Devil and Disciple

by L J K Cross

  “I can’t quite believe it myself,” answered Amanda hesitantly. “I mean I knew I was making improvements. I knew I was putting on size and I am feeling really strong in the gym. All my lifts…” Alexander held up his hand, dispelling any illusion of sincerity in one single gesture. It was obvious Amanda’s opinions mattered little. The only things that mattered were improvements, advancements and gains at whatever the cost.

  “Harasho, harasho, harasho.” Alexander slipped into his native Russian as he became lost in his own thoughts.

  “I am glad to hear it. I think then that we need to increase everything; your injections to one a day rather than one every other day, your food intake, your training. Then we will have even bigger gains in half the time.”

  Amanda’s mouth fell open silently, unable to make a sound, as she tried to take in the sheer audacity of the plan. The audible gasp came from elsewhere, somewhere off to her right. She turned to find Koroviev looking askance at Alexander. It was the first time Amanda had seen him view Alexander with anything other than subservience. It really was a night of revelations but not so for Alexander. He was lost in the magnitude of his own scheming and did not see Koroviev’s look turn from doubt to disapproval to distrust, and so continued with an even more astonishing revelation.

  “I have decided that you will enter the Amazon Classic in America in several months time. That is why we need to increase our preparations. We need to be ready to unveil our achievements and show the world what we are capable of.”

  His intentions declared, Alexander turned and left. He had spoken. There would be no debate. Amanda stood silent, open mouthed, incapable of voicing her objections, powerless to protest. Her eyes scanned the room in panic and found the ever-present Koroviev. They exchanged a look of hesitant mistrust. Everything Amanda was feeling at that very moment was being reflected back at her in his eyes or was it just a projection of her own despair? Koroviev held her gaze for a mere matter of moments before turning away to follow his master down the dark disappearing corridor, leaving Amanda once again feeling isolated and uncertain.

  Only five minutes before she had been feeling giddy with pride and a sense of accomplishment, certain that she was doing the right thing. But to fall victim to one’s vanity is a cruel and capricious game, certain to leave you on the losing side. The worst thing was that Amanda knew that the game was still far from over and Alexander appeared to be holding all the winning cards. Amanda didn’t know what move to make next. Her only strategy seemed to be to sacrifice her losing hand, throw in the lot and suffer the consequences.

  ****

  “Awwright babs.” Steve heard Bob’s booming brummy twang several moments before he saw him leisurely amble his hefty frame down the ward towards him. He took his time. Bob had been coming to visit Steve frequently during his convalescence and his smooth, silver tongue had quickly made him a firm favourite with the nurses.

  “Lukin’ luvlier than eva Sue.”

  “Nice to see you too,” muttered Steve.

  “Awwh, shut up you whinging git,” dismissed Bob as he gave the blushing nurse a cheeky kiss and a playful wink.

  “Is this one here givin’ you any trouble?”

  The nurse just giggled and shook her head, slightly embarrassed by the flirtatious attention but enjoying it all the same.

  “Well if he is you just let me know and I’ll sort him out for you,” demonstrated Bob with a harder than intended punch to Steve’s arm.

  “Watch it you numpty. I want to be getting out of here soon. There isn’t much bloody chance of that with you around,” grumbled Steve as he rubbed his dead arm. As soon as the nurse was out of ear shot Bob leant over,

  “She is a bit of a sort don’t you think? I wouldn’t mind her giving me a bed bath. I bet she is helluva thorough.” Bob gave a low dirty laugh.

  “And here was me thinking that you had come to visit me out of concern,” protested Steve, pretending to be offended.

  “Yaw cant teach an awld dog new tricks ma boy and this awld dog has still got a lot of awld tricks left in him. Ay could do with booking in here for a few weeks of rest and recuperation myself. It seems to have done you a world of good anyway. You definitely seem to be on the mend.”

  “I am more or less back to my former glory.”

  “Well I wouldn’t exactly go boasting about that,” interrupted Bob. Steve ignored him and carried on.

  “The nurse was just saying, before you came over and harassed her.”

  “I prefer knocked her bandy more like.”

  “Harassed,” continued Steve. “Anyway she was saying that I should be out of here within a week or two. I feel so much better since I stopped taking that medicine.”

  “Well at least you have stopped talking about ghosts or vampires or whateva the hell you were babbling on about. I was beginning to think you had been hit harder on the head than they had first presumed,” mocked Bob. Steve said nothing. He was just relieved that as Bob finished talking he bent down to get something out of his bag. It gave Steve a few seconds to check the anxious look on his face. It also gave him a clear view of the corridor behind Bob where Steve occasionally still caught fleeting glimpses of dark shadows retreating behind corners, careless as to whether they were seen or not.

  “Here you go,” announced Bob as he slapped a brown envelope down on the bed covers. “Your new passport arrived today. We was having a right gud laugh down the gym at that bloody picture of yours. I’m surprised any bloody country wud let you in with a mug shot like that.”

  “You cheeky git. You’re not exactly an oil painting yourself,” retorted Steve, though he was half in agreement with the lads down the gym. You did have to make concessions though that he had been in a hospital bed for over a month and had just been involved in a horrific car accident when the photo was taken. Well that was his excuse anyway and he was sticking with it.

  “Also after our conversation last time I did a bit of research on the Internet. One of the lads in the gym had to show me. Bloody hell its got everything on there hasn’t it? I did end up getting a bit side tracked,” chuckled Bob to himself, obviously recalling some of the more eyebrow raising images he managed to bring up.

  “Anyway I Googled this Alexander Sokolenko. Bit of a nasty piece of work isn’t he? Are you sure you want to get mixed up with the likes of someone like that?” asked Bob, leaning in conspiratorially, half whispering. It was almost as if from what he had read about Alexander he suspected that the FSB had the place bugged.

  “What choice do I have Bob?” sighed Steve. “Amanda is already mixed up with this evil monster. I can’t just abandon her. I have to at least find her and see if she is alright.”

  “Well you might want to take a luk at this then.”

  Bob handed Steve a print out of a newspaper article he had found on the Internet. Steve scanned it avariciously reading out odd words as he went along.

  “Mariinsky theatre…two hundred year anniversary…Tchaikovsky opera.”

  Bob cut in beating him to the punch line.

  “It seems this Alexander Sokolenko is a big patron of the arts and is financing sum poncy opera at this swanky theatre in St Petersburg for its anniversary. The article doesn’t stop banging on about how brilliant he is. Shows how much they bloody well know doesn’t it? If he is bank rolling it then he is definitely going to be there and more importantly so will Amanda.”

  Steve was now sat up straight in bed, reading and re reading the article in case he had missed any vital information.

  “You bobby dazzler Bob.” Bob beamed, looking as pleased as punch with himself.

  “I could kiss you but I wouldn’t want to make the nurses jealous. A crowded venue like this will be the perfect opportunity to get up close to Amanda and speak to her without being noticed. Its still going to be dangerous though,” mused Steve more to himself than to Bob, “but I have to take it. If I don’t I cant imagine I will get another chance.”

  CHAPTER 21

  The queui
ng limousines slowly snaked forward. Plebian passersby retreated in its wake, hoping the shadows would hide them from the poisoned power of the black mamba of wealth and prestige that slithered by. Despite the dark tinted glass Amanda clearly saw the wariness with which ordinary Russians viewed the menacing cavalcade. She saw the hastiness with which they pulled their children behind them as if fearful they would be taken from them, swallowed whole, never to be seen again. She couldn’t fail to notice their drab dreariness, their grey pallor that appeared even more ashen when contrasted with the view that loomed up ahead. The magnificence of the Mariinsky Theatre was lit up in a deep golden glow; a northern star burning high above in the heavy night sky, out of reach of the ordinary people below. Delicious and tantalizing, sprinkled with a light dusting of snow, it was not to be savoured by passing onlookers.

  Yet Amanda was no longer a mere ordinary onlooker. Reclined in the plush sophistication of the limousine’s leather seats, Amanda watched with growing excitement as they approached the theatre’s entrance. She inched forward in her seat. She felt the heads in the well-heeled crowd turn in her direction. She imagined the waiting photographers were surging against the wall of security just to meet her. She really had arrived she told herself with inflated pride. Her door was opened and she stepped out into her fanfare of flashing lights. She felt a million dollars but it had nothing to do with the fact that this was her first night out since she had arrived in St Petersburg, her first chance to relax and let her hair down after months of punishing training. It didn’t even have anything to do with the spectacular dress that Alexander had presented her with earlier that evening. He had distinctly specified that she was to wear it that evening but needless to say Amanda had had no intention of refusing. It was simply the most stunning dress she had ever seen. It slipped over her like a second skin. Twirling in front of the mirror, she had shimmered as the dress caught the light and managed to match at times her eyes, sometimes her hair, even her skin. She had been mesmerized by her reflection. Now as she continued to dazzle and out shine the flashlights, Amanda just knew that tonight had something in store for her. She could just feel it in the air.

  Through the pandemonium Amanda felt a protecting hand take hold of her arm. Amanda looked up expectantly but Alexander was already several steps ahead, hastily leaving her behind as he hurried his way through the crowd. Again Amanda was left in the wake of Alexander’s ever erratic, unendingly unpredictable personality. His face wore none of the thrill and excitement that Amanda felt. Instead he seemed contemptuous of the riff raff, eager to remain aloof and distance himself from them. But even worse he seemed to be totally oblivious to Amanda, as she stood rooted to the spot like a deer caught in the headlights, at a loss and out of her depth. Thank God then for Koroviev’s guiding arm as he eased her firmly through the melee into the sanctuary of the foyer.

  He had seen her, managing briefly to catch a glimpse of scintillating radiance, like a supernova bursting across the sky, and then she had gone, elusive as ever to his reach. Just like a supernova, Steve felt like he had been waiting an eternity for Amanda to sweep by but once sighted, was all too momentary and fleeting. Steve stood frozen to his core despite being packed tightly in amongst the scrum of photographers and recalled what had just occurred. The limousine approached and Steve knew it was Alexander’s; it was bigger, shinier, flasher than all the rest. The photographers had pushed and jostled for position. Steve had had to crane his neck and stand on tiptoe to try and catch sight of Amanda. She had exited the limousine and Steve got his first unobstructed view of her. He had gasped for air, feeling as if the surging crowd was squeezing the very breath out of him. He would have dropped right then and there to his knees if he hadn’t been so tightly packed in. He felt sickened by what he had seen as if he had been sucker punched in the stomach. Amanda had looked more radiant than he ever remembered, lustrous before the cameras as if she belonged there. Steve wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting but if he was truthful he had hoped that she would have seemed forlorn, slightly withdrawn, miserable even. Before he could stop himself, he had called out to her. He knew that was not the moment to do so. It was too crowded. She was too closely guarded but as soon as he had seen her all rationality had escaped him. He had seen her turn, her eyes searching blindly in the crowd and then she was gone.

  Once inside the refuge of the Mariinsky Amanda caught her breath. The foyer was still crowded but everyone stood poised, at a polite distance. It was still noisy but kept to a respectable, civilized level as if commanded by their surroundings. Amanda had never seen anything so grand in her life. She marveled at the sumptuous tiers of gold and blood red that trickled down in timeless elegance and spoke of the richness of Russia’s cultural heritage. It was all too intrinsic and complex for a stranger like Amanda to understand and yet so simply beautiful and natural that it transcended language and time.

  The crowd at the top of the stairs turned in unison to look at Amanda, a towering wall of haughty disdain. They parted and Amanda saw Alexander conspiratorially stood in their midst. Even amongst at all that finery and splendor, Alexander stood superciliously head and shoulders above the others. He beckoned her over. She had no choice but to obey. As Amanda approached she could see the transformation in Alexander, his ever-vacillating nature was in full swing. Whereas moments earlier he had been disdainful and aloof, like the social chameleon he was, it now suited to display his ebulliently charming side. He was a master puppeteer, knowing exactly which strings to pull to have his entourage hanging on his every word.

  Her arrival sliced through the atmosphere as if a knife had been taken to their strings. The smiles on their faces froze. Their arms hung suspended in mid air, undecided, unmoving. Their eyes unblinking as they tried to take her in.

  Alexander cleared his throat.

  “Razreshitye mnye predstavit moyu podrugu Amanda Hearst.” The entourage of sycophants acknowledged the introduction with slight jerks of the head as if their invisible strings had been tugged forcing them to act against their wishes. There was the odd begrudging “ochen priyatno” and “kak dela” but their resentment at having their exclusive soiree gatecrashed was palpable. Amanda felt out classed, out cast and out of her depth.

  “Ona ne govorit po russki. Do you not?” Amanda had no idea what he was referring to.

  “You don’t speak Russian, do you not?” Alexander clarified. Amanda shook her head and gave a slight shrug of the shoulders by way of apology knowing that any attempt at civilities would be wasted on this audience. Still they stared, like spectators at a freak show, as Alexander held her at arms length, allowing them to take a better look. Amanda almost thought he was going to ask her to give them a twirl. Perhaps she should have grabbed something close at hand and crushed it or maybe bent a steel bar so they would have got their moneys worth.

  A gentleman to the side of Amanda piped up.

  “So you are Alexander’s new…” he paused as he searched for the right word, “project that we have been hearing so much about.” His thick Russian accent made his words appear critical but there was no disguising his scorn when he asked,

  “So is it true that you are one of the top female bodybuilders in the world?”

  “I suppose so,” replied Amanda. She felt like asking him what exactly he was the best in the world at. Maybe that would have wiped the sneer from his face but Amanda was long past caring about others opinions. He continued,

  “Alexander was telling us that you are getting ready for a competition at the moment. How is it going?”

  Amanda gave a perfunctory “very well thank you.”

  “Interesno. Interesno,” he mumbled. The group remained silent but inched closer, eager to get a better look. They couldn’t stop their hands from twitching, itching to reach out and get a feel of just how hard her biceps were. It was always the same when Amanda met people. They appeared to disapprove but their questions and their stares belied their insouciant airs.

  Alexander pulled her to him
, rescuing her.

  “Our preparation is going fantastically well. Better than we could have anticipated. The competition wont stand a chance against Amanda,” he boasted planting a hard kiss on her cheek. Amanda flinched. She wasn’t sure why. She hoped no one had noticed. Maybe it was due to Alexander’s impetuosity. Maybe it was due to his vigour. Maybe it was due to anger at all this “our” and “we” when she was the one doing all the hard work or maybe it was due to repulsion.

  His voice got louder causing a number of people in the foyer to look their way.

  “What you have before you is the most perfect specimen of woman the world has ever seen. By the time we are through she will be the largest, strongest, most defined woman not just at present but in history.”

  Amanda blushed at his boastful claims. She cringed at his loud proclamations as his voice echoed round the foyer like a ringmaster at the circus. She resented his gloating. He viewed her achievements as his own, her success as a reflection upon himself. He was basking in her glory but she felt angered, justifiably so, at having to share it. It was hers and hers alone. Alexander’s audience also seemed to find his behavior arrogant as they made their excuses and beat a hasty retreat, certain that his eccentricity had gone a step too far this time. Amanda saw one of the women glance back and shake her head, unable to hide her disapproval any longer.

  “They didn’t seem too convinced,” laughed Amanda, just to show how unperturbed she was about being snubbed so publicly.

  “Ah who cares about them,” cried Alexander with a dismissive wave of the hand. “The only thing people like them are convinced about is their own importance. The only things they care about are their bank balances, their statuses, whether they are on the guest lists of the most exclusive parties.”

  As Alexander continued his eyes burned brighter with rage whilst his pallor paled proving a most frightening contrast.

  “All they know is luxury and comfort. Everything they have has been handed down to them. They know nothing of hard work, of having to strive to be the best, of having to sacrifice.”