***
The next four weeks were at once both a blur and eternity. He spent the first week making the final arrangements - informing Nadya of the specifics, negotiating with and then wiring the money to his man in Antwerp, and finally cleaning and putting the finishing touches on his equipment. He’d soundproofed the basement, and installed a series of manacles and harnesses down there for her training. He confirmed that everything was tightly linked, that the harnesses were secured securely into studs in the walls and ceiling, and that nothing was cracking or weak. He couldn’t afford the risk that she might escape. Devil’s in the details.
He was a contractor, specializing in cyber security, and currently, purposefully between contracts. He had as long as he wanted with her, and nobody would even know he was missing. He had nowhere to be or go. No suspicious time off, or need to explain anything. Perfect.
After his final preparations were done, all he could do was wait and wonder. Where was she now? Would there be any trouble at the docks? What was she running from in Ukraine? The last question bothered him the most, since he’d never been able to get a clear answer from her. His imagination drifted from legal troubles, to crippling debt, and finished on organized crime, wondering if there was some possible way for any of those to blow back on him. There was a reason she had been eager to find a way across the ocean that was clandestine. In the end, he decided it didn’t really matter so long as nobody ever found out she had made it here, which he fully intended to ensure. She’d just disappear, and whoever or whatever was bothering her in Ukraine would be left clueless. She’d have bigger problems here, anyway.
When the day she was to arrive came at last, Greg was a nervous bundle of energy. He paced his living room anxiously, watching the clock tick slowly by. He needed to drive up to Newark to pick her up, but didn’t want to get there too early and arouse any suspicions. A man lurking around a shipping port may attract undue attention to the entire ordeal, and he didn’t want to risk any inquisitive authorities. It was about a two-and-a-half hour drive due East to get to Newark, and the ship would be unloading overnight, meaning Greg had to at least wait until six to depart.
He left at a quarter till five, assuring himself that he could drive slowly. He didn’t. He couldn’t. He careened down 78, his heart fluttering the entire way there. Years of planning, months of anticipation were finally coming to fruition. The excitement was twisting him into knots. He arrived just after seven-thirty, to find the ship, Elektra, in dock, but not yet unloading. The sun was setting, and with nowhere to be, Greg sat idly in his car munching on some fast food he’d picked up. In the distance, but approaching rapidly, were dark clouds, and as he watched, they tumbled and churned towards his car.
A part of him was panicking. Drive home. Leave now, and forget any of this ever happened. But he couldn’t. Not now. He’d gone too far. He was so close, now. He could almost taste her. Feel the smoothness of her skin. He let out a heavy breath and tried to calm down. He didn’t know how long it would be before they began unloading, and he had no clue when in that process Nadya would be released, so he had to just wait and look inconspicuous.
He sighed and glanced at the dozen roses and box of chocolates sitting beside him, and briefly considered the fact that they may be the last flowers Nadya ever smells. The last chocolates she ever tastes. Regardless of however long she lived in the basement, he certainly wouldn’t be bringing her such treats. He wondered if she would enjoy them more or less if she knew. Would the suffering on the horizon cause her to miss the joys of the present, or would she savor them more fully?
It didn’t really matter since she would never know, until the trap is sprung. Until it’s too late to smell the flowers. He wondered if people ever got a feeling when disaster hurtled towards them. Did the little fish pawing at the light in the deep sea sense anything before the angler fish's jaws snap shut around it? Some fleeting notion of worry? A hunch of impending doom? Or is it simply oblivious until the trap is sprung?
How did Nadya feel right now? Elation, probably. Excitement.
He just felt hungry.
Rain had begun to fall, pinging off of the car’s roof like a million tiny steps. A thousand tiny animals stampeding in panic. It came down in waves, obscuring the view like banks of heavy fog. The world outside was lost in a twisting haze of grey and shadow. Somewhere distant, a lonely siren blared. It whined as it it faded in and out of the downpour. Greg listened, nervously. Where was she?
The siren grew louder. He couldn’t see any flashing lights through the storm, but Greg wondered if it was coming his way. Had she been caught?
A knock at his window startled him. Looking up, he saw her, looking in at him in the darkness. He’d been so busy looking for the flashing light, he’d missed her approach out of the storm entirely. Relief and a sudden panic washed over him in equal measure. She was here. He’d done it.
He waved her into the passenger’s seat and started the car, blasting warm air for her. She was soaking when she entered, the loose blouse she had worn clung to her like a second skin. Her dark hair was plastered to her skin, and she rapidly made a puddle on the seat.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve brought a towel. I didn’t think…”
She reached out and took his face in her hand and kissed him. Her hands were cold and wet, but her touch was soft. She broke the kiss then looked into his eyes. Hers were bottomless, like an endless pit, or the midnight sky. “I made it,” she whispered. Greg realized he was trembling.
“I… I got you flowers.” He gestured to the roses and chocolates on the floor. “I thought you might be hungry.”
She looked at him and smiled. He couldn’t help but gaze at her face. She was so beautiful. Even after a week of sitting in some storage container and then running through a downpour, she was stunning. “Should we go?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder into the rain.
“Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. Let's take you home.” Greg eased the car out of the spot and peering through the downpour, left the parking lot, passing an ambulance on their way out.