In the Crosshairs: Russian Historical Thriller (Nikolai Volkov Book 2) Page 3

  “Pyotr?” Nikolai said loudly and lowered his gun. “What are you doing here?”

  Startled, Pyotr looked up, his eyes wide. “I could ask you the same question,” he said. “And please put that gun away.”

  “Shouldn’t you be at your post?”

  “No. My shift is over.”

  “Why are you here then?”

  “Working. Don’t you see?” Pyotr pointed to a large bag of soil and a package of fertilizer spikes. Probably catching Nikolai’s surprised look, Pyotr continued, “Tatiana really wanted to have these lilies here. She tried planting them herself, but it wasn’t working. They were just not growing well, the caterpillars kept eating them, all kinds of bad things were happening. And I knew exactly what to do.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re telling me you’re a gardener, too?”

  “Not a gardener. Just helping out with the lilies.”

  “How do you know anything about lilies?”

  “Last year, my mom had the exact same problem, with the exact same lilies. She loves flowers, and she kept telling me all about what she did, what she tried, what she learned about these lilies, and how she finally managed to make them grow. When I heard Tatiana mention this same problem, I decided to help.” Pyotr paused. “It’s always a good idea to score some points with the wife of your boss, right? So one day, I brought this new soil and the right fertilizer, and I told Tatiana I want to try working on the lilies. After a few days, all the caterpillars were gone, and we got the first little buds. Tatiana was so impressed, she put me in charge of this flower bed.” He chuckled. “The gardener had a fit. You can imagine. All his agriculture, horticulture, whatever it was, education, and Tatiana trusts me with her favorite flowers. I guess I’m a natural.” He looked up at Nikolai. “So, I come here twice a week after my shift and check on these guys. So far so good, as you can see.” Pyotr waved his arm around the blooming plants.

  “How long have you had this interest in gardening?”

  “Look, Nikolai,” Pyotr’s tone sounded defensive. “Unlike you, I did not grow up in the city. I spent the first eighteen years of my life, up until the military service, on a farm, so working on the land comes naturally to me, even if it’s only planting flowers. And yes, I enjoy it. Of course, agriculture jobs don’t pay much and it’s hard work, so I’ll never do it full-time. But this is relaxing for me. And Tatiana likes me even more now.” He smiled. “So, don’t be so suspicious. I’m not exactly burying dead bodies here.”

  “Sorry, Pyotr. I was just doing my job,” Nikolai said. “Thanks for talking to me. I’d better leave you to your work.”

  Chapter Six

  In the foyer, a young woman with tired eyes and a friendly demeanor was waiting for Nikolai. She was sitting on a couch by the entrance and got up as soon as Nikolai walked inside.

  “Nikolai...” she said and paused. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your patronymic.”

  “Simply Nikolai is fine. And you are?”

  “Ekaterina. I cook for the family,” she said and adjusted the apron she wore over her flowery skirt and a blue top, as if to prove she was the cook.

  “Nice to meet you, Ekaterina.”

  “Roman retired for the night,” Ekaterina continued. “He asked me to show you to your room. It’s on the other side of the staircase, on this floor. Would you like to walk over there now?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He followed Ekaterina around the staircase and up to a door to the left of the stairs.

  “This will be your room,” she said as they walked inside. “It’s not too big. But the view is nice. You can see the lake from here. And you have your own bathroom, right through that door by the window. Do you need anything else?”

  “Nothing right now. Thank you.”

  “I get up early, and I make coffee and breakfast. It’s in the kitchen, down the hall. Come over when you’re up.” Ekaterina smiled shyly, wished Nikolai a good night, walked out of his room, and closed the door behind her.

  Nikolai sat down in the armchair by the window and relaxed for the first time today. The room was comfortable, with dark wood paneling, shiny parquet floor, a king-sized bed, and an antique-looking lamp on the bedside table. Nikolai kept thinking about Grisha and the peculiar twist of events that led to his death. What happened today was another reminder how fragile life was and how quickly it could end. In moments like that, it was hard not to get philosophical and think about your own mortality.

  Feeling restless, Nikolai got up and walked up to the window. Tall birches across the yard stretched their limbs, leaves still young and spring fresh, to the darkening sky, softly rustling in the wind. Next to them were a few stumps leftover from the trees cut down to make room for the new construction. The view reminded him of a conversation he had with his buddy Andrei, another bodyguard at Centurion, who used to say that bodyguards are like young trees: strong, tall, and providing protection to others until they get cut down, usually while still full of life and vigor. In hindsight, these words were prophetic. Mere days after he uttered these words, Andrei was shot and killed.

  A large crow flew by the window, cawing and frantically flapping its wings. Nikolai watched it disappear in the evening sky, closed the drapes, and pushed his personal thoughts away. He had to focus on work. The first thing he needed to do in the morning was to discuss construction plans with Roman. Nikolai pulled out his notebook and was about to start writing when his phone buzzed. When he saw the number, he forced himself to wait for the phone to buzz a few more times before he responded. When he finally picked up, the familiar voice on the other side sounded both relieved and worried.

  “Thank god you’re alive,” Olga said.

  “Good evening to you, too,” Nikolai said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I just walked in the apartment and saw the last part of the news. They talked about a man getting shot, and your picture was on the screen. And then they went to a commercial break, and I couldn’t figure out what happened. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Who was shot? Is he going to survive?”

  “His name was Grisha, and he was the driver of the car we were in. He died at the scene.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it,” Olga said.

  “Me too. He was a good man,” Nikolai said.

  “Nikolai, I called to apologize,” Olga said. “I got your messages, and I accept your apology, of course. But the way things ended up is my fault, too.”

  Hearing Olga’s voice made Nikolai realize how much he missed her and how rash and irrational they both had been. Especially Nikolai. In his desire to protect Olga and help her, he ended up pushing her away. She was smart and independent, and that’s what Nikolai had always liked about her, yet he had a hard time accepting it, especially in these new circumstances.

  She was no longer a young student of the Pedagogical Institute coming over to Saturday night dances at Nikolai’s military academy, and her life goals were no longer limited to settling down and having a quiet teaching career while following Nikolai to his military posts. Nikolai had to remind himself that he was no longer in the military and there was no military career in his future. With all the government budget cuts in recent years, he had to find another way to live. His old idealistic dreams about their life together, with him serving his country in some faraway town and Olga going to teach school every morning and sharing stories about her students over dinner were only dreams, mostly mired in his parents’ past, the past that would never become his present.

  Life was different now, for everyone, and it was Nikolai who had more difficulties adjusting to that new life. After graduating with a teaching degree, Olga managed to embrace the new life. Instead of becoming a high school math teacher, she was now a highly sought after accountant, with a good career and many opportunities. But for Nikolai, she was still Olga, and she could probably become his Olga again if he could overcome the part of himself that prevented him from relaxing around Olga and enjoying
their relationship instead of always expecting troubles to happen.

  It was close to midnight when they finished their conversation. Nikolai switched off the light and lay down. He was about to close his eyes when he noticed some movement outside. He quietly got up, came up to the window, and peeked through the gap in the drapes. In the light of the street lamp, he could discern Ekaterina. She was talking to somebody. It was a man, but Nikolai couldn’t see any details as the man stood in the shadows with his back towards Nikolai, facing Ekaterina. Nikolai could see Ekaterina clearly under the street lamp, and her expression was agitated. It looked like the two were arguing.

  Chapter Seven

  In the morning, Nikolai got up early, went for a short jog, showered, and read over his notes from the day before. When the clock in the hallway struck eight, he walked down the hallway and paused by the door leading into the kitchen. Her back towards the door, Ekaterina was using a loud blender, and Nikolai waited for the machine to stop before he entered the kitchen. He didn’t want to startle Ekaterina.

  Seeing Nikolai, she set the blender jug on the granite counter and looked up. “Good morning, Nikolai,” Ekaterina said. “Would you like a fruit smoothie? Or some coffee?”

  Nikolai opted for coffee, and she pressed the button on the coffeemaker. Soon, the spacious kitchen filled with the gurgling sounds, and the rich smell of dark-roasted coffee wafted through the air.

  “Cream or sugar?”

  “Black is fine.” Nikolai sat down on a bar stool by the window across from Ekaterina.

  Ekaterina poured a steaming mug and put it in front of him.

  “Thank you,” Nikolai said. “How are you feeling? Sleep well?”

  “Just fine, thanks.” Ekaterina kept bustling about the kitchen, opening and closing drawers and cabinets, getting out cups and saucers, toasting bread, and whipping up eggs for omelets.

  “Glad to hear,” Nikolai said. “I had some trouble sleeping last night. Noisy people outside. You think I should mention it to Roman?”

  Ekaterina put down the whisk and turned to Nikolai, her expression scared. “You saw us last night, didn’t you?”

  “It was hard not to. You were right outside my window. Everything all right?”

  Ekaterina sighed. “My boyfriend isn’t happy that I work here. He says he doesn’t get to see me enough, and he doesn’t like that I work such long hours. I mean, he works, too, and that’s what makes it more difficult.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “He’s handsome, isn’t he?”

  “I’m sure he is, but I didn’t get a good look. It was too dark.”

  “Good.” Ekaterina sighed with obvious relief, then leaned towards Nikolai and whispered. “I don’t want anyone to see him. He isn’t supposed to come here at night. But he does.”

  “He doesn’t work here?”

  “No, he works in town.”

  “True love?”

  Ekaterina smiled shyly. “Yes, it really is.”

  “It must be hard for you.”

  “We can handle it,” Ekaterina said. “Our separation is a temporary problem. As soon as we have enough money for our own apartment, we’ll get married. And I won’t have to work nearly as hard then.”

  “Apartments are expensive.”

  “We have some money saved, and we don’t have to live in central Moscow where everything is so expensive. There are affordable places in the suburbs, and we have almost enough money for a one-bedroom apartment.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Nikolai said.

  Nikolai heard the front door open and slam shut, followed by quickly approaching footsteps. Roman, dressed in a jogging suit, walked into the kitchen. He greeted Nikolai and Ekaterina, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the bar next to Nikolai. Ekaterina put a plate of orange and apple slices in front of them.

  “Tatiana ate earlier,” Ekaterina said to Roman. “Would you like an omelet? You too, Nikolai?”

  She put plates of omelet in front of them. The three of them made small talk for a few minutes, then Ekaterina stepped out of the kitchen.

  “Could I talk to you for a few minutes?” Nikolai asked Roman. “I’d like to discuss the construction project and a couple of other things with you.”

  “Of course.”

  Nikolai was about to ask Roman about suspending the construction when Tatiana came into the room.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “I only need a minute. The boutique called, and they have my dress ready.”

  Roman glanced at the clock on the wall. “A clothing store is open this early?”

  “It’s not a regular store,” Tatiana said. “It’s a boutique, and they open early on the days after they get the new orders in. And that happens only three or four times a month. Roman, could I have Pavel drive me to town?”

  “That’s fine. I won’t need Pavel for a while. Who’s watching Anastasia? Is the nanny here yet?”

  “No, no,” Tatiana said. “I’m taking Anastasia with me. The weather is nice, and we can go to the park afterwards.”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Roman said.

  “I apologize for the intrusion,” Nikolai said, “but you do have a bodyguard accompanying you, right, Tatiana?”

  “We won’t need a bodyguard. The trip won’t take long, and Pavel can help with the stroller.”

  “I don’t think Pavel is enough,” Nikolai said. “Driving is a job on its own. He can’t be responsible for your safety. And he isn’t trained to protect you. You need to take a bodyguard.”

  “We don’t have bodyguards,” Roman said.

  “Yes, you do.” Nikolai got up, took one more sip of his coffee and put down his cup. “I’ll go with Tatiana. And we can discuss the rest of the issues later,” Nikolai said to Roman. “None of us here need any more problems.”

  “Is that really necessary?” Tatiana said.

  “It’s a temporary measure,” Nikolai said.

  “I agree with Nikolai,” Roman said. “He should come with you.”

  Tatiana reluctantly agreed and went back upstairs. A few minutes later, she came back, purse in one hand, and baby Anastasia in her car seat in the other. “I’m ready,” she said to Nikolai, and they walked outside.

  A freshly washed mini-van was parked by the front door. The trunk was open, and a young man dressed in jeans and a light cotton shirt stood next to the passenger door. He introduced himself to Nikolai as Pavel.

  The second driver, Pavel said.

  The only driver, Nikolai thought.

  Pavel helped Tatiana with the car seat and got behind the wheel. Nikolai sat in the back with Tatiana, Anastasia sleeping in her car seat between them.

  Pavel started the car and slowly drove towards the gate. This time, only Vasily, the short stocky guard, stood by the gate, his dark hair sticking out in all directions. Did the guy own a comb?

  A mixture of dust and caked-on mud covered his boots, and a large spot in the middle of his shirt hinted at a tomato and mustard sandwich in his recent past. Nikolai wondered why Roman employed someone that sloppy.

  Pavel rolled down his window. “What happened to Pyotr?” he asked. “Aren’t both of you supposed to be on duty?”

  “Stomach problems,” Vasily said. “He’ll be right back. Please don’t say anything to Roman. He’ll fire us both.”

  “Why? You’re here.”

  “It looks like I’m covering up for Pyotr, and I shouldn’t be, but he really has stomach problems.”

  “What’s wrong with his stomach?” Pavel said.

  Vasily shrugged. “Not sure. But he spends a lot of time in the bathroom.”

  “Right.” Pavel pulled his phone out of his pocket and punched in a number. A moment later, Pyotr came running back to the gate.

  “Feeling better?” Pavel asked.

  “Much better, thanks.”

  “If you don’t want me to tell Roman about your absences from the post, you’d better get that thing checked out,” Pavel said.

  “It’s no big deal
, Pavel,” Tatiana said. “He was only gone a few minutes. And he’s back now, so just let him be.”

  Chapter Eight

  The rural highway was not crowded. Nikolai spotted only a couple of delivery vans, a few sedans, and two motor bikes in the distance. In less than fifteen minutes, Pavel drove into the town, as Tatiana referred to it. The town occupied the area of one city block but felt more important, probably because of the high density of tall buildings in its center and many shops, mostly expensive boutiques. It all looked new. No doubt, this whole town existed for the benefit of Rublyovka residents who needed and wanted a glamorous shopping experience without driving all the way to Moscow.

  “The dress shop is just down the street,” Tatiana said to Pavel. “You can pull over anywhere here. It’s very close.”

  Pavel stopped the car by a low fence surrounding a playground and jumped out of the car to help Tatiana. “Would you like me to get the stroller out?”

  Tatiana glanced at Anastasia, fast asleep in the car seat. “She looks so peaceful. Would you mind watching her, Pavel? I’ll only be a minute.”

  “I’d like to go check something first,” Nikolai said. “Please stay in the car, Tatiana, doors locked.”

  He stepped out of the car, shut the door behind him, and headed down the street. It was a typical suburban residential street, with apartment buildings lining both sides. The ground level of each building housed a business. Nikolai passed by a bakery, a grocery store, and a post office.

  The next door to his left was the dress shop. Latest fashions for all occasions, a bright sign proclaimed. Nikolai pulled open the door and walked inside. The boutique was no more than a large room brightly lit by a combination of sunlight streaming from the large windows and electric light from track lighting on the ceiling. A wide assortment of garments, from fashionably torn jeans to sequined cocktail dresses, hung on racks, and lined the walls. Three headless mannequins positioned next to a tall artificial birch tree modeled the latest arrivals, according to the sign in front of them.