“Taras always had a chip on his shoulder, spouting his disgust at my father for choosing to defect. He would call them traitors, and he hated that my parents were pacifists. He said that my father had the ability to make the Soviet the conqueror of nations. I told him he was a lunatic, and it seems that I was right.”
“It takes more than that to do what he did.”
Jahn shook his head. “No, I’ve seen this obsession many times, and it operates at the highest levels of government. It also means that Natasha is in a lot of trouble.”
“Why would he hurt Natasha?”
“Because she doesn’t fit his profile of what a human being is.” Palming the medal, he looked at it angrily. “He left this to let me know he is out there. I have no doubt I will hear from him soon.”
“What will he do to Natasha?”
Jahn breathed heavily again. “He will find out as much about me as he can, and hopefully Natasha will co-operate. I have to do all I can to find him, but first I need to get you somewhere safe, and I think I know the place.”
“Don’t make me go away from you again.”
He frowned at her. “Lena, you will do as I tell you, without argument or carry on”
She sighed. “Yes, Sir.”
He grinned at her compliance and bent down to kiss her. “Just try to trust me again, even when I am a prick.”
“I just don’t want to be alone again.”
“You won’t be alone. I’m taking you back home to your father.”
Lena went pale. “Why would you do that to me?”
“Because it’s the safest place I can think of.” Jahn breathed out. “I saw your father last night. He asked me to tell you, that he loves you.”
Lena nearly choked, her face becoming angry. “Of course he does. Every father gives his daughter away as a whore.”
“In his defence, he planned to get you back that night, and always believed that he would. Of course, I had other plans.”
“That doesn’t excuse the last eight years of the misery he put me through. It doesn’t change the fact that he killed my mother.”
“He didn’t kill your mother.” Jahn sighed deeply. “Your grandfather did.”
Lena’s mouth fell open and she shook her head. “No.”
“Your mother had planned to inform on him. He had one of his men run her down.”
“That’s not possible. How can you kill your own daughter?”
Jahn remained quiet, allowing her to come to her own terrible realisation. Her face contorted in despair. “I hate him. I hate him so much.”
“Lena,” he spoke softly to her. “You told me once that your father used to be a good man. It was your grandfather that changed him. In this last week he has lost everything. He has seen what his greed has brought him, and last night he was a broken man. When he asked about you, I believe that he truly cared.”
“And what if I don’t care about him?”
Jahn smiled. “Remember how awful it was to feel alone in the world. Well right now Dmitri Petrenko is very alone. He’s lost his daughter, his best friend, a wife and a baby he believed to be his.”
Lena’s face fell. “He won’t cope. He’ll start drinking again.”
“Not if he has you.”
She gave him, an annoyed pout. “You’re just trying to get rid of me.”
“I have to know that you’re safe, and I’m running out of ideas.”
“I will go, without fuss,” she conceded. “But only because I want you to find Natasha.”
“Good girl.”
“How long will it be before I see you again?”
“I don’t know.”
Lena wanted to tell him how afraid she was, how much it would hurt to be away from him again, but she suspected that he already knew. He needed her to be strong again.
Jahn was patient with her. Despite the urgency, he took time to make her breakfast, and didn’t question her need to just hold on to him at random intervals. He showered with her, washing her intimately, pretending not to notice her silent tears.
It was only in the car that her trembling hand stretched out to clutch on to his leg. He brought his own down to grasp it.
“I’m going to be alright, Lena,” he assured her. “And so are you.”
She just nodded, and stared down at Greta in her lap, savouring every second that she was with him. All too soon, her surroundings became familiar, though it seemed like a lifetime since she had seen her neighbourhood. She stared out at the people going about their lives as if the whole world hadn’t changed in the last week. For them it hadn’t, but for Lena, it would never be the same again.
Arriving at the restaurant, Jahn parked in front of it. Lena stared out of the window, thinking how sad it looked. She shuddered as she gazed up at her bedroom window, thinking of how she had imprisoned herself in it for so long.
She dared to look at him, and her voice was shaky. “I don’t think I can do it, not without you.”
He smiled. “Yes you can. You’ve been through hell and back, and you’ve survived, and I’m not just talking about this last week.”
“Promise me that you will come back.”
Before he could answer, his gaze moved beyond her. “Lena, look.”
Turning, she saw her father emerge from the restaurant. He stood gazing at her, his eyes glistening and his lip quivering. He seemed to have aged, and there was none of the pompous stance that she was used to.
“He looks pathetic,” she said sadly. “But I suppose I didn’t look much better when we met.”
“You just needed a helping hand, and that’s what he needs.”
She turned back to Jahn. “You haven’t given me your promise.”
His brow narrowed in a frown. “Lena, this time I need you to make me a promise, that you will live your life to the fullest, no matter what happens. I need to know that something good has come out of all of this.”
The lump in her throat would not allow her to speak, and she nodded emphatically. He grabbed her and held her against him as he reached across her and opened her door. His embrace was crushing, but she would have remained in his arms forever. Instead he kissed her face and released her.
“Go.”
She got out quickly, her whole body shaking, but she didn’t turn back, even when she heard the door close behind her. Only as the sound of the car died away, could she watch as it disappeared. Dmitri slowly approached her, his hand out, but not daring to touch her.
She looked at him and saw how fearful he was, and couldn’t find the strength to be angry.
“Poppa, would you please hold me?”
Dmitri didn’t hesitate.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The old man drew deeply on the cigarette in his trembling hand, and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. He looked up and saw the car approach and threw it into the gutter. Opening the door, he climbed in and slammed it shut, not saying a word.
“How is she?” Jahn asked.
“Better than I am,” the old man smirked. “Her mother is fussing over her, but she won’t let us take her to the doctor, and she refuses to tell us anything.”
“Give her time. She’s a tough girl, and she will get through this.”
The old man glared at him. “What did they do to her?”
Jahn shook his head. “That’s up to Marisha to talk about, when and if she wants to. You’ll need to be patient. Because of her, there is a lot of girls who won’t have to go through the same thing.”
“And six girls who owe their life to her. We found others.”
“And Novikov?”
“We have that scum in a prison cell, but don’t count on him getting to trial. He’ll be dead long before then.”
“Which brings me to the other arsehole. What’s going to happen to him?”
The old man nodded. “The Party is already making arrangements to acquire him before he is released. He will go from one cell to another, where his lawyers will not be able to find him. Then it is up
to him, how much he wants to co-operate.”
Jahn breathed out. “And Lena?”
“The Party still wants her,” he sighed. “Even with Makarov, the accounts are still in her name.”
“She’s not interested in the money.”
“She stands to become one of the richest women in the world. That’s not easily dismissed.”
“What if she attested to the fact that she was never a signatory, that the joint accounts were set up falsely, which they were, and she has no claim to the money?”
“We are talking a fortune? What person in their right mind would turn that down?”
“Lena would.”
The old man frowned. “Marisha told me that Lena had also become involved with Novikov, and what you did to save her. She has berated me that I must help her, and I want nothing more than to do that, but the Party…”
“The Party have a lot to lose.” Jahn’s eyes penetrated him. “The covert and highly illegal methods they have used, to further their political ambitions, would not be smiled upon by the people of Ukraine.” He held up a disk. “This is a copy of every member’s file, including your own, and a detailed history of assassinations, government and military infiltrators, and the man they are grooming for Moscow. I’m sure Ukraine, and the rest of the world would like to know that there are plans to restore the Soviet Union.”
The old man stared at him, his mouth agape, until he finally broke into laughter. “I always knew you were a dangerous man, but this will make you a most wanted man. You would be setting yourself up as a target. You would be the prize of every assassin. Why would you do that to yourself?”
“I would do it for her. As long as Lena Petrenko is left alone to live her life, then your secret is safe. The moment anything happens to her, the world will learn everything there is to know about the Party.”
“You know,” the old man grinned. “Makarov had some interesting facts about you that he was willing to share with me.”
“He can share anything he likes. It won’t make a difference.”
“Do you still have that passport I gave you?”
“I do, but I won’t be using it.”
“But the Party doesn’t know that.” The old man sighed. “It is a false trail I can lead them on for a short time, but I don’t know how long. It will give you enough time to get out, and I will do whatever I can to hinder their progress.”
“Why?”
The old man stared out the window and looked weary. “I sat up with Marisha, into the early hours of the morning and we talked as we have never talked before. They say there is no fool like an old one, and though I still hold to beliefs I have held for many years, I realise now that this is not my world anymore. It belongs to the young people, people who want to move forwards, not backwards. I nearly lost the most precious part of my life, and because of you and Lena, and Marisha’s courage, I am not attending her funeral. Give me your disk and I will delight in showing it to my comrades, just to see their faces. Lena Petrenko will be safe. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I’ll still be watching,” Jahn assured him.
“I don’t doubt it.”
Opening his door, the old man looked back at Jahn. “It’s been a pleasure, Jahn Zaleski, or do I call you Damyen Kravec?”
“Call me anything you like,” Jahn smiled. “Neither of them will exist in a few days.”
“Goodbye, my friend.”
Jahn eased the car back into the traffic, his mind already contemplating his next move. Another day was gone and Taras had made no attempt to contact him. No doubt he would try to amass as much information that he could about Jahn’s life. Natasha would not give it up easily and it was disturbing to imagine what she was being subjected to.
He wondered if she was even alive. Taras would not be pleased to discover Natasha’s secret. Even in Thailand, he had shown a repulsion to the number of effeminate males in their village. There were a lot of things that Taras hadn’t liked.
Jahn had never allowed himself to think about that day, other than to remember that his parents and sister were dead, and three strangers were standing over them. The rest of it hadn’t made any sense, the blood on the walls and furniture, the congealing pools around their lifeless bodies.
A twelve year old boy didn’t understand what he had witnessed, other than the obvious, but Jahn was no longer a child. He should have examined it by now, and worked out what was wrong. There should never have been so much bloodshed.
Their throats had been slashed, and the cuts to their arms and hands had screamed out the violent truth. Maybe he had always known, but refused to acknowledge it. This was not the emotionless assassination of the KGB. His family had died by the hand of a psychopath. The line, that Jahn feared he might cross himself, had clearly been breached by Taras.
No doubt, under the guidance of the KGB, his murderous lust had been refined, and they would have seen his potential. There would have been little doubt about his loyalty. He imagined Taras was the worst kind of assassin, willing to do the work that others didn’t have the stomach for. And now Natasha was in his hands.
Heading out on the highway, he steered the car to the only place he had left to go. He had avoided it, not wanting to find them there. Natasha would only give it up for one reason, and Jahn didn’t want to think about it.
The shed was supposed to be a destination he looked forward to. It had been his home with Natasha, where he had learned to laugh again, and found solace in another human being.
When they had first seen the shed it was boarded up, as was the mine. The evidence of a terrible disaster was everywhere, in blackened, burnt machinery, skeletal vehicles and gutted buildings. The shed had escaped most of the destruction in its isolated distance from the mine, and its thick stone structure.
The nearest residents were a few old people in a ghost town. With the primary source of income gone, few people remained, and they stayed away from the mine, considering it haunted.
The only spectres to take residence in it had been himself and Natasha. This was their fortress, where he had taught her to fight and watched her transformation with morbid curiosity. He had become her harshest critic, snatching away her make-up because he could do it better. If she had to look like a girl, at least her make-up should be done properly. From the earliest years he had been such a know it all.
Everything had been an adventure, from stealing their food to survive, to dangerous experiments to make their home secure. More than once they had been caught out by their own booby traps, receiving injuries which they had to treat themselves. It had made Jahn appreciate the time spent with his mother, watching her tend to her patients.
They had not lived in the shed long, before they had discovered its original purpose, and why it was so isolated. Underneath the floorboards in a shallow cellar, were boxes of explosives. While Jahn was excited and eager to play, Natasha insisted they learn all about their discovery, before blowing themselves up. There were plenty of manuals about mining operations that had been left behind and they studied to kill a few hours of boredom.
Their first explosion had been spectacular. The skeleton of a truck had become a deadly shower of big metal parts, leaving them cut, bruised and deafened, and deliriously excited. It taught them a lot, and subsequent blasts had been safer. Laughing together, they had waited, crouched down, looking at each other and together they would say ‘boom’ before the ground would shudder around them, and their ears ache with the noise.
It was a thrill like no other, which aroused Jahn’s taste for knowledge and adventure. They stole a car and travelled further afield to the bigger cities. Universities supplied all sorts of chemicals, but there were books to teach them anything they wanted to know. Being smart became a contest in their boring times, testing each other, striving to be the biggest know it all.
It was often on their ventures into the cities at night, where Jahn found another subject that interested him. Women were charging money to have sex with them.
Occasionally, a few prostitutes would be willing to be blindfolded and brought back to the shed, where the sexual games became intense. The women had lessons of their own to teach, and Natasha and Jahn were willing to learn, but all this required payment.
Jahn began fighting at a gym where the owner was involved in illegal fighting dens. Having a sixteen year old boy, who could take a man down in two rounds, was a powerful draw card and the money was exceptional. It was a prosperous arrangement and even the owner’s wife took a shine to Jahn, inviting him and Natasha to have dinner with them on several occasions.
Being in a family setting brought as much joy to Jahn as it brought angry memories. The day the KGB had come for his boss, the emotions were raw. He attacked instinctively, and with a ferocity that needed all their manpower to subdue him.
Natasha had got the family away, but on return Jahn was in the street, beaten badly, shackled and on his knees and still being kicked by his captors. People watched from their doors and windows but no one intervened.
For a moment their eyes had met and a grin had worked across his face, despite his horrific injuries. “The shed,” he mouthed at her, before they kicked him to the ground.
It would be two years before they would be reunited and even then only for a short time. Jahn was going on to the army, and Natasha had found her calling in social work, but the shed always brought them back together. The games evolved with their years and the shed remained haunted, except the chains rattled for an entirely different reason.
How he had feasted on the initial terror of women, as had pulled their blindfolds away. Their faces would grow pale, and their eyes widen as they gazed upon his domain. Much of the instruments of pain he had constructed himself, following the designs of medieval devices through to more modern techniques.
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