Kotik

Chapter 16 The Past

The Past

The phone conversation with Misha wasn’t a long one. I barely got anything out aside from ‘they shut it all off’ and the name of the street I was on. He didn’t give me a hard time, and I was grateful, because I had nothing left in me to beg.

I sat on a frosted-over bench at the bus stop for twenty minutes, and then a black Toyota Land Cruiser came to a tire-skidding stop before me.

There was no doubt this was my ride, and I might have felt guilt at another time, with everyone around me waiting for the bus with no space to sit down, barely space to breathe, but right then, I stood (my seat on the bench was immediately taken) and walked up to the car.

But I was in a daze and a little buzzed, and this was all a nightmare, so it was okay.

Misha was in the driver’s seat, a cigarette in his mouth and head poking out of a gray-fur collar of an expensive-looking puffer coat. He turned the heaters all the way up, the air welcome but stinging my cold-rawed skin.

“What do you need?” he asked, adjusting all the vents toward me. “You need groceries? What’s first?”

“I don’t know,” I said, and I really didn’t. Calling him was as far as I got.

“Ah. Okay.” He pulled out onto the road, and it wasn’t toward my apartment. I didn’t even notice that until we’d been driving for five minutes.

“Wait,” I protested as soon as I saw the bridge ahead. “I can’t leave Mama and Maxim. She’s sick. It’s so cold in there…”

“So what do you want to do?” Misha said irritably. “I can take you back to my place, Vitali’s, or I can take you home and we figure it out from there.”

Hearing Vitali’s name was physically painful. It had been over a month since we last spoke.

“You smell like shit,” he said when I didn’t answer. “Did you wash your clothes in vodka?”

“Did you call him?” I asked.

“You know I can’t call him. I sent someone to his place. Let’s hope he’s home. Again, where am I taking you, Katya?”

“Home,” I said, then concentrated very hard on that answer. “Grocery store… but I didn’t bring my wallet…”

He almost laughed, and probably would have if it wouldn’t dislodge the cigarette. “If I let you pay for anything, Vitali would chop my dick off. What’d they turn off? Can you cook meat?”

“Nothing works,” I said. “We have an electric stove. No heat. No water—the pumps are down.”

“Well, sandwiches aren’t going to do a whole lot. How long has Mama been sick?”

“I don’t know… a week… maybe more.”

“No hospital? Doctor come by?”

“I tried calling…”

He nodded thoughtfully to himself. “The power just happened this morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Makes sense,” he said, then took such a sharp U-turn it sent me tumbling into the door. We came skidding to a stop shortly after.

Neon letters above a brightly lit, newly constructed ‘Mega Market’ shone against my window.

“Here,” Misha said as he riffled through a roll of bills, then handed me more than my apartment would cost for six months, “go get whatever you need. I have to make a couple calls.”

Wherever he had taken me, there was food on the shelves.

There was something deeply disturbing about this sight when only yesterday I stood in line for two hours to get a bag of milk.

Here, everything was too bright, and the smell of freshly baked bread seemed synthetic, but there were so many things we urgently needed.

I filled a small cart, something they didn’t have at the shops around me, and then stood in the middle of the aisle and stared at it.

More than half required cooking, so I put those things back, because someone else could use it and we weren’t getting electricity back anytime soon.

When I got back in the car, Misha was still on the phone. He wasn’t talking, but whoever was on the other end rattled something off.

“Okay,” he said, then pressed the end button. “They found Vitali, but he was in no mood to provide details when he heard you called, so I don’t actually know what he’s doing or where he went. Might already be there when we arrive, might not. I guess we’ll see.”

He wasn’t.

Misha took the groceries up, said his hellos to Mama and Maxim, and then joined me in the kitchen where I poured him a glass of vodka, and topped off my own.

“How… how has he been?” I asked after a minute, and I told myself it was because I was desperate to talk about anything but my situation, but that was a lie because I really did want to know.

“Eh, going about his business,” Misha said, not even aware of how much it hurt my feelings.

“Has he… said anything about me?”

“He hasn’t talked much about anything that isn’t directly about work. Left for a week, but no one is too keen on taking trips in the winter—you know? Waste of time on those roads.”

“Misha… can you tell me anything about all this?” I said with the bravery only vodka could gift. If I were going to see Vitali, I needed something… anything to help me understand what I was signing up for.

“Wouldn’t you rather ask him?”

“No,” I said so quietly that he didn’t need me to elaborate.

“Alright. I’m not going to tell you hren you don’t need to know, but I’ll try to answer.”

I took another swig, again for bravery, because it’d been a bad day. “What happened with his parents? What happened in New Zealand?”

He spun the glass, but didn’t drink it. I wasn’t even sure he’d taken a single sip.

“Can’t speak to the first one. I grew up around him, but we were never best friends.

Did petty crimes with the boys around the yard.

He was quiet, all bruised up, all the time.

Snapped, I guess. Still snaps if the weather is right.

Would tell you more if I could. As far as New Zealand?

I don’t know why you want to know that. Nothing good happened in New Zealand. ”

“Misha, I have to live with a lot of things, a lot of things I never thought I’d do. I just don’t… I don’t want to be blind to them.”

He pulled out a cigarette, then paused, looking around. “Can I smoke in here?”

“Mama wouldn’t like it, but…” I shrugged. “Does it really matter anymore?”

He scrunched his nose, but put them away.

“New Zealand,” he said. “It was shortly after the whole—well the whole thing. Police hadn’t taken him in yet, and someone’s older brother knew someone who said they could help. I got curious, and so did a few of the other boys. So we inquired too. That’s how you get stuck in this mess—you know?”

I didn’t. I didn’t know anything at that moment.

“Well, Vitali needed to get away before they arrested him. He really was a bright kid. Didn’t always go to school, but when he did, he was still smarter than us.

Maybe that’s why he’s Sergei’s golden boy.

Well, the ‘Sergei’ at that time was a man named Kiril.

He set Vitali up with a foreign passport and a different name. ”

“What was—”

“No,” Misha cut me off, “don’t even ask me what his name was.

Forget it. Anyway. Seemed like he wanted a brighter future for himself.

Something more than Russia. Well, those who didn’t know better encouraged him.

Those who did know better laughed. Someone up the ladder from Kiril was setting up camp in New Zealand.

There was some trouble with biker gangs out there, but nothing too bad.

So they sent Vitali and two other guys. Naive.

Me? I stayed where the pechka is hot. Everyone knows you; no one messes with you.

Eventually, you don’t have to shoot—you just show up. ”

For someone who reiterated he wouldn’t tell me anything, Misha liked to talk. I didn’t waste that. “How long was he there?”

“A couple years. No one asked after him. I’m going to be honest—I never even thought to ask about him.

Like I said, we weren’t close. And then Sergei took things over here in Kurov.

And one of the first things that happened is someone in Moscow makes a call and says—well blyad I shouldn’t tell you this—New Zealand is out, and they’re not going to expand out there.

Someone blew the shit out of the offices one fine evening.

No survivors. Said it was the biker gangs, but then I hear that Moscow put a hit out on Vitali.

So imagine my surprise when Vitali shows up on Sergei’s doorstep with a duffel bag and two Makarovs strapped to him in plain view.

Then, one moment Moscow wants him dead, and the next they hand him over to Sergei to babysit, as if he hadn’t just soaked an entire division in New Zealand.

No one says it, but we all know that’s what happened because Vitali’s a fucking savant with explosives.

All sorts of electronics. That’s why he doesn’t carry a cellphone, you know?

Says it’s because he knows how they work. ”

I took another gulp, emptying my glass. It wasn’t just Elit, or Pasha. The list was long, undoubtedly longer than Misha would ever admit. At this point, nothing was surprising. It was too freezing in there to be surprising.

“And everyone is a bit wary, because he’s secretive, and one of the first things he does is ask Sergei to find him a tattooist. Tattoist?

Tattoer? Where the hren is there a tattoer in Kurov?

So he goes to St. Petersburg and comes back looking like a goddamn matryoshka doll.

All painted up. So this was years ago. No one knew what to do with him, not even Sergei.

So he just let Vitali do whatever he wanted. ”

“Whatever he wanted…” I repeated quietly.

He continued, having ignored me. “It was good he was in charge, because he refused to have anything to do with women or children. I don’t think I could stomach what I’ve seen him do happening to a woman or child.

And he is good at decision-making. See, most of us don’t want anything to do with that.

I’m happy sitting on my ass as the money comes in.

I don’t want to deal with any of that leader shit.

Then, his numbers started coming in, and Sergei nearly creamed himself.

Gave him full access to accounts, stock, and the guys.

That’s why I’m here. I don’t want anything to do with women or children either, and Sergei keeps those ventures separate. ”

He noted the look on my face, and squinted, thinking. I took another frosty gulp.

“Listen, I’m not going to tell you that Vitali is a good guy, because none of us are good guys.

But you should know there is something extra wrong with him.

Maybe he was born that way, maybe he came back that way, but there is.

” He tapped his head. “You asked what you’re signing up for?

Well here is what you’re signing up for.

I’m not going to tell you not to—because believe it or not, but it could be worse.

And now that Sergei knows about you, it will be. ”

Elena’s words whispered faintly at the back of my mind. ‘I can’t just walk away from it.’

“What can I say though? Vitali gets things done. And you can’t buy him.

If he doesn’t want to do something—he won’t.

That’s just the reality of it. Not even Sergei can do much about it, as much as they’re at each other’s throats.

” He nodded slowly, agreeing with his own assessments as he stared at the kitchen tile.

Was he counting the little flowers too? “And he never gives a job he won’t do himself, so the chances of taking a bullet to the face are lower. ” He paused. “Not zero, but lower.”

“How’s your side?”

“Eh?”

I tapped my ribs and he looked puzzled for a moment, then said, “Oh, that. It’s fine. Not even the most recent one anymore.”

“Is it all… is it all killing people?”

Misha laughed, and rather genuinely. “You people always think it’s all killing. No. Guns get drawn before paperwork, but there is mostly always paperwork before anyone shoots. What do you think we are, animals? I’m just as horrified by it as you are. But such is life. Such is Russia.”

“Then what happened with Elit?”

His mouth thinned, and for a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer me.

“Suppose it’s not a secret, being all over the news and all.

I’m sure you’ll hear all about it eventually.

The Chechens are moving in. See, there are rules, and they don’t care about rules.

So their Bratva is running a little wild.

They threw a little party, and we showed up uninvited.

There’s nothing more to it. And you’re better off not worrying about that one. There’s nothing good there.”

“Alright.” I glanced at the bottle, but the liquid still stung my throat and threatened to come up, so I looked away. One final question. “Who is Vera?”

He grinned. “You’re just a curious one. You’re lucky the TV won’t turn on. I think the question you should be asking is who was Vera.”

That was not the question I wanted to be asking… but before I could get another word out, the front door swung open and the thunderous presence that was Vitali had arrived.

It was instinct. All instinct. I was up before I thought about it, and running, and the next thing I knew was being completely and utterly wrapped up in his arms. They only got tighter as I started sobbing. He rested his cheek on the tangles of my hair.

“It’s alright, Kotik,” he said quietly, rocking me back and forth as my sobs turned to tears. “I’m here. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got this.”

* * *

About Russia:

Makarov – Soviet-made handgun

matryoshka – Russian nesting dolls

pechka – large traditional stove/oven, often built with an alcove where a person or people could sleep during harsh winters