End Times Page 6

  “Have you called him?”

  “Yes. I leave messages on his answering machine, but he doesn’t call back.”

  Alexei made a mental note to call his son and tell him to at least pretend to be a parent.

  “Do you think he ever wants me to live with him again?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  She thought for a moment and said, “No. I want to be here, but, like, it would be nice for him to say something about, like, maybe, in the future, I could live with him.”

  “I wish I had an answer for you, devushka, but your father feels his loss deeply.”

  “Still?”

  “It’s a difficult thing to overcome.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Popi, I get that. She was my mother, but it’s been four years. He’s, you know, my dad, and he’s alive.”

  “I know. I think he can’t cope with your loss in addition to his.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Losing a spouse is, well, a deep, personal loss. You forget other people also loved her and also had a loss. It’s something people can’t share.”

  “Like you when Dad’s mom died?”

  Surprises from a twelve-year-old. “Ah, yes. How did you know about that?”

  “Mom and Dad used to talk, like you know, about how that was probably the cause of your commitment issues.”

  Boizhe moi, he thought. “Do you know what that means?”

  Her face scrunched up as she thought. “Not really.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “So, Dad doesn’t call because he…”

  “Uses up so much energy with his own grief, he’s useless to anyone who needs him.” Alexei was grateful for the change of subject.

  “Like me?”

  “Like you.”

  Her thoughtful expression made her look older than her years.

  “I totally don’t get that. I mean, like, I still love Mom and miss her, but I figured, like, my life goes on, and, okay, Mom would want me to be happy and not all Danish prince, you know.”

  Alexei smiled at the juxtaposition of teenaged slang and Shakespearean metaphor. Maybe the advanced placement classes were a good thing.

  “She would, indeed,” he said.

  “I wish Dad would find someone else. Like you did with Mums.”

  Yes, Alexei thought, regular sex would probably improve his son’s mood. He said, “He hasn’t been as lucky as I have yet. We have to give him some more time.”

  “And you’re probably going to say you don’t know how much time.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay, Popi.”

  “Anything else you need to talk about? With me, or you could always go back to your counselor?”

  “No, I’m good, Popi.”

  “All right. Time for bed.”

  “Can I watch a video for a while?”

  “School night. Fifteen minutes.”

  She nodded and flushed. “Popi, would you tuck me in?”

  “I’d love nothing more.”

  When Alexei entered their bedroom, he found Mai curled up on the sofa, sipping from a glass of what he suspected was straight Irish whiskey. She stared out the window at the crescent moon rising over the Maryland bluffs across the river. Like their office on the main floor of the house, the long wall of this room boasted floor-to-ceiling windows to provide the best view of the Potomac River. Vertical blinds, operated by remote, blocked the morning sun. Constructed from the most sophisticated, bullet-resistant, eavesdropping-proof substance available, the windows let them see out, but no one could see in.

  The darkness let Alexei see Mai’s reflection in the windows. From her expression, he could tell her mind was miles away. In a good place, he hoped. He kicked off his shoes and sat beside her, wondering if this would turn out to be family counseling session number two for the evening.

  “Natalia now has a grasp of basic aerodynamics,” he said. “You’re the pilot. You could have explained it better than I.”

  Mai’s smile blinked on and off as she continued to stare out the window. “She and I always tangle over homework. Better you do that job.”

  “She also wanted to know if her father still loved her.”

  Mai looked at him, frowning. “Hmm, probably her way of saying the anniversary of her mother’s death is on her mind. What did you say?”

  “All the typically trite things, but I think she’s fine. She doesn’t understand some people move on quicker than others.”

  “Did you explain that?”

  “Of course. At that point, she mentioned her parents used to discuss my commitment issues, which they believed resulted from my similar behavior when Peter’s mother died.”

  When she didn’t protest, he decided she’d likely had the same conversation herself with his late daughter-in-law.

  “You look somewhat pensive yourself,” he said.

  “I’ve been mulling over the odd ideas young master Scott Wilder espoused.” She outlined the jailhouse conversation for him.

  “I’ve heard of some of that,” he said. “Christian Identity or some such. I seem to recall a significant situation out west, in the mid-1980s with something called The Order, I believe.”

  “Bruders Schweigen. The FBI called them The Order. They called themselves Bruders Schweigen: The Silent Brotherhood.”

  “I see you’ve been in touch with Analysis about this.”

  “This may be something worth looking into. Analysis found enough from a cursory search to conclude these various extreme right-wing groups, which used to hate each other as much as they hate blacks, Jews, and liberals, are starting to find common ground. The catalyst was a federal gun bust a few months ago at someplace called Ruby Ridge.”

  “That’s in Idaho. That’s a big leap from a few hours’ research.”

  “Indeed, but that’s why I want to work on it a bit more. If it pans out, we could make a pitch to Nelson—and it’s in country.”

  Alexei knew, like he, she longed for the serenity of home while in the midst of a mission but grew antsy when the interval between missions extended. They hadn’t had a mission since returning from the Balkans last fall. Back from hell, as far as he was concerned. He hadn’t missed the work, but with Mai, it was akin to withdrawal.

  “This may not be the best time to embark on a mission, even if it is in country,” he said.

  She drank some whiskey, her forehead creased in a frown. “Why not?”

  “The proximity to the anniversary of Rachael’s death.”

  “That will come and go. We haven’t been on a mission in, what, six months?”

  “Precisely my point. Natalia has become accustomed to a somewhat stable family life.”

  “We hired Olga so we could continue working together. Look, I’m tired of carpools and soccer games and riding events, but, that said, this notion of mine might not pan out at all. Perhaps it will only mean a few days away.” She paused and leaned toward him. “Alexei, I need this.”

  Their last mission had been traumatic for them both, though in different ways. She’d be eager to “get back on the horse.” She always was. Something local, even right-wing nut jobs, might be enough to give her an adrenaline fix without much danger.

  “All right. Work with Analysis, and we’ll pull together a proposal for Nelson.”

  She relaxed against the back of the sofa. “I recruited a cop as a stringer,” she said.

  “The one from the mall? Why?”

  “It’s always good to have a contact in law enforcement, and if this comes together as a mission, he could be helpful. I’ll toss him something for a payday, and he’ll be beholden. Besides,” she said, smiling at him, “he finds me stimulating.”

  “He and I have that in common.”

  Something in her expression, the faraway look in her eyes still, made him think she had something more to talk about. Knowing her as he did, she wouldn’t be the one to bring it up. “Anything else wrong?” he asked.
<
br />   “I drew on that boy after I disarmed him.” She took another sip of whiskey, waiting. “I was back in the Balkans for a moment.”

  He’d suspected an interlude of post-traumatic stress when he’d seen her vacant-eyed encounter with the car-jacker.

  “What’s our legal system going to do to young Mr. Wilder?” he asked.

  “Stick him with some serious time unless he cooperates, and he didn’t seem inclined.”

  “Mai, he’s old enough to understand the possibilities when he demanded the keys to the car. What he didn’t know was you would fight back.”

  “Alexei, I could have killed him because I thought I was back with… In Yugoslavia.”

  He shrugged to show her she needed to worry about something far more important. He smiled at her. “You were probably more pissed for his cheek. Neither is the best of reasons to pull a gun, but either will do when all else fails. Besides, you didn’t have to shoot.”

  “That boy is only a few years older than Natalia, but he has these outlandish beliefs about race and religion. He’s a survivalist, a skinhead, a bigot. A lot of baggage for a fifteen-year-old.”

  “I’m sure you offered him an incentive to change.”

  “I did, but as I said he didn’t seem interested. How does someone that young become so twisted?”

  “I think you’ll find he was suckered in by a gang of some sort.”

  “I hope he remembers my offer when he has to bend over in the prison shower to pick up the soap he dropped.”

  He leaned toward her, kissed her, tasting the whiskey on her lips. She pulled away.

  “You always worry about the unlikeliest things,” he said, “but I rather admire you for it.”

  He kissed her again, and this time she responded. When they broke for air, he said, “Natalia is in bed. Perhaps if we take a nice, long soak together in the tub, all your cares will wash away.”

  Mai drained the last of the whiskey, set her glass aside, and pushed him onto his back. He didn’t resist, and his groin reacted when she straddled him.

  “The bath will take too much time, don’t you think?” she asked.

  6

  Obligations

  Olga Lubova, who had defected from the KGB after the fall of the Soviet Union, crossed her arms over her chest and gave the twelve-year-old a no-nonsense look.

  “Breakfast is most important meal of day,” she said.

  Natalia Bukharin gave her best adolescent eye roll and picked at her bagel and peanut butter.

  Most of the time, Olga loved this job. She could indulge a passion for cooking, take care of a growing child, and, on occasion, call on the special skills learned in the country of her birth. Days like today, when the child rebelled against everything, she questioned her choice.

  No, the rich, English capitalist her tovarishch Bukharin had married paid Olga well to be an au pair and bodyguard. She had her own car and an apartment within the house, one that would have held several families in Moscow. Her old comrades would scoff and say she was a servant, but no one here treated her other than as a member of the family. It was a good life for a former KGB colonel.

  All that KGB training had not covered the challenges of dealing with an adolescent. Had Olga been a praying person, she would have sent a prayer of thanks heavenward when Mai arrived in the kitchen for her breakfast. Mai could deal with this morning’s debate, a recent, recurring source of conflict: Natalia’s desire to spend more time with her friends rather than her family.

  After an intricate list of reasons, Natalia asked Mai, “So, can I, like go to the mall after school today?”

  “May I,” Mai corrected.

  The eye roll got a good start, but Natalia managed to control it. “So, like, may I?”

  “So, like,” Mai mimicked, “how will you be getting there? When we’re home, Olga has Friday afternoon and evening off.”

  “One of my friend’s older brother, like, has a driver’s license, okay? He can drop us off, but someone will have to pick me up. Tomorrow’s, you know, like, Saturday, so no school.

  Mai looked at the calendar on one wall of the kitchen. “But you do have soccer and riding tomorrow.”

  “That’s, like, tomorrow.”

  “Have we met the brother?”

  There. The full eye roll.

  “No.”

  “Then, I don’t think so. Popi or I can drive you there and drive you home.”

  Olga was certain the sigh could be heard two houses away.

  “Does that mean you or Popi will have to hang out with us?”

  “Well,” Mai said, “it’s pretty inconsiderate for us to have to drive you there, come home, and go back a couple of hours later.”

  “It’s bad enough Olga acts like someone is going to kidnap me. You and Popi will totally embarrass me.”

  A whole note away from a whine.

  “Natalia,” Mai said, “we’ve discussed this—”

  “I know, I know,” Natalia said, in full whine. Then, she demonstrated her gift of mimicry by using her interpretation of Mai’s English accent. “Popi and I have a lot of money. Someone might decide one way to separate us from it is to kidnap you.” Another eye roll. “I’ve only heard that, like, ten thousand times.”

  “You must not have been listening if I have to keep repeating it. Either Popi or I, or both of us, will wait at the mall for you, though I’m sure we’ll find something to do other than follow giggling girls around. All right, you can go from after school to eighteen hundred.”

  “Eighteen hundred?” Natalia said. “Am I in the Army or something?”

  “Natalia, please. Six p.m.”

  “But everyone else can stay until nine because—hello—no school tomorrow. Oh, and that’s twenty-one hundred, in case you don’t get it.”

  Olga’s eyes fixed on the twitching muscle in Mai’s jaw, and she knew she would enjoy what was about to come.

  “You’re not everyone else,” Mai told the girl. “Natalia Bukharin has to be home at eighteen hundred. And be thankful I’m not using Greenwich Mean Time.”

  “That means I’ll have to, like, leave everyone at the mall.”

  “Heavens, that’s certain to be the end of the world.”

  Natalia’s expression of incredulity almost made Olga look for the second head Mai must have sprouted.

  “Do you, like, sit around and dream up ways to embarrass me?”

  “Of course I do. Hours and hours at a time. Sometimes Popi and Olga join me, and we select the appropriate embarrassment.”

  “You’ll notice I’m not laughing, not even.”

  “Neither am I. You have soccer at 0800 tomorrow and riding at 1300. That’s a long day, and you’ll need to be rested. Eighteen hundred it is.”

  “From nine p.m. to eight a.m. is, like, eleven hours, if you can’t do the math.”

  The muscle ticced faster.

  “Six. Dinner is at seven, so don’t eat a bunch of junk while you’re there.”

  Natalia took her dishes to the sink and picked up her backpack. “That’s, like, totally bogus.” To Olga, she said, “I’m ready to go.”

  “Finish discussion with Mai,” Olga said.

  “I told you, I’m ready to go,” Natalia said, voice elevated. “Go start the car.”

  Olga understood the child had displaced her anger with Mai, but if Mai weren’t going to handle this, Olga would.

  “Natalia, sit your ass back down in that chair.”

  Mai was going to handle it. Olga slipped away to the family room to give them privacy, but, of course, she would listen.

  “What on earth was that tone all about?” Mai asked. “Is that all you can do? Shrug? Well, your so-called friends may speak that way to employees in their households, but Olga isn’t an employee. She’s part of our family.”

  “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Can I go now?”

  “May I.”

  Another sigh. “May I go now?”

  “Not with that level of insincerity, and Olga deserv
es the apology, not me.”

  “You’re being totally, you know, unfair today.”

  “No, I’m reacting to your shitty behavior.”

  “I’m being a kid, and it’s not fair for me to have to come home at six on a Friday and sit around and watch you and Popi give each other goofy looks. I don’t see why I can’t do things like other kids, like my friends.”

  “You have obligations, ones, which, I might add, you asked for.”

  “Don’t I get to change my mind?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  The continued whining had made Mai’s tic intensify. The child hadn’t yet learned her attitude would only steel Mai’s resolve.

  “Because Popi and I have to make you fulfill the obligations you asked for to ensure you develop a sense of responsibility, but mainly because this morning your attitude has pissed me off.”

  “But I want to, like, hang out at the mall with my friends and look at clothes and stuff, but I never get to do what I want. I bet you got to do whatever you wanted.”

  “I’ll give you that, but I didn’t have parents to keep me from hanging out with the wrong kind of friends and getting into spots of trouble. That’s not happening with you.”

  “But, I should get some say in what I want to do.”

  “You’re twelve. Popi and I make those decisions for you for several more years.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yes, but that’s the way it is.”

  “Wow, that was helpful, like totally. Not. Can I go to school now?”

  “May I.”

  “God! May I go to school?”

  “Yes, and you can come home right after school.”

  “What? You said I could—”

  “That was before you were disrespectful to two adults this morning.”

  “What gives you the right to tell me what to do? You’re not my mother! You’re not even my real grandmother. It’s probably good you never had any babies if you’d be this mean to them.”

  Natalia stomped toward the door leading to the garage.

  “The fact she’s married to me gives her the right,” came Alexei’s voice from the entrance to the kitchen.

  Bright red with embarrassment, Natalia turned to him. Pissing Mai off was one thing; disappointing him was another.