Yekaterina (Katerina) and Yevgeniya (Zhenia) were in the dining car having soup with bread and a drink as the train pulled out of Samara. Yuri and I had made it back well before departure but we had been sitting in a small cocktail bar near the platform when we heard the whistle and announcement that the train would be departing in 2 minutes. We hustled over to our car, #4, and got on. As we had passed the restaurant car, I had seen the two women sitting at a booth and realized that they had a different look about them. Very pretty but made up a little too much maybe for the dust and dirt that they would now be "swimming" through on the train, I wondered where they were from and where they might be going. Chelyabinsk was 20 hours away. If the schedule was right, we would be arriving around noon tomorrow.
Wanting to get back to my sleeping berth, get cleaned up a little, and then see if I could find our new travelers in the restaurant car, I walked into Vlad. He was clearly drunk and talking to himself when I stepped into our compartment. Yuri and Toshek were not around and I was forced to deal with him myself. He muttered something like, "You fucked up asshole." in Russian and was looking at me as he said it. While I wasn't positive that he was directing his comment at me, it did seem pretty likely since he was shaking his head and still staring at me.
"I'm finished now and I can deal with you...however I like." he said to me as I was nervously changing my shirt and putting on my jacket. I knew exactly what he had said in Russian but tried to act as if I hadn't. He poured a large shot of vodka into a green bell pepper that he had cut the top off of making a 3 or 4 ounce shot "glass". He downed it quickly and looked away. The vodka bottle was almost empty. Judging by how drunk he was, I guessed that this was his second 1/2 liter bottle. I was ready to leave and did so as fast as I could. The restaurant car was on the other side of the luggage car and I sprinted there hoping that Vlad would not follow me. The last thing I wanted was to have him barging into the dining car screaming obscenities.
Katerina and Zhenia were still sitting where I had seen them. It was an elevated table for two with stools bolted to the floor and no chance of inviting myself to their table...unless I stood. Instead, I asked the waiter if I could sit near the window that was closest to them. I also asked him if the ladies had ordered anything alcoholic to drink. He said that they had ordered one vodka but he thought it was time for a second shot and asked if I was buying. I told him I would be glad to buy for them...and for him. He smiled and said thank you, tipping his hat a little.
"Do you mind if I sit over here by the window?" I asked the women in English as I passed by them and noticed that they were not wearing the typical bad Russian perfumes. They smiled slightly and the older woman said, "Not at all. Please do. We are leaving soon."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I asked the waiter to bring out two more of whatever you were drinking."
"Have you already paid him?" the younger woman asked as she looked at me and then looked at her friend without any change in her expression. I lied and said that I had.
"In that case we will have one more if you will join us here."
"The table does not allow a third person. Maybe you will come to my booth here and join me?" They gathered their few things and sat down. The younger woman next to me and the older directly across.
"What is this word 'boot'? Are you saying 'boot' like shoe? The younger woman was beginning to laugh a little as her older friend was querying me about booth and boot. I was pretty sure that the older lady was having fun with this language lesson and being playful...but she was a good actor as she played seriously.
"Why would Americans or British use boot to describe a place to sit and have a meal. Boots are dirty!" The younger lady was laughing and put her head back as she laughed out loud.
"I am Yekaterina and this is Yevgeniya, my niece." said the older of the two. She held her hand out not sure if I would shake it or try to kiss it. I could tell that this was the case as she started with her palm down and then turned her palm perpendicular to the floor as she saw I was reaching out similarly. It was an important moment, I think. Shaking her hand would be more American and I wasn't sure if I wanted to play the Polish card yet. (Poles would always opt to kiss a woman's hand if it is offered.)
"May I call you Katerina and Zhenia?" I asked. They both were surprised that I had already suggested an informal shortening of their names but Katerina replied, "Yes, it's ok. You said our names very well. I think you know some Russian."
"Not much" I said. "I know Polish pretty well." And our drinks came out. The waiter put a bottle on the table with four glasses. I was looking at the fourth glass and the waiter said, "I will take my shot and go. Thank you Mr. Mays."
"Mr. Mays...now we know your last name. Shall we know your first name? You know only our first names."
"Billy or Bill"
"Nice to meet you, Billy or Bill"
"Let's make it Bill."
"OK...Nice to meet you, Bill."
"Very nice to meet you Katerina and Zhenia."
"He has a nice voice, Auntie, don't you think?" Zhenia whispered in Russian but loud enough for me to hear.
***
Katerina and Zhenia were returning to Chelyabinsk from what I understood had been three years in Moscow and Kiev. Katerina's sister, Zhenia's mother, had agreed to let Zhenia go to Moscow with Katerina after she had graduated from Nowosibirsk State University. During that three years, Zhenia's mother had died of complications from kidney failure and inability to get dialysis while waiting for a donor and possible transplant. Her death, two years ago, instead of bringing them both back to Chelyabinsk, pushed them to return to Moscow to forget the pain of losing her. Katerina had never had a child and had always participated in raising Zhenia as she grew up. Now that Zhenia was in her mid twenties, they were best of friends. I guessed that Katerina was, at most, maybe five years older than me. She was a short haired natural blond, not super thin but quite muscular and about my height with slight Asian features in her face and Zhenia was a tall, thin, true red-head with long hair and had no sign of the Asian hints that I saw in her aunt. In fact, if seen on the street in Dublin, I'd have thought her a local.
"Please, what do you do, Bill? Businessman maybe?"
"A little bit of that. Do you know the company Federal Express? It is in Moscow, too. I was the Country Director for Federal Express in Poland."
"Really? I know the Country Director for Federal Express in Moscow, Brian."
"Oh my god! You are kidding! No you aren't...you know his name!" Inside I was a little afraid that I had let slip my connection to FEDEX and regretted saying anything about it.
"I am no longer working for them and also do some teaching at a business school in Krakow. We want to discuss setting up an MBA program partnership with NSU."
"Poles with Russians?!" asked Katerina.
"Well, sort of. But with University of Detroit or some other American university as the main partner."
"That is good idea I think. Russians and Polish people don't always see eye to eye."
"And you, two? What did you do in Moscow and Kiev for three years and what do you have planned upon your return to Nowosibirsk?"
"We worked as escorts. Now it is time to return to our home and do something for ourselves with the money we saved."
It wasn't so much that Katerina was/had been a prostitute, it was more surprising for me that "Aunt Kat" had admitted that both of them were escorts after hearing the story of Zhenia's mother dying. I had imagined for Katerina, some kind of academic position at Moscow State and Zhenia doing translation work at Aeroflot on Tverskaya Street in Central Moscow. Instead, I listened as they told their story finishing the bottle of vodka and ordering fish and some beers. These two operative women had escaped to Moscow from the Siberian steppes, worked their way into the elite world of Moscow prostitution and high end escort services, and socked away a cool $800,000 in three years where it was now sitting in an account on Cyprus.
***
While I'd nearly forgotten about Vlad and his drunken threats, hearing his voice and the vulgarisms he was spewing as he loudly worked his way down the corridor towards us, I came out of my own slightly inebriated state and asked Kat if I could hide in her compartment tonight. She could see that I was reacting to Vlad's approach and asked, "Is he looking for you? I heard him say something about killing someone before he started vomiting and fell down. Someone is helping him up now. "
She handed me her key and said "7 car 7 compartment...go quickly!"
I couldn't help but notice Zhenia giggling again with her hands over her mouth as I struggled to get out the opposite end of the dining car unseen by my predator without knocking the waiter down as he was serving evening steak tartars and pickled herring to slightly horrified customers as a drooling Vlad was nearing the car.
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