The Bear

Moscow

“You sure cook up a mean breakfast, Jen.”

“Polina. My name is Polina.” She turned from the stove, leaning against the greasy oven handle. “And why are you speaking English? Russian. Only Russian.” She crossed her arms with a black spatula clasped in her hand.

“I just needed to.” Ivan leaned back in the wooden chair as he pushed his empty plate away. “Speaking Russian all the time was fun at first, but it’s getting old.”

“It’s only been a few days.” She turned away, tossing the spatula back into the pan.

“It feels like an eternity.”

“Where do you come from, Ivan? Why does a boy like you learn to speak Russian anyway?”

“Well,” he replied, as he locked his hands behind his head, “I just wanted a challenge. We needed to take a language course in school and I heard it was hard.” Ivan flashed his big smile as he looked at the Navy commander. “I was right. It was a bitch. But I got through it.”

“So you’re a smart boy.”

“Not smart so much as I just don’t quit. What about you? What’s a fine-lookin’ woman like you doing in the middle of Moscow in the winter?”

Lt. Commander Jen Lewis bristled at the compliment. It wasn’t something she was comfortable with. She considered herself more of a firebrand. Staying out of trouble in the Navy was becoming a full time job in itself. She was the one who usually started trouble, but she could also finish it, if need be. She wasn’t the type most tried to pick up in a bar, though she was more than comfortable in nearly any joint. Most of those guys shied away from her. They wanted someone easy, girlie. That wasn’t her, although she could rock a little black dress with the best of them.

“Sorry Lieutenant, I’m a little old for you.”

“Not what I meant, Commander. I mean, uhm.” Ivan swallowed hard, slightly embarrassed. “What I meant was, how did you come to be here?”

“I’m just here, Ivan.”

“Not just anyone does what we can do,” Ivan said as he leaned back. “We’re a small group. A very small, handpicked group. There are only a few of us that fit the profile. Soooo,” he grinned as he leaned forward again, “what’s your story?”

Polina sighed as she pushed herself away from the stove and pulled up a seat across from the young lieutenant. She propped her elbows up on the table, locking her fingers together, then place her chin on her hands. Ivan began to stare into her big, blue eyes, eyes he knew he could lose himself in. Her voice interrupted the thought he was beginning to form.

“I was quite the wild child. My momma was my best friend, but also my enemy. She did what she could trying to raise me, but there was always conflict. My father, whoever the hell he was, left when I was one. I never saw him. Never wanted to. I was in and out of trouble as a teen, the source of conflict, you understand.” Polina leaned back, crossing her arms below her chest. Ivan took notice, but pulled his eyes back up. “The final straw for my momma was when she got word one night of where I was. So, she comes storming into Lito’s Bar, a dive joint near the town where we lived, and there I was, jumping up and down on a pole in my underwear. The boys were hootin’ and hollerin’ and that was the end of the line for me. The next day, she dragged me to the Navy recruiter’s office the next town over.” She leaned forward again, laying her arms flat on the table as she flirtively stared into Ivan’s eyes. He was being drawn into her story. And, she was more than just cute.

“What a bunch of horse shit.”

Polina turned in her chair at the sound of Sasha’s voice. He entered the kitchen, making his way to the stove. She cocked her head back toward Ivan and grinned.

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Lieutenant.”

“And just how would you know that, Sasha?” Polina replied.

“As mission commander, I have a bit of info on all of you.” Sasha finished pouring his tea and faced the table. Ivan sat wide-eyed with his mouth slightly open. He was crushed.

“Damn,” Ivan replied as he let his forehead come down to touch the table.

“I’ll have another cup of tea,” Polina said as she stood, grinning slyly at the young lieutenant.

“You suck, Commander!” Ivan said with a big smile. He leaned his head back and just stared at the ceiling. “Man…”

The unofficial car pulled into the parking space, and of the few people that coursed across the openness of the boulevard that held the Helikon theater, none took notice. The retired general ordered his driver not to park in a reserved space. He wanted his driver to think there was nothing out of the ordinary, but he also didn’t want to call attention to himself. The sun was failing, the sky darkening as it dipped below the skyline letting winter’s last shadows slip into night.

Andrey closed the door to the unremarkable sedan and flipped up his collar. He’d decided to leave his official car parked at his residence. He wanted no acknowledgment of his presence, by anyone. The night was brisk, but even here, winter wouldn’t last forever. Another month he thought, was all that separated this world-class city from the thawing spring. He pulled his fedora down slightly on his forehead and began his walk toward the theater. To everyone around, he was nothing more than an old man walking on the streets. His driver was furious to be left behind.

“Keep walking.” The voice from behind startled him, but the old soldier didn’t break stride. “There’s a bench just ahead. Please, have a seat.”

Andrey shuffled along, his steps not as bold or steady as they once were. Nearly gone was the bearing of an Air Force general, replaced by the gait of a frail man, nearly bent from the whims of politics and the dangers of life in post-Soviet Russia. The small flakes swirled around him as he slid into the bench across the square from the theater.

“Do you have your phone, sir?”

Andrey fumbled around in his pocket before pulling out his cell. He handed it over with a gloved hand without ever looking at his guest.

“What will you do with it?”

“By attaching this device to the back, we’ll be able to track any calls.”

“You will be able to trace it?” Andrey looked at the tall man beside him for the first time. “How can that be?”

“No sir, not actively.” He turned to Andrey and placed the phone back in his hand. “When you’re called again, we’ll have something to go on. Then we’ll meet again so I can retrieve this and we’ll know where to begin.”

“You have been in Moscow for some time, I would presume.”

“Yes sir. Part of the game.”

“A game it is to you?”

“It has always been a game, General.” Donald spun on the bench and faced Andrey. “It is the only thing that keeps me sane. We are not so different. We are just in different places on the chess board. You’re a bishop, I’m a knight.”

“I’m getting too old for this.” Andrey looked around the square as the lights of the city began to take hold of the night. “This is the second time I have now been sitting on a bench in the middle of winter. It is not something I am fond of, you understand.”

“I understand, General.” Donald slid his hands back into his coat to ward off the cold. “When they call again, dial the number. We’ll find a place to meet.” He stood, letting his long wool coat fall to its full length.

“Once this is over, you’ll not be able to stay in my country.”

“That is a possibility, General.” Donald looked down as the wind whipped across the plaza. “This is a young man’s job. Perhaps I have outlived my usefulness here.” Donald braced his shoulders against the cold and looked into the night sky, the flakes becoming visible only as they fell below the street lights. His footsteps were soon lost in winter’s gathering night.