Kill Cupid: Internet dating just got dangerous

by Best, J. Brandon

  Lying there in the dead quiet, he listened to the steadiness of her breathing. He thought about the transition that had occurred suddenly in his relationship with her. The drama they’d unintentionally brought each other had made them like brother and sister but not lovers. Bronte had met Zhana with flowers hiding a ticking bomb and Zhana had repaid Bronte’s act of kindness by waltzing him into a mugging. All points considered it had not been the ideal way to meet and begin a relationship. Now Zhana was the kid sister who’d tried to help her older brother deliver the newspapers but had only managed to knock him off his bike. Sure she felt badly about the injuries he’d received and the loss of money, but it hadn’t made her love him more. Doing his best to ignore the throbbing of his head and hands and the soft and beautiful curves of the woman lying with her legs touching his, he fell asleep wondering what Tanya was thinking.

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  Sasha was already twenty minutes late when he raced up the street in the FSB car bought from the Czech Republic. Tanya had prearranged her visit with Zhana days earlier but she had to leave after taking a call from home. She was presently out of work and living with her parents who lived in a village with the longest name in the universe. It was undecipherable and unpronounceable as far as Bronte was concerned. She came from a very modest and humble family who had never owned a car and never quite understood the change over from the soviet system. For many elderly like them, it was easier and a better life during that familiar chapter of history, ‘The good old days.’ Tanya said her goodbyes and promised to return in a day or two. She kissed them both and waved as Sasha floored it up the street.

  Alessiya and Rita stood out the front of the police station in sombre discussion with the lawyer who resembled Badger from “Wind in the Willows.” A weaselly type with pointed face and hunched posture, he wore a suit about fifty times too large. And he had stupid coloured braces to hold his pants up around his neck. When he spoke he sounded like a graduate rodent from elocution class learning to speak with his mouth and not through his nose. The two girls wore sunglasses and looked prepared to run from the media, who of course were busy with matters infinitely more important. Alessiya even had a silk scarf over her head, most likely mourning the death of some digits from her bank account. Rita looked like she stepped straight out of a Matrix film, wearing all black leather blouse, skirt and knee length boots. She was frequently on and off her mobile phone, calling then receiving calls. Bronte guessed there was a problem with the connection and Morpheus was having trouble beaming her out of there.

  Badger spoke, his buck teeth glistening like a rabbit while the girls stayed in the background. He wished to discuss matters with Sasha, Zhana and Bronte privately.

  ‘My clients do not want to proceed with any charges of attempted rape or assault. They also wish that you do not proceed with the charges of aggravated assault, attempt to defraud and receipt of goods and money by deception.’

  ‘What compensation are they willing to offer?’ Asked Sasha, apparently now acting on Bronte’s behalf.

  ‘They are willing to repay five hundred dollars. It is all the cash available today.’ Badger finished speaking and stared down his nose over his specs, waiting for a response. The group looked at each other without a word until Bronte said,

  ‘Can you give us a minute?’ Badger scurried back to the huddle with his clients while Zhana looked particularly displeased with just having to be there.

  ‘I don’t want you to accept it.’

  ‘What? Why not? It’s really not that important anymore Zhana. I just want to let it go. I’m over it.’

  ‘And what about me, what cost my identity, my time and my love life? This means nothing to you?’ Zhana looked angry. Sasha began to walk away then turned and said,

  ‘One minute, okay?’ They saw him walk over to Badger and the girls and offer them a cigarette. Alessiya and the lawyer obliged and soon she and Sasha walked off with the briefcase touting mammal dressed as an attorney. They stood away from everyone and after some minutes, returned to their respective benches to resume the game after the time out. Sasha signalled from a few metres away, holding his hand up to make a stop sign,

  ‘You two wait here… one hour please.’ He walked into the station as Rita and Alessiya got into the Badger’s car. After a minute, Sasha returned with a young officer. They in turn got into a police Lada at which point the Badger pulled out and they followed. With no idea where the group had gone or for what reason, Bronte and Zhana decided to sit in Sasha’s car and listen to the radio, courtesy of the FSB.

  After an hour Sasha and the young officer returned. Badger arrived alone and now presented a document he wished Zhana and Bronte to sign. He explained in bad English that the document released his clients from future proceedings against them. Sasha repeatedly added reassurances all was okay and encouraged them both to sign. It was in Russian of course. Zhana signed it willingly so Bronte duplicated her action. What did I just sign? I hereby denounce all citizenship and privileges of Australia and may be detained in Russia to do hard labour for an unprescribed period?

  ‘Great. It’s all settled then. Thank you.’ Badger shook Zhana’s hand then shook Bronte’s hand. Sasha shook Badger’s hand then shook Zhana and Bronte’s hands. Zhana stood and watched. Men! She thought.

  There was no sign of the mourner or the girl from the Matrix. They were at Alessiya’s place, already making amends for their erroneous ways. Alessiya had typed a letter the night before and was preparing to send it to all her true loves - all nineteen of them - worldwide. After spell checking it, she copied Rita in then clicked send. Rita sat adjacent on another computer.

  ‘There you go Rita, send this to your boyfriends.’

  Hi my darling, I hope this letter finds you okay. Unfortunately I am not well. Today I had a motor accident and I made big damage to my car. I do not have insurance because it is very expensive, and now I must have fifteen hundred dollars minimum for repairs to my car. It is terrible because I must take my daughter from school to my mother’s place and now it is one hour on the bus. Can you please help me? I can go to Western Unionas always. Thanks my love. You know you will not regret it. I have my ways, Your Oly.

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  Alessiya took some satisfaction that the events brought about by Rita had only served to toughen the girl up. Overnight Rita emerged with a hardness not seen before. Managing to keep her parents ignorant of her transgressions would ultimately lead to a hasty disposal of her former priceless asset. Next time, she’d do whatever it took to ensure no repeat of the dilemma with the Australian. And although Alessiya might have lost the battle it had only served to harden her resolve. More than ever, she determined not to lose the war. She knew that after Bronte left town, an opportunity would arise for her to exact some form of revenge.

  ‘I’m afraid of that woman. God knows what she’s capable of’ Zhana said quietly.

  ‘Don’t worry Zhana. It’s okay now. It’s all over and will soon be forgotten.’

  ‘Yea… easy for you to say, you don’t have to live here… and you don’t know Alessiya or understand this town.’

  ‘Maybe you should consider moving to a different house… a different town even?’

  ‘And go where? I can’t just leave here now. I have my son and mother to consider – the visas I’ve started and Wi… work.’ She stopped short of adding Willy. Sasha suddenly appeared and got in the car, started it then pulled out from the curb and reversed up the drive and around the back of the police station.

  ‘Come inside,’ he said, leaving the two to climb out of the car. They followed him into an empty room which looked like a storage room for a department store. On the desk sat a television, some shoe boxes and a large electrical goods cardboard box. There was a container stacked with various perfumes and cosmetics and another box held a Sony Playstation and some games. Th
e station CO came in and closed the door behind him before Sasha spoke.

  ‘She only had five hundred dollars.’ Handing bills to Bronte he continued, ‘So we took the rest in goods. You will find your fifteen hundred here no problem.’

  Pirate loot plundered by Robin Hood and not a court, a magistrate or a lynch party anywhere in the picture. This was justice at its swiftest! It truly broke all the rules and would never occur under normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal circumstances. Truth was, Sasha and those in charge of the station were opportunists and had grabbed the chance when they’d seen it. This was an FSB case, handled by the local cops, so who’d tell who? Bronte didn’t know.

  ‘Zhana please… help yourself, all this is not important for me.’ Bronte said startled.

  ‘I do not want any part of her stuff. I only wanted that your money was returned. I am glad at least that has happened… okay, not all of it… but I will not take her shit’ Zhana said angrily. Bronte detected a sly grin from the detective.

  ‘Zhana get real… what am I going to do with a television and Playstation for goodness sake? Take them in my luggage to Australia? I don’t think so.’

  ‘I’m not taking them. Throw them away if that’s what you want, but I will not have them, or the money, or even her bloody perfume.’ This time Sasha shrugged but with even greater resignation. He pulled a cigarette from his jacket and left the room. The CO followed while Zhana stood in silence performing her very best cold war act. It was evident she’d put her foot down with no intention of compromise so Bronte left the room also. When he found the CO, he signalled Sasha to ditch his smoke and come inside. He asked the detective if he’d summon the two uniformed officers who'd assisted through the many idle hours in that stuffy room. With all four men in attendance, Bronte began.

  ‘Alexsei, please, take the television.’

  ‘Sasha, your son doesn’t have Playstation? Here, give him this.’

  ‘Scholesy… please, take these beautiful shoes to your wife. They are like new.’

  ‘Vladimir, please, your wife will love these, they are very expensive.’ Bronte handed the CO a bag of perfumes which had all been gifts from Alessiya’s many foreign admirers. Zhana stood unmoved by the sight of Boss, Gucci, Laurent, Bvlgari and even Britney Spears changing hands. Zhana didn’t like Britney anyway. When he came to one of the last shoeboxes, he laughed. It was the Bardot boots, yet unworn. He’d get to give them to his step daughter after all. All the officers were ecstatic. What a good day on the job today darling! More important, Bronte knew he’d made valuable friends who just might help out with a favour if needed. After learning of Zhana’s fear for her future in Krasnodar, who knows what help he may have to call on?

  That evening, Bronte and Zhana went out to eat. She knew a good place only about ten minutes away. In every regional Russian city everything is about ten minutes away - on foot or by taxi. They decided to walk. It was a two storey place and they went upstairs to a quiet table.

  ‘So Zhana, tell me about Willy. How is he, healthy and strong?’

  ‘Well I’m not sure how strong… but he’s healthy… why?’

  ‘Damn… I thought that on the off chance, he may have a terminal disease or something’ Bronte said with a chuckle.

  ‘What? Why do you ask that?’

  ‘Well I just thought… you know… sometimes you never know these things…’

  ‘You’re asking me is he going to die?’

  ‘Well I was figuring my luck has to change sooner or later…’

  ‘That’s a terrible thing to say Bronte… about Willy I mean…’

  ‘Zhana think about it for a minute. I arrive here to see you… but it’s not really you I meet. I go through a bunch of crap… but we still meet… on a path in a park! I mean, what were the chances of that happening? Don’t you think about that? You know… the hand of fate thing…’

  ‘I also think about how I met Willy…’

  ‘You met Willy in equally miraculous circumstances?’

  ‘I met Willy because you wouldn’t reply to my letters! Your hand of fate… the hand that couldn’t be bothered writing.’ Damn, why did she have to mention that? Bronte felt himself blushing. He knew he was somewhere lost in revelry with Lena at the time he stopped writing.

  ‘Zhana look… I had some problems back then…’

  ‘Yea… problems with your hand of fate… up another skirt. You didn’t write for more than a month. The only reason you wouldn’t write is if you had someone else… or you were hospitalised. Maybe you have a terminal illness?’

  ‘Zhana that’s all behind us now… and it’s a mental illness so it’s not terminal’ he laughed.

  ‘Bronte, that might be behind us… but Willy’s still in front of me…’

  ‘Zhana, I’m in front of you now… won’t you at least consider putting Willy behind you? Don’t you believe we really should be together? Don’t you see Cupid brought us together?’

  ‘Didn’t we have this conversation yesterday? Please… you think my answer has changed in the past 24 hours? It’s all too difficult for me, really.’ Suddenly Zhana’s phone rang. He was almost glad the interruption got him out of a conversation that was leading to either Heartbreak Hill or Point Danger.

  ‘Da, da, da… okay’, Zhana hung up. ‘That was Sasha. He is coming here to see you… he wants you to go with him.’ Bronte’s heart missed a beat and Zhana looked suddenly subdued.

  ‘What for? Where to?’

  ‘To the mountains. He wants to get you out of town… show you the mountains.’

  ‘Are you coming?’ Bronte asked, more than a little hopeful.

  ‘Sorry, he said boys only event.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  They drove in Sasha’s own car, an A4 Audi Quattro. In a town brimming with born again Russian Fiats recycled from the 1960’s, this wasn’t bad for a low paid thirty two year old FSB agent. Bronte wondered how much he would already have collected for the Playstation. His son probably never knew of its existence, least of all how to help Lara Croft escape from The Tomb Raider. Bronte had also wondered what else he’d scored when they’d gone to collect from Alessiya’s apartment.

  Sasha was tall and handsome with a cheeky smile and a confidence his badge and training instilled. He had a wife, child, a baby and a handful of girlfriends across town. He also ran a phone card business with a brother in law that seemed slightly under the table. And he liked to drink hard. It was midnight when they arrived at their destination somewhere deep in the Caucasus. They drove for three hours and at times, the road was icy and extremely treacherous as it wound its way higher and deeper into the ever more imposing night-time landscape. Bronte was glad to see the end of the trip. When Sasha finally stopped, it was because they couldn’t possibly drive any further. They’d literally come to the end of the road and as the car swung into a driveway, the door of the adjacent house opened and out walked a young colleague of Sasha’s.

  Viktor was a well built clone of Matt Daemon. He couldn’t speak English as well as the American actor, but he was warm, back-slapping friendly and delighted Bronte had joined his comrade for the journey. Bronte wondered then what Viktor had already learned of him. They followed him in from the freezing air of the high country to meet his parents and neighbours. Sasha had been invited to visit on this, the weekend Viktor had gone home to see the family. He came from a remote and extremely poor mountain village so visits were rare for Viktor and even rarer for Sasha who was a long time friend.

  Inside, half the entire village sat waiting for their arrival – a foreign visitor from distant Australia was a free night out at the freak show. Bronte’s visit was already local news. No one had ever met a real life Australian in these parts and all were eager to show him real Russian hospitality. The table stood completely buried under foods, salads, fruit, fish, meats, soft drinks, juices, beer and vodka; lots of vodka. Before the men had time to sit, Viktor was handing them shots. Everyone spoke at once, all passing dishes and
dispensing drinks. Each took turns at offering Bronte some form of exotic Russian food and toasting the bonds between the two countries. The mass quantities of alcohol consumed accelerated construction of the bridge across the language barrier. Someone commented his Russian improved with each passing shot of vodka.

  At 3.20 am, Bronte left the others who were still waiting for the tide to go out in the third or fourth bottle of vodka. He felt like he’d been hit by a bus and then dragged by an ensuing Kenworth. His world was spinning and he barely remembered staggering from the eating house to the sleeping house. Lying on his bed only made the helicopter ride more taxing. He was conscious of giant rotors whirring above his head. No wonder he was cold and shivering. So why was he sweating? He was seasick and airsick all at the same time and the room was revolving at an ever increasing velocity. It may have been space station Mir. Ground control to Major Tom.

  Hanging onto the mattress was the only option to avoid being thrown onto the floor. With the sweats and shivers, he was willing himself to sober up and deal with the overpowering wish to vomit. He just managed to make it outside before he returned the vodka to the earth from whence it came, albeit minus the vegetable packaging. Hunched over and barking bile and saliva at the dirt, he resolved never to do that again. It was one thing to get beaten up unsuspectedly by strangers, but to inflict such punishment on oneself with rocket fuel was downright suicidal.

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  Back in Krasnodar Zhana was miserable, sitting quietly at the table with a cup of tea, the apartment in a state of deathly silence. Willy was a million miles away and now her intriguing lost boyfriend from Australia had vanished into the mountains. Alone in that cold hole, she wondered why the hell she didn’t warm to his offer of time together. Willy wouldn’t know and now more than ever she needed his strong company. She was wrestling with compromised feelings she held for the two men. She had a heart attack when the door burst open.