NOVAK

by Bergen, KC

  “Will do.” The busboy and waiter kicked the Slovenian out the door. Then the waiter said to Novak: “You’re not welcome in this restaurant. Ever! Either you leave right now or we’ll call the police.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave.” As they released him, Novak noticed that his jacket was torn at the shoulder. Great! Everything was ruined. The Russian bastard went back inside, but dozens of people were staring at the Slovenian: patrons waiting in line for a table, even through the windows people were staring. Novak felt like the most unwelcome person in California, so he hurriedly got into his car and left.

  32

  Tristan walked the waiter back to their table, thanking him for not pressing charges against the deviant Slovenian. “He just doesn’t know any better,” Tristan added.

  “Even a ten-year-old knows better than that,” the waiter replied.

  “I agree,” Ted said.

  “It could have been an accident,” Carol said.

  “Yes,” Mary said softly. “He’s not a bad guy.”

  Tristan took a seat next to Mary. “You don’t have to be bad to be … not good.”

  Mary wasn’t sure how to respond to Tristan’s corny statement. She glanced at Carol, who nested up against Ted as he cradled her shoulder.

  Ted nodded to Tristan. “How long have you two known each other?”

  Tristan placed a hand on Mary’s right shoulder. “Feels like forever, doesn’t it?”

  Still unsettled by recent events, Mary fell quiet. The waiter Novak had accidentally groped briefly adjusted his pants and then offered Mary and her guests a professional smile. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “I would like a bottle of your finest champagne,” Tristan said. “Dom Pérignon fifty-two.”

  “I’m sorry,” the waiter said. “We don’t carry that year.”

  “I thought you didn’t drink,” Mary said.

  “Well, I am a bit shaken from Novak’s rude behavior.”

  “Shaken not stirred,” Ted said in a stilted tone.

  “Sean Connery,” Tristan said. “The number-one Double O Seven. Nice imitation.”

  “Thank you so much,” Ted as Sean Connery said.

  Tristan addressed the patient waiter. “So what do you recommend?”

  “Well, we have the ninety-six.”

  “Then ninety-six it is. A wonderful year for the grape harvest.”

  “What’s so special about it?” Ted asked.

  “It reminds me of the Great Russian Depression. Yes, it was wonderful.”

  “What’s that got to do with grapes?”

  “Well … as you all perhaps remember, in the eighties there was a nuclear disaster in my home country.”

  “Chernobyl eighty-six,” Ted said.

  “That’s the one.” Tristan scratched his nose. “And the depression thereafter peaked in ninety-six. Some chemical thing, I suppose, which also infused the grapes with lots of … juiciness. And we drank many a glass of champagne to cope with the mood swings.”

  “That’s just awful,” Carol said.

  “Yes,” Tristan said. “Nuclear disasters usually are.”

  Mary cleared her throat. “Don’t tell anyone but Tristan is a KGB agent.”

  “Officer,” Tristan corrected.

  “Really?” Ted arched his eyebrows in surprise. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I thought there was some sort of secrecy about those things.”

  “This is the new millennium,” Tristan said. “So much has changed. You know, when I was a little boy in the Siberian desert.”

  “Desert?” Ted squinted. “In Siberia?”

  “Not anymore. I said things have changed. Now, as I was saying, when I was a little boy, puppy-eyed and rather shy, I always thought of the KGB with a sense of wonder.” Tristan gazed into space. “Who are they, and where do they go when they can’t stay?”

  “I guess you went through a lot of training?” Ted asked.

  “Yes, I did. It was interesting, but not something I would do again.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I already took those courses.” Tristan flipped open the menu. “So what do you guys recommend?”

  “You look familiar.” Ted leaned forward, intently observing Tristan. “Haven’t I seen you before?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “The seafood is delicious,” Mary said.

  “Can’t go wrong with the salmon or the swordfish,” Carol added.

  “I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere,” Ted continued. “A movie or something like that. Was it—no, not that one, um …”

  The waiter appeared with an iced bottle of Dom Pérignon ’96. Tristan quickly grabbed the bottle and loosened the cork. “In Russia we have a manly game called catch-the-cork. Would you like to play, Ted?”

  Ted anxiously looked at the bottle. “Is it, uh, dangerous?”

  “Dangerous?” Tristan chuckled. “Yes, maybe for little girls. Are you a little girl?”

  “Of course not,” Ted said, putting on a brave face. “I’m all man.”

  “All right, then.” Tristan aimed the bottle at Ted’s face from across the table. “You must keep your hands on the table, and when the cork pops you either catch it with your hands or your head. It is preferable to catch it with your hands.”

  Shifting in his chair, Ted placed both hands on the table.

  “This seems inappropriate,” Mary muttered.

  “Come on. It’s a fun game,” Tristan said. “In the KGB, we say life is not only about saving women and children; it’s also about having a good time.” The KGB officer took a step back, aimed the bottle roughly at Ted’s chest, and then pulled the neck up as he popped the cork.

  Ted barely had time to remove his hands from the tabletop and caught the cork on the bridge of his nose. “Ow!”

  “Are you okay?” Carol asked.

  Ted clutched his throbbing nose. “No!”

  Tristan poured a glass of champagne and handed it to Ted. “I normally serve the ladies first, but I think you need it the most. Here. It will make you feel better.”

  Ted accepted the glass. “Why? Because of the chemicals from Chernobyl?”

  “No. Because alcohol numbs the pain.”

  Embarrassed by the many stares from the patrons at the neighboring tables, among them the elderly lady in the wheelchair and her large son, Mary covered her face.

  Ignoring the onlookers, Tristan poured three more glasses. He raised his glass. “To lasting friendships. And love.”

  33

  As Mary, Ted, Carol, and Tristan left the restaurant together, the KGB officer bragged about the world-class Russian education and discipline, which had molded him into an exceptional man and professional. Ted asked if Tristan would be willing to participate in a panel discussion at an upcoming educational fundraiser. He knew one of the board members and thought the panel could benefit from an outside perspective.

  “Sure,” Tristan said. “But I can’t disclose any information pertaining to the KGB program.”

  “Why not?” Ted asked. “You’ve spoken so freely about it to us.”

  Carol nudged her boyfriend.

  “The discussion is just about education in general,” Ted said.

  “I’d be honored.”

  “Thank you, Tristan.”

  Mary discovered that Novak’s car was gone from the parking lot. How was she going to get home?

  “Something wrong?” Carol asked Mary.

  “Novak left. He brought me here.”

  “To be fair,” Ted said, checking his watch, “he was kicked out of the restaurant well over an hour ago.”

  “Fair? No, that’s typical Slovenian behavior,” Tristan said. “In Russia we say, Slovenians make the best spies, thieves, and murderers. Best of all, they come cheap.”

  “You Russians must really hate Slovenians,” Ted said, touching his still sore nose. “Well, Mary, we can give you a ride home. My car is right over there.”

  “Nonsense,” Tristan said. “I will take Mary
home.”

  “Thanks for the offer,” Mary told Ted. “But you guys live on the other side of town. Tristan can take me home.”

  Carol gave her friend a look of concern, and Mary smiled assuredly. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

  They said their goodbyes and then Mary got into Tristan’s car. As they were driving home, Mary scanned the dark surroundings. “I wonder where Novak is,” she said. “Hope he’s okay.”

  “I still can’t believe he assaulted a waiter. Or a poor elderly woman. In a wheelchair, for God’s sake!”

  “He didn’t assault anyone. It was an accident.”

  “And he groped your friend too.”

  “I thought I saw you kind of bumping into his arm.”

  “I don’t recall that. Well, I’m sure he’s okay. Worst case, he’ll sleep outdoors somewhere. As a shepherd he’s probably used to it.”

  Mary looked out the passenger window, a heavy air about her. Tristan turned on the radio and found an upbeat pop song.

  “I had a good time tonight,” he said. “Carol was nice.”

  “You nearly broke Ted’s nose.”

  “It was just a fun game. We do it all the time in Russia. And he didn’t have to play either.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Mary shot Tristan a curious look. “But you could have taken his eye out.”

  “I could have, yes, if I wasn’t a master marksman. I never miss. But even if I had, I would have bought the guy a shiny new glass eye. Or at least a certified pre-owned one. In Russia, plenty of people lose an eye playing games.”

  “Really? That’s awful.”

  “Not if you’re a glass eye manufacturer. And these eyes look perfectly natural. They stare straight ahead most of the time. Naturally, with a lack of depth perception you’ll never become a top Ping-Pong player or a fighter pilot, but so what? Ping-Pong is for geeks, and who wants to fight a pilot?”

  Tristan wasn’t making perfect sense—maybe it was a language thing—so Mary focused on where they were going. “Make a right here.”

  They soon entered Mary’s street and Tristan pulled up in her driveway. He exited the loaner Jag, opened the passenger door, and escorted Mary to the front door. From the corner of his eye, he registered a silhouette. Someone sitting up against the wall, in the shade of a column.

  “Do you have a gun or maybe pepper spray in your purse?” Tristan whispered. Mary nodded. “Give it to me.”

  The urgency in his voice prompted her to hand him the canister, no questions asked. Tristan grabbed it and quickly crept up on the silhouette. He blocked Mary’s view as he sprayed the person’s face and closed eyes. The awakening man blinked and sputtered, then started screaming, and Tristan kept spraying for good measure.

  “Stop it,” Mary said. “It’s Novak!”

  “You’re right.” Tristan finally stopped spraying. “I thought it was an assassin.”

  “An assassin? Asleep?!” Novak coughed and hacked. “Please, I need water!”

  Mary helped Novak to his feet. He was unable to open his eyes, so she guided him to the half-bath off the hallway. She turned on the faucet and put a clean towel on the side of the sink. Novak rinsed his red, aching eyeballs.

  “Here,” Tristan said, handing the can to Mary.

  “Didn’t you see that it was Novak?” Mary asked, returning the pepper spray to her purse.

  “Eventually, yes. But it was dark and I’m a trained KGB officer.” Tristan sighed deeply. “I knew I shouldn’t have had that glass of champagne. It must have clouded my judgment. But I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

  “I appreciate your concern.” Mary felt terrible about the way Novak had been treated tonight. He was rinsing and rinsing and still couldn’t open his eyes.

  Tristan gently took Mary’s arm and guided her a few steps down the hall, away from Novak.

  “Listen,” Tristan whispered as if the walls had ears. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight. I’ve told you that Slovenians are spies, thieves, and murderers, and—”

  “And so are KGB officers, right?”

  “We’re protectors of the innocent, Mary. Sometimes bad things must happen for good people to survive. You are innocent. And don’t you also have a son?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. Can you truly trust this scumbag with your son’s safety?”

  “He’s not a—”

  “Okay, poor choice of words. My point is, I have seen many bad things happen to good people. You are a good person. I am not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know. But I will never forgive myself if something were to happen to you or your son on my watch.”

  Feeling like her judgment of Novak’s character was on the line, Mary was about to protest. But something in Tristan’s eyes, his intensity and apparent worry, made her question herself. A seasoned KGB officer was telling her to tread carefully. A handsome and caring officer.

  “Let me stay here for the night,” Tristan said. “Just to keep an eye on this guy for you.”

  Mary was feeling woozy, a champagne headache on the rise. How could she be completely sure that Novak wasn’t a bad guy? It wasn’t just about her safety; it was also about her son’s. And she did have a vacant bedroom between her son’s bedroom and Novak’s. “Okay.”

  “You won’t regret it.”

  “But Novak is also my guest. Don’t do anything bad to him—”

  “Unless I have to. Of course, you can trust me.” As the faucet turned off, Tristan stepped toward the bathroom. He peeked inside. Novak’s red eyes glared back at him. “I apologize for the misunderstanding,” Tristan said.

  Novak dried his face on the towel. “You’re not sorry.”

  “Of course I am. It was dark out there.”

  “Didn’t you see my car?”

  “Still, my killer KGB instincts kicked in when I saw you lurking around the house.”

  “I wasn’t lurking, I was sleeping!”

  “Please keep it down,” Mary said.

  “I agree,” Tristan said. “There’s no need to scream and act like a barbarian.”

  “I’m going to bed,” Novak said and handed the towel to Mary.

  Tristan yawned. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Tristan is staying here for the night,” Mary said. She was unable to tell how Novak felt about it due to his red and swollen eyes, but she was happy that Michael was staying over at Danny’s house. The guest bedroom was ready for Tristan, and she also felt ready for her own bed. It had been a long and arduous day.

  Mary texted Carol, telling her that she was home and well. However, she was not sleepy. Tossing and turning in bed, she tried not to think about potentially harboring a spy, thief, and/or murderer in her house.

  34

  Novak sat on the side of his bed, applying the finishing touches to his wooden shepherd figurine. He set the figurine down on the nightstand, then looked at the photograph of his grandfather.

  “Dear Oleg,” Novak whispered, “I miss you. Wish I could sit with you on a peaceful mountaintop, far away from the stress and the pain. Far away …” He lay down on the bed and soon drifted to sleep.

  In his dreams, he saw a pair of bare feet trudging through virgin snow. They were his own feet. He couldn’t feel the coldness against his skin, but he did see a massive drop unfolding right in front of his toes. Scared, he stumbled backward to safer ground.

  “My grandson.”

  A few feet behind Novak was his grandfather. Wearing a red cloak, he looked like a monk or a wizard. And in his hands he had three wands. No, they weren’t wands. As Oleg began to juggle the objects, Novak realized they were large wooden dildos.

  “You come to see me?” Oleg said in his Eastern European accent as he effortlessly juggled the dildos.

  “Yes. In America there’s a great woman and her kid. I want to win them over, but there are also lies and dirty play.”

  “Hmm?” Oleg said.


  “The woman and the boy are good people. But there’s a bad man there, a trickster. He’s messing everything up for me.”

  “Hmm. Help you I will.”

  Oleg threw the giant dildos, one after the other, high up in the air. They rotated and twirled as they plummeted into the snow. One plunged diagonally into the white blanket, another landed flat, and the last one ended up in the middle, pointing straight up. Oleg hunkered down to solemnly observe the wooden penises. Novak moved closer while his grandfather stroked his beard, interpreting the pattern.

  “Hmmm. Soon will come dick move. Big dick move.” Oleg turned his attention to his grandson. “Novak, shepherd you are. Like shepherd you must think and act. But now you must go.”

  Novak took one step back and lost his footing as he fell over the edge of the cliff.

  He jolted up in bed, wide awake. His face gleaming with sweat, he grabbed the shepherd figurine from the nightstand and cradled it in his hand. Then he had a bright idea.

  “Yes, I will give her beautiful wood!”

  Novak fetched a rectangular block of wood from his backpack and the whittling knife from his pants, and began carving.

  35

  Peter heard someone leaving the house. From his bedroom window, he spied Novak passing the Jag in the driveway. He half expected the Slovenian to scratch the paintjob, but he didn’t touch his car. Well, it wasn’t really Peter’s car so it didn’t matter, but this guy suspiciously didn’t even take his own car. Instead he left on foot.

  Peter picked up his cell and called Brian. “Hey, it’s me.”

  “I know,” Brian said sleepily. “I’ve got caller ID. We spoke on the phone last night, so why are you calling me again so damn early?”

  “This guy, Novak, just left the house. What should I do?”

  “Why would he leave at this time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, follow him.”

  “What? Right now?”

  “Yes! You’re a KGB officer, right? Go after him, find out where he’s going.”

  Peter as Tristan put on his shirt and pants, hopped in his shoes, and rushed outside to the end of the driveway. He looked up and down the street, but Novak was already gone.