In the Shadow of Mordor

Chapter 9

Aleksandr Zhuravlev opened the door without a word, as if he had been expecting the visit. He was no longer young, but nevertheless physically imposing with a full head of iron gray hair and wildly tangled eyebrows that lent him a stern appearance.

Vlad introduced himself, offering his I.D. for Zhuravlev’s inspection. “My father came to see you a few days ago.”

The old man gave the document a cursory examination and smiled thinly. “That’s not necessary. Such things are meaningless. But you resemble your father a great deal. I thought you would be coming to see me. And… I’m very sorry for your loss,” the last words spoken in an undertone.

Vlad expected to be invited inside, but Zhuravlev stood in the doorway a few beats longer before saying, “I have the document ready for you, the one your father asked about. I didn’t have it here when he came because I don’t keep such things in the house. Given what happened, maybe it was fate. Wait here.”

He disappeared into the apartment leaving Vlad standing awkwardly at the door, his entire being tingling with anticipation. It was happening so fast — too easily, too fast, and this did not fill him with joy but with worry and a sense of desolation. He was moving from one task to another, losing himself in work to escape his pain. He had no idea what to do next.

Even his father’s old newspaper refused to print the material. What would happen if the website on which he worked did the same? He could publish the revelations on his blog, but that would be a waste of the information and get him bogged down in the back and forth of social networks and ever present internet trolls. The material must be used in a way that did not permit the criminals to escape punishment. Should he hand everything over to the Western media? This was probably best, but he had to find the right contacts. This would take time, and Vlad didn’t have much of that.

Zhuravlev reappeared at the door with a timeworn file folder. “Perhaps it’s best that you have this now. It can bring nothing but trouble to me. Use it as you wish, but forget where you got it, understand? Forget my name, my address. Forget that I even exist.”

“I understand. That’s why I didn’t call before coming. The last thing I want is to bring you trouble.”

“I know.” Zhuravlev for the first time looked like a tired old man. “Your father did the same, and that’s the only reason I gave him the time of day. I’ll give you one bit of advice — leave the country. I don’t think you realize who you’re dealing with, and by the time you do, it’ll be too late. Under no circumstances can you leave this document in your apartment. Find a safe place for it.”