The first half of Book One is complete.  The second half will continue after this brief intermission, which follows here.  Yes, there is a reason for this slight detour.  Finally, a slight warning: there are some dark (but not too graphic) elements ahead. 

“Valery, get the door, will you?” Boris bellowed from his office upon hearing the bell ring.

Valery took his time as he wound his way through the stacks of furniture and frames.  Reaching the front entry of the shop, he pulled open the heavy door and then spoke across the bars of the security gate. 

“Can I help you?” Valery said.

The man smiled slightly.  “I don’t speak Russian.”

“No English,” Valery replied.  “Eh... name?” 

“Harvey Mitchell.”

Valery held up his index finger to him, and then went to the back of the shop.  “Boris!”

Boris poked his head out from the office, and peered at the customer through the rows of clutter.  Valery quietly told Boris the man’s name, and then Boris said, “Let him in.  He has an appointment.”

As Valery turned to go to the front again, Boris grabbed his shoulder and pulled him behind some shelves.

“Listen, keep an eye on him, you hear?” he said.

Valery nodded, but Boris didn’t let go.

“There are enough criminals around here.  I cannot afford to have trouble from foreigners as well,” Boris said darkly.  “I don’t know much about this man, but Fyodor vouched for him, so I’ll let him in.”  Boris pointed to his eyes with his free hand, and then let go of Valery.

Valery adjusted his shirt and returned to the gate.  Wordlessly he threw the deadbolts open, and then swung the gate for the American man to enter.

Valery watched Harvey as he walked slowly through the shop, looking at the different pieces that were placed all around.  A few times Harvey turned to Valery, and Valery pointed the way for him, nodding deferentially.

He has piercing eyes, Valery thought.  He is too young, though...?

Boris appeared suddenly, and Harvey stuck out his hand immediately. 

“Boris?  I’m Harvey Mitchell.  Hopefully Fyodor spoke with you?”

“Yes, he did,” Boris said gruffly with his thick accent, eyeing the young man.  He made no effort to hide the suspicion in his look.

“Good, I’m here – ” Harvey began.

Boris cut him off, looking around as if eavesdroppers were hidden in the dusky shadows of the shop. 

“Not here.  Follow me,” he said. 

Boris turned to Valery and spoke in Russian.  “Valery, keep an eye on things.  Do not let anyone in.”

Valery nodded, and then watched as Harvey followed Boris into his office.  No sooner had the door shut, than Valery made his way to an old bookshelf and reached behind a few old tomes, and then settled in to ‘keep an eye on things.’

A few days later, as Valery was preparing to leave work, Boris called him over. 

“Valery.”

“Yes, Boris?”

Boris considered something for a moment.  “Valery, I need a favor.”

“Yes, of course,” Valery replied politely.

“Do you have your gun with you?”

“My gun?”

“Yes.”

“It’s at home,” Valery said cautiously.

“I – I need a little help tonight.  Do you remember the American man, Mitchell?”

Valery nodded.

“He’s coming to my house to pick up... something.”

“From your vault?” Valery said, perhaps too eagerly.

“Yes.  Fyodor said he was trustworthy, but I’m not so sure...  There’s something strange about this.”

“Do you think he will try to cheat you?”

“I don’t know,” Boris said.  “He is bringing the money in exchange for it.  If he doesn’t bring it, then...”

“If you are worried, perhaps you should call it off,” Valery interrupted.

“I need the money!” Boris said, desperation touching his voice.  “You know how hard the thefts have hit me!  What do you think of him?” Boris suddenly asked Valery.

“He seems a little young, but I didn’t get any strange feelings from him,” Valery said, shrugging.

Boris sighed heavily and peered around nervously.  “Can you help me tonight?”

“Yes, of course, boss.  What do you need?”

“Just come to the house at five, and bring your gun.  Don’t come in; just keep an eye on things while the American is there.  He will come at six.  If all goes well, it will be as if nothing happened.  Of course I will pay you for your help.”

Boris gave Valery some more instructions.

“He may be scared off if he sees you, so don’t come to the door unless there’s trouble,” Boris finished.  “If this is for real, I need to make this deal.”

“I’ll be there,” Valery said, nodding.

Boris checked his pistol for the tenth time, and then sat on the creaky stool again.  There was still an hour until the American would arrive.  Despite having Valery outside the house, Boris still felt uneasy.  Something was wrong. 

Six months ago, things had begun disappearing from his shop.  It had been an accidental discovery, at first: a client had come in unexpectedly to pay in full for a long-term layaway item, and it was missing.  Valery and his other employee, Ivan, had both helped him search the shop, but it was clearly gone.

Not only did Boris have to suffer the embarrassment of telling the customer that his piece was no longer available, but he had to return a good deal of cash to the man. 

One thing missing could be explained by misplacement, but when a second item wasn’t found, Boris grew suspicious.  Boris spent a night looking at some inventory, and it became clear that someone was stealing things from the shop.

One morning he arrived early to find Ivan with some electronic equipment in hand.  It was a setup to listen into Boris’s office, he quickly discovered.  He almost threw Ivan out right then, but Ivan pleaded his innocence vehemently, saying he had found it when looking for the missing pieces. 

Boris’s mistake was trusting Ivan.  The thief couldn’t be Valery: he had been a loyal assistant for years.  No one else had access to the shop, that he knew of, except Ivan. 

When Boris asked Fyodor for advice, Fyodor said “I don’t know Ivan, but I’ll put my hands in the fire for Valery.”  Unfortunately, before Boris had a chance to fire Ivan, a few more things disappeared.

Things had returned to normal since Ivan went away, but Boris still felt like someone was watching him from dark corners.  The ordeal had thrown a dark cloud over Boris’s already dark life.

It made waiting for the American, and his sum of money, almost unbearable.

Harvey Mitchell had arrived a little early to the neighborhood where Boris lived.  He drove by the dilapidated house once, and then parked the car a few blocks away.  Despite promising Boris he would not arrive until six, he wanted to get this business over with.  He would feel much safer with the sculpture than with the suitcase full of money.

He waited in the car for a little while, as it was too early.  Fyodor would have passage for him late this evening to exit the country.  If all went according to plan, in two days he would have the sculpture as the centerpiece of his collection. 

Harvey had been nervous perhaps once or twice in his life.  Now he could make it three. 

He started counting slowly to clear his head.  When he reached three hundred, he would go close this deal.

A noise made Boris jump up out of his chair.  He checked the clock on the wall.  Still forty minutes until he should be here, he thought. 

Another noise made him quietly slip to the foyer.  It was the stairs creaking; someone was coming... down?

It was Irina. 

What is she doing here?! Boris thought.

“Irina?” he blurted out.  He stood frozen in panic.  She was supposed to be at the conservatory. 

“Is everything all right?” she asked, stopping fearfully on the stairs in response to the look on Boris’s face.

Before Boris could answer, there was a knock on the front door.  Boris looked at the door like it was about to explode in his face.  “Who is it?” he yelled.

There was no answer.

“Irina, go upstairs.  Do not come down until I come up and get you.  Do you understand?”  His voice was almost violently urgent.

Irina looked at him, fear crossing her face.  Then she nodded and went up the stairs hurriedly.

Boris waited until he heard her door shut, and took his gun in hand.  He peeked out the window, frowned, and then opened the door.

“You’re not supposed to...”

The last thing he saw was the dirty floor from a few centimeters away.

Why did Boris have his gun? Irina thought, her heart racing as she closed the door to her room.  Was he making a deal tonight? 

Irina heard Boris open the door and say a few muffled words.  Then there was some strange noise and a heavy thud.  The sounds made her heart stop for a moment.  She listened desperately for any sign of what was happening downstairs, but heard nothing. 

There should be talking!

A few footsteps thumped downstairs and stopped.  Dread swept over Irina.  Something was terribly wrong. 

The things got blurry as blood rushed through her ears.  The fear was threatening to overwhelm her.  She had to... to... hide.  She crept slowly to her closet.  A few slight creaks on the old floorboards made her wince and hold her breath.

She slipped into the closet, and closed the door.  Just as she arranged the clothing in front of her, she heard the sound of measured footsteps on the stairs.  They were not Boris’s, and yet they seemed somehow familiar. 

Panic erased all further thought from her head.

Valery was amazed at his luck.  Besides being invited to the premises earlier in the evening, Boris had also already taken the art piece out of his vault.  The fool!  He had left it standing on his kitchen table.  Not only would he collect the money from Mr. Mitchell’s dead hand, but he would also have the sculpture, now.  Perhaps Fyodor would exchange his part of the money for the piece. 

All in all, things had turned out well.  Better than Valery had ever imagined six months ago when Fyodor had first spoken to him about the American.  Even that meddler Ivan hadn’t ruined everything.  Admittedly, Valery got a little overeager in removing things from Boris’s shop, but Ivan’s convenient discovery of the electronics had put the blame squarely on his shoulders.  Before Ivan ever made it to the police station, Valery made sure he became irrelevant.  Like Valery, Ivan had no family and few friends.  He would not be missed for a long time.

But the really unexpected surprise was finding Irina here, this evening.  He had wondered if he would be so lucky, although he thought it unlikely Boris would have her in the house during a business deal of this type.  It was only her footsteps creaking that gave her away.  Otherwise, she would have missed all the... excitement.

She had always looked at him suspiciously, from the first day he met her.  Those pretty eyes never gave him any room for an advance.  Her voice never harbored any warmth, when she addressed him on rare occasion. 

How often he would look at her slender body and wish he could just once touch her.  He was fatally attracted to Irina from the moment he set eyes on her, and yet her first look told him he would never have her. 

Valery looked down at her, now, writhing beneath him and struggling in vain. 

How wrong she had been...

She had figured things out, somehow.  He had listened in to Boris’s office when she had suggested to Boris that Valery was the thief.  She had seen a few suspicious things, at times when Valery hadn’t been careful.  Yes, she was quite perceptive.  She had everything figured out.  Perhaps she was on the verge of telling Boris what she thought she knew.

It didn’t matter now.  Fyodor had made arrangements for Valery to escape the country tonight.  Besides, he would shortly dispose of her like he did with Boris.  The fact that he was able to exact his revenge on her was incredibly satisfying, however. 

As much as he was enjoying her pained expressions, he had to finish.  He had twenty minutes until the American arrived, and he wanted to be ready.

Irina’s cries of fear and pain might well have been cries of ecstasy to Valery as he completed his conquest.

Standing and arranging his clothes, he spat on the floor.  He grabbed his gun from the dresser, and ran a finger over it.  Until a few moments ago, the silencer was the best gift he had ever received. 

He owed much to Fyodor.

“Please do not shoot me,” Irina said, so quietly that Valery almost didn’t hear her.

“Boris is dead,” Valery said.   He watched Irina closely, but she seemed at the limits of her capability of feeling more fear.

“I won’t say anything,” she said tremulously. “I will do anything you want.”  Her voice was haunted.

“No, Fyod – No, you won’t.  You are too troublesome.  I heard you talking to Boris in his office when we had that... trouble with Ivan.  You have been somewhat of an interference.  You are lucky Boris didn’t listen to you, or this would have happened much sooner.”

“It was you, then...” Irina said.  “You will be found.  You worked with Boris for a long time.  People know that!”

“You don’t know everything you think,” Valery sneered, happy to put her in her place.  “In a little while, after the American comes with the money, I will disappear.  All that will be left is three bodies, and some interesting questions.”

Valery started to raise his arm to her.

“Wait...” she exclaimed suddenly.

“What?” Valery barked, growing impatient.  Her charms were wearing away already.

Irina didn’t speak, looking off with a distant expression.  For a moment, a light shone in her eyes.  Valery was startled by her demeanor, amazed at the sudden hope which flashed across her face.  She was seeing an old memory, perhaps.  She’d had almost as difficult a life as Valery had had.

The pure radiant emotion that she suddenly presented on her countenance made Valery twist inside.  It could have been so different...

Anger suddenly flared up within him.  He didn’t have anything more to say to Irina.  In a few moments she’d have no memories ever again.  Not everyone could live forever.

As he looked once more at Irina’s tear-stricken face, he smiled tightly.  Perhaps he could take her with him?  Her pleasures were so enticing...

But she was such a liability, with her conservatory connections.  No, Fyodor really would not appreciate any complications.  He would have to live with the memory of her.

As he raised his gun, his eye caught a movement to his side.  There was a bright flash of bronze as he swung his gun to the doorway. 

Boris!?  But he was dead!! Valery thought, in the instant between when he first saw the flash and when the sculpture connected with the side of his head. 

The bronze was much stronger than the bone ......

...... Harvey hastily threw the cloth over the canvas as he heard the footsteps approaching in the hallway.  They had startled him out of his memories, but he still had heard the noise in time.  By the time she entered the studio, he was standing innocently with his arms folded across his chest.

Irina glanced at the covered easel and raised a brow.  “You are not finished?”

Harvey laughed.  “No, not quite.  It takes time to make it perfect.”

Irina nodded.  “But you thought that...”

“Tomorrow, and that’s what matters,” he interrupted, smiling warmly.

Irina moved to him and gave him a hug.  “Thirty years tomorrow, Harvey.”

“Yes.  It seems like yesterday,” he murmured into her hair.

The long embrace was interrupted by a slight movement on Irina’s part.  Harvey let it go as far as he dared, and then he pulled away from her and cleared his throat.

“You know me too well,” Irina said, laughing richly as she let the cloth drop.  She wasn’t really going to look, but it was fun to attempt to do so.  Harvey was so secretive about his works until they were finished.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the airport to get Viktoriya?” he asked, as they walked back to the house.

Irina sighed, and then shook her head.  “You know I have to prepare for the recording.”

“I know.  I was just checking.”

“I am so happy she is coming,” Irina said.

“And we will see her again in a month, as well,” Harvey reminded her.  It was rare to see Viktoriya more than once a year.

“Yes, yes.  Speaking of Thanksgiving,” Irina suddenly said, “I will invite one of my students this year, again.”

“Oh yes?  Who?”

“Richard.”

“Excellent.  I look forward to meeting him.  I presume that he has turned things around?” Harvey asked.

“Yes, he has made some excellent progress in the last month, since we had a talk,” Irina said.

“Good.  You always bring out the best in people, I know.”

Irina smiled gently.  “Thank you, Harvey.  At this point, he is not limited by his talent, only his effort and his will.”

“Ah,” Harvey said, knowingly.  “Perhaps, since Viktoriya will be here for Thanksgiving as well, she may find him interesting?”

“Perhaps.  I don’t know why you are so rushed to find her a man,” Irina said, laughing a little.

“I don’t want her to end up with the wrong one.  The friend she brought last year was rather unsatisfactory.  Fortunately he is no longer in the frame.  If Richard is as intelligent and talented as you say...”

“Viktoriya doesn’t live here anymore,” Irina chided.  “And he’s eighteen.”

“We have greater difference between us,” Harvey reminded.

“He seems to have some lady friends, already,” Irina said simply.

“Friend-sss?  More than one?” Harvey asked, raising a brow.

“Two.”

“And they are both his lovers?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Irina said.  “I’ve watched them practice.  Lovers play together differently.”

Harvey nodded thoughtfully.

“He will be giving a recital with them in the spring,” Irina added.

“A freshman recital?” Harvey asked, frowning.  “I thought that wasn’t usually done.”

Irina pursed her lips.  “No, but in this case, it will be a good thing.  If he joins us, you will find that Richard is a quiet man. But a great passion stirs inside of him.  Sometimes as a teacher, we must feed that fire in different ways.”

“Hmm.  How do you feed my passions?” Harvey asked, grinning impishly as he sidled up to her.

Irina pushed him away playfully.  “You should leave now, so you can meet Viktoriya inside,” Irina said.

Harvey chuckled at his refuted advance and shouldered his coat.  “Will Nadia be home from her practice before we return?” he asked.

“She will.”

“Good, I’m sure Viktoriya will be anxious to see her.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Irina gave him a kiss.  “Thank you.  I look forward to seeing her.”

“Have a good practice, my love...”

The half hour ride to the airport from the house was surprisingly easy for a Monday evening.  The traffic was minimal, and Harvey was glad for the chance to relax.  He shared with Irina the desire to achieve perfection in his art, and if it weren’t for the airport trip, he likely would have worked through the night on the final touches to her painting, just as Irina would work at the piano in the house.

Fortunately for both of them, Viktoriya’s arrival would force Irina to take a little break.  And hopefully go to bed early, Harvey hoped.  Tomorrow was going to be a good day; he had plans with Irina and their two daughters, and everyone needed to be rested.

Thirty years!  No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t account for the passage of that much time.  Thirty years ago, his life had changed forever.

And yet, the memories of that time were still as fresh as if they had happened last night.  “I suppose they will never dull,” Harvey said aloud, as he walked to the terminal building.

It was an awkward way to meet a life partner, Harvey thought.  Irina had just been violated in the worst possible way, and Harvey had just smashed her attacker’s head in, with a prize sculpture, no less.  If the museum only knew what dark deed had been committed with that slender and beautiful arc of bronze, they would be horrified.

Over time, and despite the difficulties of the situation, things had improved.  Besides the increased opportunity for her piano playing that the move to the States offered, Irina had gained a husband and lost an abusive stepfather.  Harvey had gained a wife, and of course, the sculpture.

He caught sight of Viktoriya riding down the escalator with a small bag in hand.  Harvey smiled deeply. 

They had both gained a daughter that night, as well.

Viktoriya made her way towards Harvey as fast as her heels would allow, and then they embraced tightly for a long time. 

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” Harvey exclaimed, surprised at just how emotional he felt. 

“Russian, father, Russian!  You know I don’t get to speak it often,” Viktoriya chided.

“Oh, yes, I forgot,” Harvey said apologetically.

Whereas most children seemed to resist learning foreign languages from their parents, Viktoriya had taken to it from an early age, despite Irina’s reluctance to speak to her in her native tongue.  Harvey supposed she took after him, odd as that was.  He knew seven languages when he finished college, including Russian.  Without it, he might not have convinced Irina to keep Viktoriya in those first months after the fateful night. 

And what a loss that would have been!  He watched her, full of life, talking brightly about her flight as they waited for the baggage.  She hadn’t changed much in the year since he had last seen her.  At twenty-nine, it was a wonder she was still single.  Tall, smart, and slender, she had Irina’s large eyes and dark hair.  A hint of Valery’s genes shone through as well, Harvey knew.  Despite his terrible flaws, Valery had been a handsome man, and some of that strength had passed subtly into Viktoriya.  Fortunately, his weaknesses seemed to have been left behind on the second floor of that old house in Moscow.

Viktoriya had grown up proud of her Russian background, whereas Irina had mostly dismissed it.  Perhaps if Viktoriya knew everything there was to know, she wouldn’t be so proud, but some truths were best kept locked away forever.

Viktoriya was in mid-sentence, but Harvey pulled her into another embrace, surprising her.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

Forward to Chapter 19

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