Back in his room, he booked himself on the 5:00 p.m. British Airways flight the next day to London. That would give him time to go to the zoo, return to the hotel, check out, and take a taxi to Sheremetyevo.
He woke early the next morning, packed his bag, and took two hours to travel to the zoo via a serpentine route, constantly on the alert. What would it be like, he wondered, studying the crowd, as he exited the Barrikadnaya Metro Station, to move around normally without worrying about somebody tracking your every move or attempting to intercept your every communication.
The Moscow Zoo was one of the capital’s sights he had never visited before. Once notorious as a slovenly, dilapidated residence for thousands of unfortunate species, the Moscow government had taken over management from the state and spent several million rubles on restoration, with partial success. Steve eyed the result skeptically as he walked through the fake stone entrance designed to look like a fairy tale castle with a waterfall and watchtower. It was a feeble attempt at a Disneyland, Steve thought, and it stank like a filthy barnyard.
Just the same, the paths were thronged with families on a Sunday outing with their children, complete with ice cream cones, hot dogs, and cotton candy. Amazing how many of them were already overweight, even the kids. A sign indicated the penguins were up the path to the right. A crowd was already gathering before their enclosure. A group of the black and white sea birds, absurd as always with their tuxedo vests, were waddling about the gray granite rocks. Others darted about in the water then also clambered up on the rocks, instinctively crowding to where the morning feeding habitually took place.
Steve spotted Maya sitting on a wooden bench, across the path. Without any sign of recognition, he walked casually towards her. Expressionless, she moved her bag so he could sit down.
“Nice day,” he said, as if chatting up an attractive stranger.
“Yes,” she smiled slightly, turning her pale blue eyes towards him. He could smell her perfume. He wanted desperately to take her hands, to touch her, but nothing could be less appropriate. He noticed there were fewer people further up the path where there was an empty enclosure.
“Why don’t we move there,” he said quietly.
“Let the children finish watching the feeding,” she said.
“Which one is Sonya?” Steve asked.
“On the left with the yellow top and red jeans.”
Steve looked across the way and turned back to Maya. “I still don’t see her,” he said.
“Sonya,” Maya shouted and waived. A young woman by the railing turned her head briefly and waived back with a quick smile. She had her mother’s long red hair, blue eyes, and the burgeoning figure of a future beauty. Steve suddenly realized he hadn’t seen Sonya since she was three years old. She must be fifteen now, he thought, amazed at the passage of time. Sonya was holding the hand of a gangling boy with long brown hair. He was wearing a white Chelsea football shirt and jeans.
“Who is the boy?” Steve asked.
“My son,” Maya smiled.
“Your son?”
“That is what I said.”
“I didn’t know you had another child.”
“I do.”
He felt a sudden surge of anger, jealousy. Maya had never told him there had been another man in her life. It was like an ice shower.
“Oh, I see,” he said, feeling abruptly disconnected from her, an outcast. He was overwhelmed by a feeling of bitterness.
The feeding ended and the crowd began to disburse, the children tugging their parents toward the aquarium beneath the penguin enclosure.
Sonya and her brother scampered back across the path to where Maya was sitting with Steve. “Sonya, this is Mr. Robb,” said Maya. “He is an old friend of mine.” The girl looked at Steve with a smile. Steve smiled back. She leaned down and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“Thank you, Sonya,” said Steve. “You are very pretty – just like your mother.” The girl blushed.
“And this is Evgeny,” said Maya, beaming at her son. “Evgeny, shake hands with Mr. Robb.”
The young boy with long brown hair and hazel eyes shyly extended his hand looking curiously at Steve. Funny, thought Steve, as he shook the hand, he looks so familiar.
“Mama, can we get a strawberry ice?” asked Sonya.
“It will be my treat,” said Steve, handing the girl a hundred ruble note.
The two children scampered off to the kiosk.
“You’re lucky,” Steve said, “to have two children.”
She looked up at him solemnly. “You are afraid to ask who the father was,” she said.
“I didn’t want to pry.” He felt the stirrings of jealousy again. How stupid of him not to have realized that she might be sharing her bed – sharing her life – with another man. “After all, I don’t own you. You are not mine.” Though I wish you were, he wanted to add, but didn’t.
“Steve, you are Evgeny’s father.”
He stared wildly at her, his heart racing. “What?”
“I said, you are Evgeny’s father. Evgeny means ‘child of a noble man.’”
“How could he…“
“Don’t talk so loud,” she said looking around her. “He was conceived the last night we were together in Moscow, before you left to join your wife.”
A son! He had a son! “All those years…how could you never have told me?” asked Steve.
“Because I thought you were married,” said Maya. “It was only two years ago you told me what happened to your wife. By that time, I was used to raising Evgeny by myself, used to not having a father around.”’
Steve started to interrupt.
“Also,” she continued, “you know there was no way we could have lived together. You could not have lived here. I was not going to leave my mother in Moscow.
“And I have my pride. I was not going to use my child as a way to catch you. I had already prostituted myself for the medicines.”
Once again, Steve’s head was whirling. He had undertaken this mission because he thought he was alone in the world – no wife, no children. Now everything had changed, but there was no dealing with all that now.
He wanted to take Maya’s hands but didn’t. He couldn’t. Not here, not in public, not in Moscow. “Maya, this is fantastic, wonderful news. I am so delighted, believe me.”
“But…” she said and waited.
“But I have a reservation on a five o’clock flight to London. I have to finish my mission. I would love to stay with you and the children. But I can’t. Not right now. But we are going to manage this, somehow. I swear. I just need a few weeks.”
She looked at him, soberly, “You really think it could work?”
“Would you really consider living with me?” He asked.
“You are so blind,” she said angrily. “Why do you think I put you in contact with the Sirotskys? Only because I was afraid the medicines might end if Stokes continues in power?”
Steve stared at her, dumbly.
“And who do you think told General Borovik about you?”
“You?”
“Who else? And you, the smart CIA agent, couldn’t figure that out?”
“How do you know Borovik?”
“He served in the army with my dad. He’s been like a father to me since my own father died. I know how he feels about Kozlov and the scum running this country. I did not know he was actually tracking Kozlov’s finances.”
The children ran back with the ice cream cones. “We brought one for you, mama, and for Mr. Robb,” said Evgeny, handing one to Steve. “Can we go to the aquarium now?” said Sonya.
“Of course,” said Maya. “But I’m not sure if Mr. Robb can stay.”
Steve licked his cone and looked at his watch. “I would love to join you,” he said, “but I have to catch an airplane in a few hours. I have to go back to the hotel first.”