by Kenneth Eade
CHAPTER 14
Raf, barely awake, dopey eyed, comes padding into the kitchen in the early morning, crosses to the refrigerator, opens it...and what he sees before him has him standing there in shock. Standing upright on the top shelf, like a tiny monument of threat is one very lethal single hollow point .38 caliber bullet.
“Victor! Get in here, now,” barks Raf. Instead of Victor, Raf’s maid, an elderly woman with grey hair and dressed in full maid garb, enters the kitchen, alarm written on her face.
“What happened?”
“Did you hear anything last night? Where’s Victor? Call Nikolai in here immediately!” This is getting out of hand. Too close to home. Who could be behind this? Raf had more enemies than he could count. And the final count could also probably include some whom he had called friends, at one time or another. But when your time is up, they usually don’t give you any warning. They just come in and take what they want. And, if you don’t pose a threat, then they don’t kill you. Nikolai, in his bathrobe, comes into the kitchen.
“Look at this,” said Raf.
“How…”
“I don’t know how or why, but I expect you to find out. Double the security detail in the compound. And check on Daria. Make sure her guards are in place.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Make sure you do. This should not have happened.”
CHAPTER 15
Andrew lays on the bed, Daria's arm resting against his chest.
“You were definitely too persistent.” Andrew laughs a little, Daria smiles.
“I didn't mean to be...it was just...”
“It's as just that there was this Russian girl and she was so interesting, so different...”
“Exactly.” They laugh.
“The truth is...you're still leaving today.”
“We'll see, I could work something out.”
”Yeah...(playfully)..that Russian girl's good in bed. I'd better change my flight.” Andrew laughs.
“Just a few extra days.”
“When did you get so damn funny?”
“Hey, I can be an American wit along with the best of them.” The two of them stare at the ceiling for a moment. The sunrise shines through the window. They wince from the light.
“Ah...the sun..didn't we just see it set?”
“That was many hours ago…I have never had such a night.” She strokes his hair and Andrew falls asleep.
After a while, Daria gets up quietly and goes to the window. Andrew lies under a sheet on Daria's bed. His eyes are closed. Birds chirp outside in the trees by the window. There's that sound again: The one heard along the Seine last night, the sound of wind chimes on the verandah. The chimes gradually stop tinkling. Andrew opens his eyes, looks over in that direction. The sheer white curtains on the glass doors leading out to the veranda roil to a light breeze. Daria wrapped up in her robe, sipping her tea, standing with her back to him. She's looking out the window. The wind dies. The curtains hang still. For Andrew, the world has stopped. He speaks to Daria from the bed.
“Good morning...” Daria doesn't respond right away, lost in her thoughts.
“You know what the bridge outside my window is called? It’s so beautiful, who would think it has such a dark side.” Andrew gets up and stands beside her, looking out the window. Across the way, in the park, is a footbridge, a lovely arch, covered in wisteria, descending to a peaceful pond below.
“No light without the dark.”
“They call it "le pont des suicides -suicide bridge," It’s famous. People jump from it.”
“And I imagine they don't survive.”
“Maybe some do.” Daria gives Andrew a serious look.
“What is it we’re doing here, Andrew?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, is this the beginning of something beautiful, or just the end of something fun?” Andrew doesn't say anything. Daria looks out the window. She shakes herself like a puppy shaking off water. He holds her in a tender embrace, and just before he can speak, a phone rings loudly from somewhere on the floor. The tender moment - shattered. Daria seizes the phone, answers it.
“Allo? Jacqueline.”
“Darling, where have you been?”
“My phone may have been off. I've been with Andrew.”
“So it's serious. Very few men compel you to turn off your phone.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I'm sorry to interrupt darling, but I have news from Russia. It’s a little late, but nonetheless, guess! You're father's getting married again...Natalia, you know - Natalia Baranova.”
“What?”
“Natalia begged me to help her with the wedding dress, her entire trouso in fact. Yes, do you believe it?”
“It’s hard to believe…”
“You really knew nothing about it? Oh you poor dear. Perhaps he's keeping it all a surprise. You know what a romantic rogue he is...Well call me…”
CHAPTER 16
Andrew watches as Daria as she packs a small suitcase. “What are you doing?”
“I've got to go home.”
“For how long?”
“I don't know.”
“Is it your family -- is someone ill—“
“It's my father – “
“But is he sick, is he uhm, I don't know-performing in the National Chess Finals, conducting a new production of The Nutcracker Suite--what...”
“I don't want to talk about it.”
“You don't want to talk about it.”
“When it comes to my father everything's different.”
“Who was on the phone? Was it someone from Russia?”
“It was Jacqueline. She sends her best by the way.”
“Jacqueline?”
“Jacqueline and my father were married. She won the title favorite step-mother.” Daria goes back to packing. She's got two suitcases finished now.
“Why do you have to go?”
“Andrew, I said I didn't want to talk about it.”
“Come on, you can tell me.”
Aright-if you must know, he's getting married, again. Andrew grins.
“That's a good thing. Uhm, do you know to whom?”
“Yes. She's young and beautiful, they call it the "Russian doll look."
“You and your father are close?”
“No. Yes. We're... you know...it's complicated.”
“So why do you think he didn't invite you - perhaps he was going to and it’s a surprise.”
“To be honest, I never fully comprehend the reasons for the things my father does and doesn't do... he's the most secretive person I know.” She goes to the window and looks out pensively. “My father lives a dangerous life, and whomever shares the luxury that his position offers; has to share the disadvantages.” They look at each other, a long pause.
“Alright then, I'm coming with you!”
“But you're flying back today! What about your job?”
“It’s OK.”
“But you don't know me.”
“I've heard you say that before, I don't care - a guy like me? I need to go out on an edge.”
“Andrew...”
“Yes, I said I was leaving for America, but now I'm going to Moscow with you. Things change.”
“Andrew...really...you're serious?”
“Well let's see.” He picks up the phone. He starts dialing. Waits. Smiles at her, she smiles back and hugs him around the neck.
CHAPTER 17
The Boeing 777 descends over the vast Moscow countryside, blanketed in snow, touching down at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo airport.
A black Mercedes 600 picks up Andrew and Daria at the curb, the driver, a blonde haired, blue eyed unemployed accountant. They pack up and head for the city. An enormous monument outside Sheremetyevo Airport, marks the spot where the Nazi advance into Moscow was stopped. Huge multi-legged crosses depict the structures used to stop the advance of the German tanks.
“This is where the Germans were pushed back when th
ey tried to take Moscow in the Second World War. That was the second time. The first time was Napoleon in 1812.”
So this was the strange evil empire that Andrew was warned about all his life. All the signs written in an alphabet he couldn’t read. Everything was, well, big. Very big. Big roads, big buildings, a huge city surrounded by forest. Golden tops of churches glistening in the sun. Many of them, almost on every corner.
“I guess religion really wasn’t banned.”
“What are you talking about?” Town squares with statues of Lenin, buildings with the mark of the hammer and sickle of the Communist party.
“I thought they tore all these down.”
Daria chuckles, “they had to solve the problem of all the bears running in the streets first. She sighs. “Moskva, kak mnoga vetum zvukye, dela certsa ruskova, slilos. Kak mnoga vnyom atesvalos.” (Moscow, how much in that sound comes together, for the Russian heart collected. How much meaning the sound gives.) Their Moscow tour is coming to an end. Children sliding on their feet on the slopes of Gorky Park, the majestic Kremlin approaching.
“Pushkin said, "Moscow, land that is my native. Where in the dawn of my best years, I spent the hours of carelessness, free of unhappiness and fears." Andrew looks out the window of the car at the red walls of the Kremlin, its golden offices and gold topped churches.
“It’s really magnificent,” he says.
“I love my land, but with a queer passion…”
“Another quote?” She nods.
“My mind isn’t able to absorb it. Such a dichotomy of contradiction.” An old lady comes up to the car, hand out for money.
They pass by a monument, with blood red fountains flowing. “The blood stands for the lives lost in the war…Nor glory, purchased by the bloody actions, Nor peace, in proud confidence inlaid, will stir my pleasant fancies anymore. Her endless plains' indifference and silence, Her endless forests' ever swaying wildness, Her rivers floods which, like the sea, are wide. This is my country.”
The car pulls off the highway onto a snowy road, and disappears into a forest of birch and snow crystal pine “Christmas Trees.” Eventually the car pulls up to twin iron gates in front of a massive mansion. The gates open and the Mercedes pulls in.
Daria and Andrew are out of the car and head toward the main house. A bird cries out. Daria looks up, startled, leaves float downward. Andrew sweeps her up in his arms. They reach the main entrance and ring the bell.
Victor answers the door and welcomes them in with a smile. “You should have called ahead,” he says.
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Nikolai enters from a side entrance, doesn't notice Andrew right away.
“Daria, it's so great to have you...back...” Nikolai stops mid-sentence, shocked the second he lays eyes on Andrew. ...home again. Oh, you have company.” Daria looks pleased.
“Andrew Lambert, Nikolai Petrenko. Niklolai...he works with my father.” They nod pleasantly to one another. Nikolai bends to kiss her hand, then offers his to Andrew.
“I didn't see you.”
“Andrew is my guest for the wedding. So, Nikolai, where is my father now? It's getting late, I wanted to give Andrew a little taste of Moscow, maybe go into the city with papa...have dinner.” Nikolai does not respond.
“Where is he, Nikolai?”
“Ah, ...he and some of his old Army buddies, play poker together and drink.”
“And where do they do this?”
“Daria, if you're thinking of going there, it's not a good idea.”
“His office?” Nikolai's expression tells Daria she is right.
“He'll be surprised...”
“Yes, he will be surprised.”
She turns to Andrew.
“Back to Moscow.”
CHAPTER 18
Daria and Andrew arrive at the entrance of an elaborate office tower. The whole feeling this place gives off, like it's another world. The guards recognize her and open the doors and they enter. After walking through a maze of hallways and floors they finally hear voices coming from the far west corner of the building.
They put their faces up to the glass. Dark shapes moving around are all that's visible. She recognizes one of muffled voices, knows it's Raf's. Daria bursts into the room, with Andrew right behind her. Sitting around a large antique wooden conference table are Raf and six older men. The room is a conference room with a full bar. Several empty bottles of vodka and one half-full litter the table, along with shot glasses.
“Hello Papa.” Raf turns. He looks horrified, plus he's extremely drunk. He actually looks angry now. Andrew stands near the door.
“What are you doing here?” Daria is shocked at his reaction.
CHAPTER 19
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hduPWKHGwTM
Daria and Raf are standing in Raf’s private office while Andrew waits outside. They are in the middle of a heavy heart to heart. Raf stares coldly at his daughter, feeling helpless. Knowing she has no idea the danger she's put herself in by coming here, he also knows she would never leave just because he wanted her to, He'll have to force her to leave.
“Go back to Paris. You don't belong here.
“Where do I belong, papa dear? Are you saying I can never come back to my home? The house I grew up in, where I was happy with you and mama. Why papa, why? Because there's a new wife in your bed every few years? You don't even invite me to this wedding--I have to learn about it from Jacqueline.” Daria's eyes well up. She wants to wipe away the tears, but doesn't want him to see she's upset. Too late, a single tear escapes, streaming down her cheek.
“You chose to live in Paris when the freedom came, so go back.”
“Freedom? What freedom are you referring to papa? The freedom to be without me-the freedom for you to steal?”
“You shouldn't speak about things you know nothing about.”
“I know nothing about this? Where were you, papa, when I needed you?”
“Enough! How dare you speak to me this way! I'm your father!
“Yes you are. Is that why you can count more wives than the times you have seen your daughter?”
“You ungrateful little...I am your father whether you like it or not. Who bought this dress for you? I did! Who pays for your life in Paris - me!!!”
“Yes, you did. But that's as far as your affection goes.”
“I brought you into the world and I can put you into the ground just as easily!
That's right, I didn't invite you to my wedding for a reason. I DON'T WANT YOU HERE. SEEING YOU...you're a constant reminder of a life that's better left behind. Why can't you understand that, I don't want to see you?” She's stunned. She begins to cry, exploding into tears.
“How could you do this? How could you do this? You were a God to me.” She turns and runs for the door, Andrew running after her.
“Daria, wait, I'm so sorry. Please Daria, come back!” Raf calls out. She doesn't hear, keeps going, never turning back.
“There are reasons why…reasons I can’t tell you. You cannot stay in Russia! Daria!!!”And she's gone.
Andrew chases Daria down the dark street. He bumps into a man.
“Don't be in such a hurry, we'll all get there,” says the man. Andrew catches up with her and holds her.
“My father has this gift-how to get inside a woman's heart...and squeeze the life right out of it.”
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”
Slowly, her tears subside as Andrew comforts her.
“I want to get all my things out of his house.”
“Later, we can do it later. Come on, let's relax, get our bearings.....”
“How strange. I thought I would feel better, but I don't. It is as though all those words that I said to him hurt me more. I threw a knife at him but it cut my body.” Andrew hugs her. Through her tears, the thoughts arise.
“For so many years, I called him papa and I believed it. I believed that word when I was saying it. He was the man who moved my pillow when I was asleep and covered me.
He was the one to come at night, to comfort me when I had a nightmare. He was the only one who believed in them. You know when people think children are capricious? He wouldn't let go of my hand, and stayed by my bed until I fell asleep. Did he love me only when I was a child? Why, Andrew? Why?”
