by Blake Haugen
“What’s going on, Ivan? First Persephone, now you? Anybody else coming uptown to pay us a random visit?” She stared up at him, unmoved by his height and bulk. Lauren was tall in her own right at an inch under six feet. For the first time, as he took in the intricate black tattoos on her toned arms, her smoky green eyes, and her messy, black rock star hair, Vanya gave consideration to the rumors about the crazy girl from California who would happily cut someone in a fight. Diplomacy would be the best approach.
“Hopefully not, Lauren. Look, I’m sorry to bother you two, but if Persephone is awake, I’d like to talk to her.” Vanya’s tone remained neutral. His stare didn’t leave Lauren’s face until Finn’s head popped out on the side of Lauren’s shoulder. It was startling to see her without expertly applied makeup; she was still pretty, just different. A sloppy bun of crinkly red hair sat atop her head. It wobbled as she scooted beside Lauren in the doorway, wrapping a large blue satin robe around her body.
“What do you mean? Persephone’s not here. I mean, she told you she was leaving,” Finn cocked a brunette eyebrow.
“She said she was leaving. She just didn’t specify whereto. We had a disagreement last night and she’s upset.”
“Hell yeah, we heard all about your ‘disagreement.’ She was fucking pissed,” Lauren said, emphasizing her quotation with wagging eyebrows, “Perce just stopped by to let us know she’d be out of town for a long time handling her family emergency. She didn’t want us to worry.”
Vanya felt blood rush to his face. Were they lying? Did Persephone want to avoid him so much as to have them lie for her? He rubbed at a sudden ache in his left temple and huffed before speaking again. “Listen, I know Persephone is here. I just want to speak with her. She must know I’m here if she’s having you guys come out here and say this stuff to me.”
“Wait, how do you know she’s still here?” Finn interjected accusingly. “Did you follow her here like a stalker, Ivan? If you did, then you’d know Persephone was here a grand total of ten minutes.”
“What?” Vanya demanded. He lost his collected disposition and stood over both women with a seething glare. “You need to tell me if she’s here or not.”
“You know, Ivan,” Lauren spoke lowly taking a step closer, “I think Finn was pretty clear just now, but I’ll tell you something else. Whether Persephone was here or not, you’d still have about five seconds to turn around and walk the fuck out of this building before I send your pretty ass home with a little souvenir right across your fucking face.” Out of nowhere, she produced a switchblade and held it at Vanya’s chin.
“Shit, Lauren!” Finn gasped and took a step back. Vanya was surprised too, but hid it behind the steady eye contact he maintained with Lauren. He pressed his chin into the blade until he felt it sting, and then turned around abruptly to walk down the stairs. Before Finn’s door slammed he heard Lauren remark, “Fucking asshole.”
He’d definitely deserved that and more, but he’d worry about it later. Right now, he needed to find out where the hell Persephone was hiding out. He called Persephone once more before leaving the building.
“We’re sorry. The number you have tried to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check your number and try again.”
It was the tenth time he’d listened to the message that morning. Vanya went to his car with a fast, determined gait. Somehow, he knew Finn was telling the truth. He brainstormed all the places Persephone could have run off to. After starting the car, he cleared his throat and told the phone to call Max.
“Maksim,” Vanya bit out when the call connected, “she isn’t here.” Silence filled the line. Vanya wanted Max to stew. As the man had never failed him before, he was curious to see what his reaction would be. Vanya promised himself he would bring down the fires of hell if this had happened because of a mistake in surveillance. Max finally spoke after another few seconds and a harsh sigh.
“I’ll figure out what happened. We’ll keep watching the redhead’s place and do a sweep after they leave. I’ll have the airport checked and I’ll go to her apartment immediately.”
“No,” Vanya interrupted, “I’ll go to Persephone’s apartment. Go to Emma Benson’s apartment and check things out.”
“Yes.”
“And Max?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t have to mention the consequences of me finding out this happened because of you or your men, right?”
“No, Ivan Kirillovich, you don’t.”
“Good. Let’s get this done then.” Vanya hung up snappishly and pulled out of his illegal parking space. His hands didn’t move from their iron grips on the wheel until he reached the outskirts of the city.
Traffic moving out of the city into the suburbs on Sunday afternoon was light. He wove past cars and sped as much as he could on the way to Persephone’s campus apartment. After an hour of some the most reckless driving of his life, he parked across the street from her building.
A text from Max let Vanya know that Emma wasn’t at her place, Arianna was out of town on a dance trip, and John Mark was out of town watching Arianna. An invasive, discreet search of their apartments revealed that no one had visited them in the last twenty-four hours. The search at the airport was ongoing and Max would speak with Emma as soon as she got home.
Vanya took a deep breath before he turned his key to Persephone’s building. His panicked heart told him this visit would be as fruitless as the others, but again he tamped down his fears to move forward. He turned the key and released a breath he didn’t know he was holding when the latch gave way. Feeling a bit triumphant, he sprinted up the stairs to her door. He placed the apartment key in its lock only to have it jam. His feeling of triumph melted away with each unsuccessful jiggle of the mechanism. He stopped and contemplated breaking in and suddenly the door flew open to reveal a tall, green-eyed brunette who looked less than pleased.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” she demanded sharply with a German accent. She swung her long fishtail braid behind her back and looked Vanya up and down. Her eyes were less accusatory and more appreciative when they met his face once more.
“Gretchen,” Vanya said hastily. “It’s Gretchen, right? I’m Persephone’s boyfriend, Ivan.”
“Ivan? That’s not her boyfriend’s name,” Gretchen replied skeptically.
“Vanya is what she usually calls me.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember now. I guess I knew it was you anyway. You think your key should work and you’re about the right size to fit into those big dress shirts in the closet. Come in.”
With that, she swished around in her colorful maxi dress and waved for him to follow her. Vanya stepped into the once familiar space. The small living room was even more crowded now that a weight machine and elliptical sat behind the couch. A few boxes were opened on the floor. They were filled with Persephone’s books and some knickknacks.
“Come by get to your stuff, hmm?” Gretchen asked casually. She sat on one of the stools in front of the bar that separated the kitchenette from the living room. “I’m cool with you taking whatever. I don’t have much time to sell off what I don’t want; but not the TV. Persephone said that baby is all mine.”
Vanya raised his head in alarm. Gretchen had spoken with Persephone? He tamped down his excitement. He had to play it cool to get as much information as possible.
“What? She didn’t tell me she was giving you the TV! I was planning to use it in our second bedroom! When did she tell you that?!” he asked contrarily.
“Just last night when she came over!” Gretchen insisted.
“Hmph, well, that does sound like her. It was late. I guess I must have forgotten,” Vanya conceded, rubbing his chin. “Look, I’m sorry we had to bother you with all this on such short notice. It’s just one of those situations, you know?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Gretchen shrugged, “but when a new job opportunity like that comes up, you have to
snatch it. I’m just glad I don’t have to move out once the lease is up. It was incredibly kind of Persephone to work out the contract with the landlord and give me all these things.”
“Yes, that is good. I’m still surprised by the whole thing. It’ll be hard to be apart from her, not to mention the time it will take to travel to see her on a regular basis.”
“Aww, you’re so sweet! I want a boyfriend who will fly to visit me back home! You would be flying of course, right?”
Back home? “Yeah, it’s no big deal,” Vanya said casually. “The flight won’t be terribly long.”
“Really? I thought Texas was a long way from the Northeast.”
“It’s not so far. I’d only be going once a month.”
“Once a month! You have a brother? I need one of these rich American boys!” Gretchen twirled the end of her braid in her fingers. Her gaze became directionless and predatory.
“Russian American, and I only have a sister, a married sister. Look, Gretchen, you don’t mind if I pack up my shirts and a few other things to have some movers pick up, do you?”
“What are a ‘few things?’” Gretchen questioned, skeptical once again.
“Just the books and the keepsakes in the boxes there. I see she took the pictures. That stuff and the orange chair are all I want.”
“Well, it is a very cool chair –”
“Persephone’s mother bought that chair,” Vanya interrupted. “It’s one of the few things Persephone has left of her. I’m sure she wasn’t thinking when she left it behind. Let me take it.”
“Alright, alright,” Gretchen surrendered, rolling her eyes, “just how long do you think you’ll be? I need to leave in an hour.”
“I’ll be out of your hair in twenty minutes. I’ll make sure the delivery men come at any time you like today and I’ll compensate you for the inconvenience.”
“Compensate? Damn, you should have said so before now.” Her jade eyes glittered and she smiled at the prospect of money. It was Vanya’s turn to roll his eyes.
Vanya packed his clothes, some of Persephone’s books, and the keepsakes into three boxes and set them in the orange chair. He moved the chair out of the living room setting and placed it by the door. Gretchen watched him curiously all the while. He made arrangements for two of Max’s men to come pick up the stuff when Gretchen returned that evening and gave her a few hundred dollars for her trouble. On the ride back to the city Max called with an update.
“Peter Benson must know something. Emma Benson told me that Persephone hadn’t been at her place, but her father told her to tell you, quote, ‘Percy is safe. Leave her and the rest of us alone, you fucking Cossack.’ I don’t think he realized that last bit wasn’t necessarily an insult. If he’s involved, then I suspect a professional helped her. I’ve booked tickets to Texas this evening if you’re ready to go.”
“I’m more than ready. Pack me a bag and meet me at the airport.” Vanya disconnected the call and punched the gas. Nothing, especially Peter Benson, was going to keep him from his woman.
☐
“So, you’re telling me, sight unseen, you started checking on me during school just because Peter asked you to? He just looked up qualified inactive military personnel in the university area and he found your name? You guys have a spy phonebook or something?”
“I take issue with the word ‘spy’ and, whatever we are, we don’t use a phonebook. Phonebooks became an endangered species in 2002,” Timothy smiled over his cappuccino. It had been two months since Persephone had eaten with him and Velasquez upon her arrival in Geneva.
“Whoa, avoidance. So, I guess it’s classified information,” Persephone shot back. She leaned over the table scrutinizing his face with narrowed eyes. She was met with silence and after three seconds exclaimed, “Oh, my god, it is classified!”
“Alright, alright! Enough of that. Tell me how the city is treating you.”
Persephone arched her brow and stared at Timothy with momentary indecision. Giving up, she sat her bottom back down in her chair. “I think it’s the ‘Persephone in relocation’ part of me speaking, but Europe and I aren’t getting along so well. Either that or witness protection sucks way more than I thought it did.”
“You’re only two months out; things could still turn up. You’ve got a lot going on right now. Maybe once things settle down you’ll have more time to enjoy Geneva.”
Persephone felt contrite after hearing Timothy’s kind attempt to cheer her up. She hadn’t meant to sound so negative, but she couldn’t help it. Everything in her wanted to call Vanya. She wasn’t sure what she would say if she did such a thing. Only now did she realize what a mistake she’d made.
Persephone still stood by her decision to leave, but the way in which she’d left was pretty despicable. Peter would make sure Vanya knew she was okay, but it didn’t negate the fact that she had run away without much of an explanation. At the time, she’d thought it a fitting punishment, a display of just how independent she was. It seemed stupid and petty now. Persephone saw it for the hurtful move it was.
She couldn’t begin to ask Vanya for forgiveness even if she could talk to him. The guilt manifested itself in depressing ways. Persephone practically lived in her bed. The list of furniture and furnishing stores Velasquez had prepared remained unexamined on the kitchen counter. She was still living out of her one bag of luggage and a few outfits she bought out of necessity one afternoon. This outing with Timothy had been her first excluding runs for toilet paper, detergent, and tampons. What little food she’d been able to consume was delivered.
“What’s been keeping you busy?” Timothy inquired, pulling Persephone from her thoughts. “Do you have your apartment all set up?”
She frowned in chagrin. “No, actually, I haven’t gotten around to it at all. I’ve just been doing schoolwork. That and sleeping; I’ve been a real bum these past couple of months.”
“Schoolwork? I thought you were trying to set things up for next school year later today. You found a French school that would accept you this late in the year?”
“Of course not. I made arrangements with the dean of the law school.”
“Made arrangements!” Timothy exclaimed loudly.
“Shush! Don’t worry. Peter and Velasquez did all the set up for me.”
“Persephone, even so, it’s highly inadvisable for you to contact anyone from home for any reason. You’re hiding from Ryan Trask. We’re still only a few inches deep in his connections and we have no idea how far his reach goes.
“Think about it; what are the odds that you go to law school and become involved with the son of a known white collar criminal and Trask propositions said criminal? That confluence of events can’t be a coincidence. That man is after you. We can’t protect you if you don’t comply with our rules.”
“Well, Timothy, I’m not an analyst. I didn’t ask for this, and I’m hardly going to give up my degree. No one – not Trask, not the department – is going to take my degree away from me. I’ve already given up enough as it is. Peter and Velasquez are professionals. I trust them to handle it and so should you.”
Timothy sighed contritely. “I know, you’re right. It’s just that – I just worry about you sometimes. You hardly go out and you’re not talking to anyone.”
“What? Have you been checking up on me?”
“It’s part of my job,” Timothy said without remorse. “Even if it wasn’t, I would still do it as your friend. It’s hard enough to relocate, Persephone. Doing it alone and shut off from anyone else makes it that much worse.”
Unable to look him in the eye, Persephone changed the subject. “This is the freshest coffee I’ve had since I got here,” she said taking a sip from her mug. “Thank you for that.”
“Hey, I do what I can,” Timothy smiled sadly and shrugged his shoulders. He seemed content to let it go and Persephone was glad for it.
“So, I never got a chance to ask you what it is that you do up at the U.N. There aren’t too many SEAL-l
awyer-consultants up there I imagine.”
“Heh. No, there aren’t. I do some of everything. It’s just like you said – consulting.”
“Classified, I guess?”
“Nothing gets by you, Persephone,” Timothy commented wryly. Hardly anyone called her by her full name anymore. Perce, Percy, Perry, but hardly ever Persephone. Only professors and colleagues, and now Timothy it seemed. He stared at her for a few moments and her stomach flipped with unease. She was nowhere near ready for those kinds of looks. She cleared her throat awkwardly and stirred a dollop of cream into her coffee.
Another smile played at the corners of his lips. It accentuated his strong jaw which was laden with a freshly shaven shadow. Timothy observed her under the long lashes of his ink black eyes and all of a sudden Persephone was struck by how handsome her friend was. The fact that he was here protecting her in some capacity only enhanced his attraction. Attraction.
Persephone’s head popped back and she lowered it in shame. Her appetite left her and she pushed her pastry away. What would Vanya say? How would he feel if he could see her right now?
She rummaged through her purse for some francs and placed them on the table. “Timothy, I’m so sorry. I forgot that I had the appointment at the French school in an hour.”
“Persephone, let me get the food,” Timothy insisted, rising with her.
“No, no, you got it last time. I got this. That’s what friends do.” She stood on her tiptoes to give each of his cheeks a chaste kiss and darted out of the café without waiting for his response. Persephone didn’t release her breath until she had mounted her bike and ridden down the street.
She had to see Vanya, just one more time, if only to put things right. Fuck Velasquez and Peter’s admonitions. If she had to give him up, then she deserved this much.
☐
June 5, 2015
There had been no word. Nothing. Max had searched high and low. Vanya had looked near and far and used every resource available to him. Yulian, and even Mikhail had aided him in his search. Everyone had returned empty handed.
