Uhhhh...Ok I'm sooooooo sorry guys! I never thought it would be this long! :( I hope you enjoy this chapter. Cheers!
Anya. Gleb stood there, frozen to the ground. Staring at her from across the room, he felt the same odd rush all over him as when he first met her, but this time it was different. This time it was tinged with cold fear. As Anya and Dmitry made their way through the crowded room toward an empty table, they passed the bar. Gleb gave a start and glanced inadvertently to where Konstantin sat. If he recognized Anya…
From his position on the corner, Gleb had a good view of the passersby for quite a distance. His eyes roved back and forth, taking in the various citizens of Leningrad going about their daily tasks. It was a cold and monotonous job, one that nobody liked. Street patrol in the winter was usually something he gave to the lesser officers, but today he had announced he was doing it himself. When one of the other men had queried him, he had managed to come up with some vague excuse about wanting fresh air. Now he was standing, fingers and toes an uncomfortable combination of numb and tingling, on one of the street corners of the Nevsky Prospekt.
He caught a flash of blond out of the corer of his eye and turned to look more closely. Sure enough, he made out the hunched figure of Anya, slowly trudging down the street. Her broom dangled loosely in her hand and her eyes were on the ground. A flash of concern ran through him. Was she ill? She certainly wasn't acting like the industrious girl she usually was. He started forward towards her and then skidded to a stop.
"Hey you!" the sharp voice made him jump. Looking to the left he saw the impressive figure of Comrade Konstantin Aleksandrov, Supreme Commander of the Leningrad division, striding purposefully through the crowd, flanked by two officers.
"You! The street sweeper! What do you think you are doing?"
Gleb frowned. Were they talking to Anya? One look in her direction confirmed it. She had gone rigidly upright, clutching her broom with white knuckled hands.
"Are…are you talking to me, comrade?" she stammered.
"Yes, you!" Konstantin walked up to Anya and stood, dominating her with his superior height. "What are you doing, dragging you broom along instead of sweeping? Is that the kind of behavior a good and loyal citizen of Russia shows?"
He paused, as though he expected her to speak, but when she did not reply he continued, "I am ashamed to see such an indolent woman in the streets of my city! What is your name, comrade?"
Gleb could feel his hands slowly clenching into fists. Indolent! Anya was one of the hardest working people he had ever seen. How dare he call her indolent! Plenty of girls her age would much rather sell themselves in the back alleys than do an honest day's work!
"My name is Anya, comrade." Despite the fear that still haunted her voice, Gleb could hear a note of pride in it. Konstantin looked suddenly thoughtful.
"Anya? Are you the same girl that was brought in a few days ago?"
"Yes, comrade."
"Ah, I see. Who spoke to you?"
"Deputy Commissioner Vaganov."
Konstantin frowned, "I trust that he made your situation clear to you?"
Anya stood up a little straighter.
"He made it very clear, comrade. I understand completely and have…taken his words to heart."
Konstantin nodded.
"Very well comrade. I would suggest that you get on with your work. It would be a shame if you were to lose your job because of idleness." He spit out the last word like a dagger. Turing on his heel, he strode away down the street.
Anya stood for a moment than, giving a frosty glance at the little crowd that had gathered, she began to hurry down the street in Gleb's direction, her whole body straight and rigid as an arrow. As she came closer, however, he could see that she was fighting back tears.
Gleb stood rooted in an agony of indecision. What should he do? Should he try to comfort her? Or would that only make things worse? She didn't see him as she walked past, but he continued to gaze after her tense form long after it had been swallowed up into the crowd…
"Gleb! Are you alright?" Elena's voice brought Gleb back to earth. She was standing in front of him, her hand on his arm and a concerned expression on her face.
He looked one more time at the figure of Konstantin Aleksandrov sitting at the bar and then to where Anya and Dmitry were sitting down at a table not far away. He turned back to Elena and shook his head.
"No," he said.
Her concerned expression deepened. "What's wrong then, Gleb?"
"Don't use my name!" his voice was urgent and he spoke so low that Elena had to strain to hear him above the noise of conversation. "There are people in this room who would recognize it!"
Elena gave a quiet gasp and tugged on his arm.
"Then come into the kitchen and out of sight," she said quietly.
To her great surprise he shook his head. Glancing around to make sure that there was no one close by, he suddenly leaned forward and spoke quietly into her ear.
"I need your help. Anya is here and Konstantin must not see her. If he recognizes her it'll be over for both of us."
Elena frowned.
"Who's Konstantin?" she whispered back.
Gleb made an annoyed sound in his throat.
"He's the slightly balding man in the dark grey coat," he replied, glancing down the bar as casually as he could. "He's right next to the man who likes Crème de Menthe in his coffee."
Elena searched the row with her eyes for a few seconds, nodding as she found Konstantin among the other patrons. She stepped sideways a little, allowing Gleb to turn his back on the bar.
"Would this Konstantin recognize you?" she whispered.
Gleb took a deep breath and shook his head.
"I gave him a couple of shots a little while ago and he didn't seem to. I…"
"Comrade Aleksandrov!"
Gleb gave a start and Elena heard him curse in Russian under his breath.
"Oh please no," he murmured quietly.
Peering around him, Elena could see that Konstantin had been joined by another man. The new arrival was middle aged and somewhat stocky of build with a prominent nose and a sharp chin. As she watched, Konstantin stood and greeted the other man with surprise.
"Comrade Gorlinsky! What are you doing here?" his voice was pleasantly surprised. The two men shook hands and then sat down at the bar together.
Next to her, Elena heard Gleb curse again and when she glanced up at his face, she saw that he had grown even paler.
"Who is Gorlinsky?" she whispered.
Gleb sighed.
"Oh no one," he muttered bitterly. "He just happens to be one of my commanding officers, the one who gave me the mission of tracking Anya to Paris. He would recognize both of us in an instant."
Elena gave a small gasp and clutched Gleb's arm.
"They're looking over," she murmured.
"Hey toi! Barman!" Konstantin's accented voice carried over the sound of conversation.
"I'll go! You get into the kitchen!" Elena gave Gleb a little shove to get him going and then headed to where the two Russians were sitting.
"Bon soir, monsieurs. De quoi avez-vous besoin?"she asked, plastering a professional smile onto her face.
Konstantin grunted.
"Un shot de vodka pour mon ami," he replied. "Le meme genre qu'avant."
"Oui, monsieur. Savez-vous le nom de le vodka que vous avez bu?" Elena asked and the officer shrugged.
"Je ne sais pas," he replied. "La bouteille a eu une étiquette bleue."
Elena nodded and moved to search through the vodka for a blue labeled bottle. Grabbing the first one she found, she got a glass and then returned to the bar top. As she walked up, the two men were chatting in Russian. Gorlinsky briefly nodded his thanks when she poured his glass and then tossed it off. He gestured for her to refill and turned back to Konstantin.
"Do you think that he's being held prisoner in Paris, comrade? Like I said in my report, I had sent him a message nearly a month ago, but the carrier reported that he wasn't able to locate him."
Konstantin snorted.
"He's no fool, Comrade Gorlinsky. He takes after his father in that way. If he is in trouble, he will find a way to contact us. In the meantime, I am sending three new agents into Paris to see if they can pick up a lead. Even if they can't find the girl, they may be able to discover some new information on Vaganov."
Elena started, splashing vodka on the bar top. Setting down the bottle, she mopped up the spilled alcohol with trembling hands. If they saw Gleb… she shuddered at the thought. Setting the bottle down on the back counter, Elena hurried for the kitchen.
French Translation:
~ Hey toi! Barman! - Hey you! Bartender! (A/N: In French, the polite, formal word for you is "vous". By using "toi" Konstantin was being deliberately informal and rude.)
~ Bon soir, monsieurs. De quoi avez-vous besoin? - Good evening, gentlemen. What do you need?
~ Un shot de vodka pour mon ami...Le meme genre qu'avant - A vodka shot for my friend. The same type as before.
~ Oui, monsieur. Savez-vous le nom de le vodka que vous avez bu? - Yes, sir. Do you know the name of the vodka you drank?
~ Je ne sais pas. La bouteille a eu une étiquette bleue. - I don't know. The bottle had a blue label.