He reminded her of some medieval prince from a painting — his tall, fit body dressed impeccably at all times, the narrow blue eyes that pierced through whatever he looked at and his conspicuously raspy voice. Igor spoke perfect English, but his German decent was undeniable in the hard accent. His hair was blond, much like Petra’s, and shorn only over his ears to give his straight hair a spiky look. It was a peculiar look, suited to the astute authority of the 28 year old.
Maybe it was this unique appearance that intrigued Nina. Just like Sam, Igor had a childlike quality to him, just under the intelligence and stubbornness. It was just something she liked, oddly enough the one thing about Dave Purdue that made his being her romantic partner believable. And that was the only thing.
Nina poured herself a coffee and sat down. She looked extremely tired, not in the sleep deprived way, but rather a fatigue that seemed to seep through her ailment and her emotional turmoil in dealing with it. Igor could see that she was troubled. He poured himself a rum and water and sat down on the seat opposite hers.
“You seem very concerned, Dr Gould. If you want to get rid of some of that poison, I am a remarkably good listener — especially when I can’t sleep,” he smiled mildly and lifted his glass. His sharp eyes searched hers and Nina felt a pleasurable jolt shoot a pulse through her. “It’s no big deal, Igor,” she smiled through her unkempt hair that made her look sensual and wild. “Just some strange effects I have to make sense of in my current fight with a temporary illness. It is causing me to get tired quickly, so there is really nothing to report.”
“Does it have something to do with the mark on your arm? I know I pried before and I have to confess, I did find out that you were apparently abducted and poisoned by your captors. Such things infuriate me,” he admitted to her, but Nina was not impressed.
“And where did you learn of this?” she asked abruptly. “That is none of your business.”
“Don’t worry. In no way does it affect your employment on this project. As you know, I am in charge of research. That research is not reserved to relics and history and genealogy, my dear Dr. Gould. To be frank, I can unearth anything about anybody with the resources I have. Please, don’t take offense like that,” he explained in a tone that denoted a surprisingly aggressive retort.
“I do not take kindly to being investigated,” she snapped with her dark eyes blazing at him.
“And I do not take kindly to having my sincerity insulted, Dr. Gould. If you are easily shaken then perhaps you should not play with powerful people,” he returned the blow with a tranquil coldness that warned of his exceptional confidence. He was not like Sam after all, she realized. For once Nina was wary of someone. Not only did her usual method of intimidation not work on this young man, but she had the distinct notion that he was more than a mere assistant. Something about Igor was strong and disciplined and she elected to save this rapidly collapsing sweetness between them and to control herself.
“You have to understand that I am terrified, Igor. It scares me that I am being watched when I can hardly survive my own nightmares,” Nina feigned her vulnerability to appease his ego.
Igor’s scowl melted into an expression of care at the mention of Nina’s nightmares. It was a subject she inadvertently brought up, one that he could relate to.
“Your nightmares?” he asked. His voice was gentle and his eyes softer.
“Yes,” she replied. “I am going through a horrible time these days. They say it is the poison, but I wonder if it is not my own shortcomings that torment me.” At first Nina started talking such matters just to appease the aggressive young man, but before she knew it, she was speaking her mind about very real fears, fears she could not discuss with anyone else.
“I know all about nightmares,” he whispered and dropped his gaze in a trance-like recollection. “You have no shortcomings, Nina. You are everything women should aspire to be. I respect women who keep fighting to the end. My mother is a strong woman. My employer is a strong woman. You…” he stopped, and just looked at her.
In that moment Nina felt like she could tell him anything, even more than she could with Sam. He was a kindred spirit, but a stranger who would not let his emotions dictate his support of her.
“I’m so very tired, but something in me just will not give up. You know? Call it spite for fate…or simply being incapable of relinquishing my power over myself and my life. Giving up is not an option, no, but that does not mean I don’t get scared of what is happening to me.” she carried on, when Igor brought her a double rum and ice.
“I told you. You are strong, Dr. Gould. People like you are leaders. People like you question everything, from your telephone bills to your genetics. Those who question are the only ones who make a difference in this world, who change fate,” he explained.
Nina raised her tumbler to toast. It had been months since she felt this liberated, emotionally relieved.
“To fate and its mutability,” Igor smiled and clinked glasses with her.
The sound woke Sam.
“Drinking without me?” he complained from behind his backpack.
Nina did not want him to spoil the conversation she so enjoyed with Igor. By the look on Igor’s face he shared her sentiment.
“Just a night cap, Sam,” Nina said bluntly. “We are going to sleep now anyway.”
Sam said nothing and went back to sleep. The other two finished their drinks and then Nina curled up on her seat where she felt the sleep seize her.
Igor returned to the liquor cart. He poured another drink and stole quietly to where he had sat before. As he sipped his alcohol to the monotony of the engines, he looked down on Nina. She was fast asleep, her breathing deep and her hands folded under her chin.
Igor frowned at the sight of her, as if he had not seen her there before. He peered into his glass and looked for his ice, but there was no cube in his rum. Perplexed, he looked around in the cabin, taking note of each of the sleeping passengers in his party. Then he shook his head and whispered, “
Chapter 20 — Not all Rain Brings Thunder
A terrible rainstorm pummeled Dresden in the early morning hours. It came seemingly from nowhere and woke Heinz from a deep sleep. Shattering thunder cut through the darkness, keeping him from drifting off again, so he turned and checked the clock radio — 2:45am.
Snorting like an old boar, the tall German sat up to survey the room. The room glowed in blue from the light powder blue curtains that carried the electric flashes of lightning to the screens and walls and he could see the dripping shadows of the droplets against the window glass.
Heinz would never admit it, but since he was a child he was afraid of thunder. Its roar reminded him of his late father and his vicious orders when Heinz was a child in Bremen. The old drunk bastard had been a tyrant and often took his fists to Heinz and his sisters for no reason. A survivor of the Second World War, Heinz’s childhood was fraught with dreadful living conditions and hardships and one thing that persisted throughout was thunder — the thunder of his father’s threats and curses, the thunder of the bombs and grenades, the thunder of the cold nights after the slaughter of the day, rumbling on and on to warn the young Heinz that the ferocious gods were looking down on him.
Even now, as an old man, he still felt that uneasy feeling in his stomach whenever he heard the angry voice in the clouds and sometimes he could swear he heard his father’s curses in it. But he reminded himself that the past could not hurt him anymore and that he was now the thundering voice of the household, although his methods were more threatening than violent. His hand found nothing when he reached for Greta. Her side of the bed was empty, save for the mount of rumpled blankets.