It wasn't anything special. A simple studio apartment on the sixth floor of a ten floor tenement. All the windows were painted shut with white led based paint that was chipping roughly on every surface, trapping dirt and dust in places I would never be able to clean. The wooden floors, once polished and smooth, were rough from furniture and feet being dragged along it. The bathroom was a place that I sadly did not feel comfortable in, it's curious stains in the small standing shower and grimy sink reminded me of darker days in Kaliningrad that I did not wish to relive. Thankfully there was a decent sized icebox and a good nook in the bedroom I could comfortably sit in if I ever felt the need or want to start a long book. Overall, for the deal Tugger had given me, it was a great place.
One of life's greatest mysteries in how Tugger managed to let light hit him at the right angle no matter what room he was in. At this moment he was backlit by a window overlooking the city in my living room, his hair tinged gold by the setting sun in a large halo of hair adorning his neck and head. I would be lying if I didn't think that he was attractive, especially with how he had his hips cocked and his expression tantalizing nonchalant.
"So the paperwork's in order and the landlady has housed worse people so she really doesn't care if you're a commie."
"Thank's Tugger." I said quietly, more concerned with my lack of any kind of furniture than with holding a conversation. Although the place was a good step towards security, I wasn't keen on sleeping alone on the floor.
"Also I have a letter for you from your sis. Munkustrap was able to slip it to me yesterday." Immediately perking up and turning around, I saw the small grey slip of paper. Delicately taking it from his fingers I opened the note and felt a refreshingly cold wave of relief wash over me at the familiarity of Teazer's cyrillic handwriting.
M.J.
You owe me a big one for this. Got back in contact with our hub back at the Kremlin and they helped me secure you a job close by. It ain't fed work but it'll have to do. You're good at being a nosy snoop so have fun. Come see me as soon as you can so I know you ain't dead in a ditch.
R.T.
I hugged the letter to my chest, allowing a brief moment of weakness in front of Tugger, needing the moment to allow myself to relax. my sister was safe and I would be working close by. Looking again at the letter I saw a small address and name for me to go to whenever I could.
"Thank you for this Tugger." I turned back to the main coon and gave him a small smile.
"Yeah it's no problem," he paused to think a moment, his eyebrow quirking in a way that made me feel uneasy. "But if I get in trouble for carrying around a note in your little rectangle commie letters then you owe me Jerrie." He jabbed a finger somewhat playfully into my chest but with enough force that I stumbled back and painfully hit a sconce against my shoulder blade.
Hissing and grabbing at the spot I slumped against the wall, a bit ticked at Tugger who seemed unfazed by the moment. The burning sensation against my bone was fading into a dull ache that would mildly bruise. I flicked my tail in irritation as I stood back up and firmly squared my shoulders. The sun was setting lower than my windowsill, darkening the room save a soft orange glow spread across the floor and sliced by our long shadows. Tugger's face was silhouetted in darkness, he seemed to be distracted by something within his thoughts, looking slightly past me, at a spot on the floor.
The room had become completely dark, only the light from streetlamp and across the street windows giving subtle lighting and establishing shapes within the shadows. Tugger still hadn't moved and neither had I. The silence had been heavy, something I didn't feel comfortable with breaking.
"I need to ask a favor of you. You don't have to complete it immediately or within the year." He finally spoke, turning his head to me and voice lacking it's usual carelessness. "I have a friend who went to Petrograd after the war to visit old family, they don't have any government connections, but I haven't seen or heard from him. You have all sorts of connections, I know because you wouldn't be alive at this point if you didn't." He seemed to waver, as if this was a matter of life or death, which it very well could bee and seemed like. "I need you to dig around and try to find any hint of what's going on. I haven't been outside of the country for years but I know it must be a disaster over there what with the war and the nazis and Stalin."
"Tug, you're rambling. I'll see what me or my sister can find out. I know Russia has become a lot more exclusionary these past few years, especially with this arms race going on. If anything your friend was stripped of his ability to leave the country or have contact outside of it."
He nodded, not wanting to continue the conversation then quietly made his leave. Once the rickety wooden door closed behind him and I hooked up the chain lock, I was at a loss. My empty, dark apartment and the silence that lingered beneath the muffled conversations of tenants above and below me, and the street bustle outside, was sickening.
There are forms of torture back home where they lock someone up in a dark, soundproof room then leave them. The absolute silence and lack of echo or sight leaves the eyes to over adjust, creating their own images. The mind will eventually lose it's footing and, if left long enough and brought just about to the edge of death but not quite, it is possible to dredge out any information you need. I had the honor to interrogate one of these poor souls during my first few years of spookdom. The man looked unreal, like how a body will look made of wax in an open casket, he looked made of brittle stone. His fur had fallen out in tufts, leaving the sickening view of cracked, dry bone hugging skin beneath. Pale eyes squinted around the room, unsure of how to handle the new brightly lit surroundings, or if they were even real. He sat, shaking in his metal seat, an old wool blanket was hung from his shoulders but he seemed to make no effort to wrap is tightly around himself and stop the chill.
Once I had dryly swallowed my discomfort and steeled myself, I looked at the grimy file placed before me.
"Die name bitte"
He didn't respond, either my german was worse than I could recall or he wasn't keen on talking. Maybe both. The man didn't even seem to notice I had spoken. I could feel all the eye staring at me from behind the two way glass and the small cameras in every corner, every eye but his.
"Die name. Bezeichnung." I said a bit more loudly. The man glanced but still seemed lost.
The anxiety of my inability to interrogate properly filled my stomach, creating a sick knot at the bottom of my gut that pushed bile up my throat like hot lava. I couldn't stop myself from staring intently at the man. At his eyes and body and mannerisms. Feeling that anxiety mixing with disgust and fear.
I sat in the middle of my floor, keeping my gaze at the window so I had things to focus on. The memory replayed over and over in my head as I tried to calm myself. But the dark and the silence was wrapping it's sinister arms around me and holding tight. I found myself wanting different arms, strong, solid arms that would secure my mental safety.
It had begun raining again, the soft pattern of rain I barely noticed before having grown into a full pour. The heated heavy silence and fear that had once been suffocating me in my room was washed away with he cold, damp drafts rolling in through cheap construction and old wood. The rhythmic sound of the rain and thunder and occasional flash of lightning illuminating my vision calmed me down enough and had almost a living presence. A distant siren wailed and the muttering of people above and below me soon ebbed away. All that was left was the rain and my descent into sleep.
A bright light greeted me, one that was clinical and pierced my fresh eyes. I was brought out into a cold room and sat in a chair that hit against my back and legs in an uncomfortable way. I knew I was in trouble, that this was the beginning of a punishment but I couldn't remember what for. No one was in the room with me but I could see that familiar two way glass and the small bugs all around, watching me. Typically in these situations I'm good at coming up with an excuse, an alibi that keeps me alive and well, but I couldn't come up with even a small lie. The innocent "I didn't know it was wrong" hadn't even crossed my mind as an intercom crackled.
"Vyberite" sounded through the room and through the core of my being. I tried to voice my confusion but my throat was dry and tight, unable o let out the smallest croak. The voice came back, repeating itself over and over. Even if I covered my ears and closed my eyes the brightness of the room still filled my mind's eye and the voice was ingrained in my thoughts.
"Vyberite"
"Vyberite"
"VYBERITE"
I sat up and immediately curled in pain, my neck stiff and my arms hurting from how I had slept against the wall. I rubbed my eyes, taking a moment to remember that I was safe. Leaning over I reached into the pocket of my coat I had thrown halfway across the room, and pulled out the drugs Demeter had given me.
Rolling a small blunt I cleaned back against the wall and rested my head on the dirty window glass, watching the city street below. People waling about, on their commute to work or dropping their children off at school. A dog trotted along the street, no collar or leash, ducking into an alley beside my building.
A large knock on my door startled me, causing me to drop my smoking cigarette and knocking my forehead against the glass. Grunting in frustration and pain I got up, feeling the worrisome create of my knees and I stood and walked over to the door.
"Oh." Was all I could say. Munkustrap waited in the doorway, face unreadable and arms clutching tightly to a satchel. "Come in."
He walked in, his shoulder brushing agains mine in a mental, seemingly accidental way. There was something off. I could immediately tell. he was quiet in a different way than his usual reserved nature. His eyes were observant and nervous, his hand still clutching the bag, still unrelaxed as he stood in the middle of my room. His fur was engrossed and he looked as if he hadn't slept in a long time. Despite this, I was happy to see him. More happy than I was expecting.
"I'd say have a seat but I know you dignified folk like chairs." I snorted, trying to keep my observations low-key. Maybe a sense of normalcy was what he needed right now. He grunted in response to my quip then sat on the floor, keeping his satchel in his lap, arms wrapped securely around it.
"Munk…" I said quietly, joining him on the floor and gently placing my hand on his knee.
"My home got raided," He finally sighed. "They were very thorough and found every false bottom and loose floorboard. Luckily I gave up on hiding important information in my house and usually keep it with me or other people," he gestured to the satchel "But I've never been raided before. Either someone from your folk thinks I have something they want or… someone from my side is onto me and my connection to you and others."
He finally let go of the bag and dumped it's contents on the floor. Microfilms, files, cards, small coded letters, and photographs with writing on the back. It was a small collection of information and secrets that, truthfully, made my mouth water. He pushed the pile over to me then stared with hardened eyes.
"Take these, I need you to burn them. Don't read anything, don't even glance. Just burn it in the woods outside of town. I can't take you, I need to separate myself from any information collection. Everyone knows that if a home raid failed then they go for the source."
"Yeah, I can do that. I probably have enough money for a bus or something to get me to the outskirts." I paused, desperately wanting to look through the papers. "Do you…." I looked back up, staring into his eyes. "Do you need a place to hide for a bit? I'm pretty much off the grid still and you need to be somewhere they can't find you."
He nodded, no longer saying anything. I could tell Munkustrap was still a bit shaken. I could only imagine him coming home after work or having gone out and being greeted by a door that was ripped open and a home completely overturned and destroyed. It's a threat.
I inched closer, allowing my arm to rest along his shoulders, not daring give any more pressure or embrace than this, unsure of our relationship standing. I could feel the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed, controlled and practiced. I was trained to be able to read micro expressions and falsehoods but to a normal person they wouldn't be able to see the absolute pain and fear Munkustrap was experiencing.
It was about thirty heartbeats before I felt the weight of his head on my shoulder, relaxed and vulnerable. At least, as vulnerable as Munkustrap would allow himself to be. Par of me wished he would let down all his guard and trust me but I knew that wouldn't happen. It was just too dangerous and stupid during this war.
We stayed there, his head resting on my shoulder and his reliance solely on me for the first time outside of government work. The sun had risen high in the sky and warmed the room, casting a bright spot on the floor right where my legs were stretched out. The warmth spread up my legs, relaxing my muscles and causing a drowsiness to add weight to my eyelids.
Before I could drift off an elbow jabbed me in my ribcage.
"Don't fall asleep, we need to get some furniture if I'm going to be staying here."
