Katerina stirred before me in the early morning light that broke through the curtains around our bunk. I could hear Zhenia humming as she was boiling water for the morning tea. Katerina smiled at me as she got dressed in the confines of that bunk space that we shared at the moment. I remembered that my clothes were on the floor just below me and reached down to pull them in and get myself dressed. Zhenia had folded them and put them on a small stool in the same spot. Katerina dashed off to the bathroom and I pulled the curtains and sat on the partially made bed.
"Good morning Mr. Billy! How are you?" asked Zhenia in a pleasant voice and smile on her face.
(Behind her, through the window, I could see that the sun was shining brightly and we were stopped on a siding in the middle of what was very flat grassy countryside. I guessed that we must be about 300 kilometers from Chelyabinsk. I remember thinking about Ed Aldrin and what he had said when he stepped out on the surface of the moon after Neil Armstrong in July of 1969, "Beautiful, beautiful, magnificent desolation".)
After gazing outside for a few seconds, I finally answered Zhenia, "Thank you, Zhenia. I am well. A little too much vodka but I slept very well...considering these bunks are not designed for two people. And you? I hope we didn't wake you last night when we came in."
"No. It was ok. Will you face this crazy man this morning? Are your friends going to help? And, by the way, where were they when all this was happening?" Zhenia was right in asking. I was a little worried that Yuri and Toshek had disappeared during Vlad's meltdown. Once I drank some tea or coffee, I wanted to face whatever was awaiting me with Vlad. It just seemed completely strange that he viewed me with such disgust without any reason. For God's sake, I'd never met the man and he was ready to decapitate me after a few drinks. I wanted to find out what was up.
Katerina came out of the bathroom and went to work with her niece on a mini-breakfast for us three. She and Zhenia had 12 open face sandwiches made up in less than five minutes from their own cupboard. Rye bread, sardine paste, farmer's cheese, olives, roasted peppers, plum jam, canned ham, and slices of yellow cheese. Katerina divided it up into 3 each for her and Zhenia and left 6 for me. I ate four and pushed my final two back at them. Gulping my tea and standing up, I gave both of them a hug, thanked them for their kindness and promised to be back soon...to treat them to a proper lunch before our arrival in Chelyabinsk at around noon.
Taking note that the sounds from the dining car seemed normal with laughter and spirited conversation, I walked straight in and saw Yuri and Toshek at a booth that had enough room for me to join them. Yuri had that expression he had when I first met him - he was worried and trying to figure something out that was troubling him.
"You are alive. It is good. Vlad lost his glue last night." Yuri said to me as I approached. Confused for a second, I realized he meant, "Came unglued."
"That's for sure! Do I have to run if I see him this morning? And what the fuck is up with him?! What on Earth have I done to piss him off so much?" Hoping for some answers I wanted Yuri to explain some things.
"Remember I told you that he was finishing up a previous job?" Yuri asked me in a low voice.
"Yes"
"He has been...let's say...nervous about this job. Ever since we left Almaty, he has been tossing parts of a body off the train. It was in the luggage room in a triple lined body bag. He finally got rid of it all yesterday and then started drinking." Yuri slowly said to me with a disgusted face that paired well with the horror of the story he was telling.
Thoughts of Embassy Joe giving Vlad such a task suddenly gave me pause to wonder about what I was doing with these guys. "Please tell me that Vlad's 'job' wasn't assigned by Embassy Joe." I asked in a statement.
"No, Joe isn't the direct customer in this case but the customer is in bed most of the time with your country. So, Joe probably knows what's going on.
"Can I guess who it is? Would you tell me if I am correct?" I pushed Yuri on it.
"No" said Yuri abruptly.
***
Just as the CIA was taking sides in Central and South America, folks from headquarters in McLean, VA were on long flights to the former Soviet republics recruiting and supporting candidates for the eventual establishment of democratic and free-market mechanisms in those largely anarchic territories. And, just as Poland had its "influencers" from the US embedded during Solidarnosc in the 70's and 80's, southern Soviet republics (prime candidates for upheaval at that time) had it's American businessmen undercover and out finding new leaders for the future. Embassy Joe might deliver a few thousand dollars for some work to be done like I was doing but the team working with the guys from Virginia doing candidate recruitment and/or regime change were much more formally organized and supported.
Also, with so many countries in the region operating, people like Vlad, Yuri, and Toshek could pick up intelligence work to do by more than one Western player. Vlad had been given an unpleasant task with very significant payment in the midst of Embassy Joe's request to go meet me and work with me. I don't know if Vlad actually killed the person that was in the bag. All I know is that he had to dispose of it and chose to do it bit by bit from the train as it made it's way from Almaty Kazakhstan to where we met in Kiev and further toward Samara and Chelyabinsk.
***
Yuri had more to say as, once again, plans were changing a bit. "Vlad and Toshek are leaving the train now. Some people that know them got on the train in Samara and we noticed them yesterday in 2nd class. It would be bad to have a confrontation. I will meet up with Toshek and Vlad in Chelyabinsk tomorrow or the next day. These guys are glued to their seats and are behaving very strangely. Since they do not know me, I spent my evening yesterday, while you were hiding from Vlad, planting some bugs and putting a small camera in place. They are notorious for taking radioactive materials from weapons installations and nuclear sites. They come with cash and leave with bad stuff."
"Does this mean that you will not be with me for the Soyuz site trips in 10 days?" I asked nervously.
"We will see you when you return from Nowosibirsk, I am sure. Our task until you return will be to see where they are going and what they are doing in Chelyabinsk. I am expecting to hand them off to someone when you arrive with your friend Dima."
"Where and when do we meet, Yuri? I can force Dima to stick to my schedule so let's say exactly 10 days from now, if that is ok."
"Give me a two day window in case I have difficulties, Billy. Let's say 10 to 12 days from today. Check into the Hotel South Ural. It is a hotel that was specially for academics and government people since 1936. Not super comfortable but clean and fully bugged."
"That sounds funny," I said. "Clean and bugged."
Yuri got the joke but didn't react.
"No discussions about 'business' in the room, please, and no names! I will see you when I see you."
"Not unless I see you first!" I countered, but, once again, my attempt to be funny was lost on Yuri's focus on matters at hand.
Vlad and Toshek got off the train directly behind the locomotive on steps from an exit that was marked "Forbidden to Exit Here". Since 2nd class cars were the last and furthest from the locomotive, hence the least chance of the new passengers seeing them, they chose to get off at what was only a short stop for changing crew members and delivering mail to a small village. Toshek was wearing his grin as usual and Vlad still looked mad as I snuck a peek from a compartment window just a few feet behind them and to their left. As the train whistle blew and we began to move, I dashed back to my compartment and took a quick shower. Katerina and Zhenia would be packing soon and getting ready for their arrival in Chelyabinsk in a few hours.
Yuri was watching me get ready and said, "Those two ladies you were with are ok. It was last year in Kiev that we had them checked out. Your Embassy Joe has information about them. I think they moved from Moscow to Kiev about a year ago."
"Jesus Christ, Yuri, you must have more information for me or about me that you haven't told me, I'm sure." I was flabbergasted that he knew Katerina and Zhenia.
"That is true. My instructions came with some information, as usual."
"Well, for Fuck's sake, please let me know if there is something I should know to keep me out of trouble!"
"That is part of my job."
"So, if you have to choose between helping me stay alive and doing your intelligence work, whick one will you choose?"
"Don't ask me stupid questions."
"Go to your ladies and say them good-bye. See you when I see you in ten or 12 days...because I will see you first." For the first time I saw Yuri smiling as he pasted both lines together from the film, Gallipoli. I also saw that he had a small glass of vodka on the window sill and was a little more relaxed than I'd seen him since I met him. We shook hands and said good bye...in Polish and in Russian, "do widzenia!" and "dosvidanya".
***
On the way to 7 - 7, I stopped at the dining car and asked our "chef" if he had something special he could have delivered to Car 7 - Compartment 7. In our battle between Polish and Russian, I understood he could have some blinis and caviar and three small steak tartars with a bottle of Russian champagne delivered in about an hour. For that, he said "No charge if you give me $20 now." My confused face told him that "no charge" and "$20 now" were somehow in conflict. But, since it was an incredible price to pay for what we were getting, I turned my frown to a smile and agreed. Then I thought and turned back around to him and asked him to put a nice flower in the deal. He knew the word for of course in Polish and loudly exclaimed, "Oczywiscie!".
Katerina and Zhenia were packing their bags as I was allowed back into their compartment. I could smell an aromatic tea was brewing and gladly accepted a cup as I tried not to be a nuisance and quietly waited for them to start the conversation.
"We are going soon to our family farm between Kamensk-Uralsky and Yekaterinburg. Here are some photos I got recently from my cousin who lives near there. It is a wonderful place...but it is so far from everything that has been in our lives for the past three years. I feel nervous about planning to live there." Katerina was showing a side of her I had not seen. Fully confident and always positive, (very unusual in my experiences with Russians and Poles) she was now very apprehensive about a new life back where she had spent summers with her grandmother so many years ago. Planning on a complete renovation of the family home, she had already transferred $100,000 from her Cyprus account to a bank in Chelyabinsk...about 180 miles away from the farm.
I looked at the photos. Even though it did, in fact, seem run down from neglect. The farm house itself appeared to be well built. I said to Katerina that the house looked, "solid". She smiled and said that her grandfather was a very talented metallurgist and refused to build anything quickly or without forethought about design and structural safety. She laughed and said, "My grandmother blames him for living in the barn for three years while he perfected his castle."
"So how was your grandfather able to put together such a fabulous place on a farm in the midst of collectivization and the rest of Stalin's terror inflicted on landowners?"
"He was very good communist and a scientist. He had over 40 patents in non-ferrous metallurgy. Against what your government's propaganda might suggest, smart or valuable people were well rewarded in the old system." Katerina answered as if she'd been asked this question before by Westerners that didn't understand that there WAS a privileged class among communists that were truly valuable in building their nation. I just nodded and said, "I would love to see your place sometime and wish you luck with restoring it to its full glory someday soon."
Zhenia had been quiet up to now and joined in the conversation. "You can come after you finish all your work in Nowosibirsk and wherever else you will be for the next two weeks. Katerina will invite you. Besides, we want to talk to you about an invitation to the United States." Katerina did not stop Zhenia but was looking at her as if she wished she would. In Russian, Katerina said to her, "I wanted to ask him about it!" Zhenia responded in Russian, as well. "You were starting to get sentimental about home and I was worried you'd forget or not get around to it."
A sharp triple knock on the door signaled that our special little lunch had arrived. As the chef had promised, three of everything except the one bottle of champagne. Zhenia devoured her blinis and caviar in three bites and mixed her tartar before Katerina and I had even taken the blinis out of the warm basket. Zhenia then spread her tartar on slices of rye and carried her plate over to where she was packing. We split the champagne equally drinking from the champagne flutes that I had seen on their pantry shelves. A little buzzed and happy to return to the subject, we discussed the visa process.
"First step is finding out where the nearest US Consulate is to you." I told them. "I'm sure that there are plans to open one up in this part of Russia but I don't think that is scheduled for another year."
I'd actually been at Ambassador Simons' residence (US Ambassador to Poland) a few months earlier at an American Chamber of Commerce cocktail event. He'd announced plans to open new consulates in Poland and in Russia. All I could remember was that there was to be one in Siberia in the general direction of Chelyabinsk or Nowosibirsk. In fact, it wound up being Yekaterinburg just an hour or two away from where Katerina and Zhenia were from. That consulate opened up in 1994.
Katerina and Zhenia were packing their bags as I was allowed back into their compartment. I could smell an aromatic tea was brewing and gladly accepted a cup as I tried not to be a nuisance and quietly waited for them to start the conversation.
"We are going soon to our family farm between Kamensk-Uralsky and Yekaterinburg. Here are some photos I got recently from my cousin who lives near there. It is a wonderful place...but it is so far from everything that has been in our lives for the past three years. I feel nervous about planning to live there." Katerina was showing a side of her I had not seen. Fully confident and always positive, (very unusual in my experiences with Russians and Poles) she was now very apprehensive about a new life back where she had spent summers with her grandmother so many years ago. Planning on a complete renovation of the family home, she had already transferred $100,000 from her Cyprus account to a bank in Chelyabinsk...about 180 miles away from the farm.
I looked at the photos. Even though it did, in fact, seem run down from neglect. The farm house itself appeared to be well built. I said to Katerina that the house looked, "solid". She smiled and said that her grandfather was a very talented metallurgist and refused to build anything quickly or without forethought about design and structural safety. She laughed and said, "My grandmother blames him for living in the barn for three years while he perfected his castle."
"So how was your grandfather able to put together such a fabulous place on a farm in the midst of collectivization and the rest of Stalin's terror inflicted on landowners?"
"He was very good communist and a scientist. He had over 40 patents in non-ferrous metallurgy. Against what your government's propaganda might suggest, smart or valuable people were well rewarded in the old system." Katerina answered as if she'd been asked this question before by Westerners that didn't understand that there WAS a privileged class among communists that were truly valuable in building their nation. I just nodded and said, "I would love to see your place sometime and wish you luck with restoring it to its full glory someday soon."
Zhenia had been quiet up to now and joined in the conversation. "You can come after you finish all your work in Nowosibirsk and wherever else you will be for the next two weeks. Katerina will invite you. Besides, we want to talk to you about an invitation to the United States." Katerina did not stop Zhenia but was looking at her as if she wished she would. In Russian, Katerina said to her, "I wanted to ask him about it!" Zhenia responded in Russian, as well. "You were starting to get sentimental about home and I was worried you'd forget or not get around to it."
A sharp triple knock on the door signaled that our special little lunch had arrived. As the chef had promised, three of everything except the one bottle of champagne. Zhenia devoured her blinis and caviar in three bites and mixed her tartar before Katerina and I had even taken the blinis out of the warm basket. Zhenia then spread her tartar on slices of rye and carried her plate over to where she was packing. We split the champagne equally drinking from the champagne flutes that I had seen on their pantry shelves. A little buzzed and happy to return to the subject, we discussed the visa process.
"First step is finding out where the nearest US Consulate is to you." I told them. "I'm sure that there are plans to open one up in this part of Russia but I don't think that is scheduled for another year."
I'd actually been at Ambassador Simons' residence (US Ambassador to Poland) a few months earlier at an American Chamber of Commerce cocktail event. He'd announced plans to open new consulates in Poland and in Russia. All I could remember was that there was to be one in Siberia in the general direction of Chelyabinsk or Nowosibirsk. In fact, it wound up being Yekaterinburg just an hour or two away from where Katerina and Zhenia were from. That consulate opened up in 1994.
"We can fly to Moscow then." Katerina said. "What do we have to do there?"
"There is an application for a visa. It is not very complicated really. You need to show that you have enough money to make the trip and take care of yourself...or have someone in the US that agrees to sponsor you. It also helps to have a job and a husband that you will be coming back to."
"So I have only one of the four requirements: I have money but no sponsor, no husband, and no job to come back to...or at least official job." Zhenia jokingly lamented.
"You don't have to fly to Moscow. We'll get one mailed to you within a week or two. I'll write a letter of support as your sponsor. It would be good to have an official job, too. Nothing too glamorous, just an official job that can be confirmed."
"During communism everyone had job. Job was easy but official job with good money was almost impossible." Katerina related as the two women began to plan what sort of job to get Zhenia connected to. "Cleaning lady or secretary will be easier to arrange."
"Perfect" I said. "While I am in Nowosibirsk I will begin writing the letter of support. Within a month or two we will have all we need to apply. Maybe we meet in Moscow at the US Embassy for a visa party at the Leningradskaya Hotel!"
"Katerina frowned. Your Alyona will bake a cake for us, I am sure."
"Visa help in Moscow and in Warsaw is very expensive. How much you expect Mr. Billy?"
Zhenia asked.
I am not sure why I said it but probably I was feeling very fatherly to this young woman who was only 8 years younger than me. I said, "The happiness of giving you away at your wedding in Chicago will be enough." Katerina had a funny look on her face as if I was taking her place in this imagined wedding. I don't think she entirely disliked the idea, though.
"There is an application for a visa. It is not very complicated really. You need to show that you have enough money to make the trip and take care of yourself...or have someone in the US that agrees to sponsor you. It also helps to have a job and a husband that you will be coming back to."
"So I have only one of the four requirements: I have money but no sponsor, no husband, and no job to come back to...or at least official job." Zhenia jokingly lamented.
"You don't have to fly to Moscow. We'll get one mailed to you within a week or two. I'll write a letter of support as your sponsor. It would be good to have an official job, too. Nothing too glamorous, just an official job that can be confirmed."
"During communism everyone had job. Job was easy but official job with good money was almost impossible." Katerina related as the two women began to plan what sort of job to get Zhenia connected to. "Cleaning lady or secretary will be easier to arrange."
"Perfect" I said. "While I am in Nowosibirsk I will begin writing the letter of support. Within a month or two we will have all we need to apply. Maybe we meet in Moscow at the US Embassy for a visa party at the Leningradskaya Hotel!"
"Katerina frowned. Your Alyona will bake a cake for us, I am sure."
"Visa help in Moscow and in Warsaw is very expensive. How much you expect Mr. Billy?"
Zhenia asked.
I am not sure why I said it but probably I was feeling very fatherly to this young woman who was only 8 years younger than me. I said, "The happiness of giving you away at your wedding in Chicago will be enough." Katerina had a funny look on her face as if I was taking her place in this imagined wedding. I don't think she entirely disliked the idea, though.
***
The train pulled into Chelyabinsk more or less on time with crowds on the platform scurrying about and rushing to get onto the train lining themselves up with the car where their seat assignments were located. Those getting off the train had to push their way through the crowd after stepping down from the exits a meter or so above the platform. I looked for Yuri to get off the train but did not see him. Zhenia and Katerina were behind me. Katerina handed me an envelope with an image of the Romanov Museum in Yekaterinburg and whispered in my ear, "Thank you for everything and please come see us. I have the address and directions in the envelope and some other things. If you can really start the visa application, we will both be grateful." Two kisses on each cheek from both of my friends and then they floated down the steps into the boiling crowd and disappeared.
I felt terribly alone. After a minute of staring blankly into that mass of people, suddenly Katerina's face came into focus near the entrance to the train station. She was waving at me and I think I saw some mascara coming down her cheeks. She was crying like I was.
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