada turned the corner, but the white and desolate landscape around them did not change. “Just a few more minutes till the main square. You’ll be working for a very good company, by the way. Pyotr Alekseevich is great.”

“Pyotr Alekseevich?” Nikolai asked.

“He’s the new director. Everyone in town knows him and loves him. He used to be the mayor but left that job to head Luzinsk Oil.”

“More money?” Nikolai asked. “The so-called public service doesn’t pay much?”

Oleg shook his head. “Nothing like that. He didn’t even want to head the company, but was left with no choice.”

“No choice? Why is that?” Nikolai asked.

“He was the only one who could save the company. Things are still not quite settled, but I hear the deal is in the making. It should be signed at the board meeting in a week or so. The whole town will be partying when that happens.”

“You know a lot about the company,” Nikolai said.

“Everyone here does,” Oleg said. “Oil and gas is our only industry, and it defines how we all live. The previous director did not last long, and we were all relieved when he left.”

“Who was the previous director?” Nikolai asked.

“Some bureaucrat from Moscow who only cared about money and his own profit. He didn’t even pay corporate taxes, and that’s what started this whole mess. Anyway, you’ll hear plenty from Pyotr Alekseevich. It’s on everyone’s mind now.”

Nikolai turned to the window. The main road, open to the brutal Arctic gale, created a sort of a wind tunnel, and Nikolai could hear the wind whistling around them.

The landscape changed suddenly, replacing the white emptiness with block buildings that varied in height from two to about ten stories. They were definitely in the urban area now. In the dim light of the Arctic morning, Nikolai glimpsed a typical two-story school structure inside a cluster of apartment buildings, probably placed there to provide the children some protection from the scything wind. Like many hastily built towns, Upper Luzinsk had no suburban areas, no villages surrounding it. Just the tundra and the center of town in the middle of it, if it could even be called a town. Nikolai did not see a single restaurant, cafe, sports club, or a church around. A place without a soul.

Oleg slowed down at a small intersection to let a middle-aged couple, holding on to each other, cross the street. The couple were the first people Nikolai saw in this town. It was not surprising: not many would want to venture outside in this cold weather. Small streets crossed the main road and disappeared into the sparse tundra and the white hills behind it. The center of town was within walking distance from its furthest edge.

“How old is this town?” Nikolai asked.

“Construction started in the 1960’s and 1970’s when major oil reserves were found. The climate here is not suitable for living, and neither are most of these buildings. The construction was quick and sloppy.”

Nikolai nodded. He didn’t want to offend Oleg but the town looked drab and depressing. Unlike older towns that grew out of people’s desire to live in them because of their mild climate, proximity to ports, or other attractive natural features, the construction of Upper Luzinsk was mandated by the government for the sole purpose of oil production, a purpose that was clearly stated in enormous letters above the tallest building, a six-story apartment block, “Let’s produce more oil for the motherland.”

The only other architectural addition to the soulless architecture were huge red, pink, and yellow triangles painted on all apartment buildings. The single attraction in this vast frozen area was oil, and it was obviously strong enough to build a town around it.

“These buildings look ugly,” Natalya said.

“Nobody cared about looks when this town was built. It was all about oil production,” Oleg said. “Upper Luzinsk is the oil capital of the Russian north, or so we are told.”

“But still. Just look at those triangles. Do people here have no taste?” Natalya said. “How tacky.”

“Stay here for a while, and then we’ll talk about taste,” Oleg said. “With the drab and dreary endless days of winter with barely any daylight for months, you would pick up a bucket of bright paint yourself.”

Nikolai doubted Natalya was the type to pick up anything herself, but he was pretty confident she was the type who did not like to get bored or stay bored. The question was what exactly she would do to keep herself entertained in this small quiet town, and how Nikolai would be able to prevent her from entertaining herself in ways that her dad would not find appropriate.

“What’s going on there?” Natalya said.

Nikolai turned to see what she was looking at. Oleg slowed down as they drove by an apartment building, its entrance surrounded by police cars with flashing lights and an ambulance. A small crowd gathered in front of the building, huddling together. Two paramedics carried a stretcher out of the building and set it on the frozen ground.

“This person must be dead. They wouldn’t just leave a living patient on the ground, would they?” Natalya said.

“Must be dead,” Oleg said.

“What do you think happened?” Natalya said.

“Probably a heart attack,” Oleg said.

“And that’s why the police are here?” Nikolai said.

“I don’t know what’s going on. I’m here with you, not out there,” Oleg said. “It’s just a guess.”

Nikolai did not ask anything else, and neither did Natalya. The dead body on the stretcher could be the result of many tragic but not necessarily unexpected circumstances, including a heart attack, so the police and medical presence was not a bad thing. At least this town had the police and medical services, as well as a way to ensure they showed up. However, something about the scene, besides the police cars, told Nikolai that the reason for the presence was not a heart attack. The people gathered by the building looked too distraught and too oblivious to the brutal cold. Even from the inside of Oleg’s Lada, Nikolai could sense their fear. It was not a heart attack that made these people stand outside, many with their coats unbuttoned and no hats. Whatever had happened in that building was something more serious and much more sinister.

Oleg turned the corner, and the building, with its distraught inhabitants, disappeared from view.

“Almost there.” Oleg pulled over to a gray three-storied building with large snow sculptures of alligators, monkeys, and elephants in front of it.

Nikolai wondered if placing exotic animals from tropical climates in the midst of this Arctic town was another way its inhabitants tried to cheer themselves up.

“This is Upper Luzinsk for you,” Oleg said.

“That’s the center of town?” Natalya said.

“As central as it gets,” Oleg said. “But that’s not the compound. I just need to pick up some papers so we can get you settled in the hotel.” Probably catching Nikolai’s questioning glance, Oleg quickly added, “Don’t worry. I know the routine. It’s not the first time I pick up Moscow employees here. I’ll be right back.”

Oleg left the car running, with the heater on, and jumped out. He strode inside the building and came back a few minutes later with a thick envelope.

“All done,” he said as he sat back behind the wheel, his tone quickly changing from casual to business-like. Oleg was no longer a driver, he was a company employee with a job to do, and his words clearly reflected that.

“Let’s go to the compound,” Oleg said. “How long are you staying for, by the way? Most interpreters stay for four weeks, that’s the typical shift. They work every day, weekends included, from seven in the morning till seven at night. All meals are provided, and the restaurant is inside the compound. And that’s a good thing, since the stores here have nothing. Are you okay sharing a room in the hotel with other interpreters? Or do you want private rooms?”

“Natalya and I will share a room,” Nikolai asked.

“What?” Natalya said. “I’m not sharing a room with you.”

“A lovers’ quarrel, I see.” Oleg chuckled. “None of my business, so you two figure out what you want to do.”

“I want my own room,” Natalya said.

“That’s not happening,” Nikolai said. “And not for the reasons you’re thinking about. As I told you before, I am not interested in you. This living arrangement is purely for your safety. If you want your own room, I’ll be happy to take you back to your dad’s house,” Nikolai said and addressed Oleg. “I’m Natalya’s bodyguard, and I need to be with her. Does the hotel have suites?” It felt awkward to introduce himself as a bodyguard, but that’s what Natalya’s dad apparently wanted.

“Bodyguard, really?” Oleg said. “Come on, you two can be honest with me. I don’t care who shares rooms with whom or what goes on in the hotel. Just get the work done.”

“It’s true.” Nikolai reached into his pocket and showed Oleg his ID card issued by the agency.

For a moment, Oleg took his eyes off the road and glanced at the card, then at Nikolai, his expression registering surprise. “So, you really aren’t kidding?”

Oleg glanced at Natalya in the rear-view mirror. “Why do you need a bodyguard?”

“Ask my dad.”

“Sorry, none of my business,” Oleg said. “Either way, you can share a room.”

“Only if it’s a suite,” Natalya said.

“That can be arranged,” Oleg said. “Here we are. That’s the compound.”

His Lada came to the edge of a large corner lot with a dozen identical manufactured office buildings, most of them two stories, and all of them white.

The buildings were huddled around an older, taller structure that looked like a typical Soviet-style apartment building. The whole compound was surrounded by a chain-link fence.

“Is this fence new?” Nikolai asked Oleg.

“It is. How did you know?”

“No snow on the ground on either side of it. You would have to clear away the snow to put the posts in, and it snows often here, so the ground would not stay exposed for long. Uneven distances between the posts shows me that it was put up in a hurry. Any special reason for building it?”

“Built last week after stacks of concrete blocks and pipes disappeared while we were all having lunch. It’s a temporary fence. We’ll need a better one eventually.”

“Did they find out who stole it?” Natalya asked.

“No,” Oleg said. “It’s pretty much impossible. And there’s the hotel, by the way. Not exactly five stars.” Oleg pointed to the old Soviet-style structure that Nikolai noticed earlier. Its paint was peeling, and it looked out of place in this modern compound. “Luzinsk Oil didn’t build it, as you can probably tell. It belongs to the town, but Luzinsk Oil is leasing this lot, and the hotel was the only building on it, so they ended up leasing the whole hotel, too. It was the easiest way to work out the lease agreement with the city.”

Oleg pulled over to the gated entrance, stopped, and pushed the intercom button. The entrance gate was tall and massive, a stark contrast to the flimsy chain-link fence.

“Any firearms in the car?” a voice said through the intercom.

Oleg turned to Natalya and Nikolai. “Firearms?”

“I don’t have any firearms, but Nikolai probably does,” Natalya said.

“Yes, I do,” Nikolai said.

“Wait, please,” the intercom said. “I need to talk to you.”

A few moments later, a middle-aged dark-haired man in a parka came out of the gate and approached their car. Nikolai stepped outside, the bitter cold hitting him at once and making his eyes water.

The man came up to the car, took the mitten off his right hand and extended his hand to Nikolai. “I’m Vanya, the security director. Are you the new interpreter for Pyotr Alekseevich?”

Nikolai shook his hand, Vanya’s handshake strong and confident. “Not me. Natalya is the interpreter. I’m her bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” Vanya pulled his mitten back on and started walking towards the small security building by the gate, packed snow crunching with each step. He motioned for Nikolai to follow him. “What is she, a rock star?”

“No. She just has an overprotective father.”

Vanya shook his head. “A bodyguard. That’s new. There’s always something with these Moscow interpreters: the hotel is not good enough, the weather is too cold, or the food is too greasy, but this is new. A bodyguard.” He chuckled.

Nikolai shrugged. “I did not make the decision to come here, but a job is a job.”

“And you have firearms?”

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

“Two Makarov pistols.”

They stopped at the door with an Employees Only sign on it. Vanya reached for the doorknob. “You have to leave your firearms with me in the security office. No weapons are allowed at the compound.” He pulled on the doorknob.

Nikolai did not move. “Can’t do that. No firearms, no interpreter.”

“Not my problem,” Vanya said.

“It will be your problem if your boss finds out.”

Vanya shook his head again. “Let me call Pyotr Alekseevich.”

Still shaking his head and muttering something under his breath, Vanya motioned for Nikolai to get back into the car and stepped into the security office.

“Trouble already, Mr. Bodyguard?” Natalya said when Nikolai sat down next to her.

“Nothing that can’t be resolved with a call to the boss, I’m sure,” Nikolai said.

Oleg was quiet, suddenly busy with his phone.

A few moments later, the intercom buzzed. Oleg put his phone down, lowered the window and pushed the intercom button.

“You all can go in,” Vanya’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Just tell Nikolai to keep his firearms out of sight.”

“Will do,” Nikolai said, fighting the temptation to comment on this obvious request.

After a short drive inside the compound, Oleg pulled over to a curb, or at least to where the curb would have been if it were not for the tall wall of firmly packed snow that separated the sidewalk from the street. He led Natalya and Nikolai towards one of the buildings. The heat enveloped them as soon as they stepped inside. Nikolai took his hat off, pulled off his gloves, and stuffed them in his pockets.

The inside of the building was all business, with industrial gray carpet, no-nonsense track lighting, and imitation wood panels on the walls. The only element that felt non-utilitarian were the curtains, with bright multicolored geometric patterns on them.

“The conference room is down here,” Oleg said pointing down the hallway. “And Pyotr Alekseevich’s office is upstairs.”

They walked up to the second floor and down a narrow hallway to the door at the end. Oleg half-knocked on the door and immediately pushed it open.

The office was small and cluttered, not what Nikolai had expected the director of an oil company to have. No mahogany-style desks, fancy furnishings, or crystal chandeliers here. Just like the rest of the building, the room was all business-like and simple, like a field operations office. Both walls were lined with desks, with shelves hanging above the desks. The desk nearest to the door had a computer on it, the others were piled high with books and papers. The office was so filled with things that Nikolai could barely see its occupant, a man in a fuzzy gray sweater, dark pants, and big winter boots. His head was topped with an unruly mane of salt-and-pepper hair. A large moustache hid the top of his mouth. The man pushed aside the papers on his desk and got up.

“Welcome to the north,” he said to Nikolai and Natalya. “I’m Pyotr Alekseevich.” He smiled, shook hands with them, then turned to Oleg. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you take their bags to the hotel? I’d like to get right down to business. And when you get a chance, could you do your magic?” He pointed to the computer on the desk next to the door. “It’s slow again.”

“Sure thing, Pyotr Alekseevich. I can come back tonight, after you’re done here,” Oleg said.

“If you don’t mind working late.”

“Not at all.”

After Oleg left, Pyotr Alekseevich pulled an electric kettle off a shelf, filled it with water from a large pitcher on his desk, and pointed to the two chairs across from his desk. “Have a seat.” He sat down himself, reached into a desk drawer and put three large green ceramic mugs on his desk. “We’ll have some tea and chat. I’ll bring you up to date on the happenings here.”

“You are going to stay here, aren’t you?” Pyotr Alekseevich addressed Natalya. “The previous interpreter escaped after a week: too cold and too stressful. We can’t do much without good interpreters, and none of us, Canadians or Russians, have worked with interpreters before. It takes patience. From everybody.”

“I’ll stay,” Natalya said.

“Good,” Pyotr Alekseevich said.

The kettle clicked off, and Pyotr Alekseevich put a teabag in each mug and poured the water into the mugs. He handed one cup to Natalya and turned to Nikolai. “I realize that one of the conditions of Natalya’s employment was that she brings a bodyguard with her. This is really odd for me, but I agreed because right now, especially before the board meeting, I really need a good interpreter, and Natalya came highly recommended. I have no idea how this whole bodyguard thing works. I’ve only seen it in movies. So please tell me, Nikolai.”

“You can ignore me for the most part. I’ll tag along with Natalya to wherever she needs to be.”

Pyotr Alekseevich picked up his mug and took a sip of the hot liquid. “You mean to all the meetings and briefings and trips to the oil field?”

“Yes,” Nikolai said.

“And what are you going to do there? Some meetings can last a long time.”

“Don’t worry about it. My job is to make sure that Natalya is protected, and the length of a meeting is not a factor in it.”

“I still don’t understand. Why is this protection even needed? Neither her dad nor your boss could explain it to me. What could possibly happen to her during a meeting?”

“Probably, nothing. But I was hired to protect her, and I will do my job the best I can, whether an obvious threat is present or not. Also, if I see something I need to discuss with you, I will let you know.”

“Like what?” Pyotr Alekseevich said.

“I don’t know right now, but that’s what I’m supposed to look for. And I won’t be in the way, if that’s a concern for you. I’ll be quiet and unobtrusive.”

“All right, fine,” Pyotr Alekseevich said to Nikolai and turned to Natalya. “Tomorrow morning, we have a pipeline meeting up on the oil field. The discussion can get pretty involved and quite technical, and I’d like you to be able to follow it.” Pyotr Alekseevich reached for the keyboard, then shook his head. “Sorry. My computer has been acting up today. Let’s do this the old-fashioned way.” He unfolded a map on top of a pile of books, notepads and empty coffee mugs cluttering his desk, reached under the map and pulled out a pencil. “Here’s our oil field.” He drew a circle in the middle of the map. “Here’s the river.” He drew a line next to the circle.

Natalya seemed to be listening carefully as Pyotr Alekseevich talked about the layout of the field, the problems of delivering construction materials across the permafrost zone that melted over the brief summer months, the urgency of replacing some old sections of the pipeline, and the upcoming tender to find an environmental consulting company. It all made sense to Nikolai, but what did not make any sense at all was his own assignment. There seemed to be no need for his services, no danger for Natalya, and no opportunities for wild partying that her dad might have been concerned about. Upper Luzinsk was as isolated, quiet, and uneventful as a small town could be.