The Bear

Day Eleven Washington-Dulles International Airport

The sendoff to the Russian delegation was low-key. The tension was still palpable with the incident in the upper half of the world. As they stood in the shadow of the presidential Ilyushin II-96, the American Secretary of State was the senior delegate to see them off in the secluded area of Dulles International Airport. The American chief of staff stood beside his counterpart as the elected officials said their official goodbyes. President Novichkov was cool to the sendoff. He felt slighted, but he understood the underlying meaning.

“I wish you well, Andrey.”

“Thank you Martin. I hope things work out for the best.”

“I hear you have a few extra passengers. Are they safely on board?”

“Da.” Andrey shook his head slightly. “Yes, I mean. It is a hard habit to break. Sometimes my native tongue sounds too informal.” He looked to the back of the plane and gestured. “They boarded before the official party. This is a large plane, and they will be no problem.”

“It is a long flight. I wish you well.” Martin extended his hand and Andrey nodded as he accepted the note passed to him. He withdrew his hand and slipped it into his wool overcoat.

“It is colder here than I thought.” Andrey looked to the darkening sky as flurries swirled overhead. “I have traveled many places in the world, but I always thought Moscow was the coldest place I ever spent a winter.”

President Novichkov was the first to ascend the stairs, his chief of staff the last. The general took a last look around before ducking inside. The last person seen was the steward who closed the door, making the seal tight. The American delegation scattered quickly as the Il-96 ramped up her engines and was rolling down the runway minutes later, and was joined by two F-16C escorts out of Andrews who would be with them until they cleared American airspace.

After their plane arrived at altitude, Andrey slipped off his coat, giving it to the steward and took his place across from the president’s desk. His time in the Air Force seemed so long ago. Though a pilot through much of his service, he didn’t seem to have the legs for it any longer. He slipped into the white leather chair, wrapping his thick hands over the arm’s stitching.

“It will be good to get home,” Yuri sighed. “We’ve been away too long. I don’t like travel much at my age.”

“I would agree. I long for the comfort of home, and my own bed.”

“At least you have someone to share it with, my friend.”

“You are not so much of a lone wolf as you would have some of us believe,” Andrey smiled.

“Me?” Yuri raised his eyebrows and playfully gasped. “But I am just an old fool.”

“Da,” Andrey replied. “A very important, and a very rich old fool.”

“What did you think of the Americans?”

“Their chief of staff was nothing more than a lackey for his president. All he could speak of was Russian military involvement around the globe. It was very tiring. I reminded him that we have just as much right to extend our reach as any other country, including them.”

“Perhaps it is time we do a little more extending.” The president leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his stomach. “I shall give it some thought. Perhaps our commanders might have some insight. We will see. Thank you Andrey. Go get some sleep. We’ve a long flight ahead of us.”

Andrey nodded before taking his leave. He made his way down the side of the aircraft to a small lounging area. It was the perfect on-board getaway, one cabin in front of his new guests. He slid into a reclining seat and pulled the slip of paper from his pocket. It contained a phone number and the words, four days; nothing else. He put the paper back into his pocket and pulled down the shade. Sleep was the only savior of international flight, unfortunately, he was wide awake. He heard the muffled voices of the ballet troupe waft up the last corridor. How deep had he gotten himself? Surely he could not turn back. He risked his own life and the lives of his family if the situation did not change. And a world in conflict.

He fought the urge to go back and see the Americans. He was curious. Who were these brave men that would go on such a mission? They didn’t do it for him. They didn’t know him. Were they patriots? Surely they were as dedicated as any Russian soldier. His military side needed to see his soldiers, needed to pass his own judgment on them. His practical side just wanted to thank them for, for saving his family. He could fight the urge no longer. Andrey pushed himself off his seat and turned, facing the passage to the rear cabin. In his best military fashion, he adjusted his suit coat, a sharp snap from the bottom, and strode ahead. As he entered the cabin, the conversation came to a halt.

“Good afternoon.” Andrey was puzzled when they just looked at him in silence.

“Hallo,” came a hesitant reply from the closest woman.

Andrey’s eyes went wide. He had spoken in English and they pretended not to fully understand. He surveyed the group quickly; two women and three men. He reverted to his native language.

“I’m sorry. I have been in America too long,” he smiled. The group smiled back and the conversation exploded.

“Good afternoon,” said the woman he first addressed. She rose and extended her hand. “My name is Polina.”

“It is my pleasure,” Andrey replied. He was stunned. Her Russian was nearly flawless. “And you?” He extended his hand to the man seated behind her.

“My name is Ivan.” Lt. Anthony rose and extended his arm. His imposing form loomed above Polina. “It is a pleasure to meet you sir.”

“My my. Are you a basketball player?” Andrey shook his hand. It was enormous. He’d never had someone engulf is entire hand before.

“No sir. I do some of the technical work for the troupe,” he answered with a smile. “I am far too clumsy to dance on my toes.”

“Are any of you dancers? You, young lady?”

“I am, of sort,” Captain Ruth Garrison answered. “I am more of an understudy.” She rose and greeted him with a smile. “My name is Anya.”

They chatted for several minutes before Andrey excused himself, leaving his guests alone for the long flight ‘home’. He returned to his seat, breathing a sigh of relief. They were good, these Americans. The women surprised him at first, but their cover as a ballet troupe made perfect sense. The ballet was deeply rooted in Russian heritage. It would be difficult for anyone to refuse them.

Their use of the Russian language was almost perfect for daily use. He knew those who studied foreign languages learned the proper uses, the proper grammar and diction. But each one of these could walk the streets of a large Russian city and blend in seamlessly. Each had a slightly different accent, but one that could be accounted for. He still had his ear. Throughout his career he played a game with himself; try to determine from where in Russia his subordinate officers came from. Before he was a senior officer, he played the same game with his commanding officers. It never led to anything, but it was a fun study.

Andrey leaned back, extending the seat as far as it would go. He reached up and pulled the shade, letting himself slip into darkness. He was asleep within minutes.