In the Shadow of Mordor

Chapter 52

The old man led an unsteady Olga, clutching one of his heavy terrycloth robes around her, into the living room where two strangers studied her with unconcealed curiosity. The man was barrel-chested and sturdy with black hair and piercing blue eyes. There was the shadow of a beard on his face. He was not dressed for the mountains, and his trouser legs and shoes were wet from the snow.

The woman was taller and older than Olga, with auburn hair and hazel eyes, wearing jeans and a sweater. She was quite attractive, but her demeanor was businesslike, and she wore a badge and pistol on her belt. Under the woman’s steady gaze Olga was acutely aware of her own disheveled appearance. She must be the very image of guilt.

After an uncomfortable silence, the old man performed introductions. Olga’s discomfort increased now that she actually faced the man from the FBI and the woman identified as a police officer. Why a police officer? Surely they meant to arrest her.

“Why don’t you all take a seat by the fire,” said the old man. With a meaningful look at Krystal and Ferguson, he added, “You need to get acquainted and explain why you’re here.” The first order of business was to build rapport with the subject of the interrogation.

He led Olga to the sofa, and the policewoman sat next to her. The old man and the FBI agent pulled up some chairs. Olga pulled to robe closer and sank her chin onto her chest.

Krystal had a plethora of experience dealing with crime victims, and if she had ever seen a victim, this young woman was one. In the gentlest voice she could muster, she took Olga’s hand in her own and said, “Olga, may I call you Olga? We’re here to help you. We understand that you’ve been through a terrible experience, and all we want to do now is hear your story.”

The policewoman’s hand was warm on her own, and Olga resisted the urge to pull away. In her experience the police assumed a person was guilty and all their questions were intended only to prove that guilt. There was no threat in this woman’s voice, but it could be a trick.

“Do you understand English?” Krystal asked.

Olga nodded mutely.

“Good. Can you tell us what happened, how and why you turned up here? We’d like to know about the two men, as well.”

Mention of the Chechens brought back the horrors of her kidnapping and the terror of the night before. She could not prevent the fat tears that rolled down her cheeks. But she still said nothing.

Krystal turned to their host. “Do you know how to make a hot toddy? I think it would be a good thing.”

The old man busied himself with honey, lemon, hot water, and a generous slug of whiskey. Olga accepted the steaming mug in both hands and sipped the sweet contents that began immediately to spread warmth throughout her body. Finally she was able to speak in a barely audible voice. “You’re going to arrest me, aren’t you?”

Given what Strachey’s account of the girl’s story, Krystal understood her fear. “No one is here to arrest you,” she said. “You must believe me. If anything, you are a victim, and our only intention is to help you in any way possible. But we have to understand everything that happened. It’s the only way we can protect you.”

They expected her to say something. She had to say something, but what could she say without incriminating herself?

“Why don’t we start with how you came to be here?” asked the policewoman. Did those men kidnap you?”

Yes, she had been taken by force. That was no crime. She could safely talk about that.

“Yes.” The words in English came slowly. “They came to my apartment at night saying they were from the Embassy. When I opened the door they grabbed me. They tied my hands and gagged and blindfolded me, and carried me to their truck. When they removed the blindfold, I was in a dark room in that old house. When they left me alone, I managed to free myself and crawl out the window. I didn’t know where I was or which way to go, so I just set off blindly toward the forest. After a while I saw a light and followed it here.”

“Where is your apartment?” asked the policewoman.

“In Arlington, near the Clarendon Metro station.” She immediately regretted mentioning the Metro.

Krystal and Ferguson locked eyes. The conversation was moving in the right direction.

“Why do you think these men kidnapped you?” It was Ferguson who asked the question.

“I… I don’t know.” How could she tell them that this was the way the FSB handled unreliable people?

“That’s not what you told our host last night, is it?” There was an edge to Ferguson’s voice now, and Krystal gave him a warning glance.

“Well,” said Krystal, “whatever the reason, they’re no longer a threat. Your apartment is in Arlington, and I work for the Arlington Police. You were kidnapped, and that makes it also a matter for Special Agent Ferguson here. We mean you no harm. We’re only here to help.”

When Olga said nothing, Krystal continued, “Last night you told our friend here that you work at the Russian-American Study Group in Washington. Would you like us to call them now?”

Call Zaretskiy? He undoubtedly would notify Karpov at the embassy. Her heart sank as the realization hit her that she could not go back. She could never go back. Karpov was FSB, and so was Gleb Solntsev. She no longer had friends in the FSB. Something broke inside, and like a piece of jetsam in a raging sea she was swept under alternating hot and cold waves until she drowned in blackness.

“She’s fainted,” said Krystal.

Ferguson carried Olga to the bedroom, and Krystal made sure she was comfortable before leaving her to rest.

“She’s finally realized she has nothing to go back to in Russia,” said the old man. “I’ve seen it before. She couldn’t cope with it, so she just shut down.”

“But she told you the whole story last night,” objected Ferguson.

“She was in shock and wasn’t thinking about what she was saying. Eventually, she’ll make peace with the situation, but right now it’s like she’s being dragged over hot coals and the pain is too much to bear.” The old man smiled crookedly at Krystal, “That was a very clever question, Lieutenant.”

“I didn’t expect her to faint,” said Krystal.

“There are two frozen dead guys outside,” said Ferguson. “And you shot ’em. Kidnappers or not, it doesn’t look like you gave ’em much of a chance.”

“That’s how you stay alive, son.”

“Nevertheless, there has to be an investigation to sort all this out. I think a good place to start is to have a forensics team go over that old farmhouse down the mountain.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Krystal. “We have to call Whitehall first.”

“What about the JTTF and Homeland?”

“Hey, Nick, you’re the FBI guy here, remember? Anything that happens from here on should be Whitehall’s decision.”

He couldn’t argue with her and wondered if anyone could.