“What now, Jess?” Anna asked. “We have to go somewhere.”
“I know and it’s bloody freezing.” The black granite maw of a subway entrance gaped nearby. “Downtown, my dear, that’s where one goes for nightlife in the glittering heart of Ukraine.”
“Choomeechka — crazy girl.” She stood, staring at me.
“Come on, let’s go.” I grabbed her by one bright red mitten.
We ducked underground, hopped on the subway and ended up resurfacing in Maydan Nezalezhnosti — Independence Square — right downtown.
“So, where do we go now?” Anna’s breath became an instant ice cloud.
“I don’t know, but it’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.”
“What?”
“Forget it… an expression. It loses something in Russian.” I turned toward what looked like a hotel. “We need to get inside.”
The Grand Eastern — Hotel Kiev, a nondescript anonymous monolithic structure was convenient and as good a place as any to come in from the cold. I got a room using my credit card, wondering too late if that was a good idea. What the hell, nobody knew my name… or did they? On the way to the elevators I noticed a topless bar stuffed to the rafters with male clientele. “How do you like that? We’re spending the night in a brothel.” I was steamed.
“How can you care about that? It is inside.” Anna looked almost relieved. Taking one of the I heart NYC duffel bag’s straps and some of its weight, she said, “Have we not, as you are so fond of saying, ‘got bigger fish to fry?’”
The room’s 1970’s decor gave it a Soviet hominess reminiscent of the Grand Eastern’s previous incarnation as an Intourist flagship. The prevalent stench of stale cigarette smoke left my eyes watering. I booted a laptop and risked the Wi-Fi to establish a connection to my email through Sandy’s cousin’s proxy server in Germany. Just a WHAT-THE-HECK’S-GOING-ON-NOW? rant, from Gavin, written in the all-caps chat equivalent of yelling.
I fired back a lowercase missive letting him know all was okay, so far at least, and that I’d cleaned out his tool box. I didn’t bother with encryption. It was activity on the account, encrypted or otherwise, that would tip someone off, not content. Itching for information and feeling vulnerable as hell in the disturbingly Soviet hotel room, I pushed my luck with Ben’s proxy server and the sketchy Wi-Fi to check the records on the democracy forum. Fresh logins from the same Menchikovskaya IP address Anna had used when we first met! Also several new Kiev IP addresses had shown up since the blown payoff.
“Anna, have you been on the democracy forum?”
No response. She sat on a bed, still in her coat and boots, staring trance-like at the floor.
“Anna!” I tried again, “Listen to me carefully. I need to know if you’ve been on the Internet today.”
“The Internet? Why?”
“I need to know. It’s important.” I put my hands on her shoulders and tried to make eye contact. “Have you accessed the…”
“Internet, Nyet!” Anna pushed my hands off her shoulders. “I did not do anything wrong. Why is this happening?”
Not an optimal time to fall to pieces. “Okay, never mind. We’re okay. Take off your coat. Watch television… if we have one.” I gave up on Anna and logged into the Russian chat site. ANNA PREKRASNAYA was currently logged in. “Shit! We’re screwed!” Ripping the battery pack from the Dell Inspiron wasn’t a recommended shutdown procedure, but a fast and bloody effective way of getting offline. “They’re logged on as you! They will have just seen me come online and they have access to all your past chats and emails — including the ones to and from me.” I started to pace, thinking, they have my name and I just used a credit card to check in.
“So what? I have nothing to hide. I am not a criminal.”
“Maybe not, but they are!” I shoved the Dell into the backpack.
Silence.
“Anna, don’t you get it? Your mother, as well as others a lot less savory, know about your activity on the democracy forum. Not only that, but they have probably gone through our entire correspondence, chat and email. They will know everything by now like who I am and that you are feeding me information.”
“Information!” Anna locked her eyes on mine. “Is that really what this is all about. I am only a source for you to catch the big bad Skater?”
That hurt. “Are you kidding. I love you. I’m doing everything I can to get you, to get us, out of this… alive!” I pulled her toward me.
Anna resisted. “You are a spy. You are trained for this. So, get us out, ‘alive,’ as you say.”
“Anna, I’m not trained for this. I’ve never been exposed, running for my life or anyone else’s. Never been in the line of fire. Never had anyone actively gunning for me and you better believe it, they are gunning for us now.” I rifled through the documents and photos, showing her the most important, dangerous, and closest subjects, literally waving them in front of her at times.
She got the drift. Shoulders slumped, she asked, “You love me?”
“Yeah, I do.” I paused to consider it. “Seeing you like this is killing me. It’s tearing me apart, Anna. If I knew you would be safe by handing you over and running for home, I would do it.”
“Jess, don’t leave me!” She wrapped me in her arms, pressed her ear against mine. “Don’t ever leave me. My life would be over. You are all I have now.”
At just after 10:00 pm, Anna’s cell phone played a patriotic Soviet melody she’d assigned to her mother’s number. Throwing off her blanket, she dove for the phone. “It’s Mama!”
“Are you crazy? Don’t answer!”
She fished the phone from her bag and headed for the bathroom.
That was it. I’d had enough! It was like nothing I said mattered. I crammed the documents and photos back into the duffel bag. I had to get rid of them before the operative people knew I had them. I still had time, borrowed time maybe, but time — otherwise I would already be dead.
The bathroom door opened. Anna watched me trying to zip the duffel bag shut between my knees. “Wait. Are you going?”
“Are you kidding? With you and Mama all chummy, I’m out of here. She’ll be here faster than you can say ‘Tupperware party’ then we’ll both have a chance to see a gun barrel close up.”
“I have said nothing about us or where we are. She wants to see me. She says she is innocent and that she was forced into that meeting at the Prokuratura. She was doing it for me, to save me. They threatened her.”
I moved toward the door, bag in hand, gritting my teeth and recalling flight schedules.
“She says those people at the Prokuratura say you are a very dangerous American spy, they are the good people. That it is you who will stop at nothing to get what you want and that you are a dangerous international criminal. That you kill people. That you killed many people in Kazakhstan, dozens of them, she tells me. And they were only poor and simple villagers.”
“Oh-kay, that’s it, I’ve heard enough.” I hefted my backpack.
“Just listen, they have your photo now. They took it from my computer. Mama let them because she was worried about me and needs to know who I am with. What danger I am in. She asks me just to meet with her. She wants to explain to me everything so that I see for myself that she is innocent.”