Gray Shadows: Russian Historical Thriller

Chapter Four

While Pyotr Alekseevich and Natalya were talking, Nikolai stepped outside and looked around. Pyotr Alekseevich’s office building was in the center of the compound of manufactured buildings, all placed within walking distance of each other on a large lot. The buildings were connected by walkways made out of packed snow and lit day and night by dim street lamps. Bright spotlights illuminated all entrances, probably to help employees find their way into the heated buildings through darkness and blizzards. In this climate, hypothermia would set in quickly.

The front end of the compound, with the main gate and the security building, felt like it was in the middle of town, at the intersection of Upper Luzinsk’s main thoroughfare, a two-lane narrow road leading to the airport, and a smaller street. The rear of the compound bordered the frozen tundra. The town was so small that it would probably take a brisk fifteen-minute walk to get from the central square to the wilderness of the tundra.

A gust of icy wind enveloped Nikolai in a flurry of thick snowflakes. He shook them off, pulled his scarf tighter, and kept walking. He left his cane in Moscow as he no longer needed it, but he could definitely feel the ache in his leg now. He hoped that it would go away as his body adjusted to the extreme cold.

The chain-link fence around the buildings was barely taller than Nikolai, not much higher than two meters. Nikolai could not spot any security cameras, or any other indications that safety had ever been on anybody’s mind in this desolate little town. He surveyed the white landscape, the line of the horizon lost somewhere between the snow and the sky, then headed towards the gate and the security office. It was time to talk to Vanya.

Nikolai knocked on the door of the security office marked with the familiar Employees Only sign.

“Come in!” he heard Vanya’s voice.

Nikolai turned the knob and stepped inside. A lone security monitor, no image visible on it, hung on the wall above a desk cluttered with newspapers and teacups. More security monitors, their screens blank, were on the desk itself. A small cot stood in the corner. The intercom system was mounted next to the door. A flashlight hung on a nail to the left of the intercom system.

Vanya sat at the far end of the room at a small table holding a pencil in his right hand. A newspaper with a large crossword puzzle was spread out in front of him. Vanya nodded to Nikolai and gestured for him to sit down.

“Greetings, Vanya,” Nikolai said. He sat down on a rickety chair across the table from Vanya. “How’s the puzzle coming along?”

“Not bad if you like Shakespeare, and I do. Is that what you came here for? To help me with the crossword puzzle?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I gathered that much,” Vanya said. “About what? Your weapons again? It’s between you and Pyotr Alekseevich now.”

“No, not the weapons,” Nikolai said.

“Then what? Not about last night’s incident, I hope.” Vanya looked up from the puzzle and tapped his pencil on the side of the table.

“What incident?” Nikolai said.

“You know, the dead man,” Vanya said. “Oleg said you saw it, too.”

“The dead man at the apartment building?”

Vanya nodded.“Yes, the one and only. Everyone wants to talk about it: the local detectives, the Moscow detectives, even the federal investigators. And I already told them all that I know. I really have nothing else to say about it, and I don’t understand all the fuss about it. Much Ado about Nothing, just like number six down.” Vanya filled in a few boxes and looked up.

“I haven’t heard what you make of it, so why don’t you tell me,” Nikolai said. “I gather it wasn’t a heart attack.”

Vanya hesitated, then put down his pencil and looked at Nikolai. “Not much to tell. Nothing like that had ever happened before. We’re a small and quiet town, but freak accidents and events can happen anywhere, right?”

“Just tell me what you think happened,” Nikolai said.

“Jealous rage, nothing else,” Vanya said. “It’s too bad a man had to die over it, but husbands can be jealous.”

“He was involved with a married woman and the husband killed him?”

“That’s right. A tragedy of Shakespearean proportions.” Vanya glanced at the crossword puzzle, grabbed an eraser from his desk and rubbed it on the newspaper, erasing something.

“You like Shakespeare?” Nikolai asked, pointing to a large weathered volume on Vanya’s desk.

“Who doesn’t? That guy knew real drama and really understood people,” Vanya said. “And this newspaper likes to publish crosswords with clues about Shakespeare, so I use the book to look things up once in a while.”

“Doing an Internet search is faster,” Nikolai said.

Vanya shook his head. “That would be cheating. Looking through the book is more honest.”

“Did the police find the killer?” Nikolai asked.

“Still looking,” Vanya said. “He fled town together with his wife. I guess he must have forgiven her.”

“Do you know any of the three?”

“Sure. Everyone knows everyone here. The girl is a hairdresser, moved here from the fishing village up north when she got married. That was probably two or three years ago. Her husband, Mikhail, applied to work security for us one time, but never got hired.”

“Why not? Any problems?”

“Not that I know of. Mikhail was a little late in applying. The pay is good here, better than anywhere else in town, so the positions filled right away. And that was just fine with me. I never liked him too much.”

“Why not?” Nikolai asked.

“I don’t know. Just didn’t like him. Can’t really explain it. But leave it to the police. That’s in the past as far as our company is concerned.” Vanya opened his Shakespeare book, looked through it, picked up the pencil, and filled in one more line of the crossword puzzle.

“I hope so,” Nikolai said. “Are you sure there was nothing else behind the murder? No other motive?”

“What else would there be?” Vanya shrugged. “Just relax a little. This is not Moscow. We lead a simple life here. No contract murders, no exploding buildings, no fatal poisonings. Women are a scarce commodity here, and what happened is a result of it. Two men, one woman. Tragic ending. Just like Othello and Desdemona.” Vanya looked down at the crossword again. “And what was the other guy’s name, the one that Desdemona supposedly had an affair with?”

“Cassio?” Nikolai said.

Vanya checked the puzzle. “Right. That fits.” He wrote it down and looked up at Nikolai. “So, that’s exactly what happened. Desdemona the hairdresser had an affair with Cassio the security guard, and Othello-Mikhail killed him. Nothing else to investigate.”

“Have you read the play?” Nikolai asked. “That’s not what happened. That’s only what it looked like on the surface. Shakespeare’s story was much more complicated.”

“Maybe it was, but this isn’t Shakespeare here. It’s simple. Tragic but simple.” Vanya pushed the newspaper with the completed crossword puzzle aside. “What did you really want to talk to me about, Nikolai?”

“About your security system.”

“Why? It’s all fine. We have the fence, the gate, what else is there to it?”

“Many things.”

“Like what?” Vanya said.

“What do you see on your screen when a car comes to the gate?” Nikolai said.

“We see the car, of course. And we open the gate after we identify it. And only after we identify it.”

“But what if somebody else is driving the car? And your real driver is dead in the snowdrift somewhere? Would you even know it?”

Vanya waved him away. “You’ve been watching too many spy movies. Things like that don’t happen here. Plus, you’re not my boss. I do things the way I do them, and everything is just fine. This conversation is over.”

Avoiding further confrontation, Nikolai stepped out of the security office and started walking the perimeter of the fence. If he was going to work here for the next few weeks and protect Natalya, he needed to get a good understanding of the whole compound.

The fence was flimsy at best, and not all there. Nikolai leaned in to inspect what looked like a gap large enough for an average-size person to squeeze through. Sure enough, one post was missing, and the fence was sloppily tied together with twisted wire. One snip with metal cutters, and another entrance would appear. And this entrance would have no security cameras, no gate, and no surveillance. Nikolai heard footsteps behind him and turned around.

It was Vanya, his hands balled into fists, and his eyes glowering with anger. “You think you’re a big shot, don’t you? You come from Moscow with your fancy little interpreter girl and your fancy bodyguard title, and you think you know how things are supposed to be done? I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’ve worked security since I was eighteen. In this very town. Don’t you think I know better how things work here? Don’t you think I understand the people and what they’re after better than you do?”

“I’m not questioning your knowledge,” Nikolai said. “I was just trying to help. Sometimes, it’s hard to see your own problems, and I found one for you. Take a look.” He pointed to the wire.

“Fine. We’ll fix it. Like I need your help,” Vanya said, turned around, and walked away.

Nikolai headed back to Pyotr Alekseevich’s office. A blast of warm air hit him the second he opened the door to the building. He drew in a sharp breath and glanced at his watch. It was after five. Moscow was in the same time zone, so Olga must be done with work by now. She should be able to pick up the phone and talk to him. The real question was whether she would want to talk to him.

He rubbed his sore leg and dialed Olga’s number. She answered on the second ring. And she sounded cheerful. Maybe, she wasn’t as mad at him as she had seemed when they last talked. Or she was just happy he was away.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” Nikolai said. “You’re smart and competent, and I wasn’t questioning that. But people can be manipulative and have their own interests in minds. I just want you to be careful. Don’t accept a new job until you really know what is involved. Chief accountants have a lot of responsibilities and a lot of legal obligations. And all that can have serious consequences.”

“I know, but being a chief accountant would be a great career move. I wouldn’t stay long in that position, just long enough to get experience and move forward,” Olga said.

“Have you talked to Denis Fedorovich lately?”

“Yes, I did. And I also talked to my current boss,” Olga said.

“And what did they all say?”

“I got the offer for a promotion from my current company and the official job offer from Denis Fedorovich. So, I have choices now.”

“Did you find out more about his company and that merger he mentioned?”

“Not yet. He said the merger is still in the making. But I know I like my new salary.” Olga giggled.

“Please don’t rush to accept his offer. I don’t trust him. You’ll have other opportunities. We need to be careful.”

“We? It’s my job, and you worry too much,” Olga said. “Thanks for the flowers and the note, by the way.”

Nikolai hesitated for a moment. “Are you still mad at me? Just don’t do anything drastic. We really should talk. I’m sorry.”

“We need to talk, I agree. But later. How’s your assignment? And your new client?”

“Nothing too exciting. The town is tiny, dark and freezing cold, and the girl is spoiled. I’m sure she won’t last here too long, and I’ll be back in Moscow.”

Olga clicked off, and Nikolai headed to Pyotr Alekseevich’s office, still thinking about Olga and her job offer. She was making a mistake, and Nikolai was determined to do anything he could to convince her not to accept it. He started walking up the steps and almost ran into Natalya who was hurrying down.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Nikolai said.

“Bathroom. Want to come with me?” Natalya said. “I might need your protection. You never know where danger can lurk.” She chuckled.

“Thanks, but I’d rather go chat with Pyotr Alekseevich. I’ll see you back there.”

Nikolai reached Pyotr Alekseevich’s office and paused by the closed door. Pyotr Alekseevich was talking on the phone, his voice sounded agitated. Nikolai leaned in. He could not make out all the words. He heard Pyotr Alekseevich say something about the previous director, a school needing repairs, bids received from the environmental consulting companies, and the slow pipeline construction. Nothing out of the ordinary, these were the usual issues that a company director would deal with. But something in Pyotr Alekseevich’s tone sounded strange: he was too emotional for a seasoned manager, too agitated. And Pyotr Alekseevich did not seem the type who would overreact. Was there something more going on that Nikolai did not know about?