Bear

by Matt Rogers

  His thoughts were consumed by the memory of the top half of Viktor’s head separating from the rest of his body.

  ‘Da,’ the man muttered, then smiled at the irony. ‘Sorry. Yes. I have to. Tourists end up in here every now and then. Like yourself.’

  ‘Seems everyone I’ve run into in Russia speaks English in some capacity.’

  ‘Changing world. Have to keep up. I am online now. Search for “Vladivostok bar” and I’m the first result. My son helped me with that. Best to speak English if you want to do well.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘You looking to stay the night?’

  Slater looked around. ‘I don’t understand.’

  The bartender jerked a thumb toward the ceiling. ‘Rooms upstairs.’

  Slater shrugged. ‘Maybe. Let me think.’

  He tipped the contents of the glass into his mouth and swallowed in one massive gulp. It was strong and didn’t taste cheap, and it burned its way down his throat before settling in his stomach, warm and satisfying. The effects would take a few minutes to hit.

  Until then, Slater ordered another.

  As the bartender poured, he cast a look over Slater’s shoulder. ‘You here to visit your friend?’

  ‘What?’

  The man cocked his head. ‘You two don’t know each other?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Just a coincidence, you know. Two Americans in this place. Very odd.’

  For a moment Slater tensed up, wondering how his past had caught up to him. There could be any one of hundreds of people sitting behind him right now, enemies long forgotten who had stalked him through Russia and finally lay in wait in this tavern, ready for him to come strolling through the door to put a bullet in his head.

  Then he realised how ridiculous of a concept that was, considering he’d made the decision to walk in here less than a minute earlier.

  And he didn’t think he had psychics for enemies.

  He craned his neck as the bartender poured another couple of fingers of the top shelf vodka into the same glass, and noticed the woman across the room staring at him from the shadows.

  It was hard not to notice her.

  Her green eyes were piercing, as if she could see exactly who Slater was without a word exchanged between them. Her hair was curly, the colour of autumn leaves, and her figure was lithe and athletic — although it was wrapped up in winter gear, Slater found it hard not to notice. He held her gaze for a brief moment before turning back to the bar.

  ‘Don’t know her,’ he said.

  The bartender grinned. ‘She’s staying upstairs. Maybe you should get to know her.’

  ‘I don’t think she wants to know me.’

  ‘That’s…’

  Slater stared at the man as he battled to find the right words.

  ‘…pessimistic.’

  The bartender seemed pleased with himself for nailing a difficult English word.

  Slater smirked. ‘My life is pretty pessimistic.’

  ‘You are young. Strong. Healthy. Your life seems okay.’

  ‘Healthy physically, maybe.’

  The bartender tapped the side of his head. ‘We are all fucked in here. Can’t be mad about that.’

  ‘Think I should I go introduce myself?’

  ‘What do you have to lose?’

  The alcohol started to warm Slater’s insides, and the dulling sensation settled over him. For the first time since the incident had occurred, he found himself drifting away from the thought of Viktor’s headless corpse lying slumped in front of the train station.

  ‘Nothing,’ Slater admitted, and swung off the bar stool as he downed the second giant mouthful of vodka.

  18

  The woman watched him approach with the hint of a sly smile creeping across her features. She sipped at her beer as he pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. There was enough of a pleasant murmuring throughout the tavern to make conversation comfortable. Slater didn’t want to introduce himself with the whole place listening in.

  ‘The bartender thought we knew each other,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know you,’ the woman said.

  She smiled, flashing brilliant white teeth. It stirred something inside Slater, and he grappled with how long it had been since he’d been with a woman. When in active service with the United States government he’d satiated any vices with the ruthless pursuit of one-night-stands, something he’d become rather adept at after a lifetime of travelling across the globe.

  It helped being in peak physical condition, and he thanked his parents for the genetics they’d passed down.

  Now, though, he realised his life had been chaotic for so long that his mind hadn’t even floated over to the concept of romance. Sitting across from this woman gave him a stillness he hadn’t experienced in quite some time.

  He was present in the moment.

  He wasn’t dwelling on his past.

  This was exactly what he needed.

  ‘Texas?’ Slater said. ‘You’ve got the accent.’

  ‘I spent most of my childhood there. Now I live everywhere.’

  ‘You a dock worker?’

  She nodded. ‘I take what I can get.’

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming over. I’ve got nowhere else to be. Figured I’d try to find some company.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ the woman said. ‘Helps that you look so good.’

  ‘Straight to the point,’ Slater noted.

  ‘We’re in Vladivostok. Might as well cut to the chase.’

  ‘You single?’

  ‘Straight to the point yourself.’

  ‘Like you said…’

  ‘As a matter of fact I am. But what does that have to do with this conversation?’

  ‘Nothing. Yet.’

  ‘You are forward, aren’t you?’

  ‘Best way to live.’

  ‘Well, yes, I am single. Are you?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Wouldn’t have a clue.’

  ‘I came over here.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean a thing these days. Married men are worse, usually.’

  Slater shrugged. ‘Guess I haven’t been around normal society in a while. I don’t know how things are.’

  ‘Are you a hermit or something?’

  ‘My job kept me busy.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘This and that.’

  ‘You’re not giving much away, are you?’

  Slater put his elbows down on the rough surface and made direct eye contact with her. ‘I don’t want to talk about work.’

  Perhaps he’d said it too forcefully — then again, he had just seen a man die in his arms less than an hour earlier. He meant what he said.

  She nodded respectfully. ‘Understood. Can get a bit like that, can’t it?’

  ‘You have no idea,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I just … I need a break.’

  ‘Well, talk to me then.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘About life.’

  Slater paused. ‘What about life?’

  ‘You know … hobbies, personal stuff, anything. I figure we can skip past the small talk, considering we’re in a place like this. We may as well get to know each other.’

  At a loss for words, Slater drummed his fingers on the coarse wooden surface of the table and allowed the hint of a smile to touch the corner of his mouth. ‘I guess I’m boring. Don’t have much to say. Work was my entire life for as long as I can remember. I only got out a few months ago.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Retired? You must have done well for yourself. You don’t look a day over thirty.’

  ‘I worked hard.’

  ‘For someone who doesn’t want to talk about work, it seems like it’s all you’re dwelling on.’

  ‘Sorry. I’ve got to learn how to detach, you know?’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘That’s not a foreign concept. Seems like when I get off the job all I want to do is sign up for more. It pa
ys well being out here.’

  ‘What do you do?’

  ‘Construction admin. Nothing impressive.’

  ‘You’re all the way out here for work. That’s pretty impressive.’

  ‘And if you’re retired, then you’re all the way out here by choice. I don’t know whether that’s impressive or psychotic.’

  ‘Maybe I like the cold.’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t think so, though.’

  ‘Construction … you wouldn’t happen to work at the Medved Shipbuilding Plant, would you?’

  She smirked. ‘You know far too much about this place for a retired man.’

  ‘I’m curious.’

  ‘You’re curious about shipbuilding, and you like the cold. You certainly are unique.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I work there. But today I’m like you. I don’t want to talk about work.’

  ‘Can I ask you a question? It’s forward.’

  ‘I like forward.’

  ‘You haven’t seen anything dodgy going on, have you?’

  ‘Define dodgy.’

  ‘Something seriously bad.’

  ‘You know something about that sort of thing?’

  He shrugged. ‘You hear rumours.’

  She shook her head, adamant, innocent. Slater knew how to read people, and she read like someone genuinely oblivious. ‘I mean, I guess I’m not paid correctly. Most of it’s cash. Tax savings, that kind of business. But I just manage the rosters for the labourers. I’m very good at it — hence why I’m out here. I can be a real bitch when I need to be. And I think upper management realised independent contractors won’t retaliate against a woman if she’s bossing them around, so they keep me busy. I’m useful to the plant. But I don’t know what business goes on behind closed doors. The place is enormous. I’m sure there’s a bunch of unsavoury shit going down, but quite frankly it’s none of my business. You understand? I just turn a blind eye and do what I get paid to do. Blissful ignorance, I guess.’

  ‘That’s a lot to tell a stranger.’

  She shrugged. ‘You don’t want to talk about your work. You’re rich. You’re young. You’re retired. I figure you’re about the furthest thing from an undercover cop imaginable.’

  ‘You figure correct.’

  She smiled. ‘Give me a hint.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘What you used to do.’

  ‘I can’t. Maybe later.’

  ‘Later?’

  ‘You working right now?’

  ‘I’ve got today and tomorrow off. Ten days on, two days off. Coming up to the end of a four-month stint. Then it’s back home to count my purse.’

  ‘They pay well?’

  ‘Very well. Because no-one else wants to do it.’

  ‘Now that’s something I can relate to.’

  Her gaze bored into him. ‘You are mysterious.’

  ‘Doesn’t take much effort,’ he said. ‘A black man in Vladivostok. I may as well be a Martian.’

  She laughed. ‘Well, you’re good company for a Martian.’

  ‘What have you got planned for your time off?’

  She cradled the beer bottle and drained the dregs from the bottom, then placed it gently on the table. ‘I plan to sit here and drink and go upstairs and sleep and repeat that until a handsome man walks through that door and sweeps me off my feet.’

  Sarcastic, but with an underlying tone of truth.

  ‘Don’t know if I’m handsome, but I gave it a shot, didn’t I?’

  ‘You’re handsome.’

  ‘I’m flattered.’

  ‘I doubt that’s the first time you’ve heard that.’

  ‘It’s been a while.’

  ‘I don’t believe that for a second.’

  ‘I’ve been … busy.’

  ‘Work?’

  ‘Work.’

  ‘Well, isn’t it convenient that you’re retired, then?’

  ‘Why don’t we go upstairs?’

  She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I just want to see your room,’ he said. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure.’

  He shrugged and put both elbows down on the table. The confidence was returning. ‘I mean, we could keep talking. But I think it’s pretty obvious what we both want. And we have all the time in the world to talk later. So it’s probably not politically correct to be so forward, but I’m a long way past caring about that.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  With a smile.

  19

  For the next few hours, all thoughts of blood and death and despair passed from Slater’s mind.

  He was utterly, completely free.

  She led him up a flight of claustrophobic wooden stairs, and Slater had to duck so he didn’t knock his head against the low ceiling overhead. He figured the barman didn’t advertise the living quarters to all the patrons — only trustworthy ones. They stepped into a long low hallway with rustic wooden walls and antique furniture positioned on either side of a thick plush carpet. The central heating proved effective, eliminating the icy chill of the outdoors. A multitude of doors on either side of the corridor branched off into small private rooms, with a communal bathroom at the far end of the hall.

  A quaint little setup, befitting the authentic atmosphere of the downstairs bar.

  A place to call home in an otherwise desolate wasteland.

  Slater pinned her to the wall as soon as they made it out of sight of the bar’s patrons and kissed her hard, savouring the taste, sensing the quiver in her lips as she returned the gesture.

  When they parted, he ran a finger down her cheek.

  ‘I don’t even know your name,’ he said, flashing a smile.

  She stifled a laugh. ‘Shows how socially inept we are, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t socialise much. And I take it there’s not much opportunity to talk to people all the way out here.’

  ‘It’s tough.’

  ‘I’m sure people want to talk to you, though.’

  ‘Most do.’

  ‘Do you oblige?’

  ‘Only when I feel like it. Which isn’t often.’

  ‘So I’m the exception.’

  She kissed him again, pulling him close, breathing him in. ‘There’s just something about you.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘So am I.’

  ‘Where’s your room?’

  ‘Come with me.’

  ‘I’m Will.’

  ‘Natasha.’

  She took him by the hand and led him halfway down the hallway. Most of the doors lay open, revealing identical living quarters with neatly made beds and small fireplaces by the windows. There were ample vacancies — Slater wondered whether it was the off-season, or the simple fact that no-one ever came to Vladivostok.

  He figured it was the latter.

  They stepped into Natasha’s room and she pounced on him, stripping clothes and locking lips as the door swung shut behind them. At first he found himself taken aback by the intensity, but that quickly faded away, replaced by a burning desire to fulfil his wildest fantasies. He hadn’t planned on meeting a romantic interest this deep in the Russian Far East, and he figured she hadn’t either.

  And the warmth of the room created a reprieve, a safe haven from the harsh, cruel world that lay just outside the building. Slater relished it. He never wanted to leave.

  Two bodies intertwined, they barely made it to the bed before she guided him inside her. They gyrated and writhed and moaned, and Slater gave thanks that the rest of the floor was mostly empty. He wondered if the patrons downstairs would hear, and then Natasha changed position and he stopped thinking entirely.

  He fought for control, but she was something else.

  They climaxed in unison, collapsing against the headboard in a sweaty heap. Slater breathed out the tension of the morning, letting it loose finally, and looped an arm over her supple shoulders. He kissed her on the forehead, breathing her scent, questioning how he’d managed to
get so lucky after such a horrific arrival in Vladivostok.

  ‘You’re so good,’ she whispered, kissing his chest.

  ‘I’m surprised. It’s been a long time.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Let’s not get into that.’

  ‘A guy that looks like you … it had to be by choice.’

  ‘I didn’t have time to do anything other than survive before today.’

  She stared up at him, her eyes full and her lips luscious. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I probably shouldn’t have said that.’

  She worked her lips up his body, planting kisses from his chest to his neck to his jaw. ‘I’ll just have to convince you to talk, then.’

  ‘Are you good at that?’

  ‘It’s a certain kind of talent.’

  ‘I haven’t had an easy retirement.’

  ‘Your career involved something dangerous, didn’t it? Something ordinary people don’t sign up for?’

  ‘How’d you know?’

  ‘It’s pretty obvious, Will.’

  He stayed silent.

  She said, ‘So you tried to retire, and you kept running into the same situations?’

  He nodded. ‘The same thing happened to an old co-worker of mine. I don’t know what it is. It must be something about the job. We acted as a magnet for bad shit for so long, and then when we retired the magnet stayed there. Inside us. I attract trouble, it seems.’

  ‘So maybe you shouldn’t be hanging around with me,’ she said. ‘Maybe that’s dangerous.’

  ‘Maybe. It’s your call.’

  She raised a finger and tapped his forehead twice, as if knocking on a door to his brain. ‘I think there’s something hardwired up here. Some kind of neural pathway that formed over the years. It happens in anyone’s career, but it seems like yours was more dangerous than most. So now, when you’ve got nothing to do, you go straight toward trouble.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I think I’ve got it.’

  He ran his hands over her naked body under the sheets, relishing the moment, hanging onto the release of pure bliss that came with the surroundings. The room was small and cosy, and that meant everything. He felt secure in here. No-one would come kicking in the door looking for him. He could ease off his awareness levels just for a few hours, until the time came to activate his old tendencies.