by L. Todd Wood
Ivan Grozny, or Ivan the Terrible in English, was the first tsar to reign over all of what we consider modern-day Russia. He was a tortured soul after the death of his beloved wife Anastasia, who was thought to have been poisoned. It is said after this event, he was prone to fits of rage and mental illness. In fact he beat his daughter-in-law, who was married to his groomed heir, Ivan, and caused her to have a miscarriage. Upon confronting his father, the younger Ivan himself was struck in the head by his father and died shortly thereafter. The loss of his son threw Ivan Grozny into further fits of depression and terrible rage. The death of the younger Ivan left Ivan Grozny and the Rurik dynasty heirless. His weak son, Feodor, took the throne upon Ivan’s death, and when Feodor died, he ushered in the Time of Troubles as Russia looked for a leader. Ivan Grozny also greatly centralized power in the hands of the Kremlin, which still can be seen in Russian society to this day.
Rafe pulled the small, silver coin Ivan had struck out of his pocket and looked at the imprint of the nine crosses. He then looked up and right to the icon of Archangel Michael, who stood guarding the remains of the tsars. The royal Russians believed the archangel would protect them in battle and guarded the bloodline of the tsars. A narrative was starting to shape in Rafe’s mind. Slowly he thought maybe he was starting to figure out what was going on. But it’s not clear yet. Not yet.
Rafe left the cathedral and reversed his course back out of the Kremlin gates. Soon he was walking towards the tourist center on the northern wall of the fortress. There he paid for another ticket for entrance into St. Basil’s Basilica. Then he walked through the Iberian Gate onto the paved Red Square. The Kremlin Walls to the right were the highest here, as this side of the fortress was the most prone to invasion because it was not protected by natural barriers such as the Moscow River on the opposite side. To the left was the famous GUM department store, which began its existence as a trading center centuries ago. Today it was filled with high-end boutiques and designer goods for the wealthy Muscovites to enjoy. No longer was it a drab communist magazine adorned with empty shelves and inferior products. In front of him, across the massive expanse of cobblestone pavement, rising from the earth like a flame to the heavens, was St. Basil’s Basilica. Well, this is what I came for. Let’s see what it has in store for me. Rafe kept walking towards the cathedral.
The light darkened as Rafe stepped into the ancient structure. Hushed tourist voices could be heard throughout the catacomb passageways. Directly in front of him was a small, circular church with a glittering altar. Icons and murals adorned the walls, similar to the other religious buildings he had seen earlier in the day. To his right was a small museum room with examples of the different types of construction techniques and materials that were discovered at the cathedral over the centuries. As Rafe walked around the first church and into the passageway towards the interior, the displays continued with works of art and examples of life years ago. He stopped to inspect a display of ancient Russian coinage. There among the small pieces of silver under the glass casing, was a replica of the coin the priest had given him at the monastery. At least I know I'm at the right place, Rafe thought to himself.
Soon he was faced with a multitude of choices of direction to continue. He chose a small doorway to the left and found himself in the entrance to the crypt below. It was walled off but explained what existed below the floors of the basilica. Rafe could not find a way to sneak into the underground vault. Dead end, he thought.
Making his way back to the center, he encountered a sliver of an ancient stairway winding its way to the second floor. He took the bait and soon found himself struggling to maintain balance on the warped and sinking stairs. He emerged from the steps into one of the small churches surrounding the main hall of the basilica. The tourists were whispering in soft tones as they examined the old relics and icons adorning the stone walls. Light shone in from windows above designed to highlight certain areas of the church. What am I supposed to find here?
Rafe made his way around the circular passageways that connected the eight different smaller churches and surrounded the interior. Each of the smaller altars was similar but with different icons and saints staring down from above the entrance. Open-air, covered stairways exited from different point to the cobblestone square below. Rafe checked each small church, looking for clues or something that would explain why he had been drawn to this location. Maybe I’m mistaken. I don’t even know what I am looking for! His frustration was building.
He rounded a corner towards the next church and noticed that there was a metal grate embedded in the wall on the other side of the passageway, which gave a view into one of the earlier churches he had inspected. The entrance to the small cathedral he had ventured into earlier, however, was far around the corridor on the other side of the basilica. Rafe froze in his tracks as he peered through the metal grating. There, sitting on the floor alone and staring at the ground, was his daughter.
“Clare!” he shouted.
She looked up and saw him but did not seem to recognize him. She looked scared and unsure of what to do. He ran to the grate and spoke to her.
“Clare, it’s Daddy, come here, my love!”
Clare stood and seemed to hesitate, saying nothing. Then she turned and ran out of the church into the far alleyway of the cathedral, disappearing into the crowd of tourists.
“Clare!” Rafe yelled again. “Please, someone, that’s my daughter. Stop her!” he screamed. The people around him, not understanding English, only stared.
Rafe bolted from his position and sprinted around the circular passageway, trying to make it back to the entrance to the church opposite the circular basilica where she had exited, knocking into several tourists as he did so. He didn’t care. He arrived about a minute later. He searched everywhere in the area to no avail. She was gone.
Rafe had searched the entire cathedral twice. He had even enlisted the help of the local policeman who was guarding the entrance, and tried to explain his story to him. The policeman did not seem to be of much help. In fact, he started asking questions of his own, demanding Rafe's passport, which he showed him. This threatened Rafe, so he left it alone and wandered off. Nothing. He was eaten alive with anxiety and worry. She couldn’t just vanish into thin air! He left St. Basil’s and walked out onto Red Square, as if he would find something there. The sky was slowly darkening, and the frustration was maddening. He walked toward Lenin’s tomb, standing in front of the Kremlin wall and just stared, lost in thought and sadness. I don’t know where to go from here. I almost had her back.
“I think they should bury him, don’t you?” a man asked behind him. Rafe turned. There standing in front of him was the man he had seen in Barcelona and on the train. Rafe's fists clenched with fury. The bulge of the 9mm felt reassuring, tucked into his belt under his sport jacket. Rafe debated grabbing it. The man sensed his anger.
“Your anger will do you no good. Especially here.” He motioned with his eyes towards the Russian policeman standing guard towards the tombs entrance.
“Where is she, you son of a bitch?” Rafe said angrily, his mouth full of grit.
“She’s safe. I just wanted you to see that. Really, she’s just fine. She rather likes her new set of parents.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Don’t worry, just a joke. I know I’ve put you through a rough time, Rafe, but I have a favor to ask. I want you to listen to me, right here for a bit. Okay?”
“Doesn’t seem like I have a choice.”
“No, you really don’t. I planned it this way. It worked out well, didn’t it?”
“I guess it did. What the fuck do you want?”
“I want you to join my little merry band of men. And women, for that matter.”
“Why would you want me to do that?”
“That I cannot tell you, not yet. However, I do want you to meet me tonight. We are having another one of our little gatherings. Can you be there, say at 2 a.m.? Then we can have a littl
e discussion. Does that work for you?” the man said in a gentlemanly voice.
Rafe stared at the man intensely. If he didn't know the man was a vile kidnapper who held his four year old daughter, Rafe would have considered him quite charming. He was smartly dressed and obviously very confident. He decided to play along with whatever game the man was playing.
“Again, I don’t think I have a choice. Will my daughter be there?”
“Oh, she most certainly will be.”
“Where?”
“Do you know of the Tsaritsyno Estate south of Moscow?”
“Yes, I have been there before some time ago.”
“Good, meet us there.”
“Where? That reserve is over five hundred hectares.”
“I think you will find us.” With that, the man turned and slowly walked away.
Chapter Fourteen
Rafe held on to the metal, horizontal pole running the length of the cabin on the metro as the train decelerated, violently coming to a stop and throwing him forward against fellow travelers. A teenage girl was taking advantage of the free Wifi on the train and he almost knocked the iPad out of her hand. "Izvenetia (sorry)," he muttered. She turned away with an annoyed look on her face.
He was so lost in thought, he almost didn't make it out of the car before the doors closed. The doors on trains and elevators in Russia were not so forgiving as those in the West; one could lose an arm trying to stop them from closing. He exited the train car just as they shut behind him. Get hold of yourself! Concentrate! He was standing in the middle of Tsaritsyno station. The complex, opening on a subway extension in the early eighties, was not an artistic masterpiece like the interior metro stations of Moscow. However, it was clean, modern, and safe. He followed the commuters and found the way to the vyhod v gorod, or exit to the city. The traffic was heavy at this time of the day, as people were heading home from work.
Rafe was no longer frightened or worried about what was happening. No, he was just angry, murderously angry. He would make this man and this group, whoever they were, pay and pay dearly. Those around him in the station could tell he was a man with a purpose. He noticed no one. The Beretta was lodged in the back of his belt, under his shirt. Seeing the look on his face, people avoided him as they went about their business. They were used to the angry gangster type in Moscow and knew to stay clear.
He left the metro station as night was falling and began walking toward the large, metal gates to the estate. Tsaritsyno was a four-hundred-year-old royal retreat southwest of Moscow. The five-hundred-hectare reserve was originally owned by aristocratic families in the seventeenth century. However, Catherine the Great was riding through the countryside around Moscow in the seventeen hundreds and fell in love with the idyllic surroundings of rolling grass, sparkling lakes, and carved canyons. She immediately commissioned a summer home to be built on the site. Several years later, upon visiting the construction for the first time, she hated what had been built. She considered the rooms cramped and dark, so she gave instructions for the stone structure to be torn down. The empress commissioned another architect, and a larger, more grand retreat was initiated. However, she died before the estate was completed, and it sat abandoned for two hundred years, used for rock climbing, among other things. After the fall of the Soviet Union, the new Moscow government restored the site to its former glory and finished the structure. It was now a sprawling estate and park and a heavy favorite of Muscovites to relax in any season. In addition to the plethora of museums located in the original residence and beyond, there were a myriad of cultural activities offered, along with restaurants, nature walks, and other public activities.
Rafe made it into the reserve right before it closed for the evening, as he had planned. While he walked towards the initial opulent fountain, placed squarely in the middle of one of the large ponds via the causeway, the shadows from the spiraling water were making shapes on the grassy hill on the other side. Mothers were pushing their tired children in strollers to the exit after a fun adventure-filled day in the park. He strolled quickly, as he endeavored to make it to the edge of the woods with plenty of time to spare. He wanted a place to be secluded and did not want the security guards to see him enter the forest surrounding the estate. The throng of people exiting the park gave him cover. Rafe briefly stopped on the ornate bridge, lined with large, opulent, stone chess figures. The white and red statues gave the walkway a childish, magical feel. He gazed at the entire structure rising in front of him. It was magnificent. No wonder the Russians were so angry at the Romanovs. The main residence was a splendid, gargantuan specimen of neo-Gothic architecture, a stunning masterpiece. Various outbuildings complemented the main structures. Soon he was walking again. He was not here to see the historical buildings. He was here to find a ritual. And, he thought he knew just where that would be.
Rafe purposefully bypassed the residence towering to the right of him, following the paved walkway. He passed through the ornate gate that led to the inner grounds and entered a courtyard centered on a large statue of the architects who designed and built the compound. On the opposite side of the terrace, multiple pathways extended into the forest, which protected the rear of the residential area. Far to the right, Rafe saw a continuation of the ponds that had adorned the front of the estate. He chose the path in that direction and eventually passed by gardens that had been cleared and created in the forest. He soon found himself walking along the shore of the water. The ducks and other birds dove into the water, feeding on the plethora of small creatures abundant in the water. Eventually he turned left up the embankment on another path, which led deep into the woods. He was following the signs to the amphitheater. If there is anywhere there will be a ritual, it will be there, he thought to himself. Soon Rafe was surrounded by white birch trees, which seemed to draw him deeper and deeper into the abyss, their leaves further darkening the light. Twenty minutes later, the quiet was deafening as he walked slowly. The forest seemed magical as the red squirrels danced around him, occasionally standing to beg him for a morsel of food. They were used to the humans in the park offering treats for free. The birds occasionally chirped their ancient hymns. The sun would be setting within thirty minutes or so. There was no one around.
He crested a small hill, and the amphitheater opened up in front of him. Perfect. Yes, this has to be it. The scene is exactly what they would want. Rafe studied the area for five minutes, walking around and checking all the entrances and exits so they would be fresh in his mind. Then he decided to walk up into the forest and wait, somewhere where he could see what was happening below in the general area of the theater. He wanted to be in control, to dictate the events to come. He was tired of being caught off guard. It was time to change the momentum of this game and find his daughter. Rafe was happy with his plan. He walked from the stage back to the crest of the structure and continued up the hill into the woods.
He had gone about fifty yards when a man walked out of the trees onto the path ahead, startling him. The man held out a small glass towards Rafe. It contained a liquid.
“Drink this,” the man said.
“Yeah right, like I'm going to do that,” Rafe replied angrily after regaining his composure and felt for his pistol.
“I think you will, and if you ever want to see your daughter again, you’ll put your hands by your side. I know you have a weapon. But it will do you no good here, especially if you want to see Clare.”
Rafe said nothing for thirty seconds. “Fine,” he replied. What choice do I have?
“I knew you would come to your senses. You're not a stupid guy.”
“Hey, I know you,” Rafe said.
“You know nothing.”
“Yes, I know you. I've seen you on TV. You're some congressman or something.”
“Drink,” the man said coldly.
“Tell me what's going on here.”
“This is your last chance. Drink.”
Rafe walked forward, took the glass, and drank the liquid. Then the
world went black.
The first thing he saw were the flames, licking the dark night all around him, again like an orange northern lights. He felt as if he was in the middle of a giant fireplace but not burning. Then he realized the flames were coming from the torches. They encircled him. In the fog that was his mind, Rafe heard the chanting. Then he was scared. And even though it was a warm night, he felt cold, like he was shivering in the fires of hell.
As the drug wore off, Rafe realized he was lying down. He was lying down on something hard. It hurt his hip bone but he couldn’t move, couldn’t shift to relieve the pain. It felt like stone. It was stone. He was lying on an altar, in the middle of the amphitheater. He was restrained by some type of straps. He couldn't even move his hands. His weapon was gone. He tried to resist but couldn't, so instead, he relaxed.
