Without thinking, I found a table, guided Anna to a seat and ordered designer beverages. Anna was an emotional wreck. For her, things had gone from bad to worse, then to worse-than-that. There was nothing the consulate could do for her and all they’d do for me was provide a lift to the airport. Either I take the offer or not. Their obligation was met. I was furious, but I knew the consulate had zero jurisdiction in the case of Anna. Protecting the interests of Canada was a top priority and a Russian national involved in something they had no way to assess could prove diplomatically embarrassing.
I didn’t know what I was drinking, something sweet and vaguely coffee-like. I yanked the remaining laptop from the Roots pack and, tunneling onto Ben’s proxy server through the cafe’s Wi-Fi, I downloaded an encrypted message from my employer. Playing it safe, I took the computer off line before running decryption on the short text file.
“Contract terminated. Submit evidence gathered for reimbursement of expenses incurred before this date. Subject ANNA KEITEL, not considered to be of interest. There will be no further contact. Be advised this agency rates the current situation unpredictable and dangerous. Recommend reaching safe third country immediately.”
I killed the laptop and stared over it at Anna. I was somewhere else, looking right through her.
She slurped the foam off her chai-latte. “What happened?” Side-to-side head movement. “Jess, hello, what did it say?”
“I’ve been fired.”
“Ramifications?” She put her cup down.
“Not good.” I looked out at the street, cobalt blue in the late twilight with incandescent snow swirling in headlights.
“Come on, tell me what kind of trouble that makes for us.”
“Other than having no support, being totally on our own, having nowhere to turn, and don’t forget your missing passport, I need to submit the evidence or I won’t even get paid for expenses.”
“You have the evidence, so submit it.”
“Yes, but the pictures I took, they’re on the film I hid back at the apartment before we ran.”
“You mean all the evidence you were collecting is on that film?” Anna was incredulous.
“No, but the damn film is the best tamper proof evidence there is. Without it there’s no reimbursement for expenses and let me tell you, those expenses have been huge.” I looked at Anna, this time actually focusing on her. “I’m going to get that film.”
“Why did you leave it at the apartment? That is crazy!”
“Because getting caught with it would get me killed.”
“But Jess, you know they are going to find the apartment, probably the film.”
“Right, but they won’t know it was me that took the pictures.” I had a chilling insight. “Actually, my dear, you’re the only one from the apartment they will have identified.”
“So, we have to go back there to get it? The film?” Anna asked.
“You don’t need to come.”
“But I want to come. I need to be with you and I want to know what’s happening. You are all I have got now. I got you into this nightmare and I’m sure not getting out of it without you.”
“I thought it was all my fault for inviting you to Kiev in the first place.”
Silence.
“Anna, maybe you don’t realize this, but I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“That’s not true. You got away from Sergei, not once, but twice and he really does know what he is doing. He was in Chechnya.”
“I don’t doubt it, and great, Chechnya is a badge of honor for guys like Sergei.” Recalling how I got away from him, I said, “Actually, the first time it was you who saved me from Sergei! The second time, the cops…”
“But you got his gun…”
I cut her off with a raised hand. “And I bribed them, the cops, that is. I purchased our freedom. Guess I was the highest bidder. Spies aren’t soldiers, and hell, I’m not even a spy, whatever that is, I’m a contractor, and guess what.”
“What am I to guess?”
“I’m not even a contractor anymore!” Saying it out loud made it way too real. My stomach tightened. “Geeze, Anna, I really have to get into that apartment.”
“Don’t you think they’ll be there waiting for us?”
“I don’t think so.” I stared outside into the swirling snow. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll keep a sharp lookout and I need that film to get paid. I have a feeling we’re really going to need the money.”
“I’m not sure I want either one of us to die for that film, even if it means you get paid.” Anna said.
“I agree, but you really don’t need to come. I, on the other hand, have no choice in the matter. We’re going to need the money. ” I stood up. Cinching my coat, I dug in my pockets for change.
Anna didn’t move. “Hold on, let me just think here for a second.”
I threw some coins on the table. “It’s not your job. You don’t have to go. I’ll meet you back here. Play with the laptop. This cafe is open longer than it’s going to take me to get back.” I turned for the door.
“Wait. If you are really going to do it, I am going with you. I don’t have a choice either. I’m not going to sit here thinking you’ve been killed.” Anna hefted the Roots pack. “Can’t you see it, Jess? You’re not in this alone.”
Déjà vu hit me hard as the subway decelerated into the Pecherska station. Less than twenty-four hours before, we’d been on our way out of there, heading downtown with nowhere to go. Returning, nothing was unusual. Just like always, riders getting off piled against the doors as the train slowed. On the platform, those waiting to get on, had assembled opposing forces. The train stopped. The doors opened like chutes at the Calgary Stampede unleashing a ton of riled bull, and the commuters commenced battle. It’s a relentless shoving match repeated every couple of minutes throughout rush-hour at every station at every egress point. The daily commute honed to an extreme sport.
The Kiev Metro authority, in an attempt to calm the crowd surging to and from the semi-functional escalators, pipes in the soothing strains of Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude on a continuous loop. The hypnotic Prelude was nearing the end of its second repetition by the time we neared the top of the escalators.
“Devil!” Anna pointed down the escalator. “There is Sergei.”
We shoved our way up the last dozen steps.
The Central Election Commission’s square was deserted, a barren expanse of blowing snow. “A bloody turkey-shoot if we don’t high-tail it.” I grabbed Anna and pulled her toward the last of the crowd crossing Kutuzova Boulevard.
Tires spun on gravelly ice. I snapped my head around. A white Lada sedan was headed right for us. Its overtaxed engine roared painfully as the car fishtailed through the red light. I shoved Anna toward the panicking pedestrians a split second before it struck me from behind. My knees buckled and my rear-end caved in the tin-can hood. Sliding off the passenger side of the car, my back hit the road first. The shockwave drove my knees up into my chest.
In photographic detail, I watched the passenger door leave its frame as the skinhead inside shouldered it open. I pivoted off my shoulders, arching my back, driving my legs toward the car. My heavy boots accelerated past my face, past my raised hips, and squarely into the door. It caved in, catching the guy’s fingers, giving me seconds to get on my feet and scramble to the opposite curb.