The vibrating cell phone made Gleb look up from his book. Setting it down, he stood and stretched, reaching his arms towards the ceiling, then headed for the phone.
"Hello?" he said, answering it.
"Gleb," Gorlinksy replied.
"Sir," Gleb said immediately, stiffening.
"Hello, Gleb...And how are you enjoying your promotion?" Gorlinsky
"It's very nice, Sir," Gleb said at once.
"Very nice?…" Gorlinsky drawled.
"Of course," Gleb responded. "The area is very amiable. The people are good to work with."
"Of course," Gorlinsky said softly. "Gleb, tell me, would you like to keep your current position?"
"Yes, Sir," Gleb said.
"Then that girl must be dealt with. Do you understand?" Gorlinsky threatened.
"I do," Gleb answered.
"Good. What is the status on her?" Gorlinsky asked sternly.
Gleb looked at his watch. "Our little troublemaker should be here soon, sir," he told him.
"Very well," Gorlinsky said.
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door.
"She's here, Sir," Gleb announced.
"You know what to do," Gorlinsky said, ending the call.
Gleb straightened his shirt and answered the door. The girl had a bag over her head and had her hands tied behind her back, and a man stood behind her, containing her.
"You're sure it's her?" he asked, gripping her arm.
"She was leaving the theater at the same time as the other two. It's her," the man said. Gleb nodded, his eyes lingering on a bruise that was starting to form on the man's face.
"Fuckin' bitch put up a fight," the main explained. "Give her hell for me."
Gleb nodded again, and the man left. Gleb led her into his personal office.
Turning on the light, he pulled the bag off of her head.
Underneath, she was both blindfolded and gagged.
"Jesus, what was the point of the bag," he muttered, then untied her gag.
"Can you hear me?" he started.
The girl coughed roughly, then straightened.
"Yes," she replied.
Gleb turned toward a window and moved aside the curtain. Outside, the city's lights were visible, lighting up the night.
"You probably don't remember the Romanovs," Gleb started, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "At least, the fame they had before their death. Of course, they weren't known as they are now, but the fame was still there, just as all people who possess large amounts of money gain fame. They owned several large companies, overworked their workers, underpaid them, ignored the little people. Good intentions went out the window, blinded by greed. I remember how hated they were. How despised. Of course, their deaths made them martyrs. But still, it makes me wonder, why someone today could want to be a Romanov.
Especially in this good community we have here. Lovely town, full of nice people. I do suppose every town has its bad apples, though."
Gleb paced around her.
"Of course, you must have noticed that every single one of the Romanovs ended up dead. Every single one, except the harmless old grandmother. Tell me, do you believe that was a coincidence? Do you believe that the people who eliminated them simply vanished? Believe me, they exist just as presently as you and I do. And they are not happy to find out that someone is impersonating one of the Romanov daughters."
Anya swallowed hard. "Why are you telling me this?"
"I thought you could tell me, friend," he said, untying her blindfold. As the cloth fell to the floor, he was shocked to see that he recognized her.
"You?" he asked. "The shaking girl from the restaurant? All those months ago?"
The girl didn't respond, her grey eyes following him warily. He laughed in disbelief at the coincidence.
"I'd almost stopped looking for you around…" Gleb shook his head and cut himself off. Stepping behind her, he took out a pocket knife and cut the tie around her hands.
"Anya, am I right?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, rubbing the circulation back into her hands.
"Gleb Vaganov," he replied. He held out his hand for her to shake. She ignored it.
Letting out a bitter chuckle, he dropped his head.
"I realize that we may not have made the best impression on you in these circumstances," he admitted. "But I do hope we can change that. Cup of tea?" he asked, walking over to his desk.
"What are you going to do with me?" she replied, dismissing his question.
"Do with you?" he repeated. "Nothing. And why should I? You have a steady job, your own life built for yourself." He motioned for her to take a seat across from him
"Yes, I'm very grateful," she asserted, sitting down.
"I'm sure you are," Gleb responded. "And that's why I'm warning you to leave the fairytale behind."
For the first time, she let emotion slip into her face as her brows furrowed. "I don't understand," she said.
"If you really were Anastasia Romanov, they would kill you without hesitation," he explained.
"Everyone wishes they were someone else, it's a harmless fantasy-"
"No, it isn't harmless, it's dangerous," he insisted, standing. "Do you remember what I told you, Anya? The Romanovs are gone, every last one of them."
She stared at him as he walked out from his desk and stared out the window once again. "My father was among the men who ended them," he said softly.
Anya stood. "I don't want to hear this-"
"When he was told to fire," he said, turning to meet her gaze, "he obeyed orders." Slowly, she sunk back into the chair.
"Be very careful, Anya," Gleb started. "These rumors about Anastasia Romanov are dangerous, more than you know. I was there, that day all those years ago. No one escaped."
Anya's eyes followed him as he walked to the bookshelf. Lifting up a frame, he looked at a picture, then set it back down.
"My father and I were very close. He brought me almost everywhere. The day it happened, we waited for hours out in a car alongside their home. I saw the children…"
He turned back toward her and returned to his seat.
"Even after all this time, I still remember her. The youngest daughter. Years my minor, but I felt connected to her, somehow. I remember her pride, even as she walked into her own home."
He gazed at Anya, and she stared back at him.
"I remember my father, too. Hiding guns in a bag, telling me to stay in the car no matter what I heard. He obeyed his orders and I obeyed mine. I could hear everything, even with how far away I was. The gunshots, the screams. I remember the silence afterwards, how… simple the world seemed. How easy it was to end a life." He paused, reflecting. "I saw the fire start too, the house going down in flames. Trust me, Anya. No one got out of that house alive that was not intended to."
Once more, he stood and faced the window.
"Revolution is simple. You pull the trigger, end it. Sometimes I wonder if I could have been strong enough, if I had been the one who had been ordered to kill them…"
He stopped abruptly.
"Do you understand what I'm saying, Anya?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied. The room relaxed.
"Thank you for warning me," she said, rising from the chair.
He approached her, and held out his hand once more. This time she shook it, and he stared intensely into her eyes. Suddenly, he was hit with a memory- Anastasia Romanov entering her home, the pride she carried. He had to admit, the two of them looked very much alike. Almost too alike.
"I have to get home," Anya said, interrupting his thoughts.
"Anya... as your new friend, I must warn you to be careful," he said. She gave a nod, and headed towards him to get to the door. As she brushed past him, he gripped her arm.
"As Gleb Vaganov, son of Viktor Vaganov, I'm warning you to be very careful."
Once more she nodded, and he dropped his grip.
Once she had left, he realized that he was trembling. His memories haunted him on repeat, every image his mind had captured of Anastasia Romanov replaying in his mind. But now, Anya's likeness to her haunted him as well.
Stepping outside, he lit a cigarette and pressed it to his lips.
"Anya," he murmured.
…
"They know what we're doing, Dmitry, they know where we are," Anya was saying.
Dmitry listened intensely.
"Who did they bring you to again?" he asked.
"One of their men, his name was Gleb," she replied hastily.
"And where was it exactly that they brought you?" he confirmed.
Anya hesitated. "I think… I think it was Gleb's house," she said.
Dmitry stared at her in disbelief. "His house? What are they, crazy? Now we know where one of their men lives!"
"Dmitry, you don't understand, I think that's the point! They're not trying to be secretive, they want to scare us-"
Anya was interrupted by a holler as a group of men approached them. Dmitry cursed under his breath.
"Well, well, well…" one of them drawled. "If it isn't Dmitry, king of the city," one of them said.
"Don't you miss your old partners?" another one asked, circling them.
"Thought you'd be well out of the country by now," someone else chimed in.
Anya's uneasiness was starting to grow, and she took a step back as the men started to close in on them.
One stepped up to Anya.
"I'll be damned, Dmitry's got himself a new girlfriend," he said.
"She's not my girlfriend," Dmitry retaliated.
"Right, it's 'Anastasia Romanov' herself. Tell me, do you bow for him, too, or just kneel?" the other man asked. Dmitry took her hand and led her through them, shoving the men out of the way.
Another one stumbled up to her. "Going to Paris, princess?" he slurred.
Anya eyed the pole he carried. She smelled the whiskey on his breath.
"Dmitry, I don't like these people," she said, dropping Dmitry's hand and attempting to turn back. The men laughed at her words and blocked her way.
"What, are you too good for us, bitch?" one of them asked.
The man who held the pole took another step closer and pressed against her, brushing the hair out of her face. "If you don't want her, Dmitry, I'll take her!" he said. "Tell me, sweetheart, do you like to dance?" he asked.
"Leave her alone!" Dmitry said, pushing towards her. One of the men slugged him in the stomach.
Anya took this as her cue.
Quickly, she grabbed the man with the pole and kneed him between the legs. As he buckled over, she took the pole from him and hit one of the other men. He crumpled. Noticing that Dmitry was being held in a chokehold, she hit the man holding him across the back and he fell, Dmitry with him. She noticed that the others had started to scatter, and a smug smile crossed her face.
Dmitry was kneeling on the ground, trying to even his breath.
"Men are such babies," she said, walking toward him.
Dmitry laughed and winced, the movement hurting the blow he'd received to the stomach.
"Where'd you learn that? You're good," Dmitry admitted, getting to his feet.
"I didn't travel alone across the country without learning to defend myself," she said, dropping the pole.
"C'mon, let's get out of here before they come back," Dmitry said.
They walked down the road, Anya following Dmitry.
"Where are we going?" Anya asked.
"I know a place…" Dmitry said.
Anya smiled and continued to follow him without question. A few minutes later, they reached a park, empty and lovely, with a view of the city below. Dmitry sat down on top of a bench and Anya sat next to him.
"What is this place" she asked him.
"I used to come here when I was a kid," Dmitry said. "It's almost always empty. I remember being so... intimidated by the world sometimes. But I'd come here and look at the lights of the city and it looked so uncomplicated, and I'd feel better."
Anya looked around and admired the view. Dmitry was right. Everything did seem very simple from up here.
"Can I ask you something?" Dmitry inquired.
Anya looked at him and tilted her head. "Sure."
"You said that you traveled across the country alone… what did you mean by that?" Dmitry asked.
Anya looked out at the city as she responded. "I never really grew up with parents. I had someone- Sara, a mentor, but she was never… never exactly my mom. The first thing I can remember is moving. We were thousands of miles away from here. But every time I'd start to make a home, we'd move. Eventually, we ran out of money. Sara had to find a steady job. But she never let me stay with her. I had to keep moving around, that's what she always said. She booked me hotels, bought me train tickets, told me where to go. But besides that, I was alone."
Anya paused for a moment, a sad smile crossing over her face.
"That wasn't the first time a group of men have tried to attack me," she added. "You've had it easy."
Dmitry chuckled, skimming his feet over the grass. "Not so easy."
Anya looked over at him.
"C'mon, let's go," he said, standing and offering her his hand.
She took and and used it to pull herself to her feet. Once more, she followed Dmitry down into the city. The sun was setting, but there was a small farmer's market that was buzzing and lively. The two of them walked through with some difficulty, dodging in between people.
Eventually, they stopped at a stand full of fruit. Anya eyed the peaches, plump and juicy.
"Too bad we're saving for Paris, right?" Dmitry asked.
Anya nodded, sighing. Dmitry pulled her to the end, and grinned her. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he searched them.
"Granola bar?" he asked, offering it to her.
She took it with a smile, opening it.
"Do you work tomorrow?" he asked.
She shook her head, her mouth full.
"How tired are you?" he asked.
Anya chewed and swallowed, her hand hovering over her mouth.
"I'm wide awake," she said.
"Great. How would you feel about taking a hike?" he asked.
She grinned. "I'd love to."
"Great," he said," because we're about to go on a little bit of a journey."