The Doves of Ohanavank

by Vahan Zanoyan

  “The maintenance costs are relatively small,” continues Avo. “The largest is transportation. To maximize output, it is important to move the hives at least three times per year, usually higher up the mountainside. At higher altitudes flowers bloom later in the season. This can cost three to four dollars per hive. But it is worth it. Beekeepers here do not do this regularly, partly to save on cost and partly because they are lazy. But they average around eleven kilos of honey per hive. If you move them regularly and take good care of the hives, you’ll get twenty five to thirty kilos per hive!”

  “Avo,” I interrupt, impressed by his newly acquired knowledge. “When did you study all this?”

  “I talk to people,” he says smiling. “And Aram got some books on beekeeping from the Aparan library. There is even a beekeeper’s association in Armenia, but I have not contacted them yet. Domestic honey prices are much higher than international prices. I mean there is a huge difference, around double. That’s why we don’t export much.”

  “I’m surprised imports haven’t killed local production,” says Edik.

  “The market here is too small,” says Avo. “Small producers cover their local markets. You don’t really have a national market. So importing gets complicated, because the most inexpensive foreign producers apparently are interested in large markets where they can export hundreds of tons per year. They cannot do that here.”

  “So do you want to focus on the local market?”

  “No way,” says Avo. “We’ll sell some here, but the secure market will be the export route. Even if the price we get is lower, it will be more stable.”

  “What’s the upshot, the big picture?” asks Edik.

  “If we start with two hundred full hives and two hundred empty ones, we need an initial capital outlay of twenty nine thousand dollars. Plus the first year setup and moving costs, and the cost of a used extractor, say thirty thousand dollars in all. If we do this right, we’ll harvest five thousand kilos the first year. We can sell five to six hundred kilos locally, at a minimum of seven dollars per kilo. We export the rest for around four dollars. So gross revenue the first year should be around twenty-two thousand dollars. We’ll have around a dollar a kilo operating cost, so net income the first year is seventeen thousand dollars, or, more than fifty percent of the capital cost.”

  Avo is pointing at these numbers on his sheets as he talks.

  “In the second year we should have double the hives, and so double output and double the income. The net total at the end of the second year will be over fifty thousand dollars,” and Avo stabs his forefinger at a circled figure at the bottom of the page.

  Gagik arrives ready to start talking about Yuri. But we tell him he has to wait. First the honey business, then lunch with the whole family, then the four of us will go somewhere to talk. I see the briefest shadow of disappointment pass over his eyes, but in a second, it is replaced by a wide smile, and his eyes regain their luster.

  Sago and Aram arrive from the garden covered with mud; they wave hello and go to wash up. They’re full of energy, talking non-stop and joking. I remember when Avo and I were like that, playing in the fields and catching frogs in the irrigation canals. Aram returns with one of the slingshots that I had brought for him from Istanbul. I frown, but he does not notice.

  “Kurig jan,” he says, “do you remember this?”

  “Sure I do.” I give him a hug. “You haven’t killed any of the neighbors’ hens, I hope.”

  “Came close to hitting their cat once,” laughs Aram. “Not one domestic animal has been hurt yet, but two dead crows testify to what a good shot I am!”

  The night before I first left, I had tried to lighten the mood in our bedroom with my siblings by asking them what they wanted me to bring them back from Greece. Aram had asked for a slingshot. I remembered his request while being held in Istanbul by Abo. Abo was being very courteous. His associate brought three slingshots to me within a couple of hours. They made it back with me to Saralandj. Aram does not know the story, and probably thinks I bought them myself in Greece. All he knows is that I kept my promise. But they evoke different memories in me.

  Lunch is cabbage dolma, yoghurt with garlic, and steamed Ishkhan trout. No wine or cognac, but, at Avo’s suggestion, just one glass of vodka to open the meal with a toast. He pours for Gagik and Edik. Sona and I decline. He gulps down his glass with the toast, and, true to his word, puts the bottle away. Since we’re sitting outside, he chain smokes, and I don’t have the heart to ask him not to smoke at the table.

  After lunch, Avo suggests we go for a walk instead of to a coffee shop in Aparan or Ashtarak. “It’s a beautiful day,” he says, “and a little mud on your shoes will be good for you.”

  We walk toward the village and turn right into the fields, on the dirt road that leads to two long, rectangular buildings, which are the stables where the villagers keep their animals in the winter. They are empty, since the animals are grazing by the mountainside. It is amazing how spring can transform these fields from the desolate, inhospitable winter landscape to an amalgam of life forms, full of color. It seems that every wild flower, every blade of grass, every butterfly has gone mad with joy. We walk to the stable where Avo keeps the grass and hay bales. They are almost all gone, consumed by the animals in the past winter. There are six bales of dry grass left, stacked at the entrance of the building. Avo spreads them around and we sit on them, facing each other. I can smell the aroma of spring, of fresh wild flowers and wet earth, and I do not want to start a conversation about Yuri and Carla and murders. The topic clashes with the atmosphere saturated with joy and celebration of rebirth and of life.

  But apparently the men do not feel the same contrast. Gagik delves straight into the subject, impatient as always to tell us what he knows.

  “I have an old friend in the police department in Yerevan,” he says with a low voice, even though there is no one who can hear us. “He says they are clueless about both murders. The bullet was lodged in LeFreak’s head. It was in fact a six-millimeter slug. That is tiny. It is not the usual ammunition used by snipers. Ballistics offers no leads. The police say they know of some sniper hits with similar bullets in Russia. These are professional rifles, high velocity and accurate up to around three hundred meters. So now they suspect that a Russian hit man entered the country, shot LeFreak, and left the same day. The deputy head of the team working on the case, a young detective, says it is futile to look for the killer in Armenia.”

  “Do you think Yuri or Carla had a hit man brought in from Russia?” asks Edik.

  “Sounds a bit far fetched to me, but not impossible. Remember Yuri was based in Moscow. You never know.”

  “What about Yuri’s murder?” I ask.

  “Well, they have to think the two are related. Two murders, a few days apart, competing oligarchs… But they know nothing. Yuri has been shot at point blank range, with a nine-millimeter pistol. The bullet traversed his skull, and they found it some ten meters from his body in the grass. Again, ballistics cannot trace it. The pistol could have been smuggled from abroad. Their most logical suspect would be someone from the LeFreak team—revenge killing.”

  “So there’s no way to pin any of this on the Ayvazian woman?” asks Avo.

  “The police are not looking anywhere near her at the moment,” says Gagik.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Hov does not dare attempt kidnapping Anna alone and without approval from a superior. His superior in LeFreak’s organization is not approving anything. Everything has come to a halt, pending not only the murder investigation, but also the outcome of a desperate power struggle among the senior henchmen. The prevailing atmosphere is paralyzing for the underlings, who sense the chaos at the top, but have neither information nor any influence. In this environment rumors and speculation flourish.

  Samson, the most senior person in the room after LeFreak, has been called a few times to the police department for questioning. As head of security, it was his responsibility t
o prevent what happened to LeFreak. At first his co-workers were happy to see him questioned. But then rumors spread that he is giving background information on others on the team. Everyone else who was in the room has been called for questioning once, and then released. Their account of the event has been recorded. They have signed the transcript of their testimony, and then they’ve been released. Samson has gone though all that too, but then he has been called back.

  Hov has been told to stay put and wait. He has not been given permission to leave Stepanavan. He still gets his regular pay, but has lost the pay from Yuri and, more importantly, all hope that his continued presence in LeFreak’s old organization will ever amount to anything. He now believes more than ever that LeFreak was a liability, who risked his own life, and put the lives of his subordinates at risk also. Even after his death, no one seems to feel safe. How ironic that Yuri, who warned him about that in the first place, is proven right, but has also died. This does not change Hov’s determination to join the Ayvazian team.

  The only person that he knows who also knew Yuri is the bodyguard that came with him to Stepanavan. He does not know his name, or his contact details, but he knows what he looks like. When Yuri gestured for him to bring over the envelope full of cash, Hov took a closer look at his face. It won’t be difficult to describe Ari. Just describe his eyebrows. But Hov is at a loss about where to begin.

  Then, after further stressful hesitation, he calls the number that Yuri had given him. This is the number that he used to call to give his reports about LeFreak’s operations. He would call, and the person would answer “dah.” He would ask if this was Chicka. The voice would repeat “dah.” He would then quickly give a report on the latest operation and hang up. That was the arrangement. But with Yuri’s death, the setup could be compromised.

  Desperation can sometimes give people courage. In spite of the risks that he feels surround the old setup, he calls the number.

  “Dah.” It is a relief that the answer has not changed.

  “Is this Chicka?”

  “Dah.”

  “I want to speak with Yuri’s bodyguard, the one I met in Stepanavan.”

  “State your business,” says the voice.

  “I want to meet with the bodyguard. I will talk only to him.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Stepanavan.”

  “Can you come to Yerevan?”

  “I’ll come if I can meet with the bodyguard.”

  “Meet me tomorrow at four p.m. in Zovuni,” says the voice. Zovuni is a suburb north of Yerevan.

  “Are you the bodyguard?” asks Hov, surprised, but at the same time chiding himself for being surprised. Of course it would be the bodyguard.

  “You remember me?” asks the voice.

  “Yes.”

  “And I remember you. See you tomorrow at four. When you reach Zovuni, wait for my call.”

  Hov ignores his orders to stay in Stepanavan and drives to Yerevan. He is nervous and excited at the same time. Somehow, the people he has not met yet seem to be more powerful than those he’s met. The death of LeFreak and Yuri make the bodyguard look like he may be the real power, for no other reason than the fact that he is still alive. He is the constant, while LeFreak and Yuri have proven to be transitory. Maybe finally he has stumbled on the real center of power.

  He parks along Yeghvard highway, the main highway into Zovuni at the northern tip of the suburb, and waits. He is early. He sits in his car and chain-smokes, waiting for the call that will change his life.

  He gets the call at precisely four o’clock.

  “A grey Lexus will pass you in two minutes,” says the voice. “Follow it.”

  In two minutes a grey Lexus zooms past Hov’s car. The windows are dark. He starts his car in a panic and follows. The Lexus exits the highway and heads to a secondary road towards Kanakeravan. Before reaching Kanakeravan, it stops in the middle of the road and puts on its flashing emergency lights. Hov parks behind it, his heart pounding. He feels reassured by the fact that it is still daylight. He wouldn’t want to do something like this in the darkness of night.

  Nothing happens for several minutes. Then finally the driver’s door of the Lexus opens, and Ari steps out. He shuts the door and stands by it, staring at Hov’s Lada. Hov recognizes the face and the physique. There is no mistaking him. He steps out of his car and approaches Ari.

  “So we meet again,” says Ari. “Now, state your business.”

  “I had an arrangement with Yuri,” says Hov. “I know he’s dead, but I want to implement our agreement.”

  “What arrangement?”

  “He said LeFreak will be finished soon, and when he is, he said ‘we will hire you directly.’ You’re the only person I’ve seen with him. And I believe I’ve been talking to you when I call to report. So, LeFreak is finished, and here I am.”

  “Come closer.”

  Hov takes a few more steps toward Ari.

  “What would we hire you to do?”

  Hov is not prepared for that question.

  “Didn’t Yuri tell you?” he asks, knowing that the bodyguard will not admit to anything.

  “Yuri is dead. So you have to tell me.”

  “I want to be in the prostitution business. I have a perfect first candidate.”

  “I know about your wife,” says Ari. “Forget it. It is too high risk.”

  “But Yuri agreed with me. We tried for two days to kidnap her.”

  “I’m glad you did not succeed. She will come with baggage. Not worth the trouble or the risk. Forget her.”

  “Just forget her?”

  “Now pay attention,” says Ari. “You cannot mix personal problems with this business. If you have a score to settle with your wife, you cannot work for us. If you’re serious and want to be a real professional, maybe we can work something out.”

  “I’m not trying to settle a score with my wife,” says Hov, but he knows he has already lost this battle. “I just think she’s a perfect candidate.”

  “She’s the furthest thing from a perfect candidate.”

  “Why?”

  “Never mind why. Let’s just say we don’t want the complications that some of her friends can bring.”

  “Then why was Yuri keeping watch with me to kidnap her?” Hov’s tone is angry and defiant.

  “And look where Yuri is now.” Ari’s arctic tone sends chills down Hov’s spine. Could he have been shot because of our attempts to kidnap Anna? How could that make any sense?

  “What does his death have to do with kidnapping Anna?”

  “You talk too much,” says Ari coldly. “And you ask stupid questions. If you want to be in this business, you have to sober up.”

  Hov is quiet. Pride and ego are shattered. There is nothing he can say to save the moment. So he waits.

  “You want to be in this business or not?” Ari sounds bored.

  “Yes.”

  “Then go back and pack your things. I do not trust you here, with your marital baggage. I’m sending you to Moscow to meet someone. You will receive your plane ticket, and will have accommodations in Moscow. Plus you will receive two thousand dollars a month salary if we decide to keep you, which is eight times what you make here. But Moscow is more expensive. You will leave in a few days, as soon as I call you, for an initial meeting. When I call, you’ll have a few hours to get to the airport. In Moscow, you will follow every instruction, to the letter, given to you by someone called Nicolai. His recommendation will seal your fate. I’ll give you all the contact details that you need.”

  This is probably more than Ari has ever spoken in one stretch. But he had to get all the basics out. Hov is unable to process the new information as fast as he heard it. He has never been out of Armenia before. Two thousand dollars a month? That’s probably more than the official salary of cabinet members.

  “I need your answer now,” says Ari, bringing Hov out of his reverie.

  “I have some questions.”

  “Hurry up. I ha
ve to return to Yerevan.”

  “Who is Nicolai? What will I do in Moscow?”

  “I will not answer your first question now. And Nicolai will answer your second question in Moscow. Anything else?”

  Hov feels like he is shipwrecked and has nothing to hold on to other than Ari. “Nothing else. My answer is yes.”

  Ari takes an envelope from his pocket and offers it to him.

  “Good decision. This is a down payment on your salary, even before we decide to hire you.” Hov approaches and takes the envelope.

  “I’ll call you soon,” says Ari, getting in his car. Then he drives away.

  Hov walks back to his car and sits behind the wheel thinking for a long time. He checks the contents of the envelope—one thousand dollars. So a down payment is fifty percent. He starts to laugh, and immediately feels silly for laughing. He does not start the car. He does not want to drive all the way to Stepanavan, not yet. He watches the gorge of Zovuni and the meadows below. He is not sure how long he has sat on this deserted road. A few cars have passed by, but he has barely noticed. He checks his watch. It is just past seven in the evening. He starts his car and drives toward Yerevan.

  Before he knows it, he is parked at the same location where he and Yuri staked out Anna. It is almost eight-thirty, and darkness has fallen on the streets. He waits, unsure of what will happen next. The headlights of a moving vehicle shine on the wall around the corner. The bus stops, and Anna steps down. He starts his car and crawls around the corner.

  The bus drives away, and the street is dark again. Anna is walking in front of him. His headlights are turned off. He drives slowly toward her and then suddenly accelerates and knocks her down. He makes sure not to run over her; just send her senseless to the ground. Then he jumps out and carries her to the back seat of the car. She is in shock. She has fallen onto her face and her nose is bleeding. He quickly drives around the block and off the road and jumps into the back seat with her. He starts ripping her clothes off, and as she comes to and starts struggling, he slaps her hard a few times, sending her back into a daze. He pulls off her sweater and rips her shirt, then undoes the buttons of her pants. Her underwear comes off with the tight pants. He grabs her knees, pushes them up to her chest, and forces himself into her with such ferocity that even in her stupor her eyes open wide in shock. He slaps her again and again as he rapes her.