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Mail From Moscow

by Ruthie Alekseeva  
6/02/2024 / Short Stories

Chapter One

Charlene’s mouth gapes open.

“Have I shrunk like Alice in Wonderland?” she wonders.

She scans the white marble of the cathedral’s ceiling.?

“Yep,” she thinks, “I’ve eaten a piece of cake with the words ‘Eat me’ scrawled across it.”

Charlene hears a resonant chanting echo through the cool interior of the church, but she takes no notice. Instead, she shifts her gaze and runs her eyes over its blazing peach walls.

“Its architecture…magnificent!”

?As she stands wide eyed, her stomach crunches inside her, a low rumble erupting from inside it.

Charlene takes another flutter of photos, then exits the cathedral.

Leaning against a lamppost, Charlene opens her travel book. She flips the pages until she reaches the index. Then, she runs her finger down the page, until she finds the word, ‘café’.?

Out of the corner of her eye, Charlene spies a man seated on a bench. He raises his hand in the air and waves it back and forth. He stands and steps toward the street curb, looks both ways, then steps onto the road. She casts her eyes back at the seat and notes something on it. She steps toward it.

“It’s a wallet.”

 She plucks it from the bench and hurries after the man.??

“Izvinite! Excuse me!” she says.

“He’s not stopping,” she thinks, as the man strides further down the street.

Charlene hears the man call out and spots another man sitting on the other side of the road, who also waves.

“I guess they know each other.”

“Izvinite!” she tries again, raising her voice.

On catching her target, Charlene reaches forward and tugs on the man’s shirt. She blocks his passage with her outstretched hand, then holds up the wallet.

“Does this belong to you?”?

The man turns and faces Charlene, his eyes boring into hers.

Her cheeks burn. She looks away.?

“Why stare at me like that?” she thinks. “Do I have something on my face? Have I not brushed my hair? Maybe he just doesn’t understand English. But I haven’t learnt this phrase in Russian yet. How can I make him understand? I wonder if my Russian phrase book could help me explain.” ?

Charlene slides her backpack off her shoulder and opens it, but she notes the man has now placed his hand over the back pocket of his jeans. His eyebrows shoot high onto his forehead and he emits a soft gasp, a smile spreading across his face. The heat burning across her cheeks dissipates. She smiles in return as the man pats her on the arm with his palm saying,?

?“Spasiba! Thank you!”?

Seconds later, the man frowns, and Charlene’s smile also fades. He has opened the wallet. She sees nothing inside it apart from a photo of a woman with a child and some plastic cards. He tips it upside down and shakes it, then speaks a fast tirade of words. She shrinks inside herself.

“I haven’t learnt those Russian phrases either. Why yell at me? I’m a stranger just trying to help.”

Charlene steps backwards as the man shoves her lightly on the shoulders. Charlene sees the man sitting across the street step toward the confrontation, also speaking quickly. She swallows hard as the new arrival pulls his phone out of the pocket of his sleeveless hoodie.

“I don’t understand what they say,” Charlene thinks, “but I sense the end of my sightseeing for today.”

Charlene watches what appears to be a police car pull up in front of her.

“This confirms my premonition.”

Two officers slide out of the patrol car. An impassioned discussion takes place, with lots of pointing and glaring at Charlene on the part of the two men. Charlene stands by, shifting from one foot to the other, incapable of saying a word in her defence. Finally, Charlene’s eyes water as one of the policemen turns and faces her. She hears him speak, but she cannot discern his meaning.

“Ya govorite po-angliski,” she says, her voice failing her as she carefully enunciates the foreign words.

Charlene rubs her nose and points at her travel book, hoping the officer will understand she only speaks English.

The bigger police officer rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He says a single abrupt word, sounding like “Tourista!” He removes a pair of handcuffs from his police belt and spins her around as she flicks tears from her eyes, pulling both her arms behind her back. Charlene lowers her head as he snaps the shackles around her wrists. Her cheeks burn again as she notices passers-by looking in her direction, whispering amongst themselves as they crane their necks. Her heart grows cold and stiff.?

“I’m frightened,” she thinks. “I have never broken the law before. Well, except for a few speeding tickets.”

Charlene sniffles as the officers bundle her into the back seat of their car. Soon, she arrives at a police station. She tilts her head sideways as the back door of the car opens. The officers motion for her to exit the vehicle.

Once inside the station, Charlene sits opposite an ununiformed man at a table. Although the man’s smile emanates warmth, Charlene can’t meet his gaze. She tugs on her clothes and turns her head sideways.

In English, the man says, “My name is Roman Sharapov, and your name is?”

Charlene lifts her gaze and contemplates the expression in the man’s eyes.

“Can I trust him?”.

She focuses on slowing her breathing, then shifts her body against the frame of her chair. Under the table, she rubs her legs with her hands.

“I have walked all morning, tramping in between attractions. I wish they had provided me with a better chair.”

Then, Charlene straightens herself in her seat and leans forwards.

“It’s Charlene,” she says.

“Charlene…?” he says, then pauses, his eyebrows raised.

“Charlene Gordon,” she responds.

The man smiles again and says, “Hi, Charlene. I work here as an interpreter, assisting with police investigations. Don’t worry. I have worked with other people in this situation before. I believe you are the victim of a clever scam sometimes perpetrated in the streets of Moscow.”

Charlene blinks her moist eyes and attempts a smile too.

“What’s the scam?” she says.

“A pedestrian ‘accidentally’ drops money on the ground. A passer-by returns it. The pedestrian accuses the passer-by of only returning half the cash, keeping the rest for themselves. The passer-by can’t prove their innocence. So, they give the pedestrian money from their own wallet, hoping he or she will not call the police.”

“Wow, I could never think up a scheme like that!” Charlene says, running her fingers through her hair.

“I didn’t think so either!” Roman says.

Charlene’s mouth clamps shut. She purses her lips and drums her fingers on the table.

“Did he just say what I think he said? Did he insinuate I’m not very bright?”

Charlene stares at Roman, searching his eyes again. She sees they shimmer with humour.

“He’s just joking. Maybe, he’s trying to lighten the situation?”

Charlene smiles. This time her smile is genuine, glad to have someone like Roman on her side.

She takes a closer look at his face. He interrupts her inspection by speaking.

“I have good news. You will not be charged with theft. Fortunately, another tourist at the cathedral saw the whole thing. While photographing and filming the church, she captured the incident on her mobile.”

Charlene’s shoulders slump, and she exhales heavily. She smiles again and says, “So, I can go?”

“Usually, yes, you would go free,” he says. “Unfortunately, however, the man has made other allegations against you, much more serious allegations, and regrettably, I cannot clear you of them as quickly.”

Charlene sinks back into her chair and tugs on her clothing again.

“Can you describe these allegations?” she asks.

“I can’t go into them at this time,” he replies, “but for now just let me say you are safe here, and you have a good chance of release. This man has proved himself a liar, as clearly you did not steal from him. So, these more serious charges are likely a lie too, but you will need to stay here longer at the police station, perhaps even overnight.”

“That could cause some problems,” Charlene says. “While staying at my hotel, I made a friend. If I’m not back when she returns, she might worry. Could someone let her know my whereabouts?”

“Sure,” Roman says. “Where can I contact her?”

“She’s staying at the Hotel Borodino,” Charlene informs, “in suite 101.”

“I’ll get onto that right away,” Roman says, taking down her information, then standing as he begins to leave the room. “I will return in the morning. Remember, you are safe here.”

As the door closes behind him, Charlene’s eyes water again. She stares at the door, wishing he would come back.

“Although I have only known him a short while, his presence comforts me.”

Charlene sees a uniformed police officer in the room, beckoning her. She stands, her sniffles returning.

She follows the officer as he stops in front of a small holding cell with a bench along one side and a plastic chair in one corner, a murmuring woman seated upon it.

“I can’t see anyone else in the cell. She must be talking to herself.”

As the cell door swings shut, Charlene and the police officer’s eyes meet. Charlene groans as the agent swirls his index finger in a circle beside his temple, the international sign for ‘that girl’s crazy’.

“Oh great…in the slammer with a woman not thinking straight, instead of touring the streets of Moscow. How did I get into this mess?”

Chapter Two

Charlene leans back against the cement wall of the holding cell. Her eyes rest on the woman in the corner of the room.

“She looks like a lady on my flight from Australia to Russia. She whacked me in the back of my chair with no explanation or apology given,” she thinks.

Charlene eyes the woman a little longer, then decides it isn’t her.

An officer walks by. He stops and steps toward the holding cell, a plastic plate of sandwiches in his hand .

“I wonder if they’re for me.”

The agent slides the sandwiches through the bars of the chamber. She nods her thanks and takes the plate, pulling the sandwiches apart while inspecting their fillings.

“Yuck! Herring and pickles, not a combination I would have chosen, but it’s better than nothing.”

She bites the edge of one sandwich and swallows it prematurely, to avoid it touching her taste buds. The police officer returns, a youth by his side, swaying. The officer opens the cell door and shoves him inside.

“What’s his crime?”

The man drops onto the bench beside her, causing her to sidle down the metal seat, distancing herself from him.

“Hey!” she thinks. “You almost sat on me!”

He casts a lingering glance in her direction, grinning and straightening his hair.

“Privet (hello),” he says.

“Hello” she says, forgetting to reply in Russian.

“Ah! You’re English,” he says.

She turns her head toward him, then snaps it back in the other direction.

“No, I’m Australian.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I like Australian girls too,” he says.

Charlene doesn’t reply.

“I’m Jake. I’m living here as an expat.”

He offers his hand, but Charlene remains quiet and does not take it. He grins again and slides a little closer toward her, slinging his arm around her neck.

Charlene stiffens. She attempts to move away, but his arm clenches. She stares through the bars of the lockup and observes a policewoman standing a little way down the hall, cradling a blubbering young girl. The woman strokes the girl’s hair and wipes tears from her eyes with a tissue.

“Look this way,” Charlene thinks. “Come and save me!”

The youth glances in the direction of the policewoman, too. The stubble of his cheek is soon pressing up against hers.

Charlene’s arms and legs freeze and her tongue dries up. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“Wanna see something cool?” he asks. “I can lip read. Watch this. See that cop over there? Her name is Svetlana. She says, ‘There, there little one. Don’t worry. We’ll find your mother.’ Sounds nice, but I was here another day too, and she’s not as pleasant as she seems. Svetlana was livid and had a go at some poor guy.”

Charlene is surprised to see the man who dropped his wallet in the street still at the station. He has entered the hallway, and glances at the policewoman.

 

“What’s he still doing here?”

 

The female officer glances back. Her forehead creases and her mouth shrivels into a thin line. She passes the crying child into the arms of an agent standing next to her and steps toward the man who accused Charlene of stealing earlier that day. The couple has a quiet but intense conversation.

“Wanna know what she’s saying?” the youth asks.

Charlene remains silent as the youth charges on. It seems he wasn’t really seeking her permission.

“She’s angry he won’t come to her sister’s birthday party. He wants to visit his sick mother instead.”

Charlene notices the couple grow quiet before having one last spat.

“And another thing,” the youth says, mimicking the policewoman’s voice, “don’t leave me waiting on hold when I call you. It’s disrespectful. If you don’t know how to treat me like a lady, I’ll find someone who can!”

She steps away and marches down the hallway toward the foyer.

Charlene finally regains her voice.

“Really?” she says, “They said all that? Who needs episodes of ‘Home and Away’ when I have you right here in my prison cell?”

The youth sticks his chest out and says, in his own voice again, “Yep, that’s what they said.”

He grins again and pulls her closer to him. Charlene pushes him back, but he defies her. Out of the corner of her eye, Charlene notes a familiar face.

“It’s Roman. He’ll save me.”

Roman speaks sternly to the youth in Russian, then calls out. The policewoman steps back into the hallway. Roman gestures toward the plastered man. She pulls a key out of her police belt, steps toward the cell and unlocks the door. Roman and the female officer speak sharply to the man in Russian and pull him out of the cell by his arm. Roman shoves him in the back as he pushes him down the hallway and into the foyer of the police station.

When Roman returns, he says, “I’m sorry about that, Charlene. He’s a regular here, for drunk and disorderly behaviour and public nuisance. Normally, he sleeps it off in the cell, but today, he can sober up in the gutter.”

“Thank you,” she says as Roman leaves.

Charlene shakes her head and returns to eating her sandwich.

“Why is the guy who accused me of stealing still here, and why did he have such a strange conversation with that policewoman? Who is he exactly?” she wonders.

Chapter Three

Charlene drowses on the bench inside the holding cell but awakes at the sound of metal clinking on metal. Hearing nothing more, Charlene rubs her nose and attempts to fall asleep again, but a scraping sound stops her.

Charlene opens her eyes and sits up. She stares at the door of the chamber as it swings open. Roman stands in its place. Her mouth gapes.

“Roman?” she says, keeping her voice low. “Is it morning already? Do you need more information?”

“It is morning, technically,” he says.

Charlene raises her eyebrows, a questioning expression in her dozy eyes.

“It’s 2 am,” he says. “Listen, don’t speak. Follow me, and I will explain outside.”

Charlene stands slowly, staring at the floor.

“Should I follow Roman? Does he have the authority to let me go?”

Roman smiles, cups his hand, and pulls his fingers toward his palm.

Still hesitating, Charlene slides her eyes to the side and glances at the disorientated woman in her cell , who now slumps forwards over her own lap on the plastic chair in the corner. Charlene hovers in the doorway of her jail cell for a second.

“How will I explain this when the police eventually find me?”

Charlene eyes Roman as she wrings her hands, searching his face. His brown eyes twinkle back at her.

“I will trust him.”

She holds her breath, and, walking on tiptoe, follows him out into the night air.

Once outside the station, she stares at the sky, now dotted with stars. She notices a car a little way down the street. Roman stands beside it, opens the rear passenger door, points at her, and waves his hand at the interior of the car.

Charlene slides into the back seat of the car. A woman drops into the front passenger seat, crosses her legs, puts on her seat belt and folds her arms across her chest. The man in the driver’s seat pulls the vehicle away from the curb. Charlene glances in the rear-view mirror and studies the driver’s face. She freezes. Turning in her seat to face Roman, who has slid in beside her, she leans across the vacant seat between them.

“Roman, the man driving this car scammed me. What’s he doing here? What’s going on?”

“Ah, of course!” Roman says. “I’m sorry I didn’t explain. It must have worried you to see your scammer again, especially at this hour of the night and under such circumstances. Don’t worry! He didn’t really scam you. Valentin wears plain clothes but works as a police officer at my station. I have known him a long time. I have worked with him on many cases.

“It’s too late to explain why a police officer would trick a member of the public and then have her thrown in jail for the night but remember what I said to you. I will keep you safe. Besides, what did I tell you? Already, you are on the outside again!”

Charlene continues to stare at Roman’s face. Her hands, momentarily lying still in her lap, knead each other again.

“What kind of explanation is that?”

She attempts to question him further but stops as Roman turns toward Valentin and speaks to him in Russian. Charlene listens to the conversation that follows but can’t understand it.

“I wish I knew more Russian.”

The two men finish their conversation and sit in silence again. She glances at the rear-view mirror once more and sees Valentin looks her way, a slight smile on his face, his eyes gleaming but not unsympathetically.

Charlene looks away, gazing out the window at the buildings rushing past her. Her cheeks flame again. Her mind becomes a jumble of questions.

“I’m the only one here who doesn’t know what’s going on. I don’t like that. How will this night-time escapade impact my holiday plans? It took forever to save up for this trip. I wanted to see so many places.”

After some time, the car stops in front of an apartment complex. The other passengers slide out of their seats, exiting the vehicle.

“Please follow them,” Roman says, smiling.

Charlene hesitates as he retrieves an item from the boot of the car, then follows Valentin and the lady to the glass door of the apartment building. As they wait for the elevator to open, Charlene scrutinises the faces of her new companions.

Inside the apartment, Charlene fidgets her fingers and shifts from foot to foot, until Roman steps through the doorway with his arm outstretched, her bag in his hands.

“Thank you!” she says, grabbing at the bag. “The police took this when they locked me up. It has my camera, passport and a few other valuables in it. It’s the only thing I have right now which links me back to my home, which now seems even farther away.”

“Try to stay upbeat, Charlene,” Roman says. “We don’t want to hurt you. We believe an abduction ring operates out of the hotel you booked for your holiday and they intend you and another woman as targets. Sorry we had to ‘scam’ you today, but we feared they would abduct you.

“We don’t know the identity of the ringleader. We need to collect more evidence on him, but it involves police officers. That’s why we ‘scammed’ you. We wanted to get you and the other woman out of the hotel together, but if we intercepted you both, dressed as uniformed officers, it would have alerted the abductors to the investigation.”

Charlene rubs her abdomen with her hands, then stares at the floor a while.

“Some officers are abductors? How do I know you’re not part of it?”

Roman smiles. “Valentin keeps a hidden camera in his hat. He watched the footage, and it shows an officer tried to hack into the computer in his office today. The footage didn’t capture the officer’s face, though. You can watch it.”

Charlene shakes her head.

“So, what ‘more serious criminal charges’ has Valentin accused me of that caused me to sit in a holding cell at a Russian police station all afternoon and into the night?” Charlene asks. “Does Valentin think I’m part of the abduction ring too?”

“No, that was also a ruse,” Roman replies. “After we round this abduction gang up, we will set you free.”

“That’s a relief,” she says. “So, where will I stay tonight?”

“Here, for now,” he says. “Lara has opened her home to us. I will take you out for the day tomorrow, moving around frequently, so if anyone noticed you leaving with us tonight, we will hopefully lose them.”

Charlene looks around and sees the woman who travelled in the car with them now sitting in an oversized armchair.

“This must be Lara.”

Charlene glances around the simple apartment again, then stares at the floor. She takes another look at the woman sitting in the armchair, who once again folds her arms across her chest. Lara frowns and occasionally yawns and rubs her eyes with her hands. Charlene stares at the floor again.

“It’s awkward staying in a stranger’s apartment, especially when she looks so put out,” Charlene says.

Roman has followed her gaze.

“Don’t worry,” Roman says. “She’s not upset about you staying here tonight. It’s just that she used to date Valentin. She ended it, and now Valentin has a new girlfriend, Svetlana. She thinks Svetlana will rankle when she finds out Valentin came to her tonight. She doesn’t want to cause Svetlana any problems.”

Roman casts his eyes at Lara again.

“She also had an awkward conversation with Valentin while driving over to break you out of jail,” she hears him say. “Their conversation made me think Valentin still has feelings for her. Maybe she doesn’t know how to act around him now.”

Charlene scrunches her mouth to the side.

“I believe I’ve met Svetlana,” she says.

“You have?” Roman replies. “Oh, yes. Svetlana helped me escort that lout out of your cell.”

“Yes, and she didn’t sound very nice,” Charlene says.

“Another time…tell me how you gained this impression of her,” Roman comments. “I’ve had no problems with her.”

“She comforted a lost child, then saw Valentin and gave him an earful. So, if that was her, I don’t want to cause Svetlana any problems either.”

Charlene rubs her nose. “Why didn’t Valentin just take us to Svetlana’s place?”

“Svetlana works as a police officer, as you already know,” Roman says. “If she is unaware the abduction operation involves police officers, feigning ignorance of your disappearance will come more easily for her. We also aren’t sure she wasn’t the one who tried to hack into Valentin’s computer today.”

Charlene remains sitting with her mouth scrunched. She rubs her nose again. Roman slants his eyes at Lara once more, then shifts his gaze back towards Charlene.

“I will stay at the apartment tonight too. Hopefully, that will make things less awkward for you, although you don’t know me very well either,” Roman assures her.

“That would be great!” Charlene thinks. “I may not know Roman well, but I feel calmer when he’s around.”

“And what about the other lady; the one at the hotel the abduction gang is watching?”

“Don’t worry about Kim,” he says. “We have a man monitoring her movements.”

Charlene lurches forwards and places her hands on the arms of her chair.

Chapter Four

“Kim? Did you say Kim?”

“That’s right. Her name is Kim,” Roman says, studying her face.

Charlene digs her fingers into the arms of her chair and says, “I know her. Is she in danger? Oh, no! Now, I wish I hadn’t gone sightseeing by myself today! I wish I’d gone with Kim and Marius to the Bolshoi Theatre instead.”

“Marius? How do you know him?” Roman asks.

Charlene twists in her chair and faces him. Roman’s face has turned pale and his eyes have darkened.

“He’s staying at my hotel too,” she says. “Is he in danger as well?”

Roman avoids her gaze. She wrings her hands again. Roman clears his throat and says,

“I think you might need to tell Valentin everything you know about Kim and Marius,” he says, standing and stepping toward the kitchen door.

“Valentin?” he calls.

Charlene remains seated as Valentin emerges from the kitchen, holding a mug and a biscuit. Charlene gives attention to the conversation that transpires between them. Then, she frowns and places her head in one hand.

Charlene swallows as the two men sit and pull their chairs closer to hers. She twists her hair around her fingers.

“Charlene,” Roman says in English. “Please tell Valentin of your dealings with Kim and Marius. How long have you known them? How did you meet? Tell us their movements over the past few days. I will translate for you.”

Charlene stares at Roman. She rubs her chin between her thumb and index finger. Then, she flits her eyes towards Valentin and pulls on the lobe of her ear. Finally, she slumps back in her chair, rubs her nose and says,

“Well, I last saw them at a military concert in Red Square. Marius bought the tickets. I hadn’t met either Kim or Marius before I came to Moscow. I arrived on my own, but when I went for a steam in the hotel sauna, I think you call it a banya here, Marius noticed my ignorance of banya etiquette. He instructed me on what to do.

“After a while, I noticed a small table in the banya with a white tablecloth and brightly painted teacups filled with tea. That’s how I met Kim. Marius sat at the table, sipping tea too. He asked us how our time in Moscow would be spent. We told him we wanted to see the Kremlin and Saint Basil’s Cathedral. He had toured a zoo the day before and offered to take us there too. He insisted on it. Kim was quite taken with him. I came too because…well…it’s more fun travelling in a group.

“Like I said, the last place I saw them was the military show in Red Square. It was different! I’ve seen nothing like it before. Then, Kim and Marius invited me to go to the Bolshoi Theatre with them today. At first, I agreed, but then I set my alarm to go off early. I left a note stuck to the door of my hotel room and went to a cathedral instead. Kim and Marius are nice people, but they couldn’t keep their hands off each other! It made me feel like a third wheel. So, I decided to see Moscow on my own.”

An electronic buzzing sound interrupts Charlene, who shifts position in her chair. Valentin pulls his mobile out of his jeans and speaks to the caller on the other end. At length, the phone conversation ends. As Valentin talks to Roman and Lara in Russian, Charlene taps the toe of her shoe on the floor and drums her fingers on the armrest of her chair. After one last word, Valentin and Roman stand and Valentin leaves the apartment, Roman closing the door behind him.

 Roman turns toward her and smiles.

“Valentin believes Marius is involved in the abduction ring and the phone call he received just now seems to confirm it,” he says. “An undercover police officer, Boris, has stayed at your hotel. That’s who called Valentin on the phone just now, and he says Kim is missing.”

“Oh, no!” Charlene says, clasping both her hands together before placing them over her mouth. “I hope she’s okay.”

“Boris believes Marius abducted Kim because of a phone call made while Boris was within hearing. Marius told the person on the other end he had taken her.”

“I know Boris too,” Charlene says. “I thought he was just one of the guests at the hotel, though. Kim and I first met him in the banya that day as well. He came with us to the zoo and the military concert as well. I would never have guessed he worked as a cop, though, because he was so loud and intrusive. We didn’t enjoy his company very much at all.”

Roman comments,“ Yes, Boris does that to keep people from suspecting he is a law enforcer.”

Charlene scrunches her mouth to the side. Roman winks and says,

“He is a police officer. I swear. He followed Kim, trying to keep her out of harm’s way and monitored Marius too, trying to figure out his involvement.”

Charlene yawns and stretches her back.

“Excuse me,” she says out loud.

“How can I feel sleepy at a time like this? Kim must be terrified and angry that someone she liked so much was just a scoundrel! I wish she had listened to my warning about getting involved with him.”

Roman smiles again.

“You look sleepy. Rest a couple more hours. Then, I will take you to a place criminals avoid like the plague!”

“Jail, again?” Charlene asks.

“Church!” he replies with a grin.

Chapter Five

Charlene rolls onto her side. She can hear Roman’s voice again.

“Time to rise.”

She yawns and opens her eyes. Roman stands in the doorway.

“Come on. Get up!” he says. “We need to get going.”

Charlene showers, then dons the clothes she wore the day before, still feeling dirty and dishevelled. Her day-old clothing dulls the refreshing effect of the warm water she used to clean herself. Then, she enters Lara’s living room to find the woman smiling, standing with her arms outstretched, a coat hanger in each hand.

“Lara says you can choose what you like from her wardrobe to wear,” Roman says. “She thinks it more comfortable than wearing what you wore yesterday again.”

Charlene runs her eyes over the garments hanging from the coat hangers. “Thank you. They’re lovely, but I feel so strange. Wearing someone else’s clothes around town will feel stranger, and besides, I put Lara out enough. I don’t want to further inconvenience her.”

After putting the clothes back in her closet, Lara grabs a plate of breakfast, placing it in front of Charlene at the dining room table. After they finish eating, Roman tells her Lara will join them today.

“Why’s that?” she asks.

“Lara distracted the staff at reception while I released you,” he mentions. “The station has cameras throughout. They will have captured her presence during your jail escape. Someone may come looking for her. So, we need to know her whereabouts.”

Charlene casts her eyes in Lara’s direction. Lara’s lips now press together in a thin line, her arms folded across her chest again. Charlene looks at the floor, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand.

“I wonder what she had planned for today?”

“Lara isn’t happy Valentin has drawn her existence to an abduction gang’s attention, but don’t worry. She’s not upset with you,” Roman says. ”Anyhow, we’d better get going.”

Lara grabs her bag and keys.

“We will use Lara’s car,” Roman says. “At least until we find alternative transportation.”

Seated in the car, Charlene says, “So, you said we’ll hide out at a church?”

“Yes, we will spend the morning there,” he replies. “After the service has finished, we will move around as much as we can to deter anyone following us.”

“Are you a Christian then?” Charlene asks.

“That’s right,” he says.

Charlene smiles, hugging her arms across her chest.

“I’m glad to hear that. Back in Australia, I also attend church.”

“I have worshipped at this church for five years,” he says. “It has transformed how I live.”

As Charlene listens to Roman’s testimony, she beams.

“He sounds like a genuine believer. It’s wonderful to hear how much his life has changed since he turned from sinning.”

Charlene smiles at Roman and says,

“I’m glad, even though I am on the other side of the world, God has sent a fellow believer to help me through this.”

Roman smiles and nods.

“Meanwhile,” she says, “the traffic in Moscow is bad! It has seemed gridlocked for some time now. So, Kim and Marius couldn’t be too far away.”

Roman rolls his eyes.

“The traffic is always bad in Moscow. You just have to wait it out. Complaining doesn’t shorten the commute.”

Eventually, Lara navigates her car to a side street and parks it outside a movie theatre. Charlene opens the door and slips out, following Roman as he walks along the footpath.

“Wow! The footpaths are more crowded than back home. I must push myself forwards when passing other pedestrians, so I can keep up with Lara and Roman. Everyone seems to walk on the wrong side of the pavement too!”

Charlene bumps into a few more pedestrians, then thinks,

“Hmm, maybe it’s me on the wrong edge of the pavement! After all, they drive on the opposite side of the road. Life is rather different here.”

As the jamb of pedestrians on the footpath thins out, an ancient building comes into view.

“It looks like it’s used as an office block now.”

She strains her ears; positive she can hear singing. She cocks her head to the side, then visually scans the area.

“I can’t see a chapel…It seems the singing floats up from underneath that old building over there.”

Once she reaches the office building, Charlene follows Roman to a set of stairs leading to its basement. At the bottom of the steps, a man wearing a black suit greets Charlene, shakes her hand, and says a few words in Russian.

“Even though I don’t understand what he said, his manner is warm,” she thinks as he pumps her hand, “My body isn’t rigid anymore, and that gigantic knot inside my stomach has melted. If my face is glowing, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

Charlene follows the door greeter, who casts his eyes around the crowded sitting space.

After he finds some vacant chairs, Charlene realises the congregation is singing a hymn well known to her. As the congregation sings it in Russian, Charlene hums along in English.

Charlene surveys her surroundings. Although the lights are on, the underground room looks dark. The walls, absent of icons, denote this as a Protestant place of worship. She hugs her arms across her chest again.

“I’m so glad Roman brought me here. If not for him, I would never have found a Russian Protestant church. My travel book only lists the addresses of onion-domed Orthodox cathedrals.”

As the service progresses, initially, Charlene sits upright, her eyes gleaming, soaking everything in, but after a while, she slouches in her seat.

“It’s difficult to concentrate. I only understand a couple words the preacher has said.”

Charlene tries again to focus on the divine service, but her mind floods with thoughts of Kim.

“Where is she right now? Is she safe?”

After allowing her mind to wander a while, she hears herself choke back a sob. She yanks her attention back to reality and notes parishioners in the chairs around her look in her direction.

“How embarrassing! Everyone is watching me!”

Charlene feels a warm hand press her arm. She turns her head and sees Lara, who smiles and puts her arm around her shoulders. Charlene looks further along the row of congregants and notes Roman looking her way, also smiling at her. He reaches across Lara and squeezes her knee.

Charlene stares into his eyes.

“Roman,” Charlene says inside her head, wishing telepathy existed. “Kim must be terrified!”

Chapter Six

Boris walks with Valentin to the curb of the hotel, running his hand over his abdomen, wishing it didn’t bulge so. He jogs up the front steps and pauses as the revolving door spins. As he waits for Valentin to enter the rotating threshold, he surveys the street. A cool shiver runs down his spine, and he notes the flesh on his arms has dimpled.

“Why do I feel spies watch me?” he thinks.

He peruses the thoroughfare one more time, notes it is patrolled by a fellow police officer, then follows Valentin into the hotel and watches as he approaches the hotel receptionist.

“Good day,” Valentin says.

Valentin flashes his police identification at the hotel employee, then slides it back into his pocket.

“I’m Officer Valentin Kolchak. This is my colleague, Boris Denikin. I believe a woman has gone missing, stolen by an abductor while staying in suite 101 of this hotel. May I please have a look around?”

The receptionist places her palm over her mouth.

“Really? An abductor, here, in our hotel?”

A man steps out of a side room. “This could destroy my business,” he says.

The man offers his hand to Valentin, and they shake.

Boris crosses his eyebrows and places his hands on his hips.

“Even here, I feel someone watches, but the lobby is empty.”

“Good day,” the man says. “I run the hotel. Of course, you may search it.”

“Thank you,” Valentin responds, “but first may I review the hotel’s security camera footage?”

“Certainly,” the manager says.

Fast forwarding through the film, they find Boris waving at Kim, Charlene and Marius, after which they enter their hotel rooms and close the doors. A little while later, Marius leaves his hotel room and doubles back down the hallway towards Kim’s suite.

Marius knocks on Kim’s door, waits a while, raps again, then types on his mobile. A few moments pass, then Kim bounces out of her hotel room and into his embrace. Then, she pulls Marius behind her, down the corridor and into the elevator leading to the hotel’s foyer.

Switching to the hotel’s outdoor surveillance camera, they see a taxi pull up. Marius offers Kim his hand, helping her in. He glances around the street, then grips her neck, appearing to push her deeper into the vehicle. Then, Marius flings the door shut and the taxi flies down the empty Moscow street.

Boris shakes his head.

“Nasty devil!”

“Thank you,” Valentin says. “I have seen enough. Now, may I inspect the hotel rooms?”

The manager steps from behind the counter and walks toward the elevator. Valentin follows, stepping toward the elevator too, Boris behind him. Once in Marius’ room, he powders the walls and furniture for fingerprints and rifles through Marius’ bag and wardrobe.

“Can I get you a cup of tea?” the hotel manager says.

“No, thank you,” Valentin says with a smile. “I believe we will wrap things up soon. I will, however, require you to keep this room vacant and untouched until further notice.”

“How long do you think it will stay shut?” the hotel manager says.

“Quite a while yet,” Valentin says. “I would also like to search Charlene’s suite and Kim’s. These rooms will need to stay vacant and untouched as well.”

“I see,” the manager says, pressing his lips together and frowning.

The manager turns to leave, pauses, and turns toward Valentin again.

“Do you think any other members of this gang hide in my hotel? Do you have suggestions on extra measures I should take in protecting my hotel guests?” he asks.

Valentin waves in Boris’ direction.

“Boris has stayed in suite 105 the past couple weeks,” Valentin says. “He doesn’t believe anyone else involved in this crime remains here, but we will gladly supply two more police agents if you wish. If you give them a hotel uniform to wear, they could stand in the lobby, acting as security guards, monitoring who comes in and out. We will pay their wages, of course.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any tea? Maybe you prefer coffee or some sandwiches?” the manager offers.

Boris smiles and shakes his head.

“Well, I’ll go now,” the manager says, stepping out the door and into the hallway. “Just call reception if you need anything.”

Boris glances at Valentin. He notes Valentin’s brow glistens and his eyes appear caged. Boris looks down at his arm and sees the hairs on Valentin’s arm stand straight as if chilled.

“You feel it too?” Boris says. “When we were out on the street, did you sense someone or something watched us?”

“I didn’t want to say just now, but I sense something lurks. Either that, or maybe I should have eaten breakfast this morning,” he grins. “I’ll definitely post those two covert police officers at the front of this hotel, as I promised the manager just now.”

Boris turns away from Valentin and says, “Let’s hope it’s the latter. I scanned the road but couldn’t see anything. I’ll get going now. I want to check the street again, then I want to have a word with a certain someone before they clock off for the day.”

 Chapter Seven

Once the benediction ends, Roman speaks,

“Lara will leave her car here, making it harder for the abductors to follow us. Follow me to the exit. We will leave the church from that doorway and catch a tube to a cafe.”

Roman smiles and says, “Evading people snatchers, makes me hungry!”

Charlene’s face remains expressionless, too worried to smile back.

Out on the pavement, Charlene hurries behind Roman and Lara. She tries to stay hidden amongst the knot of walkers which packs the narrow footpath, until they reach the entrance to the metro. Once underground, Charlene stares at shiny tiled floors, white arches, gold ceilings and a chandelier and gasps.

“It looks like a side room in a tzar’s palace.”

Roman looks in her direction and smiles.

“Many subway stations in Moscow look like this,” he comments.

Roman swipes the group through the turnstiles, blocking the entrance to the subway station platform. They stand in silence as they wait for a tube to arrive.

Then, over the roar of the underground din, Roman says, “I have decided you will need to change clothes after all, Charlene, or else anyone who has watched the footage of you leaving the holding cell will spot you. After we eat, you can buy something.”

“I can’t wait,” Charlene says. “ I feel awful, not even having a toothbrush or toothpaste.”

An underground train stops at the platform and the new friends step aboard. Down the line, the tube stops at their destination.

Out on the street again, Roman says, “I’m going to buy some toothbrushes. You can get an outfit at that store over there. Ask if you can wear it out of the shop.”

Charlene changes into the fresh clothes she has bought. She sees Lara - who has also opted to buy a new outfit - and Roman sit at a large MacDonald’s: Charlene sits on the only empty chair at their table.

“What would you like?” Roman asks.

“I think I’ll just have a strawberry shake,” she says.

“That’s all? Nothing else?” Roman asks.

Charlene places her elbows on the table and clasps her hands together. She rests her chin on her hands and glances at a couple sitting at a table beside them. Still avoiding his eyes, Charlene nods her head.

“Yes. That’s all,” she says. “I’m not hungry at the moment.”

Roman stands behind his chair.

“Charlene, how are you holding up?” he asks.

Charlene rubs her nose.

“How sad!” he says. “You came for an exotic holiday…Instead, you’re wasting it with me and Lara in a virtual lock down, avoiding villains. You mentioned in your police interview you planned to see the Bolshoi Theatre the day Kim went missing. We aren’t far from there. How about we go now, after we’ve eaten?”

Charlene smiles weakly, then looks him full in the face and beams.

“That sounds great,” she says.

“I don’t want Roman to feel bad just because of me, and besides, I don’t want to miss out on my overseas holiday entirely just because I sulked.”

Roman walks over to the service counter. He talks to the cashier and hands over the money Charlene and Lara have given him. After a short wait, Roman carries a tray with burgers, fries and drinks back to the table.

Roman unpacks the tray. Charlene slurps her strawberry shake and manages to chomp down a cheeseburger too.

“See, Roman, I’m not as sad as you might think.”

She swallows the last few slops of thick shake at the bottom of her paper cup and says, “I can’t believe I’m going to stand outside the Bolshoi today! Boris says there is a years’ long waiting list from all around the world to watch ballet there. That’s a shame. I would have really liked to have seen a show there.”

“That’s probably true,” Roman says, as he swipes at a dab of sauce with his thumb. “I’m not a fan of ballet, however. So, I’ve never investigated it. I do know you can tour the building, though, and a museum showcasing costumes and photographs of famous dancers. We will buy tickets so you can have a look around. We will remain hidden more easily inside rather than outside in this bright sunshine.”

 

Chapter Eight

Roman leads Charlene to a street next to the Bolshoi Theatre.

“Wait here while I buy the tour tickets,” he says.

She raises her eyebrows.

Roman smiles.

“Sometimes, at this spot, you can hear opera singers rehearsing inside the theatre.”

“Oh, okay,” she says.

Charlene stands where Roman has put her. She closes her eyes, listening as a diva belts out a scale.

As she listens, she imagines ballet dancers in sheer costumes and satin slippers twirling, their long arms arched above their heads.

She listens a while longer, then opens her eyes. Lara is by the fountain in front of the theatre. She sits on its rim, even though the fountain flings droplets of water at her. Lara flicks her finger over the screen of her mobile phone, folds her arms, looks at her phone once again, and frowns. She occasionally looks about herself and sighs.

“Lara must have seen the Bolshoi Theatre a thousand times. I hope she’s not bored.”

Then, out of the corner of her eye, Charlene sees a familiar face. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end while the heat in her cheeks dissolves, turning stone cold.

“Oh, no! It’s Marius!”

Her eyes dart about her, wondering how long he has been watching her.

“From the look on his face, a long while.”

Marius smiles and crosses the square in front of the theatre, walking in her direction. Her heart beats faster. Her breaths puff quicker.

“Charlene, I’m so glad to see you! Did you enjoy the cathedral? Kim and I loved the Bolshoi. Let me show you around.”

He takes her hand, almost dragging her down the street. Charlene digs her heels into the pavement and leans backwards, floundering for a response.

Finally, her voice rasping, she asks, “Where is Kim, by the way?”

“Kim?” he says. “She didn’t feel well today. She said she had a headache, so she returned to the hotel.”

Charlene looks around, wide eyed, her mind racing. “Poor thing,” she says.

“Come on, Roman and Lara! I need you.”

Charlene looks at the fountain again. Lara looks up from her phone toward Charlene.

“Charlene!” Lara yells.

Lara faces toward the theatre. Roman is heading towards her with the tour tickets he has purchased.

Lara yells, “Roman! Charlene!” and points in Charlene’s direction.

“Stop!” Roman yells.

Roman enters the street running, Lara not far behind.

“Who are they?” Marius asks as he eyes her, glowering.

Charlene flounders with her response again, her head feeling faint. Marius glares at her, harder.

He releases his grip. She stumbles as he shoves her in the back of the neck, then rubs the nail marks on her skin. Charlene shivers as Marius runs into the crowds, eddying around the back of the Bolshoi Theatre.

“Charlene, I’m so sorry!” Roman says once he and Lara catch up to her. “I considered this a safe place, but of course, Marius may still prowl the area. How could I have not known that? I regret not asking a plain-clothes police officer to escort us while we hide out. Then, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Charlene’s eyes dampen as her heart rate slows. Roman pulls out his mobile.

“I’m calling Valentin,” he says.

“If only I could wake up and find this was just a terrible dream. How did I get caught up in this?”

As Roman talks to Valentin in Russian, she imagines what he might be saying,

“Valentin, I have ruined the investigation,” Roman says in her mind. “Marius spotted us, and I think he knows something is up. He fled the area surrounding the Bolshoi, heading north.”

She snaps back to attention when Roman slides his phone back into his pocket.

Roman turns toward Charlene and Lara.

“Follow me.”

Charlene follows Roman as he leads them back toward the subway.

Charlene takes one more look at the street Marius dragged her down, wishing she could go back in time. Then, she shoots a side look at Roman. She notes Roman glance in her direction too. She sees his forehead crease and his cheeks flush. Her cheeks burn too!

“What’s he thinking?” she wonders, “and why do I feel so uncomfortable now?”

The muscles in Charlene’s face tighten and her brow furrows. She glances over at Roman again. She studies his face, arms and shoulders. She places a hand over her abdomen and runs her other hand across her forehead.

“Oh, no. I like him! I guess it’s the courage he showed when trying to catch Marius and once again his calm manner during another messy situation. How could I not feel affection for him?”

Charlene takes another look at Roman, then straightens her face.

“I’m only supposed to stay here a week. I cannot let these feelings grow.”

Chapter Nine

Boris examines the hotel’s frontage again. Finding nothing sinister, he charges toward a van parked opposite the hotel, flinging open its door.

“What’s up?” the driver asks.

“My blood pressure. That’s what’s up!” Boris says. “Grisha, last night, when I believed Marius would make his move, I told you to signal me at the first sign of trouble. You swore you’d notify me if you saw anything suspicious, but I didn’t hear a thing. Then, in the morning, you told me you didn’t see anyone enter or leave the hotel all night long, but now, Valentin tells me after a lot of pressuring on his behalf, you said you fell asleep last night; that’s why you saw nothing. He says embarrassment stopped you from telling me.”

Boris pauses. Grisha looks at the floor without a word. Boris crosses his eyebrows and frowns.

“As you have spent the night sleeping,” he says, “I will assume you rested so well you no longer require the day off. You will help me monitor Marius today.”

“Aw, come on, Boris,” Grisha pleads. “I didn’t do it on purpose. You know I have worked a lot lately. It’s difficult to stay awake in the small hours of the morning in a darkened car, especially when you sit in it alone.”

Boris glares at Grisha.

“Oh, you, unfortunate darling!” he says flatly. “Perhaps, next time I could lend you my teddy bear! Now, let’s get going.”

Boris motions for Grisha to shift out of the driver’s seat and into the passenger seat, then slides into the van, taking the steering wheel.

“Scan the pavements for Marius and Kim,” he says. “Do you think you can do that, Grisha, or should I buy you a magnifying glass?”

Gradually, the muscles in Boris’ face relax. He glances over at Grisha, whose shoulders slump. Boris gives his shoulder a genial shove and in a kinder voice says, “So, how is your family?”

Grisha does not reply.

Boris tries again. “The sooner we get Marius behind bars, the better. The last time I saw him, not long after Kim’s disappearance, he seemed pleased with himself, as if replaying a funny joke over and over inside his brain.”

“I don’t like that type of criminal,” Grisha says.

“Aha!” Boris thinks,“…friends again. I must work on controlling my frustration. He isn’t that bad.”

After an hour or so of driving around, Boris pulls at his hair. He scans the city streets one more time and sighs.

“I can’t see them anywhere,” Boris says.

At that moment, the screen of his mobile lights up. Boris tosses the phone to Grisha.

“I hope it’s Valentin. Our search would be easier if he could give us a better idea of where to look for Marius,” he says.

“Hello,” Grisha says into the phone, his voice sounding more assertive.

He sits bolt upright, his eyes, with an intensity to them, scouring left and right.

“I hope this means Grisha is trying harder at his job after his dismal performance last night. What a joke.”

“Hi, it’s Valentin. Where is Boris?” Valentin’s voice crackles over the phone.

“He’s with me. He’s driving. Wait, I will put you on speaker,” Grisha says.

“Hi Boris,” Valentin says. “I have more information on the suspect’s location. Roman saw him near the Bolshoi Theatre. Can you get onto this?”

“Sure,” Boris says, his eyes flaring. “Finally, a clue on Kim’s whereabouts.”

Valentin says, “We have also asked the police back at the station to call the businesses and metro stations in the area we last saw Marius and review their security camera footage. What a breakthrough if one of their cameras has filmed him.”

“Curse this traffic!” Boris says once Valentin ends the call. “When will someone fix it? It’s hampering our ability to track down Marius.”

“They’ll never do anything about it,” Grisha says. “What can they do, really?”

Boris ignores Grisha’s question. He replays in his mind the events of the last few days, trying to remember whether Marius gave any indication of where he planned to take Kim once clear of the hotel. Finally, Boris arrives in the vicinity of Marius’ last sighting.

“Clearly, Marius has cleared out of the area long ago,” Boris says to Grisha, “but maybe a shop attendant or a street worker has seen a man fitting his description. If not, we will have to rely on the video footage Valentin asked for.”

Boris parks the van outside a shop front. He sags out of his seat, leaving Grisha to lock the doors behind him. He runs his hand over his abdomen again, realising he needs to lose weight.

He jogs up a short set of steps. He pushes on the door of the shop residing at the top, with no results. He glances over his shoulder at Grisha, who cocks his head to the side.

“That’s a pull door, Boris.”

Boris pulls on the door handle and enters the shop.

“Hi, I’m Officer Denikin,” he says. “Please review your security camera film. We need to find a dark-haired man in his late 20s, wearing jeans and a blue polo shirt.”

Chapter Ten

After a quick subway ride, Charlene, Roman and Lara catch an escalator back up to the city streets of Moscow. Out in the sunshine again, Charlene hears a car honk. She turns to see where the noise comes from, but a car beside the curb obstructs her view. The driver of the vehicle gets out and passes the keys to Roman.

“Another plain clothes police officer?”

Charlene raises her eyebrows as the conversation concludes. Roman glances in her direction.

“Please get in.”

Charlene shrugs and slides into the back seat of the car. Eventually, the vehicle frees itself from the gridlocked streets.

Roman snakes the car around grassy meadows on the outskirts of the city until Charlene sees five children, of varying heights, standing by the side of the road, about a hundred metres ahead. She notices no zebra crossing or traffic lights are in sight. Although the children still stand a long way off, Roman squeezes the car’s brake and waves at them.

“He’s letting them cross the road,” she thinks, “even though we are still far from them.”

She smiles, then notes a pang of tenderness twinge inside her chest. She stifles her smile and rubs her chest with the knuckles of her closed fist.

“I can’t allow these feelings to grow!”

At length, the car reaches a house nestled behind a wooden fence. Roman double-checks the park brake.

“We will stay the night here. It’s my grandmother’s summer house. You may call her Ekaterina.”

Charlene smiles and hugs her arms across her chest.

“I’m so glad amid all this turmoil, I get to stay in a real Russian house!” she says. “That’s an experience I would never have if I hadn’t run headlong into the arms of an abduction ring.”

Roman smiles.

“I’m glad my bungled effort at protecting you and Lara has an upside. You will enjoy staying at my grandma’s summer house. I have one too, but there are no feminine touches to it, so you will find this one more suitable.”

No sooner has Roman finished speaking, then an elderly woman appears at the door.

“I guess that’s your grandmother?” she says.

Roman smiles and says, “Good guess.”

The old woman totters down the front stairs of the house, throws her arms around Roman and kisses him on the cheek multiple times. Ekaterina pinches the flesh of Roman’s arm and speaks quickly.

Roman smiles and says, “You would think she hasn’t seen me in years, but I only saw her last week.”

Lara smiles behind her hand – seeming to try not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Charlene asks.

Roman’s face flushes. He pauses, then says,

“My grandma says, ‘Too thin! Too thin! You haven’t eaten enough. You need a wife to cook you big meals, aged thirty-three and still not married!’”

Charlene grins.

He comments, “She turned ninety-three this year, but as you can see, despite her age, she has no need of anyone.”

Ekaterina does not stop laughing and throwing her arms up in the air for some time after their arrival. She hears Ekaterina reel off another string of foreign words, while smiling at Lara and Charlene, but notices this time Roman neglects to translate them. Charlene guesses at what Ekaterina might be saying now.

“Aha! Two lovely girls. Finally! Perhaps, I will see you married with a small child before I leave this green earth after all,” she imagines Ekaterina saying.

“It’s okay, Roman,” Charlene thinks. “You don’t have to translate any further for me. This conversation has already been awkward enough!”

Charlene follows Roman as he shows her and Lara around the house.

“The house has no television set,” he says, “and the internet and phone connection in this area…next to zilch, but if you enjoy reading, luck is on your side.”

He points toward an adjacent room. Charlene steps through the doorway and sees two of its walls covered in books. A staircase leads up to a landing to reach the books on the higher shelves; the landing connects to another staircase, which leads back to the room’s wooden floor.

Staring at the two overstuffed bookcases, Charlene’s mouth drops open.

“Think of all the imaginary adventures I can have while waiting for my very own, and unfortunately real, adventure to end.”

Charlene steps closer to the book-lined wall closest to her and peers at the titles printed along the book spines.

“Every one of them in Russian. Has Roman momentarily forgotten I can’t read Russian? I have no use for this room at all. Why not just build a brick wall for me to stare at all night long?”

Then, Charlene lays her eyes on a bay window built into the wall opposite the two bookcases. She notices a tin of watercolour pencils and a drawing pad resting on it. She points at the art materials and says, “May I?”

He glances in the direction of his grandmother, who has fallen asleep in an armchair in the corner of the room.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” he replies.

 Chapter Eleven

Once in the room she will sleep in, Charlene makes herself comfortable, then studies the view outside her window. Roman rifles through broken, rusted junk in his grandmother’s yard. The next time she looks, he is cooking meat threaded on skewers on an outdoor stove at the back of the house. It reminds her of shashlik, a lamb shish kabob in an onion marinade her grandmother used to make.

“Yum! I haven’t had that since she died.”

As Roman repositions the skewers on the outdoor stove, Charlene scrutinises his face, then rubs her nose.

“What will I do? How will I keep him unaware that I like him? I wish Boris could hide out with us instead.”

Not wanting Roman to observe her, Charlene returns to settling herself into the bedchamber, but soon, she hears Roman call upstairs.

“Charlene? Time to eat,” he says.

After descending the staircase, Charlene sits with Lara in a garden swing, gently rocking it back and forth. Charlene wipes her arm across her forehead, lifts her hair off her shoulders, then mops her hand across the back of her neck. She turns her face skywards and stares at the faded awning attached to the top of the garden swing.

“I’m glad this swing has a cover. It’s taking the brunt of this summer sun,” she says.

She pauses and says, “Is summer here usually this hot?”

“No, it’s not usually this warm,” Roman says. “An uncharacteristic heat wave bothers us. The hot spell has caused a few forest fires around the periphery of the city.”

“Although this conversation barely dips below surface level and would bore most people, when we talk, I feel I must be glowing!”

Charlene notes a pang of guilt reverberate around her chest.

“I shouldn’t have these thoughts! Kim has vanished, but I can’t stop thinking about Roman. She must feel terrified. I should be too! After all, Marius’ hit list included me also. I wonder what she’s doing right now. I bet she’s not feasting on shashlik or lazing around a new acquaintance’s summer house or struggling not to fall in love with the owner’s grandson!”

Charlene’s imagination runs wild. She conjures up the worst of schemes. In Charlene’s fantasy she sees a cloth bag plunge over Kim’s head. She watches a thug force her down a gravel track and observes him chain her to a wooden post in a concealed lair; flittermice flapping overhead. Charlene notes Kim complies with every request.

“She must be distraught. I haven’t known Kim long, but I’d say doing what she’s told is not a default trait of hers.”

Charlene feels a tear slide down her face. She wrenches her mind back to reality as Roman hands her a shish kabob. She takes the skewer.

Once Roman turns away, she rubs the moisture from her eye before anyone can notice.

“I wish I could stop imagining scenarios involving Kim,” she thinks. “It’s not helping me any.”

Roman sets the rest of the shashlik on a plate and shifts it to a table inside a pergola not far from the swing she sways on with Lara.

Lara stands and walks to the pergola. Charlene follows her. She reaches forwards and grabs a skewer, so she holds one in each hand. She blows on the shish kabob and takes a bite as Lara and Ekaterina demolish skewered meat of their own. Roman builds a tower of twigs and stuffs a ball of newspaper inside it.

“Hey, Roman, do you think it’s wise to light a fire tonight?” she asks. “You did say the forests have burnt this year.”

Roman glances at her, winks and says, “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Her cheeks burn!

“There you go, I’ve found a flaw. He takes silly risks. Now, stop mooning over him!”

She casts her eyes at Ekaterina, who slouches in her chair and burps, rubbing her plump tummy. A yawn escapes the old woman, and it evokes the same reaction in Lara. Once Lara has clamped her mouth shut, Charlene notices she has caught the gaping bug too. Charlene hardens her face, managing to smother her yawn before it becomes noticeable to Roman and Lara, not wanting her guests to think she is bored.

Ekaterina stands and shuffles towards the back door of her house. Roman calls out to her and Ekaterina replies without turning around.

“She’s calling it quits for the day,” Roman says, looking in Charlene’s direction.

“My grandmother used to take a nap this time of day too,” Charlene replies.

Roman lounges on the grass around the fire pit, eating the meal he cooked for the three women. Lara joins him, followed by Charlene. Charlene watches the flames of the fire dance up and down in the air. She stares at the red and orange blaze until her eyes lose focus. As her vision blurs, she notes the blaze evolves into an amber glare. She is mesmerised by the glow.

Chapter Twelve

As Charlene and her new friends sit around the fire, they talk, sharing details of their past and plans for their future. Lara begins first. While waiting for Roman to translate Lara’s musings, Charlene thinks about Kim again. Charlene jerks back to attention when she notices Roman has reverted to speaking in English. She listens as he translates Lara’s words.

“Lara wants to travel and see the world. She wants to stand where the White and Blue Nile rivers meet, but if she can’t do that, she will go to South America.”

“And what will she do there?” Charlene says.

“You may have noticed she keeps antiques at her apartment. She wants to go on an archaeological dig,” Roman says.

Charlene murmurs some words of encouragement for Roman to translate back to Lara. Then, she leans forwards as Roman shares about himself.

“I have almost completed a teaching qualification,” he declares.

“What kind of teaching qualification?” Charlene asks.

“My degree will qualify me to teach history to teenage students.”

“Oh, so you’ll end up a high school teacher by the end. I will pray you get good grades.”

“Thank you,” he says. “If you said a prayer or two, I’d appreciate that. Sometimes, I get overwhelmed by the number of assessments my professors expect me to complete in so short a time, and I lose my motivation to study.”

“I’ve had that experience,” Charlene says, then smiles and says, “but I’m sure you’ll come through just fine.”

“Thank you. My degree qualifies me to teach anywhere in the world,” he comments. “When I finish my course, I plan to immigrate to an English-speaking country.”

“That’s a big plan,” Charlene says. “I don’t think I could do it. It makes me dizzy just touring a foreign country, let alone moving there forever.”

Roman laughs. “That’s what Lara said, or something to that effect.”

Charlene glances at Lara and then returns her attention to Roman.

“You will have an advantage over other history teachers,” she says.

Roman raises his eyebrows. She shrugs and says,

“I mean, you grew up in Moscow, a place that has had historical significance for many parts of the world. So, how could anyone get bored listening to you?”

Roman smiles again and shakes his head.

“I have found capturing the attention of children of any age challenging, no matter what my level of knowledge or experience,” he says. “But, what about you, Charlene? Do you plan to study?”

Charlene shakes her head.

“No,” she says, “but I hope to learn more about my Russian heritage. You see, my grandma and grandpa grew up in Moscow. They would never talk about their life here, though. It traumatised them too much.”

Roman looks at the ground, his eyes darkening.

“I’m sorry to hear of their mistreatment,” he says.

Charlene smiles and nods.

“I hope to reunite with any members of my grandparents’ families still living,” she says. “I would like to know if they could fill me in on my grandma’s life before she moved.”

Roman translates her wish for Lara. Roman and Lara exchange glances.

“Have you really thought that through, Charlene?” Roman asks. “What if your relatives in Russia don’t have much money? They may expect you to help them financially or even assist them in relocating to a more prosperous country. Do you have the finances to afford that?”

“Definitely not,” Charlene says.

“Your grandparents sided with White Russian capitalists, but what if their relatives supported the Red revolutionaries, or your grandparents did bad things to survive the violence and their surviving family members still blush at their behaviour? Would you receive a warm reception from them?” he asks.

Lara speaks, and Roman translates for her.

“Researchers can assist you to find your lost aunts and uncles, but sometimes they lie. They say you are related to a Tsar or a grand-duke or a famous prima ballerina just to get your money. You may find people who claim a connection to you but find out it was all lies.”

Charlene stares at the blaze and frowns.

The three new friends talk a couple more hours around the flickering flame. Then, Lara enters Ekaterina’s banya at the back of her yard.

“Leaving me and Roman sitting around the fire by ourselves, just the two of us. I wish she hadn’t!”

Charlene grows silent. She stares at the now smoking embers, then the garden swing, and then the banya Lara had entered. She pulls at the hem of her dress and casts her eyes at Roman, who is looking in her direction. Her cheeks burn and her fingers fidget. An awkward moment passes in silence.

Roman stands up and dusts off his pants. He eyes her, his forehead furrowed.

“I feel tired,” he says. “I’m going to read a novel inside.”

Roman turns and strides through the back door.

To her relief, Charlene is now alone. She places her cool hands on her face.

“That’s better. Hopefully, my hands will douse my flaming cheeks!”

A hollowness settles inside her stomach. She shifts her hands from her face to her abdomen, realising a chat with Roman alone actually might have been wonderful.

She rubs her hands in circles over her tummy and scrunches her mouth to the side.

“What will I do about Roman?! My feelings for him grow deeper and deeper.”

Pushing her worries about Roman aside, Charlene spies Ekaterina’s watercolour pencils and the drawing pad she had brought outside earlier in the day. Charlene reaches for them, then sits in the garden swing once more. She traces the outline of Ekaterina’s summer house. She colours its broken-tile roof ruby red and its timber walls yellow. She paints an orange glow in its darkened windows and colours the window frames brown. Then, with great concentration, she sketches an outline of the curved wooden pattern that ornaments the windowsills.

“The pattern looks like lace.”

At length, Charlene finishes the picture. She leans backwards and holds it out in front of her with both arms outstretched.

“Not bad.”

She casts her eyes at the sky and notes that although late, as Moscow roosts far north of the equator, the summer sun still sparkles.

“I might as well keep drawing.”

Charlene continues her sketch. She draws a black cat lying on the steps of the house she drew and a man rubbing its ears. As she colours, she groans and pulls back, realising the man she draws looks like Roman.

Charlene glances around at her surroundings, thankful she is still alone and nobody has seen.

Charlene colours over the face of the man she has sketched, hoping his features are now less noticeable.

Charlene reaches for a new page, deciding to draw a likeness of a photograph she had found in her grandmother’s home just after she died – one she had seen as a child.

“I always had a lot of questions about that picture. I wish I could have asked my grandmother who the women in it were.”

Chapter Thirteen

Boris looks at the clock on the wall of his apartment: 7 pm. He runs his hand over his abdomen, noticing he is feeling rounder.

Boris picks up his mobile and dials Grisha’s number.

“I know where Marius went,” he says once Grisha answers.

“Where did he go?” Grisha asks with a yawn.

“I will tell you when I pick you up from your apartment. I’ll arrive in about fifteen minutes,” he says.

“You should call Valentin,” Grisha says. “He will get the evening shift to follow up on your lead.”

“I have tried several times to call him, but he doesn’t pick up,” Boris says.

Grisha sighs.

“We’ve worked a long shift, Boris. We questioned many people and reviewed a lot of security film today. The hockey game is on TV tonight. I planned to watch it or maybe spend some time with my kid if my ex-wife will allow it.”

“Come on, Grisha,” Boris says. “We have only had the hotel footage of Marius abducting Kim to work with since she went missing. Plus, Svetlana needs us…urgently!”

“What makes you think that?” Grisha says tersely.

“Because Svetlana sent me a text message – with only the words ‘Khimki Forest’ in it”, he says. “Not long after that, I received a voice message from her too, with a recording of a conversation between her and some guy. It sounds like he’s one of us.”

“A police officer?” Grisha asks. “From our station?”

“Could be,” Boris says. “Here, let me play it for you.”

Boris hits play on Svetlana’s text message.

 “Have you completed Valentin’s order yet?” Svetlana says, her voice raised.

“To ask the metro system to keep an eye out for Marius?” her speaking partner laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous! I will do it towards the close of day. We need all the time we can get to move Marius out of the clutches of the law. Then, I can look for that foreign woman and her entourage. When I find them, I will dispose of them, in hessian sacks six feet underground.”

“Are you serious? You’re going to kill two do-nothing women and a valued member of our staff?” Svetlana asks.

“Of course!” the male speaker replies. “You’ve worked in law enforcement for long enough. You know when an expendable person learns too much about a crime, extermination becomes the only option.”

“You’re a monster!” Svetlana says.

“True, but please try to remember I’m your monster!” the masculine voice demands. “Consequences follow people who forget they are not in a position to manoeuvre!”

They hear a fleshy thud.

Sounds like someone punching a person, don’t you think?” Boris says.

“Well, it doesn’t sound like wind chimes,” Grisha comments.

“Touch me again and you’ll die!” Svetlana says. “We only ever kissed once, and it was a mistake. It won’t ever happen again. I can assure you.”

“Oh, now I understand the ‘your monster’ reference,” Grisha says.

“Pipe down and listen,” Boris shushes.

“I wonder if Valentin will see it that way,” the male speaker continues.

What sounds like a short struggle follows.

“You’re not going to get away with this, you know,” Svetlana whispers. “Deception always gets uncovered in the end. That’s why lying never works.”

The voice message cuts out with a click.

“You’re right,” Grisha concedes after a short pause. “If Valentin isn’t answering his phone, until we can contact him, we need to get onto this ourselves.”

“Glad you see it my way,” Boris says.

A little while later, Boris arrives at Grisha’s apartment. He leans across the passenger seat of his car and pulls on the door lock.

“Sorry, to interrupt your evening,” he says.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grisha says. “This time of year, only replays would have screened anyway, and my wife is nuts. She only lets me see my son on odd numbered days of the month. So, what’s your plan?”

“Seriously, only on odd numbered days of the month?” Boris says.

Grisha shuts his eyes and nods. Boris shakes his head.

“Okay, here’s my plan. We’ll follow up the text message first, the one about Khimki Forest,” Boris says. “We’ll drive there and see what’s what.”

Does Valentin know about this voice recording?” Grisha asks.

“I don’t think so. I want you to call him on your mobile phone, while I’m driving,” Boris says. “Just keep calling him over and over until he answers.”

“Imagine that,” Grisha says, shaking his head. “Who would have thought…Svetlana is dating a crooked cop?”

After several minutes of continuously ringing Valentin’s phone, Grisha says,

“He doesn’t answer. Who else at the station can I call who could warn him?”

“I’m not sure,” Boris says with a sigh. “For all we know, the whole station could be corrupt.”

“I wonder if I have made the right decision, investigating Svetlana’s hint before finding out Valentin’s whereabouts. Maybe I should prioritise Valentin’s safety first.”

Boris drives on in silence, broken only by an operatic soundtrack in his car stereo and the tapping of numbers as Grisha persists in calling Valentin.

“You know, Boris,” Grisha says. “I didn’t like that voice message Svetlana sent you either. I also fear for her safety.”

“You’re right,” Boris says after a pause. “We should check on Valentin and Svetlana first.”

With that, Boris spins the vehicle around in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn and speeds back in the opposite direction. As he advances, a niggle in the pit of his stomach impels him that he’s heard the nameless voice in Svetlana’s speech recording before.

Chapter Fourteen

Charlene draws late into the night: four identical women all wearing identical white outfits. She stops a moment, visualising the image she is copying from memory – the women’s dresses elegant but plain, hugging their bodies in a quite fitted manner.

Charlene paints white gloves and a white handbag on each of their folded arms and completes the pale ensemble with white hats. She slows her scrawling strokes, taking extra care as she draws a snatch of netting falling from each brim and pearl-coloured shoes with a low heel. She adds identical short hairstyles, as she remembers from the original.

A little while later, Charlene swirls the last few strokes of the watercolour picture. Then, she yawns and slides the two pictures she drew that night back inside Ekaterina’s drawing pad, not wanting anyone to see them unfinished.

Charlene stretches her arms sky-high until they stand straight above her head. She yawns again, wider this time.

“I’d better call it a night.”

Charlene stands and steps through the back door and up the stairs to her bedroom. Back in her room, Charlene slips into a nightie Ekaterina has left laid out. Charlene notes a full-length mirror in the corner of the room. She catches her reflection in the mirror as she pulls her bed covers down.

“I’m glad Roman can’t see me right now. This night gown looks very granny-like!”

A twinge of worry pinches inside of her.

“Caring what Roman thinks of my appearance…another sign I am developing feelings for him, feelings that I can’t act on. I know he plans on moving away from Russia someday, but would he pick Australia? Does he even have feelings for me too? Is that hoping for too much?

“Besides, although Lara says she is content with her single status, if Roman develops feelings for anyone, I think Lara is the more likely contender. She lives closer to him and has more in common with him culturally. She even likes antiques. Roman hopes to graduate as a history teacher: I imagine he must too.”

Charlene lays her head on her pillow. She says another prayer for Kim’s safety, closes her eyes and then falls asleep.

In the morning, Charlene awakes to the sound of clinking and clanking that seems to come from the kitchen.

An appetising aroma floats up the stairs, wafting into her room.

“Yum!” Charlene thinks, her eyes still closed. “It smells like eggs, bacon, and maybe pancakes?”

Charlene rolls over in bed and pulls her eyes shut tighter, aching to stay in bed longer.

Charlene takes another sniff of the aroma drifting from downstairs and surrenders.

“I can’t do this! It just smells so good! How can anyone sleep when a hot breakfast waits for them just downstairs?”

Charlene folds the bed covers away from her body. She sits up and swivels her feet from the bed onto the floor. Charlene stands and walks to where she left her day clothes the night before. She casts her eyes around the room. They are nowhere to be found.

She steps towards the window and peers out. She sees Ekaterina in the yard digging at a weed with a garden fork. She also spies two wooden posts with a thick strand of twine stretched between them.

“Now I see them,” she thinks, “hanging on that clothesline over there. It seems Ekaterina’s early morning chores have included washing my clothes. I guess I will have to wear her nightdress to the breakfast table this morning. I’m not happy about this. I had hoped to change out of her frumpish nightie before Roman sees me.”

Charlene steps away from the window and towards the mirror on the other side of the room.

“Oh dear!” Charlene thinks as she looks at her reflection. “I don’t look quite as chic as the women I sketched last night, but it will have to do: I am absolutely famished!”

Charlene steps down the stairs, her back straight and her chin up, as if balancing a book on her head.

“Maybe, if I hold myself like this and imagine I am wearing one of those beautiful regal ball gowns I saw at the Kremlin museum, I won’t feel so silly,” she thinks.

Charlene reaches the bottom of the stairs, where Roman and Lara sit at the table eating pancakes with bacon on the side.

She smiles and says, “Good morning. Did everyone sleep well?”

Silence follows her question, the corners of Roman’s mouth twitch briefly into a smile, and then just as quickly straighten again, a spark lighting his eyes. Her cheeks burn, and she looks away.

“I still feel like I’m wearing a flowery granny nightie belonging to the grandmother of a newly-formed male acquaintance: and doesn’t Roman look amused!”

Charlene turns her head and looks at Lara, who stands beside her chair, pointing at her own grandmotherly-looking nightie.

“I slept peacefully,” Roman translates for her, “only to awake to a rude shock  in the morning!”

After breakfast, Charlene stands and steps toward the stairs.

“Won’t you join us outside?” Roman asks.

“I’m going to sit in my room upstairs,” she says. “I took another look at your grandmother’s bookcase last night and noticed a paperback written in English. I’m going to read it in my room, until my clothes dry.”

The corners of Roman’s mouth crinkle again and once more his eyes twinkle.

“Ah, the first English book I read without the help of a Russian-English dictionary,” he says. “I kept it as a memorial of my achievement.”

Chapter Fifteen

Boris drives towards the police station. When his mobile buzzes again, he tosses it to Grisha.

“Who wants me now?” Boris asks, as Grisha glances at the phone.

“It’s agent Apollon,” Grisha says.

“Hello, Boris?” he hears through the phone.

“It’s Grisha. Boris is driving,” Grisha says. “You’re on speaker. What do you want to say?”

“We just sighted the suspect,” Apollon’s voice continues.

“Great! Where?” Boris and Grisha say in unison.

Boris glances over at Grisha and crosses his eyebrows.

“Where did you spot the offender?” Boris repeats.

“He hid in Gorky Park,” Apollon says. “It seems he avoided us by watching a movie in the old spaceship they converted into a movie cinema. He has left there now, and an officer sighted him slipping into the passenger seat of a maroon car. We didn’t get the number plate, though.”

Boris crosses his eyebrows again and rubs his temples with his fingers.

“Never mind,” Boris says. “It’s a start. We are on our way over to the police station because Valentin won’t answer his mobile.”

“I called Valentin not that long ago,” the agent says. “I’ve never heard him so angry. He had called the police station several times, requesting they notify the businesses and metro stations in the area we last saw Marius to review their security camera footage, but the task remains undone. So, he called Svetlana and asked her to get on top of it, but he can’t get back in contact with her.”

Boris lowers his voice.

“We’ve heard from Svetlana,” he says. “We think she might be in trouble.”

“I will let you get back to business then,” Apollon says. “I don’t want to be the reason one of our best police officers gets taken out.”

A click and a hurried series of beeping sounds comes from his phone, and Grisha places it back in its crook.

Boris drives a little while longer in silence. Then, Grisha points toward a vehicle driving in the opposite direction.

“Look! There’s Valentin’s car.”

Boris looks in the direction Grisha is pointing.

“Yes, it is,” Boris says. “So, why doesn’t he answer his mobile? It’s either because he’s driving or maybe he has stumbled across more corrupt law enforcers and hasn’t the time to tell us. We’d better make sure.”

“I gather I should not try to call Valentin’s phone anymore,” Grisha says.

Boris nods.

“Not until we have figured out who’s behind the wheel of his car.”

Boris notes they are almost at police headquarters. As the vehicle draws closer to the station, Boris slows it to a snail’s pace. “Now, see if you can see through the sliding doors.”

Grisha leans forwards and pokes his head out of the car window.

“A scuffle seems to have occurred – two officers are in the foyer, setting right an overturned plant and stand,” Grisha reports.

“Can you see Svetlana?” Boris asks.

“No, but we had better get out of here fast!” Grisha comments. “One of the officers noticed our car, and I think he may have recognised my face.”

Boris lowers his foot onto the accelerator pedal, the engine revving loudly. The squinting police officer turns and faces the station’s interior, calling out and pointing toward the station’s parking lot.

“Looks like they’re going to follow us in a police car. Let’s go!” Boris says.

Boris drives around the block. Then, a vehicle skids around a corner just up ahead.

“It’s Valentin’s car again,” Grisha says, pointing at it.

“Great work!” Boris says. “We’ll follow it as soon as this light turns green.”

Once the traffic lights change, Boris turns the vehicle toward where he last saw Valentin’s car. Catching up, he then follows at a safe distance.

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, he sees a police vehicle behind him.

Eventually, Valentin’s car heads towards the semi-rural streets just outside of Moscow city.

“As the traffic has thinned now, I assume, if we keep travelling at this pace, the vehicle up ahead will realise we’re following it,” Grisha says.

“We have no choice,” Boris says. “That car may contain a police officer in great trouble, and who knows where Svetlana is right now. Also, the other police car is still behind us. We can’t turn back now!”

Chapter Sixteen

After reading a couple chapters of the English book. Charlene steps outside and walks to the clothesline. She feels her clothes, now dry, then unpegs them from the line, makes her way back to her room, and changes.

Charlene spends the morning on the garden swing with Lara. Roman cuts the grass into messy heaps using a long-handled sickle while Ekaterina sings and potters around her vegetable garden, once again pulling weeds from amongst her neat rows of onions, carrots and beets.

Around noon, Ekaterina sets the outdoor table under the pergola for lunch. Roman prays a prayer of thanks for their food. Charlene chews silently. No one seems to have much conversation today. Ekaterina smiles, though, and her eyes dart back and forth between Roman, Charlene and Lara.

“If I could read her mind, I would wager she’s matchmaking again.”

Desiring another helping of mashed potatoes, Charlene reaches for the serving spoon. Too late, she notices Roman doing the same. Her cheeks burn as their hands collide. Roman draws his hand back sharply and clears his throat.

“So sorry; after you,” he says.

Charlene avoids his gaze throughout lunch.

“I have to get out of here! I don’t want him to notice that I like him.”

After lunch, Charlene approaches Roman.

“Roman, I have to get away. I can’t stop thinking about Kim,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear then looking down, dodging his eyes again.

Roman pauses.

“I understand you are going through a tough time at the moment,” he says.

“I keep imagining Kim’s head enveloped by a hessian sack, plunging her into darkness; Kim chained to a wooden post, crawling with termites and spiders; or Kim strapped to the tracks of a railway line in the dead of night, left all alone in the middle of nowhere, with only the light of the moon to console her.”

Charlene pauses. Roman stares at her and rubs the back of his head.

“Wow!” he says. “You imagined all that?”

“Sorry,” Charlene says, her cheeks burning again. “I must sound crazy.”

“You don’t sound crazy,” Roman says, tilting his head to the side and winking at her. “So, what do you expect to do today? Where do you plan on going?”

“I thought maybe Lara and I could walk through those grassy fields over there behind the back fence,” she says, rubbing her nose.

“I don’t know, Charlene,” Roman says. “Remember what happened in Moscow when I offered to take you through the Bolshoi? We don’t know who’s watching us. What if you run into trouble again? I wouldn’t want to tell Valentin I put you in harm’s way once again.”

“I agree that in the city we should have taken more care, but in such a sparsely populated area, there aren’t many places for a devious person to hide,” Charlene says. “It’s not like a mysterious, dark van can park out the front of your grandmother’s house and spy on us, is it?”

Charlene squeezes her bunched-up fingers inside the palm of her hand and waits for his reply.

Roman speaks to Lara in Russian.

“Lara says spending all your time inside a house isn’t much of a holiday for a foreign visitor,” he translates.

Roman turns towards Ekaterina as she speaks to him in Russian.

“My grandmother says I should let you girls have some fun!” he says.

Charlene smiles at Ekaterina.

“Thank you, Roman,” Charlene says.

Charlene disappears through a gate in Ekaterina’s back fence, Lara following soon after.

“Be careful, Charlene,” Roman says.

Charlene turns and waves as she marches forwards across the grassy meadow.

“Thank you, Ekaterina! You seem to have been the deciding factor. Maybe now I can slow my feelings for Roman.”

 

Chapter Seventeen

Away from Ekaterina’s house, Lara turns toward Charlene and smiles. Lara lays both her hands over her heart and says, “Charlene? Roman?”

Charlene’s cheeks burn. She looks at the ground.

“Are my feelings for Roman that obvious?”

Lara nudges her in the side with her elbow. Charlene meets Lara’s gaze, who lays both her hands on her heart again and flutters her eyelids wildly.

“Roman. Charlene.”

Charlene’s cheeks burn again, but this time she smiles, raising her eyebrows.

Lara smiles again, nods her head, takes Charlene’s arm in hers and gives her hand a squeeze. A wave of warmth floods her body.

“Even though it couldn’t last, how amazing if Lara’s right!”

Lost in thought, Charlene cuts the waist-high grass out of her way with her hands. She looks at the sky: a brilliant shade of blue, only spotted by one large and fluffy cloud. So beautiful.

Casting her eyes towards the horizon, her smile fades.

On the other side of the field, Charlene sees two men dressed in khaki, long rods in their hands, which they point towards the ground. Getting closer, Charlene recognises the clothes as Army uniforms. Charlene’s stomach churns and the palms of her hands grow damp. Lara looks in the direction of the khaki-clad men, but she does not seem worried. She charges forwards. Charlene shrugs her shoulders and continues after Lara.

“They are holding metal detectors. What could they be looking for? I must ask Roman when we return.”

Lara once again takes Charlene’s hand in hers, pressing it once more.

“It’s nice of Lara to comfort me. Roman must have told her about the accidental run in I had with a soldier at the Kremlin while I was sightseeing the first day I arrived in Moscow. I’m glad this time they have metal detectors instead of bayonets.”

Charlene stares at the two soldiers as she and Lara walk past, her heart throbbing. They return her gaze, their eyes appearing to stare right through her. Charlene shivers, unnerved by their gaze and the constant motion of the metal detectors they carry.

Charlene continues walking, Lara still holding her hand. The soldiers do not follow them or obstruct them in any way. She and Lara appear to be the last thing on their minds. Charlene’s heart rate returns to normal.

Further along the foot-beaten path, winding through the field, the tall grass contracts, shrinking to ankle height. Beyond this field flows a creek with draping trees growing on either side of it, followed by a forested area.

A make-shift bridge, constructed of a fallen tree, some planks of off-cast wood and an old, broken door, lies across the creek, joining the grassy fields to the wooded area.

Charlene turns toward Lara, who strides onwards.

“I wish I could tell her I’ve enjoyed our morning ramble through the fields, but we should start heading back. Roman and Ekaterina will worry if we don’t. Lara obviously doesn’t seem to have the same concern, though.”

Charlene chews on her lower lip. She twists her hair through her fingers.

“Lara is making the most of escaping the confines of Ekaterina’s house today. I guess we can walk a little further. Then, I will take her by the hand and tug her back the other way.”

Charlene follows Lara across the crumbly bridge. When Lara stops suddenly, they glance at each other, Lara’s eyes widening and her mouth becoming round.

Lara points. Charlene looks in that direction and spies two men walking together, not too far away. One of the guys, to her horror, is Marius. Her heart thumps inside her like a Boku drum, agitating the acid of her stomach until a shot of fiery reflux splashes against her tonsils.

Lara grabs Charlene by the hand and pulls her behind a tall tree, hedged by thick bushes. Charlene’s heart hammers harder and faster as the veins of her temples begin to pulsate.

“What will we do now? Even if we make it back to the bridge, Marius and his friend will certainly see us walking through the field. The grass is so short in this field, it will not hide us.”

Chapter Eighteen

Marius wears the same clothes he wore when he tried to snatch her outside the Bolshoi Theatre. His hair coils in a tangled mess, and a rash of stubble shades his jaw and chin.

“He looks like he spent the night in the woods,” Charlene thinks, noting the sinews of her neck have turned rock hard.

The man accompanying Marius hands him a gun and canister. Unable to leave, Charlene crouches low, the tissues in her calves burning, as she spends several excruciating hours watching the men shoot targets.

Marius seems inexperienced with firing his weapon, and his friend laughs hysterically every time Marius fires his gun.

“Marius bears his companion’s mirth remarkably well for someone of his character.”

At the end of the day, Marius turns and faces the laughing man, aiming the gun at his friend’s head. Marius’s eyes flare and his mouth sets hard.

“I wouldn’t dismiss that expression too flippantly,” she silently warns the accomplice as she rubs the tautened tendons of her ankles. “Obviously, Marius has simmered inside all day, and now it looks he will finally boil over.”

She scrunches her eyes closed and focuses on tensing and untensing the muscles of her body, starting from her neck and ending at her toes. Hearing no gunshot, though, she opens them again.

The laughing friend stands bolt upright without even a faint smile. The accomplice hastily picks up the gunning equipment and gestures toward the pathway leading away from the secluded area. Marius pushes in front of the accomplice as he inspects a gun accessory.

“That’s right,” she says to the accomplice silently. “I also think it’s best if Marius leads the way back. I don’t trust him to not pull his gun on you again with your back turned.”

The two walk in silence, the sound of snapping twigs the only noise. Marius springs his gun out of a holster around his waist. He releases the trigger, a loud BAM ringing through the air. After the echo of the gun blast subsides, Marius and his friend step toward the side of the track.

Marius’ accomplice pats Marius on the shoulder.

Then, Charlene hears a bird in the branches above. Marius cocks his head to the side, appearing to have heard it as well.

Marius raises his gun again, holds his arm out straight, and pauses. Another loud BAM rings out through the quietness of the thicket, followed by a bird’s screech and a fast flapping of wings. The bird comes into view, rises high into the sky, then flies towards the fields of tall grass.

She hears more gunshots, but none of them hit the fleeing creature.

“Marius seems to have tired of stationary targets. Now, he looks for moving bull’s-eyes instead.”

Marius’ friend calls out another string of foreign words, but Marius does not respond, instead walking back down the dirt path toward her and Lara. Has he seen them, or is he looking for another moving target?

Hiding in the brush surrounding the tree in front of them, Charlene looks over at Lara, whose eyes have grown even wider, her hands placed over her ears. Her lungs rapidly expanding in and out, Charlene is certain she looks as nervous as Lara does.

Marius pauses only a few metres away from her and Lara. Lara squeezes her hand again and points, her fingers shaking, at a tree branch not far from them. Charlene cups her face inside her hand and her inhalations accelerate at the sight of a white owl perched on the bough of the tree Marius stands under.

BAM!

Charlene tries to hold her breath, but instead she shrieks and falls forwards. She strains her ears for Marius’ reaction, but she only hears silence. She sighs and runs her fingers through her hair, praying he didn’t hear, but moments later a man gasps.

“Charlene!”

Charlene rolls over onto her back. Marius’ head pops through the tangle of leaves that hid her from his view, his eyes the size of saucers.

“Charlene!” he says again, “and your new friend who rudely interrupted our rendezvous outside the Bolshoi Theatre the other day! How did you get here, and where’s that gentleman friend of yours?”

An uncharacteristic rush of boldness comes over her.

“I have some questions I’d like to ask you too!” Charlene shoots back. “For instance, where’s Kim?

“Come with me!” Marius snarls, as he pulls her up by the neck of her dress. She freezes as something hard presses into the crook of her back. She prays it isn’t his gun.

“I’ve made some new friends too!” Marius says. “I would love for you to meet them!”

Marius marches Charlene through the wood. Charlene looks back and watches Marius’ friend pull Lara up off the ground too, though by the hand rather than the neck. Charlene stares into Lara’s tear-filled eyes, wishing she could apologise for blowing their cover and regretting not encouraging Lara to turn back sooner.

“Yes, I think you will like my new friends very much!” she hears Marius say as they trudge through the undergrowth of the wooded field. “I think they will know how to get you talking. I’d love to know how you ended up in our woodlands and how far away your male friend hides.”

Charlene remains quiet. What else could she do? If Roman came, he would likely be captured as well, and there seemed to be no way to escape.

 Chapter Nineteen

Ekaterina clears the leftover remains of lunch away and returns to pottering around in her vegetable garden. Then, she rakes up the piles of grass Roman cut earlier and throws them into her compost heap. She pauses, watching Roman chop wood.

“What’s the wood for?” she asks. “You aren’t lighting another blaze, are you?”

“No,” he says, “although I enjoyed the fire last evening, chatting with Lara and Charlene, I learnt a lot about them.”

Ekaterina stops her shovelling, stands up straight and sighs.

“My boy, I love you more than anyone, but you have no idea about women!” she says.

Roman stands straight and leans on his axe. “What do you mean?

“Charlene is infatuated with you, and what do you do about it? Nothing!” she says.

“Charlene has feelings for me? What makes you think that?” Roman asks.

“How did you not see it at lunch today? You must have your eyes painted on if you didn’t notice it too! Charlene, the whole time we ate, avoided your gaze at all costs!”

Ekaterina laughs as Roman, his face reddening, returns to chopping wood.

“I’ll tell you what else I noticed,” she continues. “You both reached for the serving spoon at the same time and on feeling your hands touch, Charlene drew her hand back, her face flushing pink, and you found it necessary to clear your throat!”

Ekaterina smirks as Roman clears his throat again.

“I watched Lara too during our outdoor luncheon,” she says. “I’m confident she has no designs for your attention. In fact, Lara appears more interested in deepening her friendship with my cat than with you. You didn’t notice, but Lara and I shared an amused smile with each other at lunch time today. So, if Lara has also noticed, it would not surprise me.”

“You think a flighty gaze and some edgy behaviour is proof Charlene likes me?” Roman asks. “Don’t forget a criminal nabbed her friend. She is bound to be jumpy.”

“It’s not apprehension, Roman! It’s love!” she says.

“Both Lara and Charlene have a placid nature,” Roman says. “So, if you think Charlene appears skittish, put it down to that and nothing else.”

“That may explain Charlene’s behaviour, but it doesn’t explain yours!” Ekaterina says, grinning.

“She lives on the other side of the world,” Roman huffs, in between slashes of his axe. “It wouldn’t be right to start a romance that would have to end so quickly. So, if you see me avoiding Charlene, put it down to that.”

“Aha!” Ekaterina laughs again. “So, you don’t deny having feelings for Charlene: - you just feel you can’t act on them because of distance!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Roman says as he hacks at a particularly stubborn chunk of wood. “Your brain synapses are misfiring again!”

“Go, on!” she says. “You love to tease me about my age…”

“You know I don’t mean it,” he says quickly, pausing mid swing and studying her face.

“…I know, I know,” she says, “but something about your manner when I spoke about my suspicions gives me the impression you wouldn’t mind if they turned out to be true. Take a closer look tonight, Roman. If you don’t see what I see, I will assume you have the ninety-three-year-old brain, and not me!”

Ekaterina smirks as Roman rolls his eyes, finishes chopping wood and continues with another household chore.

After completing his tasks, Ekaterina notes Roman has showered and his hair is slicked back. She smiles to herself as she shifts, making room for him at the table under the pergola.

“Not his normal hairstyle. What is the meaning of that?!”

“My dinner is cold now,” she says, glancing at the food she has placed on the table for Roman and the girls. “It’s as if the girls have decided not to come home tonight.”

“They have explored longer than I thought they would. Where could they have gone?” Roman agrees, his forehead creased and his eyes continually glancing back toward the gate the girls went through that morning.

“Give them another hour,” Ekaterina says, laying her hand on his arm.

“I wish I could call them, but reception isn’t good here. What will Valentin think if I have lost them again? I wish I had stuck to my guns and told them they must continue to lay low at the house,” Roman mutters under his breath, spinning his mobile around and around in his hand.

Ekaterina remains quiet. She plays with a knot just under her neck, which stops a kerchief from slipping off her silvery white hair. Then, she scuffs her shoes in the dirt around the table and flits her eyes toward the back gate too.

“I wish those girls would hurry up!”

Finally, Ekaterina pushes the sleeves of her woollen jumper up her arms and turns to Roman.

“I want to show you something,” she says.

Ekaterina picks up the drawing pad Roman lent Charlene and slides out the watercolour picture of her house, passing it to Roman.

“Charlene is an impressive artist,” she says.

“She certainly is,” Roman says as he holds the picture in his hands.

“And now,” Ekaterina says, nudging his arm towards the sky, “how’s that for old eyes?”

Roman holds the picture toward the sun, his brow wrinkling. “I don’t understand. What do you see that I can’t?”

“Oh, Roman,” she says, slapping her hand on his leg. “Although a heavy layer of scribble covers the man’s face, don’t you recognise who it is?”

“His clothes look like mine,” he says.

“Yes, yes,” she says, raising her hands in the air.

Roman drops his arm to his side again and places the picture in her lap.

“And you think this means something?”

“Don’t you?” Ekaterina replies, leaning closer to him.

Roman remains silent. She sighs.

“Oh, Roman. I can see you want to keep your verdict of my detective work to yourself, but I’m praying you start to believe what I already know!”

Chapter Twenty

Charlene sits with her back leaning up against a birch tree. A tent is pitched nearby, and she sees men sitting outside it, playing cards and rolling dice around a raging fire, drinking from long-necked bottles of brown glass. She chafes at the ropes tied around her hands and feet, but they won’t come undone.

Charlene smells meat cooking. Her stomach quakes with hunger. She slides her eyes to the side and notices Marius and his friend eating their fill. Marius speaks, but she doesn’t understand.

“I wonder how he learnt to speak Russian. I thought he was a Norwegian tourist staying at my hotel.”

Marius stops speaking, narrows his eyes, and reaches for a handful of berries. He munches on them awhile, then laughs and begins speaking to her in English.

“Charlene,” he brags. “I duped that girl, Kim, so easily! My plan fell exactly into place. Smooth as butter! I’ve done it before and can’t wait to do it again! The look on their faces when they realise their freedom has flown? Priceless!”

Charlene doesn’t reply, instead, she clenches her fists and flattens her mouth, wishing she could get out of her binds and take down Marius.

“I especially enjoyed one abduction,” he says. “I stood outside the Kremlin, watching the tourists coming and going, all of them blind to my intentions. I think I may have helped one of them find a street on a map. Then, I noticed a girl, who looked about fifteen, standing by herself. Her clothes were a little dirty, her hair hadn’t seen a brush in a while and although a few metres away, I could smell her. Obviously, she hadn’t showered in a while.

“Anyway, I gave her a smile and told her I thought she looked pretty that day. It seemed to surprise her that I hadn’t noticed her messy appearance. Her cheeks flushed and as she turned to leave, I asked if she had time for coffee. A struggle appeared to go on inside her, as if a small voice reminded her of her mother’s advice not to take things from strangers, but the rumblings of her tummy seemed to get the better of her.

“She followed me to a cafe, where we ate and drank and told each other amusing stories. Then, while she freshened up in the restroom, I dialled one of my crew and not long after, she followed me out onto the street, believing I would pay for her to spend the night in a hotel. Next came the best part! The gobsmacked expression through the window when she realised I wasn’t coming too.”

Charlene’s temperature rises.

“Evil man!” she thinks, wishing she had the courage to say it aloud.

Charlene squints at the blaze shimmering before her, puffs of smoke wisping up into the sky, thinking how different this fire was compared to last nights’ with Roman and Ekaterina. She wonders if she will ever see them again.

After some time, Marius and the other men have gone silent. Charlene hopes they are all asleep, but seeing Marius crouched by the blaze destroys that wish.

Marius looks in her direction.

“I’m not about to let you get away again, Charlene!” he says, his words garbled. “So, don’t get any ideas about running away during the night. You’ll never get far anyhow. Where would you hide around here? Besides, you don’t have one of these.”

Marius grips the barrel of his firearm and swirls it in the air, his arm swaying.

Charlene’s heart bubbles with hope.

“I think Marius is actually quite sleepy and drunk. Maybe I’ll have a chance to escape after all.”

She sits a little longer until Marius’ eyes finally close. She feels Lara tugging on the ropes encircling their arms, and she pulls on them as well, struggling and straining to no avail, slumping against the tree behind her again.

“We’ll never free ourselves. I guess this is the end for both of us.”

Charlene sighs and closes her eyes, tilting her head toward the sky.

“Dear God, please make a way out for us,” she prays.

A little while later, Lara prods Charlene’s forearm with her fingers. Charlene looks about, wondering what Lara is trying to do.

Charlene turns her head and stares at a jumble of brambling bushes, where, to her surprise, what looks like a man’s head pops up and then back down again – twice.

Her chest tightens and the blood in her arteries congeals.

“It looks like one of the soldiers we walked past today.”

Charlene leans forwards. She strains against the ropes, wondering whose side he is on.

Chapter Twenty-One

Roman rubs his chin between his thumb and finger, then stands up straight. He scans the fields at the back of his grandmother’s house.

“Still no sign of Charlene and Lara,” he mumbles. “Why would they arrive late for tea? I don’t believe it’s deliberate; they are too thoughtful. What delays them?”

He casts his eyes at his grandmother and then at the firepit, wondering how right she was about Charlene’s feelings for him. And even if she were correct, what could come of it, with them living on opposite sides of the world – and, more pressing now, with her missing? Where was she?

“After hearing my grandmother’s thoughts about Charlene, I hoped to take her advice and watch Charlene a little closer tonight as we eat around the fire,” he thinks, “but now, I will spend this evening less pleasantly.”

“I wonder if they have come to some harm,” Roman says out loud.

“I guess one of them may have tripped,” Ekaterina volunteers “but it’s more likely they have walked in circles or just lost track of time.”

Roman hears a twanging sound and then a grinding noise. He steps towards his grandmother’s back fence, peers over the palings and turns his head to the side, where Evgeni, his grandmother’s neighbour, is drilling a hole.

“Hello, Evgeni,” Roman says. “Do you need a hand?”

“No thanks, Roman,” Evgeni says. “I can handle this. I’m just repairing the lock on my back fence. Bandits robbed me this morning.”

“That’s terrible,” Roman says. “We stayed home all morning but didn’t hear or see a thing.”

“No, no, not at home,” Evgeni assures him. “They robbed me out on the road, as I drove home. I had bought groceries, when out of the woods, men stood across the lane in a line. I could see they held firearms, but I stopped anyway.”

Roman raises his eyebrows.

“You stopped?” he says.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t feel comfortable just barrelling through, hoping they’d jump out of the way,” Evgeni offered. “I wound down the window. One of them put a gun to my head and ordered that I unlock my car doors and boot. I did as they asked. Then, they took my food and my watch and disappeared into the wooded area they had come from.”

“That’s awful. Have you called the police?” Roman asks.

“There’s no phone reception out here, remember?” Evgeni says.

“Ah, yes, silly me,” Roman says.

Roman pauses, looking across the grassland again. He remembers, in the distance, past the fields, is a wood.

Roman points his arm in that direction. “You mean the wooded field back there?”

“Yes,” Evgeni says, “I would not travel that byway for anything: at least not until the authorities have gone through.”

The heat in Roman’s face cools and his stomach turns hollow as he considers the man’s words.

“Roman,” Evgeni says. “Is everything okay? You’ve gone pale.”

“Yes, I can imagine I have,” Roman says. “My grandmother and I have had visitors. They went for a walk across this field this morning, and they haven’t returned.”

Evgeni’s eyes flit from his gaze. He picks his drill up again, his fingers fumbling while trying to hold a screw in place against a fence paling.

“I guess I should go look for them,” Roman says.

Evgeni avoids his eyes, pauses, and gulps.

“Sorry, Roman, I can’t help you with that. I have a wife and children to think about. As soon as I repair this lock, though, I will drive into town and alert the cops.”

“Please don’t do that,” Roman pleads. “You may remember I work at a police station in Moscow. We believe some of the officers are corrupt. Please don’t alert any one in uniform just yet. Instead, as soon as you get within phone reception, call this number.”

He displays some digits on the screen of his mobile. He watches as Evgeni types them into his own phone.

“Who does this number belong to?” Evgeni asks.

“It’s the number of a police-colleague friend of mine named Valentin,” Roman says. “He will be the one best able to help you right now.”

“Roman,” Evgeni asks, “did anyone tell you? The Army is in town. Maybe I should tell them.”

Roman pauses. He looks at the ground, wondering if he can trust the Army.

“I don’t mind,” he finally says.

“It sounded like they practiced drills down there the other day,” Evgeni says, pointing. “They may still be here. Maybe you could tell them yourself.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Roman strides through the fields of waist-high grass at the back of his grandmother’s house, remembering playing in these fields and woods as a boy. Despite what his grandmother said, he doubts the ladies had either fallen or become lost, due to the flatness of the land and clear view for what seemed like miles.

Roman continues onwards, slashing the long grass out of his way with his hand, lost in these and other thoughts. Soon, the grass dwindles off, becoming shorter, barely scraping his ankles. To his left, Roman spots two Army men holding metal detectors and approaches them.

“Hi,” Roman says. “Have you, by any chance, seen two young women walk this way? They should have returned home a while ago. I am concerned they fell into trouble.”

The soldiers continue to swivel their metal detectors from side to side.

“We did see two females,” one says. “Beautiful girls too, not that they seemed willing to give us the time of day!”

Roman, ignoring the soldier’s banter, asks, “How long ago did they come by?”

“I’d say quite a while ago now. They walked in that direction,” the other soldier says, pointing toward the field Evgeni had been robbed in.

“Oh, no,” Roman says, rubbing his temples, feeling as though his intestines twist inside of him.

“That’s bad?” the first soldier asks.

Roman hesitates, questioning if he can trust these men. Searching the soldiers’ faces, he pauses once more, takes a deep breath, and decides to share.

“Yes, it is,” Roman says. “Bandits have taken up residence in that wood.”

“We heard gunshots come from there earlier today,” the soldier says, “We assumed another battalion must have arrived unexpectedly and fired blanks as part of a drill.”

“Gunshots?!” Roman says, his shoulders slumping as his insides twirl again.

“Now, now,” the soldier says. “Try to keep calm. You’re no use to them if you’re in a bind. How about you call the cops?”

Roman sighs. “Mobile reception is terrible out here, as you have probably experienced. So, I can’t telephone the police for help, not that they would do much to help anyway.”

The soldiers raise their eyebrows.

“The police wouldn’t help?” one of the soldiers asks.

“No: not now anyway. You see, I work at a police station in Moscow. A colleague and I discovered some officers there are corrupt. So, even if phone reception was good, calling the police is out of the question.”

“Who needs the cops when you have the Army?” one of the soldiers says, flexing his arm. “We have firearms at a house down there. We’ll go get them. Then, we can enter the woods together and see if we can find the girls.”

“Thank you,” Roman says. “I really appreciate this.”

As the soldiers pack up their metal detectors, Roman closes his eyes and prays,

“Dear Jesus, please keep us safe throughout the ordeal I believe is about to erupt.”

***

Ekaterina watches Roman stride through the long grass at the back of her fence.

“Be careful, Roman,” she calls, then shuffles to the garden swing. She sits, bows her head and clasps her hands together.

“Dear God,” she prays, “please keep the girls safe. I pray one has merely fallen, but if a worser tragedy has befallen them, please return them all safely to me. Give Roman wisdom. Stop him from trying to be a hero. He is my only living relative. If he dies, where will that leave me?”

Ekaterina opens her eyes and looks at the sky. She clasps her hands together again and notes that while she prayed, her legs pitched the garden swing back and forth at a quick pace.

Ekaterina, seeking something to do to distract her from waiting, looks at the firepit and notes her watercolour pencils and drawing pad still by the swing. She picks it up and studies again the picture Charlene drew of her house. She pushes it to the side and notices Charlene has drawn a second picture, but rather than making her smile, this picture causes Ekaterina to gasp and draw backwards.

“Is that who I think it is? Why, I’d recognise these white dresses and short bobs anywhere.”

Ekaterina stares at the picture again.

“Yes. I’m certain it’s her.”

She reminisces a while, says another prayer, then stands and lays a lace tablecloth over the now cold dinner. She shuffles through the tangles of sickle-cut grass Roman slashed earlier that day, until she reaches the back door of her house. She scuffs up the stairs to her bedroom and looks around.

“I wonder if I still have it.”

She unlocks a wooden chest. She bends, looking inside. She sifts through its contents to no avail. Next, she opens her wardrobe and stands on tiptoe, reaching for a shoebox on the top shelf. She pops the lid and combs its contents.

“No, it’s not here either.”

She stops and casts her eyes around the room.

“Well, it’s around here somewhere, I’m sure,” she thinks, “as I don’t like throwing things out.”

She tugs a draw er of her dresser, causing a jumble of letters, envelopes yellowed with age, to tumble onto the floor. She flicks through them, scanning the scrawled sender’s addresses, until, with a hoot of delight, she finds exactly what she is looking for.

Ekaterina unfolds the flap of the envelope and slides the letter out. She reads it and smiles. She strokes the precious note with the palm of her hand and clasps it to her chest.

“I will show this letter to Charlene and Roman when they return.” She wrings her hands and sends up another prayer - “Lord willing.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Boris smiles as he spins the steering wheel around, glancing back at the police car that had followed them since they left Moscow.

“Although I’m worried about Valentin,” he thinks, “I’m enjoying swerving through these country lanes. It’s what I live for: danger and excitement!”

Rounding a corner, however, Valentin’s car is nowhere in sight. Boris frowns and glares.

“Curses!” he thinks. “Where has that car gone?”

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spies a flash of orange race toward his vehicle.

“What was that?!” he thinks, glancing out his side window.

Boris looks through the front window of his car and sees Kim standing in the middle of the dirt road, both her hands outstretched.

Boris slams on his breaks, his vehicle shuddering to a halt only centimetres away from Kim’s knees. She yanks open the back door of his car and jumps in. She slams the door shut behind her and jambs the door lock down.

“Go! Go! Go!” she yells.

Boris doesn’t wait for an explanation, squeezing hard on the accelerator pedal, the car lunging forwards violently. Then, he zips wildly down the laneway he last saw Valentin’s car dive down.

Boris glances at his rear-view mirror. Kim stares back at him, her eyes wide.

“Boris…what are you doing here?” she exclaims.

Boris smirks.

“I’m an undercover police officer. I stayed at your hotel to keep an eye on Marius. We had a feeling he dabbled in illicit activities, and your disappearance proved us right. As soon as we knew you’d gone, we set out searching for you.”

“You…a cop? I would never have guessed.”

“Why is that so surprising?” he says.

Kim pauses, tilting her head to the side and closing one eye.

“You were so buffoonish,” she volunteers at last.

Boris tilts his head back and laughs.

“It’s just an act,” he says. “While I’m involved in a sting, I act loud and obnoxious. It gives my suspects the idea they don’t need to take me seriously, providing me with extra cover.”

“Clever,” Kim says, “but also really annoying!”

Boris laughs again. He then becomes serious.

“How long did they hold you prisoner inside that house?”

“I don’t know,” she says.

“Do you know why they captured you?” he asks.

“They believed my family would offer a reward for my return. Although they abducted me, they planned to pretend they found me so they could collect the reward money.”

“Grisha,” he says in Russian. “Note the houses and street names around here. If we can, we’ll come back later tonight and find the house. Maybe there will be clues on where Svetlana is.”

Grisha nods and takes out a notepad from his pocket, scribbling on it.

Boris notices another burst of colour, this time in his rear-view mirror.

“Kim?” he says. “Try not to freak out, but there’s a police car bouncing around behind us. It has sat on our tail since we left inner-city Moscow. We believe it contains corrupt officers trying to stop us from catching up to that vehicle in front of us. We think they want to stop us from catching Marius too.”

Kim turns in her seat, looks out the back window, and faces forwards again. She places her hand on her forehead, leaning her head against the headrest.

“Oh, great! So, I’m not quite out of the fire yet,” she says with a sigh.

Boris shakes his head.

“Sorry,” he says.

Boris glances in the rear-view mirror. “Looks like there’s a white van behind us too – actually, behind the police car that’s been following us. They seem to be chasing us too.

Kim groans. “Maybe it’s Marius’ cohort, the ones who locked me up in that house,” she says. “I couldn’t make a clean getaway. That’s why I had to jump in front of your vehicle, just hoping you were a passing traveller who would take pity on me and drive me to the nearest police station.”

Boris careens around another sharp turn.

“Okay, enough with the chit chat,” Boris cuts in. “We can’t go on like this for much longer. Eventually, we will run out of fuel. Then, a gunfight will erupt and I would much rather have that gun brawl now. Let’s take them by surprise!”

Boris translates his decision for Grisha.

“Okay, what do you suggest?” Grisha asks.

“Kim, you will need to lay in the foot-well of the car,” Boris says. “Keep out of sight as much as you can. Grisha will kneel in his car seat, his knees resting against the back of the chair. Then, using the headrest as a shield, Grisha will fire his gun out the back of the rear window.”

“Some shield,” Grisha says after Boris translates the instructions. “I don’t like my chances of success.”

“I can see no other way,” Boris says. “Aim for the tyres of the police car. Blow them up! It’s our only chance of losing them and the only way we can catch up to Valentin’s vehicle: unless anyone else can think of anything?”

Grisha shakes his head. “No ideas here.”

Boris signals for Kim to get down low. She slides to the bottom of his car, cradling her head in her arms.

Grisha twists his body around in his seat, pauses, cranes his head around the headrest and raises his arm straight. Gunshots and the shatter of glass ring out. The back window of his vehicle exists no more. Grisha ducks his head back behind the headrest and crouches low in his chair. The shots appear to have had their desired effect. The police car behind them swings from side to side and then stops abruptly, causing the white van to forcefully rear-end it.

Boris takes his hand off the wheel momentarily and shoves Grisha in the shoulder.

“Nice work, Grisha!” Boris cheers.

“That was like in the movies!” Kim exclaims.

“Stay down,” Boris instructs her, his eyes narrowing.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Boris glances at his dashboard.

“We are really low on fuel,” he says. “We’d better turn back. I’ve lost hope of catching sight of Valentin’s car again, and I’m not sure if the men in the van are still looking for us. I don’t feel like finding out while sitting on the edge of the road, waiting for a kind-hearted Samaritan to drive us back to the city.”

Grisha glances at a road sign as they glide past.

“That sign has the name of the forest Svetlana sent you in her text message,” Grisha says. “Do you want to drive a little longer, so we can follow up on her lead?”

Boris opens his mouth to reply, then notes a coil of smoke wisp into the sky.

“Someone is lighting fires in the forest,” he says. “Idiots! Don’t they know this heatwave has set many houses and woods surrounding Moscow on fire?!”

“Picnickers, do you think?” Grisha asks. “But you’re right. They shouldn’t light blazes during these weather conditions.”

Boris pulls his vehicle over to the edge of the road. “I’m having a look. They need to stop.”

Glancing back, he sees Kim sit up straight and stare out the side window. “What are you doing?” she asks.

“Relax!” he says. “I want to look through this forest and find out where that smoke comes from.”

“Are you guys serious?” she asks. “I’m a civilian! You can’t leave me here alone and unarmed. What if those guys in the van come back?”

“If you’re worried, hide in those bushes on the other side of the road,” Boris says. “I expect we will return quickly.”

Boris steps away from the road and slides on his rear down a grassy embankment beside the wooded area.

At the bottom of the grassy incline, Boris sees a car and points it out to his partner.

“It’s Valentin’s,” Grisha says, “and there’s another vehicle ditched over here too.”

Grisha pushes on a heap of leaves. As they fall, a car, under a few tree branches and a tarpaulin, becomes visible.

“Take the number plate down,” he says.

Grisha scribbles in his notebook again, then snaps it shut. Boris removes his handgun from his concealed holster and cocks it. Grisha does the same. Boris darts his eyes in all directions as he creeps through the wooded field.

After walking a little way, Boris sees Valentin blindfolded and standing with his arms tied around a tree.

“Valentin!” he says. “What are you doing hugging trees? Don’t you know you’re in grave danger?”

He unties the cloth cloaking Valentin’s sight.

“You don’t need to tell me that!” Valentin says.

“Who did this to you?” Grisha asks. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t know where they are,” Valentin says, “but I’m certain they’re crooked cops.”

“From our station?” Boris questions.

“I don’t know. They used pseudonyms, Larry, Curly and Moe. I didn’t recognise their voices and ‘Moe’ remained silent the whole time. The felons left to find firewood, but hunks of bark and fallen tree branches litter this place. They should have returned by now.

“I think these stooges plan to stay here tonight, hiding out from you guys, because they feared running out of petrol if they drove any longer, but they didn’t want to refuel until they knew you had given up. So, the three have taken a pitstop here.”

“Well, how unfortunate for them,” Boris says. “They will soon know I never give up.”

Grisha takes a key out of his police belt, unlocking Valentin’s handcuffs. “Should we go after these crooks?” Boris asks Valentin.

Valentin shakes his head. “I’m unarmed. It’s too risky. We’ll go back to your car and make a plan there.”

Boris turns and sneaks back down the dirt path leading to his vehicle, Grisha and Valentin following.

As they come to the edge of the forest, Valentin cautions,

“I don’t think we are the only ones here. Look over there…a hump of leaves where they parked my car. I can see the paintwork of a vehicle through it.”

“We noticed it too,” Boris replies. “We have taken its number plate down.”

“Good job,” Valentin says.

Valentin crouches down beside the vehicle, removing the air caps from his own car tires and the tires of the car under the tarpaulin.

“Did you think of doing this?” Valentin asks.

Boris grins, then shoves him in the shoulder.

“I guess that’s why you’re the boss,” he says.

Once past Valentin’s car, Boris scales the grassy embankment, scanning the horizon for signs Kim’s captors still follow them. Noting the clear skyline, he slides into the driver’s seat of his vehicle. He glances in his rear-view mirror and then out the front window again. He scratches his head and glances back into the rear-view mirror.

“Curses!” he says. “Where’s Kim?”

Grisha peers at the bushland running along either side of the road, then through the car’s front window.

“There she is,” Grisha says, pointing down the roadway where Kim is walking, waving her hands wildly in the air.

Boris starts his vehicle and drives toward her. Leaning his head out the car window, he narrows his eyes.

“Need a lift?”

“Need a lift?” she screams. “I should have you fired! Leaving an unarmed civilian in a vehicle by herself while crazies run loose? That’s an instant dismissal in my books.”

“Hey, Kim,” he says, interrupting her mid-tirade. “If you don’t get in the car right now, you will be the one getting fired on! Three corrupt police officers with guns hide in that forest.”

He hears Kim shrill as she bounces back into the vehicle, scooching across the back seat and slamming the door shut. She locks her door again and yells,

“Go! Go! Go!”

“We will,” he says, keeping his voice calm, “but you don’t need to get into such a flap!”

He nods in Valentin’s direction. Kim follows his eyes. Valentin has his hand open, revealing the four air caps he removed from the car tires in the forest.

“We won’t need to worry about them for a little while,” Boris says.

Kim sighs and leans back into her chair, then leans forwards, placing her face in her palms, heaving a loud tugging sob.

Boris nudges his vehicle into gear and pulls back onto the road. He glances at Grisha and Valentin, who stare back at him uncomfortably.

“Dealing with the emotions of victims is the forte of none of us, I guess.”

“I hope the abductors didn’t harm her beyond the kidnapping itself,” Valentin says.

“She’s gone through a lot in the past few hours,” Boris replies.

“You’re not wrong,” Grisha says. “She would have experienced a whole gamut of emotions during the last couple of days. A couple of times she would have thought she had reached safety only to find herself back in the thrill again.”

“Yeah, she escaped captivity, I rescued her in my car, then she had a gun fired over the top of her head when Grisha shot at the police car that chased us,” Boris says.

Valentin looks in Kim’s direction. As the passengers of the vehicle fall silent again, he takes a deep breath and places his hand on her shoulder.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Boris continues driving, glancing at his surroundings. Houses line the road on either side.

“What do you think, Grisha?” Boris asks. “The houses in this street don’t look so good, don’t you think?”

“They look lifeless,” Grisha agrees.

“They don’t look well kept at all. Some of them have broken windows,” Valentin says.

“Restless schoolboys throwing rocks,” Grisha suggests, “unable to think of more constructive activities to fill in their summer holidays?”

“Possibly, but then, why not repair them?” Valentin asks. “I mean, the windows don’t even have plastic to keep gusts of wind and rain out.”

Boris turns the corner.

“The houses on this street, though, look fine,” he says. “Explain that…”

He stops mid-sentence.

“Look, it’s Roman,” he says. “Over there, standing in the front yard of that home with an Army guy.”

Roman and his companion place a bundle of blankets and a thermos into the boot of the car. As Boris approaches the house, he slows his car to a crawl.

“Roman!” he says. “What are you doing here? I thought Valentin told you to stay at your grandmother’s house with Lara and Charlene. Is this it?”

Valentin leans forwards in the back seat and tilts his ear in Roman’s direction. Roman shakes his head, his brow furrowing. “My plans had to change.”

“Come inside,” Roman says, gesturing toward the house. “I have something to tell you.”

Once inside, Roman recaps the events of the past couple of days.

Once Roman has finished, Boris looks at the firearms provided by the soldiers.

“How many bandits are there?”

Roman and the soldiers look at each other and shrug.

“Can we get more soldiers?” Boris says.

“Sorry,” one of the soldiers says. “The Army is due in town but not for a couple more days. We are the first to arrive.”

The men look at each other.

“It will have to do,” Valentin says. “We can’t call for police back up. It’s too risky. We will have to rely on ourselves.”

***

The cartilage in Charlene’s throat tightens when she senses movement from behind the tree Marius tied her to. Wheezing, she turns her head and cranes her neck. She spots Roman hacking at her ropes with a carving knife. Her larynx eases, and she smiles as a warm sensation floods through her heart and a surge of strength races through her arms and legs.

Soon, the ropes surrounding her arms have loosened. She shakes her hands, watching the cables drop to the ground. Charlene rises, stands on her tiptoes and holds her breath.

“Follow me,” Roman whispers.

Charlene treads behind Roman, the flesh of her cheeks fluctuating between hot and cold.

Soon, they come to the edge of the area the bandit men have transformed into their headquarters. Then, a loud snapping sound pierces the air.

“Charlene!” Marius shouts menacingly. “What did I tell you about trying to escape?!”

The vertebrae of her spine pinches and she imagines she can hear screeching stringed instruments reverberating around her head. Over the fantasised noise, she hears Roman shout. Charlene stares at him.

“Run!” he urges.

Charlene does not need a second warning. She pumps her arms and legs as hard and as fast as they will go, her ligaments straining. She dodges shrubs and tree trunks, which leap out at her in the dark. She hears a loud BAM to her side and notes a long series of other BAMS resounding in all directions follows it.

She pushes her rigid arms and legs faster, running with greater urgency, until she wonders if she can keep it up. Finally, she spies the creek that lies at the edge of the thicket. She pauses and turns her still ringing head in all directions. She bores her eyes through the darkness of the night but soon concludes there is no bridge in view.

“We have no choice,” Roman says. “We must run through the creek.”

“Not so fast!” they hear a furious voice say.

The three turn on their heel and see a uniformed officer standing several paces from them, clutching a gun. Charlene’s pulse throbs exponentially as her heart gyrates inside of her.

“Is this how it ends?” she worries.

“Apollon?!” Charlene hears Roman gasp. “What are you doing here?”

His question remains unanswered as a bolt of blue streaks through the pistol hailstorm from out of the bushes.

“He’s aiding evil!” the voice of the projectile, which she recognises as Boris, cries.

Boris tackles Apollon to the ground, then crushes the end of his gun against Apollon’s temple.

“I can’t believe it was you!” Boris says. “You’re ‘Moe’ and the voice in the speech message Svetlana sent me. Have you been watching us this whole time? You’re the ringleader of this mob, aren’t you? But why?”

“They say crime doesn’t pay,” Apollon clenches through his teeth, “but neither does policing!”

“Run!” Roman shouts again as he takes Charlene’s hand.

Charlene sloshes through the stagnant water of the creek. On reaching the other side, she scrambles over a high fence running along the back of the deserted houses lining the creek, but not before hearing the blast of a gunshot.

“I hope Boris is okay.”

 Charlene cuts her way through the tall grass until she reaches the street in front. She looks about her, relieved to see that all three of them made it out of the wood. Roman walks down the road, swinging his arms, Lara not far behind him. Then, through the dark, Charlene spies a parked car, which Roman enters through the driver’s side door. She and Lara enter it as well, Charlene in the front passenger seat.

Once inside the vehicle, the engine rumbles to life.

Roman nudges the vehicle from the grassed area beside the country lane and onto the road.

Charlene notes a shadowy figure occupies the back seat, next to Lara. Turning in her seat, she smiles widely.

“Kim! They found you!” she says.

Kim does not reply, shoulders slumped and head drooped down. Charlene chooses to leave her alone.

Charlene turns in her seat, facing the front again and then toward Roman.

“As I ran, I saw a soldier in the woods,” she says. “He hid in the shrubs. Do you know who he was? I wonder if he’s okay.”

“Don’t worry. He’s with us, and he has back up,” Roman says, grazing her wet knee with his hand.

“What kind of backup?” she asks. “I counted at least ten thugs in the woods, and then three more arrived. They wore police uniforms. One of them was that guy Boris bulldozed just now. I thought they would save Lara and me when they came, but they took no notice of us, and their eyes looked shady.”

“There are five soldiers in the woods,” Roman says. “Also, Valentin and another officer named Grisha. They all have firearms.”

He squeezes her knee again, causing her cheeks to burn.

Charlene looks at the rear-view mirror and spies Lara grinning from ear to ear. Charlene exhales slowly, looking out the window on her side of the car again, avoiding Lara’s eyes.

“Is that grin saying ‘I-told-you-Roman-likes-you!’” she wonders.

“That still doesn’t sound like a lot,” she says, looking out the window.

“Don’t forget Boris. He’s like a double-agent,” Roman says. “That is, if he’s still alive .”

Roman and Charlene glance at each other, then the passengers sit in silence a while until Roman reverts to speaking in Russian.

Charlene peeks into the rear-view mirror again. Lara’s smile has faded. She wonders why. Could it be related to Valentin – her former boyfriend – and the danger he is in?

 Chapter Twenty-Six

“That fuel arrow is getting low,” Roman says. “We’d better stop here. We need to fill up on petrol.”

Charlene glances at the dashboard, confirming Roman’s assertion. Roman bounces the car up the curb of the service station, Valentin doing the same with his vehicle. Roman steps from the vehicle and slides the spout of the petrol bowser into the tank. The passengers of both cars step out of their vehicles, so Charlene gets out too. She listens but can’t understand their Russian.

“Could you translate for me?” she asks Roman, after he has paid for the petrol.

“How did you all make it out alive?” Roman translates for Valentin.

“Marius did not survive the gunfight,” he translates for Boris. “A soldier says he shot Marius in the back, and he died instantly or not long after. Our side only had a few casualties because, although the bandits outnumbered us, they had less ammunition.”

Charlene notes Boris has scratches on his face, which resemble the nail marks Marius indented her arms with while outside the Bolshoi.

“And don’t worry. Apollon is no more,” Boris continues.

“Two of our men didn’t make it, though,” Roman translates for one of the soldiers. “They died right in front of me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Roman translates for Valentin.

“Okay,” Valentin says. “Almost everyone is accounted for now. Everyone except for Svetlana. We must find out if she is still alive.”

“We can help you with that,” Boris offers. “Grisha, do you still have the notes you made of the landmarks and street signs from when we picked Kim up? It’s possible Svetlana wouldn’t be too far from there.”

Grisha holds up his notepad.

“Good,” Boris says. “Once we reach the police station, we will send a patrol car to search the area. Hopefully, they will locate Svetlana alive.”

“We will drive to your old police station, though, Boris,” Valentin says, “the one you worked at before transferring. We still don’t know which officers are involved in this abduction ring.”

“That’s okay with me,” Boris says. “I know my old colleagues are clean.”

“If that is the case,” Valentin says, “Roman will also drive Kim, Lara and Charlene to Boris’ former headquarters. The girls won’t have to fear for their safety there. Then, we can tie up the loose ends of this investigation, round up any bandits who may have survived the gunfight and find out if they knew of Apollon’s devious activities.”

Upon reaching Boris’ former workplace, Roman takes Charlene, Lara and Kim to a witness protection house where they stay a few days.

“Thanks to some ordinary citizens, we found Svetlana,” Boris says, entering the house.

“Where was she?” Charlene asks.

“After contemplating their options, the men holding her figured the police would find them shortly. So, as they no longer had a working vehicle, they walked her through the country lanes surrounding the city to a location they believed she wouldn’t be found.

“It turns out, though, that the neighbours had noticed little things over the past few months that made them wonder about the goings on inside the house. The last straw was Kim running out the doorway chased by several men and then, the sight of Svetlana, a uniformed police officer, forced to walk to a destination she clearly did not want to go to.

“So, finally, one of them drove to the nearest police station. The staff investigated this information, leading to the capture of the guys remaining in the house. Svetlana was also found.”

“I guess Valentin’s overjoyed Svetlana survived,” Roman says.

“I wouldn’t say overjoyed,” Boris says. “More satisfied the case is now closed.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Boris looks at Lara. He grins as he chats to her in Russian. As Roman listens, he begins to smile. Then he turns to the girls and says,

“It seems Lara has been keeping a secret from us.”

“Valentin and Svetlana dated, but they won’t anymore,” Boris interjects. “Their relationship fizzled out. My office is next to Valentin’s at the police station and the day Svetlana returned to work, I saw them talking in his office.

“I could hear everything they said. While solving the rest of the case, he had recognised Apollon’s voice on a speech message Svetlana had sent me indicating she’d had an affair with Apollon. Svetlana admitted she had seen Apollon but said they had only kissed. I don’t think Valentin quite believed her, but as Apollon was an unethical cop, he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“He also said he had grown tired of her verbal lashings. Svetlana asked Valentin to forgive her. Valentin said if she and Apollon had only kissed, perhaps he could have forgiven her, but he said the feelings he had once had for her didn’t exist anymore. He said they had dried up and he didn’t think he could get them back again. She asked him to change his mind.”

“But he didn’t,” Roman says.

“What’s so secret about that?” Kim says.

Roman turns toward Lara and speaks in Russian. Lara sits with her arms folded as she listens. Then, she nods her head as her cheeks blush pink.

Roman turns back to the girls and says, “Lara says I may tell you her news.”

“What is it?” Kim says, leaning forwards and grinning.

“Valentin said he discovered he still has feelings for an old girlfriend of his. Svetlana guessed her name.”

“Lara?” Kim asks, her smile widening.

“Lara!” Boris says nodding.

Charlene grins: this time it is Lara who avoids her eyes.

“So, that’s who she has texted so furiously ever since we arrived!”

 Chapter Twenty-Seven

The surviving soldiers from Charlene’s adventure carry two coffins down the byway grazing the front of Ekaterina’s house. Mourners trail the caskets, who Charlene assumes are the dead soldier’s families.

Charlene steps onto the road and stands behind them, bows her head, folds her hands in front of her and walks after them, down the country lane. The road is strewn with small, leafy branches that appear to have been deliberately placed there. Charlene wonders if they are part of a Russian burial custom.

Two women, weeping quietly, walk in front of the coffins, each cradling a framed photo of a soldier in full uniform.

As the funeral procession passes by Ekaterina’s house, the older woman pauses in the front yard, her head dipped down and arms by her sides. A solitary pedestrian walking along the grassy edge of the dirt road towards them assumes a similar posture. Charlene’s heart aches.

At the end of the memorial procession, Charlene pays her respects to the mourners, then, turns to the surviving soldiers.

“Thank you for the great service you paid me the night of the rescue. I will always owe you.”

She leaves the bereaved and follows Roman, Lara, Boris and Kim back to Ekaterina’s house, where Roman’s grandmother provides her with a warm cup of tea.

Charlene cups her hands around the beaker.

“If only none of this had happened,” she grumbles. “This is the worst holiday ever, and I had looked forward to it for a long time. I had hoped to trek down the streets my grandparents would have walked along when they lived in Moscow. I wanted to experience for myself the same sights and sounds they did but all I’ve seen is the Kremlin, Saint Basil’s Cathedral and a bandit-infested wood.”

“I champed to explore Russia as well,” Kim adds, “Instead, I was kidnapped! I only have a few days left here until I fly back to Scotland. I guess I could see a couple more sights before I leave, if I do a quick dash around, but I’m not really in the mood for that.”

Roman translates the conversation for Ekaterina and Lara, then turns to Charlene and Kim.

“I’m sorry you’ve had such a terrible time in Russia. I can’t take back what you’ve gone through, but I have arranged something I hope will leave you with much better memories of Russia when you do eventually leave.”

“What’s that?” Kim asks.

Roman smiles. “Well, since I am an interpreter, I have worked with many tourists and made many connections. A work friend of mine approves travel visas. I have asked him to extend yours, as a special favour to me, and he has agreed.”

“Wow!” Kim says. “I suddenly feel more in the mood for touring! How much longer can we stay?”

“He is prepared to grant a visa that terminates in four weeks,” Roman says.

“Wow, four weeks in Russia!” Kim says. “This is the best news ever!”

Charlene beams and gazes into Romans eyes. She rubs her nose and says,

“Thank you so much, Roman! That’s great!”

But a moment later, Charlene looks at the ground and bites on her lower lip.

“Except, I can’t afford that.”

Kim’s smile has faded too.

“You’re right, Charlene. I can’t afford four weeks in a hotel either.”

“Not in a hotel,” Roman says.

“Then where?” Charlene asks, studying his face again.

Roman looks at Lara and the two exchange smiles.

“Lara has a cousin who lives in Saint Petersburg,” he reports. “She would love the opportunity to practice her English on you in exchange for free accommodation and food at her apartment.”

“Nice! But not free food too,” Kim says, shaking her head.

“I agree. We would have to contribute towards groceries at the very least,” Charlene says.

Roman translates the girls’ reservations to Lara. After a few moments, Roman turns back to them.

“Lara says you can try to pay her cousin for her hospitality, but she doesn’t think your attempts will succeed!”

“Well, if Lara’s cousin really doesn’t mind, I’m happy to stay longer,” Kim says, draping her arm around Lara and squeezing her tight. “Thank you so much!”

“I’m happy to stay longer too,” Charlene says, “and Roman, could you please thank Lara whole-heartedly for us. She has already put herself out for me, what with letting me stay at her apartment the night you and Valentin busted me out of the holding cell.”

Charlene pauses, looks at the ground and then looks up at Roman again.

“Could you also apologise for my getting her captured by Marius?”

Roman’s eyebrows rise and his eyes stare deep into hers.

“He clearly doesn’t know the full story.”

Charlene tugs at her clothes and slides her eyes to the side.

“When we entered the woods, we saw Marius shooting targets. One of his gunshots scared me and I screamed, and that’s how he found us,” she admits.

Roman flicks a stray hair away from Charlene’s face with his hand. “Ah, so that’s how it happened. You really have had a bad holiday.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Charlene and Kim stay with Ekaterina while they wait for their extended visas.

“Despite the circumstances, I have enjoyed my stay at Ekaterina’s summer house,” Charlene thinks.

“Good news,” Roman says, grandstanding in the doorway, an unfolded paper in his hand. “The visas have finally processed!”

Charlene and Kim clutch each other.

“Yay!” they exclaim together.

“I’m going to go pack,” Kim says as she disappears up the stairs.

Charlene sits a while, then notes Roman stares in her direction. She swallows and shifts in her seat.

“I’m already packed,” she says. “I’ve looked so forward to going to Saint Petersburg, I’ve just kept repacking every morning as soon as I’ve risen!”

“I’m glad to hear you’re excited,” Roman says, then pauses again.

“Well, I’m going outside for a while,” she says, stepping out the back door and picking up a gardening trowel, glad to be free of the awkward situation between her and Roman. While she certainly liked him, spending time together wasn’t helping her keep her feelings for him under control. She would be gone soon, and he would still be here. Better to distance herself.

Charlene scratches around in the dirt with the gardening trowel at the back of Ekaterina’s vegetable garden. Soon, Roman approaches.

“Charlene?”

Charlene stops scratching. Roman pauses and looks at the ground, rubbing his chin between his finger and thumb, then glancing about as if making sure nobody else was around.

Charlene tugs at her clothes and rubs her nose.

“I wonder what this is all about.”

Roman looks at her, making her cheeks burn.

“Could you follow me?” she hears him say, finally.

Charlene follows Roman to a secluded area of Ekaterina’s yard. She rubs her abdomen and says, “You’re making me nervous! Have you found more villains for me to run away from?”

Roman smiles, but Charlene notices it appears much thinner than usual. He clears his throat.

“Charlene, I shouldn’t say this, as we live so far away, but I must let you know when your new visa runs out, it will upset me.”

Charlene searches his eyes a moment. “Why’s that?”

“Because, although I have only known you a short while, I like you,” he says.

Charlene’s mouth drops open. She looks at the ground and places her hands behind her back, then hugs her arms across her chest.

Charlene inches her eyes back up to his face. She takes a deep breath.

“I like you too,” she says.

Roman smiles broadly.

“And it seems to me,” she says, “Ekaterina and Lara have noticed too.”

“I’m not sure what tipped off Lara,” she hears Roman say, “but my grandmother, a meddlesome type, looked through your drawings while you slept.”

“My drawings?” Charlene says, her cheeks burning hotter than ever before.

“Please don’t feel embarrassed,” Roman says, placing his hand on her shoulder and guiding her back toward the house.

“Ekaterina loves your artwork. She thinks you have a lot of talent, and she should know, having won awards for some of her art herself,” he says.

“That’s not why I feel silly,” Charlene says, both hands on her flaming cheeks. “If you’ve seen my drawings, that means you probably knew I liked you a long time before I knew you liked me!”

“Well, actually, I lagged on the uptake, but it seems my grandmother’s guess work has turned out right!” Roman says with a smile and a wink.

“You don’t need to feel silly,” he assures her. “When I realised your drawings probably indicated you liked me, it made me happy!”

Charlene’s cheeks continue to scorch, but she begins to smile too.

“There is another drawing you drew that my grandmother is very impressed with,” Roman says.

“My grandmother is particularly interested in the image you drew of the four young women all dressed in white,” he says, as they enter the house and approach the table where her drawings lie. “She believes she knows this woman. She believes the picture you drew is of a woman named Elizaveta Toumanova.”

“Elizaveta Toumanova? That’s my grandmother!” Charlene exclaims. “She left for Australia when she and my grandfather decided Russia no longer felt like home.”

Ekaterina now postures behind them, looking eager to know what is happening.

“Elizaveta lived next door to your grandmother for years,” Roman translates for Ekaterina. “They later became close and loving step-sisters as their parents married.”

Charlene takes the drawing of the four women from Ekaterina. She glances at their faces.

“Was my grandma a quadruplet?” she asks. “I’ve never figured that out, or is it a single woman posed so the camera replicates four identical images? You see, in my grandmother’s home in Australia, two cracked mirrors met each other in the corner of the room. When I stood in front of them, the damaged fragments somehow reflected three images of myself. As quadruplets are so rare, I always wondered if maybe the photographer used mirrors or some other trick photography to clone the women.”

“My grandmother says, ‘No,’” Roman replies. “Your grandma was not a quadruplet. Ekaterina doesn’t recall how the photographer captured this picture, but says the photo was taken the day of Elizaveta’s wedding. Elizaveta didn’t like the dress she was wearing. She thought it too sedate for a bride, but as the country was war torn, shops didn’t stock marital gowns very often. She just had to make do.”

“I can hardly believe it,” Charlene says, hugging Ekaterina. “To travel all this way and then bump into a woman who knew my grandmother so well. It’s unbelievable!”

Ekaterina hugs her back, just as hard. A tear forms in Ekaterina’s eye and slides down the aged contours of her face.

“Ekaterina wants you to know Elizaveta was one of the loveliest people she knew,” Roman continues, “and her heart broke the day Elizaveta and your grandfather left. She would like to sit with you for a while and tell you what she remembers of her and hopes you will inform her of Elizaveta’s new life in Australia.”

Charlene smiles and nods her consent.

“I also have a request,” Roman says, picking the picture Charlene has sketched of him up from the table. “I would love for you to draw this picture again for me, but this time, instead of drawing me holding the cat, you should draw me holding hands with you!”

Charlene agrees to the request. Then, Ekaterina produces an envelope from the pocket of her apron.

“One more thing,” Roman says, “Ekaterina found this letter in the house. It contains the last written words Ekaterina received from Elizaveta before she and your grandpa left Moscow all those years ago.”

Charlene beams.

“I can’t wait to read it!” she says. “Maybe, instead of the worst holiday of my life, this might end up being the best!”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Charlene sits next to Kim at the airport, waiting for the announcement to board her flight home.

“I have enjoyed these last four weeks in Saint Petersburg,” Charlene says.

“Yes,” Kim agrees. “The architecture is like fairy tale castles.”

“Majestic,” Charlene adds.

“And those sparkling canals, overarched by a myriad of drawbridges…,” Kim says.

“…awe inspiring!” Charlene finishes.

“And I’m glad Boris received a promotion for his outstanding work on Marius’ case,” Kim says. “If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have had authority to give Valentin and Roman a month off work so they could accompany us around Saint Petersburg during our four-week visa extension.”

“Yes, it was good of Boris to do that for us,” Charlene says, “although, I think maybe I wish he hadn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Kim asks.

“Well, I’ve tried to check myself these last few weeks, with Roman around, knowing there is little likelihood our friendship could continue past these four weeks, but unfortunately we couldn’t help but grow closer and dearer to each other than ever before,” she says.

“Ah, yes. I noticed a few sparks flying,” Kim notes, a smile spreading across her face. “Not bad for someone who told me you shouldn’t start something that can’t end in marriage. Sparks flew between Valentin and Lara too!”

“I’m happy for them,” Charlene says, “and I envy them.”

Kim’s eyebrows rise.

“They have the luxury of thinking long term, not like me and Roman,” she says.

Kim slides her arm around Charlene’s shoulders, squeezing her tight.

“And what about you?” Charlene asks her friend. “Boris also made an appearance.”

“Yeah, he came for a two-day work conference,” Kim says.

“True,” she agrees, “and I got the impression if you lived closer, another relationship would bud shortly.”

“Boris and me?” Kim rolls her eyes. “I hope you’re kidding. He’s crazy!”

Charlene nudges Kim in the side.

“You know that’s just an act; his eyes seemed to soften whenever he looked at you,” Charlene says.

Charlene’s mobile rings just as Kim is about to respond. Charlene slips her phone out of her bag and holds it to her ear, smiling and sliding her fingers through the tips of her hair.

“Hello?” she says.

“I’m sorry, Charlene,” Roman says. “I can’t see you off at the airport today.”

“Oh, really?” Charlene replies, her smile flattening. “Why’s that?”

“On my way to the airport, I stopped at my grandmother’s house. She had said she wanted to see you and Kim off as well, but she slipped down the front stairs as we left. I’ve had to take her to hospital. I’m thankful I was there at the time, or she could have lain alone for days or even a week.”

Charlene frowns and rubs her ear lobe between her fingers. “I’m glad you were there too.”

“I’m really disappointed about this,” he says. “I had a big bunch of yellow flowers to give you! I know you can’t take them on the plane, but my grandmother insisted I buy some! I didn’t know which kind you would enjoy, but in Russia, yellow blooms symbolise separation. So, although I do not wish to leave you, I thought them the most appropriate.”

Charlene allows a slight smile to form on her face and rubs her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

“Thank you,” she says. “White flowers are my favourite. It doesn’t matter what size or what shape: if they’re white, I love ‘em!”

“Okay, well, I’ll know that for next time,” he says.

“What does he mean by next time? There isn’t going to be any next time. I’m about to board a plane that will take me to the other side of the world, forever.”

“Well, I have to go now,” Roman breaks into her thoughts. “A nurse wants to talk to me, but once again so sorry I can’t come.”

“Goodbye,” Charlene says.

Charlene places her phone back inside her bag. She sighs, sinks back into her chair and slumps her shoulders.

“What was that all about?” Kim asks.

“Roman called,” Charlene says simply. “He says he can’t come today. Ekaterina had a fall.”

Kim places her hand on Charlene’s shoulder and squeezes it.

“Are you going to be okay?” Kim says.

Charlene nods.

“Really?” Kim asks, studying Charlene’s face, her eyes narrowing.

“Really!” she says, flicking tears from her eyes, then smiling. “Roman and I would have separated today anyway, so it doesn’t matter I didn’t get to see him one last time.”

Chapter Thirty

Charlene sits on her back patio, watching a blue-faced wren bob up and down on the fence at the bottom of her yard. Charlene smiles, thankful to be back in Australia - yet she misses Roman. Her smile flattens as she wonders what he is doing and how he is coping with his grandmother’s death, Ekaterina having broken a bone as she fell and, due to her age, not having the strength to recover.

The whirr of an engine interrupts her thoughts. “That must be the postman.”

Charlene walks to the front of her house, checks her mailbox, and reads the sender’s address.

“It’s mail from Moscow,” she thinks.

She smiles as she walks back through her house. Easing into her patio chair, she rips open the envelope and unfolds the handwritten note inside.

Dear Charlene,

As we discussed on the phone, here are the papers, in English, for you to sign.

Text me when you have sent them.

Yours

Roman

Charlene flicks through the application forms, remembering the first time Roman had raised the idea.

“For a while, I felt lost,” Roman had said over the phone. “My grandma was my only living relative in Russia, but now I think it’s the right time to do something I have really wanted to do. I know I told you I planned to migrate and work as a high school history teacher, but I’ve decided teaching isn’t really for me or, at least, I don’t want it to be me just yet!

“So, I’ve taken a leaf out of Lara’s book. Remember she wanted to go on an archaeological dig? I’m moving to Blue Creek, Belize, just for a few weeks, as a volunteer excavator! Then, I’ll move to Australia. I want you to come too! I hope you’ll consider it.”

“Belize? Where’s that?” she had thought. “I thought it was a city in France!”

“I’ll have to think about this,” she had replied.

“I won’t lie,” Roman had said during another phone call. “The pamphlet describes the work as hard, dirty, and without payment, but we will each receive a room and free meals and as I said, it will only be for a few weeks. Electricity, if it exists at all, will run intermittently and we will have to walk a lot, but the rewards will be great! Think about it, we could become world famous for digging up never-seen-before bits of pottery, jewellery, tools or even sacred artifacts!”

“I can’t believe what I am hearing,” she had thought. “Mud, dust and no electricity? That doesn’t sound fun at all!”

But gradually, Roman had worn her down. She had agreed to get to know him better digging up dirt!

Charlene reads the letter in front of her a second and a third time, then lays it on the table in front of her. She thinks a moment, then glances at the table, noticing the envelope still has a lump in it. She runs her finger across the square of paper.

She picks the envelope up again, peels back the flap and slides her fingers inside. She plucks a flaky, pressed white flower from the envelope.

Charlene smiles and hugs her arms across her chest, delighted he remembered. She turns it over in her hands.

Charlene stares at the bud. She stares at Roman’s letter again. She stares at the sky and then takes a deep breath.

“Moscow, Brisbane or Belize, I don’t care where he is. I just want to know him!”

Charlene whips out her mobile and types,

“I’ll post the forms tomorrow.”

 

 

Gospel Invitation

Have you ever told a lie, stolen, or used God’s name as a swear word? Have you ever lusted, which Jesus said is the same as adultery; or hated, which the Bible says is the same as murder? If so, in God’s eyes you are a lying, thieving, blasphemous, adulterous, murderer at heart!  In other words, you are a big sinner!

 The Bible says if you sin, even just once, you can’t go to Heaven and that there is nothing you can do to earn His forgiveness. No good works, not even praying, fasting, giving money to charity, wearing special clothes or doing special stretches and breathing can erase your sins. But, there is good news! God loves you and has made a way for you to be forgiven through faith and grace!

Imagine a man is in court. He has been found guilty of murder, but the judge just forgives him and lets him go. Would that be okay? No! The judge would be corrupt and would have to be judged himself. God is not corrupt. So, this is not how God forgives us.

Now, imagine YOU are in court. You have been found guilty of serious crimes. The judge says your penalty is to pay a fine of $25,000. You don’t have the money so he sends you to jail instead. Then, someone you don’t know pays the $25,000 for you. Would you still need to go to jail? No! The fine has been paid, so in God’s court you are forgiven and freed. This is how God forgives us.

In real life, though, the penalty for sin is not money. In real life, the penalty for sin is death. 2000 years ago, Jesus died on the cross in your place paying your death penalty. Now, if you trust Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross is enough to cover your sin and repent (turn from sin), you can be forgiven and receive eternal life.

Find out more at www.livingwaters.com

 

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