Cheka headquarters, Perm. July 31, 1918.
A white-bearded man is being interrogated inside a small office, where he sits on the only chair before the empty desk. A younger man walks behind him, back and forward, from one side of the room to the other.
"Who compelled you to allow the woman to accompany the boy?" The young interrogator holds both hands behind his back as he leans over the older man.
"No… no one", the scared middle-aged man stutters. "I thought it would make his departure faster and a bit easier for the prisoners, but I asked the Ural Soviet for permission. If there is anyone you should blame for any complications resulting from my suggestion, it is them."
The interrogator does not say anything else. He rests his thumb and index finger on his chin and thinks. Alexander Borisovich Anisimov knows that his suspicions are a stretch, but how else could the recent events be explained?
Thinking he is safe for now, the prisoner breathes in and out deeply.
"Have you been in contact with any foreign intelligence agencies?" The interrogator asks after a few minutes of silence.
The eyes of Pavel Antonovich widen. "Absolutely not!" His forehead furrows. "How did you get such an idea?"
The interrogator places himself between Antonovich and the desk. "Letʼs review the situation, shall we?" Alexander crosses his arms and makes himself comfortable by leaning his back on the desk. His eyes remain cold and fixed on the former commander. "You made a petition to allow one of the sisters to travel with the boy. Now, this wouldn't have been a problem if your superiors had refused, I am willing to admit that, but the fact is that you, and only you, took the initiative."
Antonovich tries to protest, but the interrogator continues talking over him even louder:
"Only a day has passed and the heir, who is a cripple, escapes, something he would not have managed to do without help from his sister."
"I had nothing to do with the relocation and…" Pavel protests, but Alexander does not acknowledge him. Instead, he continues talking before the former commander is even able to finish the sentence:
"Just a week later we received reliable evidence that a band of… of, underground… anarchists, probably, had kidnapped the boy. They threatened to turn him over to either foreigners or counterrevolutionaries operating under the shadows if we didn't release certain prisoners arrested after the July revolts. Do you see where I am going here? Don't you think it is an amazing coincidence?"
"That's all you have?" Antonovich asks. "If anything, this proves the ineptitude of the people who planned the transfer of the tsarevich, something that, again, I had little to do with. They should have traveled with more security. You are also deeply misinformed, the anarchists were not the force behind the July revo…"
"And yesterday, in the middle of the night, we captured an informer that was trying to obtain information concerning who has authority over the residence where the three remaining grand duchesses are being detained", the interrogator adds. "I don't think it is cynical to suggest someone is trying to work against the best interests of our government behind the scenes, and we have good reasons to suspect you didn't have the purest of intentions the moment you suggested to allow citizen Romanova to accompany her brother."
"All I wanted was for the removal of the boy from the house to go smoothly!" Pavel yells. "That is all! I have no clue of any conspiracy, and if you allow me to be sincere, comrade Anisimov, I think it is quite a flight of fancy to even consider any bourgeois foreign intelligence agency would be willing to work side by side with bloody anarchists! You are young, you're wrong, you are inexperienced with these matters, you are not as smart as you think you are, and you are lazy!"
Alexanderʼs fist meets Pavelʼs cheek for the first time. The old Antonovich uses both hands to rub his face, but he recovers quickly. Anisimovʼs eyes, on the other hand, widen profusely. He had never used violence before. Maybe the old man is right, the young man thinks. Pavel wounded his pride, but he may be right.
Despite his suspicions, Alexander has no evidence connecting the boyʼs kidnapping to the people trying to rescue the former grand duchesses.
The evidence for the anarchists having kidnapped the heir is slim in and on itself. Turov told him so.
Finding the boyʼs whereabouts is not even Alexanderʼs job. He simply hoped he would be able to connect the dots, uncover a huge conspiracy, and thus gain prestige, but his only mission, for now, is arresting the people attempting to free the former grand duchesses.
He has to keep searching. He needs to interrogate the man they arrested recently again. The young man claims not to know who he works for. He claims to be unaware of who instructed him to get a job at headquarters and then walk into the offices in search of any document concerning the mysterious prisoners of the big blue cottage, as the neighbors call the house where the three Romanov women are being held. He claims to have done so solely for money.
Alexander does admit that this may be so. He knows the basics of how intelligence work operates. They pay informers who know very little, if anything, about the people they are working for. That way, those behind the investigation can stay hidden. That way, their entire plan won't crumble if an individual working for them is caught. But Alexander also knows that there are British spies living in the city, and German spies as well. He suspects the British. The Germans are under the impression that Moscow will eventually set the four women free for something in exchange.
It wouldn't make sense for the Germans to risk the negotiations now, and the Cheka has already intercepted a damning telegram which without a doubt comes from the English. They want to communicate with their extended network of spies, to inform their higher ranks and then the world that three of the tsarʼs daughters, at the very least, are still alive. Alexander wonʼt let that happen. The best way to botch this plot of theirs is to prevent them from communicating. He will find them somehow and cut their cables.
The young Chekist will interrogate the informer again. Maybe this time, with a little bit of… persuasion, he will remember something about the person who recruited him. The Cheka can proceed by arresting whoever matches the description until they find the right individual. The suspect will then be interrogated so as to learn who he works for. They shall find that person and then the next one, until they get to the bottom of everything.
From now on, Alexander will be more willing to use force. There is always a first time, he thinks. And as for Pavel Antonovich… well, he is a member of the party, which gives him the benefit of the doubt. But he will definitely stay in prison until the entire Romanov affair is sorted out.
Oo
Olga Nikolaevna Romanova.
I had a nightmare. Well, I probably had more than one throughout the night, but I don't remember all of them. My eyes are still closed, but I am awake now, longing for my sisters and anxious about my missing brother.
I am relieved about my present circumstances nonetheless. It felt so good to take a bath yesterday. I hadn't done so in days. I am lying on a comfortable bed, dressed in a comfortable nightgown, and reassured by a small glimmer of hope.
To my great delight and surprise, I can open both eyes. I need to make sure I can still see with my swollen eye, so I cover the other one and… yes. There is the white ceiling. It was uncomfortable at first, but I can see perfectly well with both eyes. It must have been that ice inside the piece of cloth which Dunia, the maid, gave me yesterday after taking the bath. Thank you, God.
I stay in bed for a few minutes, enjoying the little positive sides of my desperate situation before I fall into a panic again, as I inevitably will once the subject of my brother and sisters comes up.
Oo
Yesterday, after I explained my brother's situation to the agents, they claimed that it would be next to impossible to find him in a city as big as Moscow, especially considering he hadnʼt been taken by the Bolsheviks.
The superior officer James Wilson didn't even have the courtesy to say it would be next to impossible. He used the word "impossible" without adding anything to soften the blow. I appreciated that old tactless man way more than the others. At least he was honest. I still begged them to try in pathetic sobbing pleas.
If I lost all hope that my brother might be found, I could at least focus my mind on grieving and accepting God's will. It would be better for me to accept it. It would be painful, but oh! So much easier! Way easier, and not as painful as having unfulfilled hopes for the rest of my life.
But this is not only about me. It would not be fair for me to stop looking for my brother. Not when, no matter how unlikely it is for us to meet again, it would be outright impossible if I didn't try.
I asked the agents to make an attempt to contact the King, to make him aware of our situation. He would do something to find his nephew. I was sure of that. I still am.
The English refused my family asylum back when our situation wasn't desperate, but it is different now. Papa is still their Kingʼs cousin. Uncle George must still have some influence left as a constitutional monarch to convince his government to help us somehow.
For some reason, James Wilsonʼs expression changed when I mentioned the King, becoming cold.
Some of the other men said that the agents active in Moscow would probably be too busy with other missions. Political or military espionage, the more "important" stuff. They didn't use that word, none of them did, but I know what they meant.
Charles interrupted them, saying that they could at least ask the higher ranks to contact their people in Moscow to make sure an attempt was made to look for Alexei. After that, probably thinking I was becoming hysterical, he told me not to worry about either my sisters or brother, for they would find a solution. He then asked Dunia to take me upstairs so I could take a bath, eat in my room, make myself feel comfortable, and rest.
As the other agents seemed to respect Charles's opinion, I let myself put the search of my brother in their hands.
Oo
Now, lying in bed and having had more time to analyze this entire situation, I have come to the conclusion that the agents are not taking, at least my brotherʼs situation, seriously enough.
It is like the world stopped caring about Alexei the moment papa abdicated. If he were still the Tsesarevich, everyone would be looking for him right now. No. They would have found him the morning after or maybe the exact same night he was taken.
Now my brother means nothing to them. Cousin Cyril could take his place for all the English care. Russia is not their country, and Alexei is just another orphan. They just want to win the Great War and keep Russia as an ally once that happens.
My parents idolized the English. My father was particularly appalled by how easily the British press had turned against him following his abdication. I understand now that Great Britain looks out for its own interests mainly. Every nation does. There is no real brotherhood in alliances.
Alexei means the world to our family. Every loved one means the world to their families, and that never helps any common man. We are like that poor young prostitute I saw in Kambarka. No one cares about her fate, not enough. Our only hope is that the King cares.
Oo
I get out of bed and start dressing up in my new, normal clothes.
The long skirt is light gray, unlike the dark one I left with. I find the new corset and shirt pretty. The latter has a round collarbone and short sleeves. They also gifted me a lovely pink sweater.
Tatiana would have loved these clothes. I wish she were here so I could gush with her about them. She always enjoyed fashion, however simple. I am reminded of how much I miss her. I just want to talk to her right now.
They even gave me new boots. I can't complain about a lack of kindness, which is kind of frustrating.
I go downstairs, where I find Charles and another agent about to have breakfast. Dunia asks me if I want to eat as well. I nod and thank her for her kindness.
"Good morning", Charles greets me when I sit at the table next to him. He then folds the newspaper he was reading in order to start eating.
"Good morning", I reply. "Did the others have breakfast already?"
"Only Erik and I live here", Charles explains. "The others live in different hotels and houses, just so that we donʼt draw too much attention."
"We received a letter earlier this morning", the other agent, probably Erik, tells me. He is a light blond.
"It is from Anastasia and Valeriy in Moscow", Charles elaborates.
"Are they doing all right?" I ask.
"They are fine", Charles assures me, "living with a couple that works at the hospital where Anastasia is nursing now. The letter is from July 25th and is numbered as the second. I am guessing the first one didn't arrive. It is good that they sent several copies just in case."
Many of the letters we sent to Ekaterinburg while we were still at Tobolsk also went missing, never reaching our parents. With the way things are in the country, I am surprised any letters reach their destination at all, especially this fast. But what if someone reads the missing letter and finds it suspicious?
"Does it contain any damning information?" I inquire.
"It just says that Charles should wait for a certain 'Ms. R.'", Erik responds. That is a code name Anastasia, Valeriy, and I agreed on. "Is that you?" He asks, and I nod.
"The letter also said that they haven't found any good places to see", Charles continues, "which is suspicious considering we are in the middle of a war, not the best time to go on a pleasure trip."
I almost cry, but the arrival of the food distracts me just enough not to.
"It is in code", I say before I start eating my eggs.
Charles nods. "That is not the only sentence which seemed odd, it is pretty clear that the letter is in code. They haven't found any good places, what does that mean?"
"It means that they haven't found any clues as to the whereabouts of my brother", I lament. Then I describe to them the code Anastasia, Valeriy, and I created. If they happen to find witnesses or leads, they will refer to them as "interesting plays" in their letters.
"The letter is three days old", Charles points out. "It would be faster to communicate through telegrams." He strokes his chin for a few seconds. "Anastasia and Valeriy are not trained to communicate in code through telegrams though. I would fear for their safety should anyone figure out the meaning of those letters somehow." He then turns to Erik. "We have to make sure that the people tasked with searching for Alexei get in contact with them. Anastasia and Valeriy may not be trained for a situation like this, but they were there when the child was kidnapped and must have much more information." Erik nods, and we all continue having breakfast.
Oo
While drinking coffee with the two agents, I go into full detail about the secret code Valeriy, Anastasia, and I agreed upon. Charles writes everything down.
Coffee. I think of my sisters and how much they would enjoy this simple pleasure.
"I was reprimanded today", Charles informs me. This is distressing to hear. He is the one person I trust most amongst these men.
"Was it because you allowed Sergei to take us to the Crimea?" I ask, and he nods.
"This despite having explained to Wilson that I had received no orders to do the contrary", he complains. "I even informed him about what had taken place as soon as I got back to Perm."
"Did you tell him that you didn't expect to find us walking free?"
"I did, that is the argument I used the most", he says. "But now, I must admit I might have made a terrible mistake, maybe if I had been there…"
"You had no way of knowing", I interrupt him. I have been through the same thing. It does no good to dwell on what would have happened.
"We are revisiting the issue of your sisters when the agents return", Charles changes the subject. "You can stay to listen if you want to, and then we can decide where you want to go next."
"I don't want to go anywhere until I know for sure my sisters are safe", I affirm. "Is there any way I can help?"
"We will see", he smiles at me.
I want to see my sisters as soon as possible, but I do not know if that will be possible. For now, I must do whatever I can to help these men save them.
Oo
When the agents I met yesterday arrive at the house, they do not talk about anything other than the Red Army's retreat and what they know about the strength of their forces. This lasts for hours. I have time to take a bath and then return without them changing the subject, and my baths are long.
I am stuck on that chair, listening to them not plan out my sisters' rescue. It is incredibly distressing.
We have lunch before they are even mentioned, and then the men continue talking about the Red Army's retreat. They eventually bring up the subject again after Charles communicates with Wilson in a series of glares and eyebrow raises. It takes a long time for James to get the message.
"Yes, Miss Romanova, don't believe for one second that we have forgotten", he soothes me. "We are simply having trouble figuring out where to hide you if the rescue operation is indeed successful. Then we have to make plans for your next location."
I nod, but that sounds awful. It sounds as if they had indeed forgotten.
I imagine my sisters and I ending up hiding somewhere on the outskirts of Perm. Perhaps inside a dark basement without hope of leaving anytime soon. Unable to go outside due to the danger of being found and arrested again. At the mercy of a group of foreign agents who may or may not abandon us if things become too hard.
"Well, not only that", Erik says. "We are also having difficulties planning the rescue itself. We need someone inside the house to provide us with information on the routines of the guards."
"When they are changed, where they sleep, if any sleep there, who feeds them", another man adds. "Or depending on the rescue method we decide to use, we may have to warn the Grand Duchesses about the shooting."
Those words make me freeze.
"Wha-at, what do you imply?" I ask.
"Well", Erik begins, "if it comes down to it, that is, if we suspect your sisters are in danger and we don't have enough information to come up with a better, more subtle plan... we will have to use force."
That means people may die. I cross myself.
I had not pondered the issue of the guards in a long time. Part of me wants not to care, to let them face the consequences of keeping us locked up, but that is not what papa would have wanted. It is not evil that conquers evil.
More importantly, Galina's grandson is there. She doesn't deserve that.
Oleg probably doesn't deserve it either. The last time I saw him, he was very kind, who knows… and I don't know enough about the other guards, but we have had no quarrel with them, at least not yet. One of those four demons was a guard who acted no different than the others though.
The prospect of any of them dying doesn't make me sentimental or scared anymore. Not like it would have back when my family was imprisoned, but together and unharmed. This doesn't make me feel good about myself. It makes me feel tainted, far from God. Disgusted with myself.
"How can we avoid a bloodbath?" I inquire.
"We are still gathering information about the people who have authority over the Blue House", Charles explains. "With luck, we may be able to falsify a telegram ordering your sisters' transfer. We just need to recruit some locals willing to perform the dangerous task of disguising themselves to escort your sisters out. No one will be harmed if everything goes according to plan, but we still need time."
I really hope they manage to do that.
"It is just proving hard", Erik says. "Yesterday, one of our informers was arrested, and previously, Commander Pavel was, which makes us suspect that they are already aware of some sort of conspiracy to liberate your sisters."
My spirits either rise or fall every time a new agent speaks.
"But worry not, they have no clue of our location or anything like that", Wilson explains. "If our safe plan doesn't work, we are going to need someone living inside the house who can also come and go as she or he pleases. We need to communicate with the prisoners so that they are able to follow instructions should the worst-case scenario occur."
"Well, we have already found her", Erik reveals. "We are just having trouble getting our informers to convince her to talk to us."
"She appears to be scared of us", another agent nods.
We stay silent for a while, and I curse myself for how slowly my mind is working. There is only one woman living in that house who is not a prisoner.
"You mean Galina?" I offer.
"If you are referring to the old lady who works at the Blue House and goes to the nearby market almost every evening, then yes, that is who we are talking about", the same agent corroborates.
"I can convince her to help us!" I immediately suggest. They accept.
Oo
Informants are not generally supposed to know who they work for, but this is a special case.
I am provided with a headscarf the color of my sweater to cover my swollen eye, which could give me away. I also try to cover the other side of my face, but it must be said that the headscarf is too useless to hide anything from some angles. I donʼt tell this inconvenient fact to any of the men. I want to be of use.
Erik walks with me, leading me to the open marketplace, where I may find Galina in about half an hour. At 3 o'clock in the afternoon.
Erik wishes me good luck and leaves to watch me from afar. He told me he is originally from Denmark, or at least his mother is. An aesthetically pleasing man. I can't call any new man I meet handsome or appetizing anymore, not even in my mind. Not without feeling repulsion.
I start exploring the market, not really knowing what I am about to say to Galina.
Part of me is ashamed of doing this, trying to convince an 80-year-old woman to do something so risky for the sake of four girls she has only known for little more than a week.
It doesn't feel right, but I have little time to think of the moral implications when I spot the old lady looking at the meat. She has a big basket on her shoulder full of supplies for the kitchen. Poor dear. That must weigh a lot. I approach her slowly.
"Good morning", I cover my swollen eye to greet her.
Galina jumps for fright, almost dropping the basket. "Olga! What are you doing here?" She exclaims loudly. I am in awe of the fact she has instantly recognized me.
"Shh, shh", I touch her shoulders, trying to calm her. My headscarf loosens, making her gasp at the sight of my face.
Galina uses her hand to cover her mouth. "What happened to you?" She asks. I shake my head many times, maybe too quickly, and my eyes fill with tears.
"Nothing", I respond as they roll down my cheeks. I keep crying at the realization that this woman has seen my sisters every single day I have been away. "It is too long of a story to tell", I add.
Galina tries to touch the damaged side of my face with her hand in a display of compassion, but I flinch away. The pity manifested in her gray eyes makes me burst into sobs.
Galina nods, almost as if understanding the reason for my reaction, and she does not press the matter further.
I try to breathe again. It takes a while. Trying to compose myself in front of her is incredibly hard, even as she remains patient.
"How are, my sisters?" I ask amidst pauses to breathe once I am collected enough to speak.
"They are in good health", she responds with a kind smile. "No one has harmed them child, do not worry."
I nod many times. "Morally? I mean, how are they feeling?"
Galinaʼs smile disappears. "Missing their sister and brother, missing their parents. They cry every day. Probably more than I see them cry. They always wipe away their tears when they see me."
"Please tell me everything you know", I press her to continue. I miss them so much.
"They scream in their sleep. Every night at least one of them does. For their parents mostly. Sometimes they scream the word 'no' over and over again. Sometimes they just scream, waking up the few guards who stay to rest in the lower rooms. Some of them yell back at the girls, but there is nothing they can do to stop their screams. I pity everyone involved in that situation.
"But your sisters do try to put on a smile, and sometimes they succeed, especially Maria. She is such a sweet girl your sister, did you know she and I prepared an improvised birthday party for Oleg?"
I chuckle, tears still welling up in my eyes. That sounds like something Maria would do. Hearing this is like getting a small piece of her.
"Tatiana is good at playing the piano," Galina continues. "She does so almost daily nowadays. It helps her relax when she is crying. Sometimes, they also sing religious hymns after praying."
"Oh! Did they joke about sounding terrible without a fourth voice?" I ask.
"Well, yes!" Galina smiles. "It is amazing how well you girls know each other. They make lots of witty comments about it."
I smile, thinking back to a time when those witty comments were about Mariaʼs missing voice.
"And Anastasia…" Galina begins.
"How is she?" I ask, extremely worried about her.
"It seems she has found a friend, one of the youngest guards. Sometimes she is in the mood to play games with him. They mostly run around the corridors and up and down the stairs, yelling and chasing each other. That is, if the new commander isn't there."
I really hope it never comes down to the agents entering the house by force then.
"Galina…" I hesitate. "I hate to ask you this, and I will completely understand if you refuse. It is extremely dangerous, but I am living with a group of British intelligence agents, and they need someone from the Blue House to pass them information."
"Oh! So that is what it was!" She crosses herself, looking quite alarmed. "Oleg told me not to do it. He says it is dangerous."
For a second, I feel a deep, irrational hatred for Oleg. I urge myself to relax when I remember this is the woman who raised him. Of course he told her that. I am beginning to feel like a monster, but I want my sisters to live, so I press on.
"It could save my sisters' lives Galina", I tell her the truth, feeling guilty about doing so knowing she will probably accept now. "We don't trust the government to keep them alive for more than a few more months. We have evidence the Bolsheviks have already executed numerous people without trial as they did with our parents and servants."
"That is horrifying!" She puts a hand over her mouth and then crosses herself again. "You poor girls, I have no other choice but to accept, are you sure I would be of use?"
This bothers me too much. I don't know if the information she may provide will be that useful. We have two plans already, and one of them doesnʼt require much knowledge about the house itself, only about the people who have the authority to order my sistersʼ transfer. But regardless of what plan the English decide to go for, what Galina is offering to do will put her at risk.
Back when we were imprisoned at the Ipatiev House, my family and I received letters from some allegedly loyal people who wanted to rescue us. They asked us about the mansion's interiors and security. We answered back. I wrote the letter myself. Papa and mama were so anxious. They didn't want anyone to get hurt, but they had hope.
Those "loyal people", however, didn't have a well thought out plan. They wanted us to be brought down from the window, for Alexei to be drugged so he would cause no trouble, for mama to actually use a rope or stairs to go down, I repeat, an actual high window! And for my family to do all of that without any of the guards noticing. Preposterous.
We replied that we couldn't be rescued unless it was against our will, without our cooperation.
The "loyal people" never came.
I sometimes wonder if the Bolsheviks got hold of the letters. If so, could that be the reason they killed my parents? I have also doubted there were loyal people out there at all. I have even come to suspect that the letters were forged by our jailers in order to have a good excuse to murder my parents.
Either way, I completely understand, even now, why we didn't accept the offer. It was too risky, a bit ridiculous in fact, especially at the time, and we were not aware of the danger we were in. We even wrote back that our guards were taking good care of us. We genuinely cared about the safety of the men guarding us, especially my almost saintly father. How naive we were!
I know that it is right to care, no matter how I truly feel about it now. It is what papa considered right. It is the Christian thing to do, or think… I don't know.
But I have seen firsthand what we really needed to be rescued from. Papa didn't, or at least, he didn't survive seeing it.
I no longer think that what those "loyal people" were proposing was ridiculous at all. Risky? Very. Likely to fail? More than to succeed. Likely to get some people hurt? Yes, it could have. And yet, if I could go back in time I might have written back to beg them to think of another way to rescue us, to keep trying. I might have written that we would try to cooperate. I might have even convinced mama to agree to drug Alexei. And we could have left through the window, why not? Mama might have gotten hurt, but she would still be alive. My poor mama… I get the urge to cry just thinking about her.
I won't make the same mistake we made when we turned down that rescue offer, as crazy as it was.
I curiously remember what the Jewish man from Kambarka said to us. At that time, I considered his words interesting, but a bit condescending and frankly useless. Not anymore.
Perhaps we were told there was a special and untouchable place for us in the world. I don't think mama intended to impart such a message explicitly, but deep down, she believed it, and she made us believe it as well.
We felt that things would fix themselves and that the ways of the world would change to give us satisfaction somehow, for how could it be otherwise? Papa had been chosen by God.
There was nothing we could do before but hope and pray. Pessimism would not have helped then.
It is different now.
I have to act. The ways things are in the world right now wonʼt fix themselves, not for our sake.
I still believe God has a plan, but how does Godʼs plan work if not through us?
Maybe I am becoming a monster. Some of the guards may get hurt, and I am putting Galina at risk. But Galina is willing to do this, the guards are willing to guard, and my sisters are in danger. Not doing anything would be equally monstrous.
I won't let fear ruin the only chance we may have.
"Any information you may provide us with will be extremely helpful", I answer. Please forgive me, Lord.
English is not my first language, so making British characters sound British is a bit hard for me. I don't know which phrases or vocabulary to use. If you know more about this and recognize any type of expression in my writing coming from a British person that is more American than British, or even too modern for the setting, please let me know and give me the "correct" words a British person from that era would use, or at least a British person would use (I know there are different British accents depending on the region, so just tell me if I am using an expression that is American and give me an alternative as well, please).
For OTMAA or the Russian characters is different, I honestly don't care about it because they are supposed to be talking Russian most of the time anyway, and it is only written in English because I donʼt know Russian, so I can take the liberty of not thinking much about how American or even modern their expressions sound, at the end of the day those are not the words or phrases they are "really" using, only the "translation" so to speak, of what they are saying or thinking.
For these British characters though, there is no logical explanation as to why they would be using American expressions, because they ARE supposed to be speaking in English, just as I have written it, so it would be better to make them use English or other British expressions or manner of speech, something I am a bit ignorant about. Any help with that would be greatly appreciated.