***
It was cold in the mountains above Vedeno, a small town of about three thousand, some fifty-five kilometers southeast of ruined Grozny. The Vedeno Gorge was the most dangerous area of Chechnya. Any time you wanted combat, you could have it.
In the deepest blue, the no-longer-black-but-not-yet-light of the very early morning, Simonov fancied he could feel the hate of the Chechens rising up to the abandoned ridgeline farmhouse that served as an observation post and their quarters for the night. It was why he had chosen the region for their new round of tests.
There was no need to wake Doctor Tolchinskaya. He could hear her already stirring in her sleeping bag when the time approached to relieve the midwatch. He remembered how surprised he’d been the first time she joined him for this, the last watch of the night, appearing with tea for both of them. It turned out that if she could get six solid hours of sleep a night, she was happy.
He had come to enjoy their conversations during these hours, and between those conversations, some amazing sunrises, as well as some miserably cold and wet early mornings. There had been times, talking to her, when he wished he was either much smarter or a whole lot dumber than he was. That had faded as he began to understand more and more of what she did. At least, the parts of it he could actually see and hold in his hands. He handed her a cup of tea as she joined him. “The boys and I have not really expressed our thanks to you for the gifts.” She’d brought some cookies, baked by her housekeeper, a book and a CD she thought each man would enjoy, and those wonderful knit fingerless gloves.
“I have not really expressed my thanks for the time you have all taken to train me.”
“Our orders are to keep you alive. Training you contributes.”
“Thank you for both.”
Simonov decided, once again, that it was time to raise a delicate subject. But he had no real idea of how, and her face was no guide. So in good Airborne fashion, Simonov decided to forget the niceties, jump out of the plane, and let gravity do the rest. “Your assistant, your…what do you call him? First deputy?”
“No, not that. He has the engineering degree, but he’s an administrator.”
“And you find him competent?”
“As an administrator, exceptionally.”
“But not so much as an engineer.”
Olivia did not look at Simonov. She had learned to read the timbre of his voice and she did not want him to see an uneasiness on her part that might make him go silent or change the subject. This was not like him. He was extremely protective of his own people; he would assume that she was the same about hers. Yet his interest in Borodkin was negative, and she sensed that it went beyond his various ineptitudes in the field. Had it been Kristinich speaking to her, she would have simply walked away. But this was Simonov. When he got serious, she listened. So she spoke. “He could be a fine one. Not great but far more than adequate. If he chose to be.” Her voice was neutral but inviting.
Simonov felt relief flood through him that the conversation would continue. “Would you let him try to create for you?”
“I have tried to interest him. He prefers administration. Since he is good at that, so be it.”
“Why doesn’t he want to create?”
Olivia exhaled, took a large swallow of tea, felt the heat work its way deep into her chest. “He is afraid to fail and no engineer should be afraid of failure. I don’t mean you should want to see your building or your bridge collapse, or your sensors not work through carelessness or sloppiness. But you should not be afraid to see if your preliminary plans don’t work. These new pets I brought, that are programmed to seek light. They currently do it poorly. But in time, they will do it better.”
“It’s unsettling to see them scuttle around.”
She grinned. “Isn’t it? We’re still trying to think up a use for them. We have some immature ideas about demining and booby traps and going places far too small for a human. But I believe a dozen good soldiers will come up with sound ideas for their tactical use much faster than a dozen good engineers. If the lads don’t, they’ve amused themselves, no harm done. They’re made from scavenged parts and the programming is fairly simple, so there’s not a lot of money or time in them and they’ll get no one hurt.” She paused. “Mister Borodkin is afraid to fail like that.”
“He’s afraid to let himself want. I’ve seen you envious, Doctor. What I mean is, when you envy, you set yourself to achieve that which you envy, or at least something comparable. So there is no hatred in your envy. That’s not true of everything you admire, of course. There are many things you simply find admirable. You do not reject things or people because they are admirable.”
“Thank you. Genuine admiration is a pleasure for me, envy is a spur. But we all have limitations.” Her voice was very calm.
Simonov was not deceived. “Yours are far away. It pains me as a man to say that. Like all men, I want to think myself better than a woman at anything, more than any woman, because I am a man. No man can know you and think he is more than you. He may be better at this or that, yes, of course. Just as you are better at this thing or that thing. He may not be less than you, but he will almost certainly never be more.” He paused, struggling for language. “You are a master. But we have no way to evaluate you. We know what you do but we don’t understand it. We have no standard of comparison for you. But each of us is starting to know quite a few Russian soldiers who owe you their lives or their limbs. And quite a few Chechen civilians, too. Not that the Chechens will know it or even thank you if they did. But we do.”
Olivia silently looked at Simonov. His innocent thug’s eyes beseeched her for permission to continue. She could see the question in his posture, hear it in his voice. At last, she nodded. Simonov took an audible deep breath. “Mister Borodkin hates you for these things. He hates you for being willing to make all kinds of mistakes, so long as they don’t cost blood, if they mean you end up saving blood. He is afraid to envy you honestly. Instead, he resents. And while I can’t speak to you being a Jew or an American, I can speak to you being a woman. That alone is enough to make him hate you.”
“What are you saying, Warrant Officer?” Her voice was like the sword blade you do not feel, until your head looks over at your body on the ground beside it.
“He hates you. And not for your vices. He hates you for your virtues and even for your womanhood.”
“Warrant Officer, what are you saying?”
“Doctor, such hate can do you no good.”
“A given, Warrant Officer. Now. What makes you say this?”
Simonov paused. “I know what I know.”
“Very well. Assuming you are right, what do you propose that I do about it?”
“Let the lads and me kill him.”
She exhaled very hard. “Warrant Officer!” Her voice was, nevertheless, a whisper and Simonov couldn’t help being proud of the noise discipline he’d ingrained in her.
“We’ve worked it out and no one will ask any questions, here in the Vedeno Gorge area. Out of respect for the service he has given you, he will find a humane and honorable end here.”
Olivia had lived out of these men’s rucksacks and they hers, for over a year. She knew very well that left to their own devices, Simonov and the rest of her security team would make anyone who threatened her beg for a bullet. And that was how Olivia decided to answer. “Warrant Officer, there is a difference between hatred and acting on hatred. Do you have proof that Mister Borodkin is some kind of real threat to me or anyone else?”
Simonov understood what she was asking. “Doctor Tolchinskaya, I have watched this man carefully since you brought him to us. He is a sullen, cowardly sort. Everything is a personal affront. He will never challenge you openly. But I saw him speaking with Major Kristinich. You were sparring with Major Malinovsky. They were watching you and speaking of you.”
“But you did not hear the conversation.”
“No. But I saw Mister Borodkin’s face afterwards. It was evil
, the kind of evil you see on a man when he’s found a way to hurt his betters. Doctor Tolchinskaya, I have no reason to speak this way against someone you value. There is nothing in it for me. I am only saying, this man Borodkin is your enemy. By himself, he may be no threat. But if he and Major Kristinich get together…”
“If.”
“Yes, Doctor. If. They could make trouble for you. Maybe not here. But back in Moscow, where there are different rules.”
“I know that, Warrant Officer. Do I understand you correctly? You are asking me to give permission to kill a man who might harm me, when you have no proof.”
“You do, and it will never come back to haunt you. We need only to know you won’t be raising a fuss.”
“And Major Malinovsky and the Kombrig?”
Simonov looked straight at her. “I have not spoken to them but, Doctor Tolchinskaya, they are Russian. They know what hate like this can do.”
“I am an American. I need more than a nasty look or a suspicious conversation.”
“Doctor Tolchinskaya, I am telling you, this man means you no good. This isn’t America, where it seems people can say anything so long as it is meaningless. Here, words mean something, and Mister Borodkin knows what those words can do. This man is very likely to be a weapon at your back if anyone chooses to use him against you.”
Olivia knew that by the rules of his culture, which was also Borodkin’s, that Simonov was right. “I know that. But by my own culture, which still provides my reflexes, I cannot kill him.”
“No disrespect to you, Doctor Tolchinskaya, but I’m not telling you to kill him. I know you can and will if you must. I’m asking you to let the lads and me solve a problem that is truly beneath you, before that problem rises up against you.”
“Warrant Officer, if I can’t do it, I can’t order someone else to do it.”
“Doctor, you would not be giving an order, you would be giving permission.”
“I cannot bless your killing of a man I cannot bring myself to kill. If what you are saying is true, it may be wise to do so. But you are offering no proof. I am not speaking by imaginary American standards, but by real standards. The standards of civilization.”
“Doctor, please forego the courtroom proof. This is not a courtroom. Believe me, you will place no one at risk by doing so. If you do not, you place yourself at real risk of a harm you do not deserve.”
“I believe you, Warrant Officer. But I cannot kill or allow to be killed a man for what he might do. I have to have more than your instincts, as true as I know them to be. I have to have my own. I have to live with myself. And. There is the fact that Mister Borodkin may become more than what he is today. You and I both know about that.”
Simonov could have wept for both her and Borodkin. “Do not forget the offer. Please, Doctor.”
“Warrant Officer, I swear to you, I will not.” Awkward about his loyalty, yet gentle with him, she chose to make a wry joke. “If I ever have need of your offer, you have my leave to tell me you told me so.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
The morning came. Their watch ended. They went into back into the farmhouse to prepare for the day. Borodkin was sound asleep, snoring loudly.
“You know, Doctor, perhaps we could execute him for snoring,” Simonov mused.
“In a perfect world,” Olivia answered, “snoring would indeed be a capital offense, Warrant Officer. Sadly, we do not live in a perfect world.”
“I know, Doctor,” Simonov replied quietly. “I know.”