The Bear

Russian Embassy — Washington

“Yes. And tomorrow morning we leave for home.” Andrey Volkov fidgeted in his seat. He hadn’t expected this call. He was hoping this trip to America would give him a respite. “I can do nothing from here. My contacts must be approached in the proper manner.” He dipped his head and rubbed his forehead. “I understand. But you must know it is difficult to do this half a world away.” Andrey gripped the arm of the chair to steady himself. He was slowly losing control, and it infuriated him. All his training, all his experience was slipping away, and he could do nothing to stop it. “Da. Do svidaniya.”

The former Russian general let his phone slip from his hand and hit the carpet. He looked ahead, his gaze a blank, empty stare, the room around him nothing more than a desert. His life, a glorious accomplishment had dissolved into an old man trying to hold onto the past, trying to protect the only thing he had left, his family. Andrey took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He straightened and put his hands on his knees. He could feel them shaking. He closed his eyes as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He was at the bottom. There was nothing left. There was only one way to protect his family, his daughter, his granddaughter.

The Russian chief of staff eased himself off the chair and reached down, pressing his palms against the creases of his pants. He could not have his trousers wrinkled. He had standards. He passed through the door into his bedroom, making his way to the small closet. and had his suitcase open on the bed a minute later. He reached in, his hand finding the familiar handle. He slid it out, feeling its heft. It was a friend, perhaps the only true friend he ever had in this world. He studied the shape of the handle and the line of the barrel. He had always liked the Makarov. It just seemed to fit his hand. He’d carried it since the day he received his first commission. He slid his finger onto the trigger, knowing the next few seconds would end his agony, and his family would be safe. He sat down on the edge of the bed, the white blanket smooth across the queen-sized mattress. He struggled to take in another breath as his hand began to shake. The barrel lay against his chin as the tears began to fall. He could feel the tempo of his heartbeat. He could feel it in his temples. His chest was ready to explode.

“General?”

As he heard the knock on the outer door to his room, he slipped the pistol into the open suitcase and closed the lid. He took single deep breath to steady himself, and he was at the door seconds later.

“Just a moment,” he said as he choked back his tears. He slipped the lock on the door and let it open under its own weight as he stepped back. “Yes?”

“Dinner is being served. Would you care to join us?”

“No, thank you, Pavel. I have some work that still needs attention.” He nodded and took a step back toward the door. “Have a car brought around.”

His aide nodded, reached down and closed the door from the outside. Andrey could hear his footsteps as they retreated down the hall. He made his way back to the bedroom, closed his suitcase and placed it back where is belonged. A wipe of his face and a pull on his jacket made it feel like everything was back in place. But it wasn’t a good place to be. As he turned, he felt the vibration of his phone in his breast pocket. He pulled it out to see an unfamiliar number with a text: ‘meet at Freer Gallery, one hour.’ It could be one of two scenarios, and only one of them was good. At least he had a real destination for his driver to go now. His car pulled away ten minutes later, the headlights plunging into the dark Washington night.

He wrapped his wool coat tightly around himself. Still, he could feel the cold metal of the park bench pressing against his legs. His driver protested at being ordered to stay behind, but he could do nothing about it. Retired General Andrey Volkov disappeared into the night as he walked away from the headlights of his town car. Now he sat, and waited. The flurries swirled as a light breeze blew down the mall. He flipped his collar up to keep it off his neck. And waited.

“General?”

“Yes?”

“We are in a hurry.” Andrey turned toward the voice as the man sat down beside him. ”General, we’ve come up with a way to help you out of this predicament.”

“How did you get my phone number?”

“You used your phone inside the White House. It wasn’t really that difficult.” The Director leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees and locking his gloved hands together.

“What do you propose, Mr. Thorn?”

“There is a ballet troupe that has been touring here for a month. They were to return to your country this morning, but five members, how shall we say, missed the flight.”

“And you want me to do what?”

“Give them a ride back to Russia. That is all.” Thorn leaned back against the back of the bench and rested his hands on his lap. The light breeze had ceased and their breath hung in the air like the mists above a waterfall.

“And what will these ‘ballet dancers’ do when they get back home?” Andrey asked.

“If you can get them on your plane leaving tomorrow morning, they will take care of your problem, General.”

“So, five American soldiers are just going to board my plane with me? No questions asked?”

“I hope you give us a little more credit than that, General.” Thorn hesitated before continuing. “Sir, we have a vested interest in your situation. It’s been a long time since serious tensions between our two countries boiled over into the world at large. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Is it not uncommon for the director to personally get involved in such a situation?”

“To be honest, this is not a normal situation, and you are not just an ordinary dignitary.”

“And if this was Venezuela?”

“As I said, General. You are not an ordinary dignitary. It things go awry, the buck stops here.”

“And not above you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Thorn replied.