Victor had been briefed by Robert on the flight to Moscow and knew that contact between them would be minimal. He was also aware that the Russians would be watching him closely and the meeting with the guy who had the book would have to be carefully staged. The whole thing was like something out of a spy novel and Victor was loving every moment.
The Frenchman checked his watched as he walked up the steps into the hotel entrance. It was four hours until his meeting in Gorky Park where he would come face-to-face with the person who had the book. He tried to imagine what he would look like. Would he be old or young? And how did he get the book that’s been missing for so long. Was it a fake? Was it a set up? His head was reeling with unanswered questions. He remembered Robert’s explicit instructions and mentally rehearsed the meeting. He did not want things to go wrong. He did not want to blow Robert’s chances of getting the book back. Tension was building in his body and his stomach was turning over like a laden bread mixer.
Robert slipped his Michael Waterman passport into his jacket pocket and checked the letter of invitation from Bishop Remizov for him to visit the monastery; but that was for tomorrow; today was all about meeting the man with the book. Checking his watch he picked up the room key and walked out into the corridor. At the same time Victor Canseliet was closing his room door, six rooms down. When they entered the lift together Robert slipped a piece of paper into Victor’s hand. ‘It’s the directions to the park,’ he said. Victor took the paper and slipped it into his pocket. ‘We’re taking the metro. It’s the easiest way and makes it more difficult for someone following us.’
‘Victor Canseliet being followed by FSB agents in Moscow! How insane is that?’
Robert smiled.
Within the hour both men had arrived at the park. Victor knew that the meeting point was a round, wooden summer house in the older more restrained part of the park, away from the noisy fun-fair and roller-coaster rides. As he walked he could see the white pavilion some one-hundred yards in front of him, just off the path. He nervously checked for his pen in his inside pocket, just as Robert had told him. As he approached he noticed the summer house was empty. He glanced at his watch and mentally chastised himself when he remembered Robert had told him not to keep checking the time before the meeting.
Victor walked into the empty summer house and sat on a wooden bench seat. He waited a few minutes and then walked back into the sunshine. Robert entered the summer house from the opposite side and sat down. As Victor walked slowly along the path a voice called out from behind him.
‘Victor Canseliet?’
The Frenchman turned to see a young man standing behind him. ‘Yes, I’m Victor Canseliet,’ he answered. ‘Can I help you?’
Alexi said, nervously, in broken English. ‘I have something I think you be very happy with.’
‘And what would that be, young man?’
‘A book!’
Victor remembered his drill and took a pen from his inside pocket. ‘You’re very welcome young man,’ he said in an upbeat manner and signed his name on a piece of paper before giving it to the monk. In a quiet voice he said, ‘I’m going to walk away now. You need to sit in the summer house. Someone is there waiting for you who is very interested in the book. Goodbye and nice to meet you.’ Victor walked off leaving the monk staring at the autograph.
Alexi was surprised. This wasn’t what he expected. He turned to watch Victor walking off and then glanced into the summer house. Sure enough there was a man sitting in there. Was this a trap? He asked himself. Should he run before it was too late or should he take a chance? Nervously he approached the summer house. The man inside smiled at him and spoke in perfect Russian when he said, ‘Hello, please don't be nervous, I’m here because you have something of interest to me.’
‘Do I?’ Alexi answered, tentatively
‘You have an old book.’
‘Who are you?’ Alexi asked in a suspicious manner.
‘My name is Michael Waterman. I’m from the USA and I collect old books.’
‘You’re American?’
‘Yes, for my sins.’ Robert answered.
‘But you speak perfect Russian,’ observed Alexi.
‘That’s a long story my friend… I’m sorry but I don’t know your name?’
Alexi’s eyes darted around the immediate area of the summer house and he sighed.
‘You are safe here young man; there’s no need to worry.’
‘…My name is Alexi, I’m a monk.’
‘Did you find the book at your monastery?’
‘Yes.’
Robert nodded knowingly.
‘And where is it now?’
‘Somewhere safe,’ Alexi answered, defensively.
Robert smiled. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘I know the book is very valuable,’ Alexi stated confidently.
‘I don’t deny that it is,’ Robert said. ‘But it’s only valuable to a very few people who understand it’s meaning.’
‘But it’s still valuable and I want to sell it.’
‘What are you asking for it, Alexi?’
The young monk shifted nervously on his seat and rubbed his chin. He knew this was his one chance. ‘…I want a lot for it… I know it’s worth it.’
‘And what do you mean by a lot?’ Robert asked.
‘…Five-million rubles!’
‘That’s a lot of money, Alexi.’
‘That’s my price, take it or leave it.’ Alexi was biting his bottom lip.
‘And when can I see the book? I need to see it before I buy it.’
Alexi’s eyes opened wide. ‘You’re prepared to pay the price?’
‘Of course.’
The monk froze with his hand over his mouth, staring straight ahead. ‘…Tomorrow, you can see the book tomorrow. I’ll bring it here.’
‘At what time?’
‘In the afternoon; let’s say four-thirty.’
Robert considered the logistics, aware that he was visiting the monastery that morning. ‘Okay, I’ll see you then.’ Both men stood up and shook hands. Robert said goodbye before walking down the steps into the sunshine.
Alexi was shaking from head to foot. The American seemed honest enough, he thought. Was his dream about to come true? Was he about to become someone, someone to be respected? He thought about Viktoriya and a rush of adrenalin shook his body like a thunderbolt; blood dripped from his bottom lip onto his chin. He smiled and smeared it onto the back of his trembling hand.
Victor was very pleased with his performance, and smiled contentedly as he strolled in the leafy park. ‘Formidable, mon ami!’ he said to himself, smugly.
As he approached a group of a dozen or so foreign tourists, one called out.
‘Look guys…It’s Victor Canseliet!’
Some eighty-yards away an FSB agent had focused his camera on Victor and was capturing the scene as the Frenchman spent the next fifteen-minutes happily signing autographs and chatting to his admirers.
Michael Waterman walked past the excited gathering unnoticed.
Chapter 20
The next morning at the Danilov Monastery
Alexi’s mind was in turmoil. He knew this was the chance of a lifetime. The chance to walk away from this scant existence. No more abuse, no more ridicule and no more prayers. His faith had gone long ago and he had no feelings of doubt or guilt in what he was about to do. He cradled the book to his chest and closed his eyes. Then a thought struck him. Was it a gift from God? Was this God’s way of saying, “Sorry, Alexi… Sorry for the sexual abuse and mockery you’ve had to endure from the members of my devoted flock? Please have this book as recompense from the Trinity and accept my sincere apologies for the heartbreak you’ve had to suffer.”
‘I don’t think so somehow,’ he said out loud, looking at the crucifix hanging on the wall above his headboard.
‘Brother Alexi?’ came a voice from outside his bedroom.
Alexi quickly pushed the book under the mattress and tried t
o regain his composure before opening the bedroom door.
‘Good morning, Bishop,’ he said calmly.
‘Good morning; I’m expecting a visit from Commander Tsvetaeva today. He’s not very happy with the progress that’s being made. How much longer will it take you and that girl to finish the search?’
‘I think we should be finished by the end of the day, Bishop.’
‘Good…One way or another I’ll have him off my back. He’s a most loathsome man.’ The Bishop turned and walked away, scowling.
The monk closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. That was close, he thought, pulling the book out from under the mattress. He cradled it like welcoming a long-lost friend before wrapping it in his pile of dirty washing to take to its new hiding place until the afternoon and the meeting with Michael Waterman.
Alexi checked his watch. Viktoriya would be here any minute now. He felt his heartbeat increase when he heard footsteps.
‘Alexi?’
‘I’m here,’ Viktoriya, he called out, cheerfully.
She walked in to see Alexi standing by the table. When she approached him she noticed the cut on his bottom lip. Gently, she touched his lip with her finger and they looked into each other’s eyes. Then slowly they drew closer and their lips touched. Alexi could feel her sweet breath on his face and their kiss became more passionate as they eagerly embraced each other.
‘Is that better?’ Viktoriya eventually asked, looking into Alexi’s eyes and touching his lip again.
‘Much better,’ Alexi said, breathlessly, and then they kissed again.
The sound of more footsteps broke their embrace. Alexi grabbed Viktoriya and pulled her into a side room. He locked the door and switched off the light. Viktoriya was holding him tight and he could feel her slender body next to his in the darkness.
‘I cannot accept failure!’ It was the familiar voice of Commander Tsvetaeva entering the vault.
‘There is nothing I can do if the book isn’t here, Commander,’ pleaded Bishop Remizov.
‘I know it’s here!’
Viktoriya squeezed Alexi tight, as fear gripped her.
The Commander strolled around the room looking at the books. ‘Where is the girl and that monk?’
‘They were here not long ago Commander. They may have taken a break.’
‘A break?’
The Bishop lowered his head.
‘Where does this lead to?’ The Commander tried the handle but the door was locked.
Viktoriya held her breath as she leaned against the other side of the rattling door latch.
‘Do you have a key?’
‘No; the keys are with Brother Alexi.’
‘Of course they are… Where is the inventory?’
‘I’m not sure, Commander. It may be here.’ The Bishop frantically searched the books on the table. ‘Yes, here it is,’ he said, picking up Alexi’s inventory.
‘Is this the only inventory?’ Tsvetaeva asked, coldly.
‘This is the only one for the purpose of deciding what has to be returned to the Cathedral.’
‘So, is there another one?’
‘There was one created years ago just for the books down here.’
‘Where is it? I need to see it, now.’
The Bishop became edgy. ‘I, I… don’t know where it is at the moment. Is it that important?’
‘Yes, it is!’
‘I will ask the monk when he returns from break and we’ll get the inventory for you to see.’
Not listening, Tsvetaeva rummaged through the pile of books on the table for some time eventually picking up one that interested him. ‘I think this is what we’re looking for, Bishop.’
The Bishop looked, clearly relieved. ‘Yes, that looks like it, Commander.’
Viktoriya felt Alexi’s body stiffen. She whispered into his ear. ‘You haven’t told me the truth, have you?’
‘Please trust me,’ he answered.
For what seemed like an eternity they stood holding each other in the darkness. Their emotions fired by a heady cocktail of raw passion and fear.
Then the Commander’s deep voice broke through the silence. ‘There is an entry in this inventory, Bishop. It is under the miscellaneous category; book number eight-seven-seven. It is described as an uncategorized mystery item. I would like to see it please.’
The Bishop walked over to the shelf where the book should have been. ‘It is not here, Commander.’
‘Of course it’s not… I want the monk and the girl brought in for questioning, immediately.’ He stood up and headed for the stairs followed eagerly by the Bishop.
Alexi and Viktoriya listened as the sound of footsteps faded to silence.
Viktoriya was shaking. ‘Where is the book, Alexi?’
‘Keep your voice down.’
‘Keep my voice down! I’m going to be questioned by the fucking FSB about something I have no knowledge of and you tell me to keep my voice down. Will you please tell me what the hell is going on?’
‘…I have found someone, an American, who will pay a lot of money for the book. I have to escape this life, Viktoriya. I can’t stay here anymore. Come with me…I love you?’
‘Come with you? Where? Do you honestly think we’ll escape. They’ll lock us up and throw the key away. We’ll die in a stinking gulag and nobody will ever know we existed.’
Fear rippled though the monk’s body as Viktoriya’s words sank in.
‘How much are you being paid for this mysterious book?’
‘Five-million rubles!’
Viktoriya’s jaw dropped. ‘Holy shit!’
‘I’ll split it with you… fifty-fifty.’
‘……We need somewhere to hide… We need time to think.’
‘Where can we go?’ Alexi asked.
‘I have an idea,’ Viktoriya replied, thoughtfully. ‘Can you get us out of here?’
‘Of course I can,’ he replied and they kissed again in the darkness. ‘But firstly I need to get the book.’
Viktoriya ran her hand through Alexi’s hair. ‘I love you too, you stupid idiot.’
Chapter 21
‘What do you mean, they’ve escaped? A runt of a monk and a dull blonde have made the FSB look like amateurs!’ The Commander slammed his fist on the desk. ‘Find them and find them quickly!’ He dropped the hand-piece on the receiver and stood up. He breathed heavily through his nostrils and lit a cigarette to calm his nerves. ‘I did not survive Afghanistan without knowing how to smell a rat,’ he said to himself as he picked up the phone again and hit a speed dial button.
‘Nikolay, it’s the Commander.’
‘Hello Commander.’
‘What’s the latest on that Frenchman?’
‘Well, he isn’t doing a lot to be honest, Commander. He visited Gorky Park and signed a few autographs but that’s about it. He hasn’t had a meeting with anyone.’
‘I smell a rat, Nikolay. He’s here for a reason and it’s not a fucking holiday. Something’s going on that we’re missing and it’s right under our fucking noses. Keep me informed if anything changes.’
Chapter 22
Olga, Viktoriya’s room mate turned the key in the lock and the apartment door opened. ‘Get in,’ she said anxiously. ‘He’s away for the next two weeks, so the place is all yours, guys.’
Viktoriya kissed Olga on the cheek. ‘We’ll never be able to repay you for this,’ she said, as Olga blushed.
Alexi closed the door and looked around the apartment, opened-mouthed. He had never seen opulence like it. He’d heard of, Rublyovka, a suburb on the west-side of Moscow, famous for its luxury homes but he wasn’t expecting anything like this. Brightly colored modern art adorned most of the walls and cream leather sofas surrounded a stainless steel open fire in the middle of the room. In the far corner was a magnificent Steinway grand piano overlooked by a huge, mostly black and white photograph of Marilyn Monroe with stunning red lips and neck scarf.
‘And all this from playing football?’ he
said, incredulously.
Olga looked the monk up and down. ‘Help yourself to some clean clothes, you’re about the same height as him, just a bit thinner.’
‘Do you think I should?’ Alexi asked with a frown.
‘He’s fucking loaded, believe me he won’t even notice. There’s stuff there he’s had for years and never worn.’
Viktoriya sighed. ‘Olga, please say nothing to anyone about this. We’re in a lot of trouble and I don’t want to drag you into the shit with us.’
‘Viktoriya, my lips are sealed…Isn’t this all so exciting! It’s just a shame I won’t be able to call you virgin for much longer, will I?’ Olga winked at her room mate.
Viktoriya flushed with embarrassment and glanced tentatively at Alexi who was equally flushed.
Olga laughed out loud. ‘Gotta go, guys, make yourselves at home. There’s loads of beer and food in the fridge so help yourselves. You’ll need to keep your energy levels up.’ Then the front door slammed closed behind her and Viktoriya and Alexi were left alone standing in shocked silence; trying to come to terms with what had just happened to their lives.
*
‘Michael, it’s good to meet you.’
‘Thank you Bishop. It’s great to be here,’ Robert replied as the two men shook hands outside the main entrance to the Holy Danilov Monastery.
It’s a strange feeling pretending to be someone else, Rob thought, as he looked the Bishop in the eyes.
‘Was your flight from America a pleasant one, Michael?’ the Bishop enquired.
‘Yes, it was, thank you. And well worth it. It’s great to be here and finally see your magnificent monastery. I’ve heard so much about it from the folks back at Harvard.’
‘How long have you been there?’
‘Only five-years, but it’s my first real vacation in that time so I decided to make it a proper one.’
The Bishop laughed. ‘I was a little concerned earlier that I wasn’t going to make our appointment.’
‘Oh, really!’ Rob said.
‘All over a book would you believe. Some old manuscript that the FSB want for some strange reason.’