A. Zander - Moscow City

“I never meant to cause all this trouble, you know,” said Vitsin, struggling to twist off the bottle cap and putting it to his lips.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“I feel like I need to explain.”

Harper stayed silent.

Vitsin crossed his arms and bent forward a little. “At first it was just offers. You security services and ours, both offering me the world to come and work for them. They were persuasive, but I told them I wasn’t interested.”

“I can imagine that didn’t go down well.”

“They knew I was getting close to completing my work. And I’m sure if I had everything stored on a computer they would have just taken what they wanted. But I write very little down.”

“So they tried to take you instead.”

“I noticed people hanging around my apartment at night and the same faces were walking past me several times a day. Watching. Waiting.”

“Why didn’t you ask someone at the fund for help? Katusev maybe?”

“Everyone was on edge by this time. Katusev had his own problems with the government. I didn’t want to throw my problems on him too.”

“So what happened?”

“Some people tried to grab me late at night near the Metro station. I had a knife in my pocket. I stuck it in the biggest one’s gut and ran. I ran and didn’t look back.” Vitsin wept and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“None of this is your fault Seva.”

“So many people have died since. I just wish I had stayed in Moscow.”

Vitsin looked up. He was unconvincing as a man of close to 20-years-old. He had no facial hair and the build of a youth. He crossed his legs with one thigh on top of the other, his foot twitching loosely on the end of his leg.

“I shouldn’t have brought the professor into this. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Harper sat down next to him. “Did you pull the trigger?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Did you pull the trigger?”

“I suppose not.”

“The answer is no Seva.”

Vitsin said nothing.

“They killed Ruminenko. Not you. You have to believe that.”

Vitsin stood and walked over to the back of the temple. Golden Buddha statues lined the wall. Harper followed and stood beside him.

“You know, the professor always told me I should dedicate myself to something more pure, but I would never listen.”

“I imagine it was hard to resist the big offers.”

“The money was nice, but it was more than that. I wanted to prove I could do what no one had ever done before. Katusev and Cavendish gave me that opportunity.”

“And Ruminenko tried to stop you?”

“He came from a different era. An era where they changed the world. He just wanted that for me too. He understood that what I was going to do was intellectually empty.”

“There’s still time for you to achieve other things.”

“You think?”

“Sure. You can do anything you want.”

“I just want this to be over. I’m tired of running.”

“I’m not sure it will ever be over Seva. But after tomorrow, you can disappear and try to make a new life for yourself. That’s the most I can offer.”

“And that’s the most I can expect.” Vitsin sat down in the corner of the room and rested his head on a pile of carpet.

Harper blew out one of the candles. “Did Anya say where she was going?”

“She went up the hill to look at the big Buddha statue.”

Harper ducked through the door and went back outside. The statue dominated the landscape. The lights around its base illuminated it for miles around. He set off into the misty gloom. Insects buzzed around the plants and small animals scuffled in the undergrowth. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he could see Anya’s tiny figure ascending them in the darkness. He slowed down halfway up as his breathing got faster and the sweat started to soak his shirt. As he reached the top, he listened, but all he could hear was his own breathing. He climbed over the security gate and jumped down onto the other side. He circled the statue and found her sitting cross-legged next to one of the lights.

“Was the conversation too dull down there?” he said, sitting down next to her.

“I just wanted to let Seva be on his own for a while. I don’t think he is much for company.”

Harper wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “I’m sorry that you got caught up in all this Anya. That was never my intention.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Well, I’m sorry anyway.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Matt Harper.”

Anya swiped her hand slowly through the mist in front of her face. “You should be careful you know. Lies flow from your lips like breath from your lungs. Women will find it hard to trust you.”

“It’s my job Anya. It’s not me.”

“That’s what everyone says when they start a job. But one day they wake up and they are the job. Is that what happened to you?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Harper thought about it for a few moments and pushed it from his mind. “Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. I can’t go back to Russia. They’ll be waiting for me there.”

“If you need some money, I can help you out. It’s the least I can do.”

“That’s kind. But I have some savings overseas. I think I’ll be okay.”

Harper looked out into the darkness. Lights from a boat or a lighthouse twinkled in the distance. He concentrated on the stillness and tried to push any lingering violence from his mind.

Anya looked at him. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. It’s difficult to escape what I’m running away from.”

“You mean those gangsters and your spies?”

“I’m not afraid of them. There are worse things to be afraid of in this world.”

Anya put her hand on his. He flinched away, pulling his arm towards himself. She reached out and took his hand again, bringing it back and setting it down between them. “What happened to you Matt? There is a lot of pain in your eyes.”

“It’s not something you want to know.”

“Maybe not, but it seems it’s something you need to say.”

Harper’s face hardened. “Those gangsters. I infiltrated their organization in my last operation. That’s why they’re after me.”

Anya said nothing, not pushing him to speak.

“We were on a boat one night, delivering some weapons just off the coast near Portrush in Northern Ireland. The drop point changed at the last minute and I snuck away to make a call to my handler.” Harper clamped his hands together as the shakes coursed through his fingers. “There was this Ukrainian kid, only thirteen, he worked for one of the gang members and had come along on the boat. He caught me on the phone, heard everything, and went running to Gershov, accused me of being a copper. He was shouting it around to everyone. Really fucking things up for me. Gershov knew Ashansky wouldn’t buy it, I was about to marry his daughter after all, so he saw his chance to get to me another way.”

“How?”

“He knelt the kid down on the deck and accused him of talking shit. He said there was only one way to find out. That undercover coppers don’t shoot people. Then he put a gun in my hand.”

“What did you do?”

Kill him Mishka.

“I did what I had to do to stay alive.”

Anya kept her hand on his. Harper felt his eyes moisten and he turned to look away from her, wiping them with the back of his hand.

“I see that kid’s face every day of my life Anya. He wasn’t some hardened criminal. He was just a kid. It’s not really something I can run away from.”

Harper stood up. “I think the lack of oxygen up here is making me feel dizzy. I’m going to go down and get some rest. We need to get up early tomorrow.” He turned his back and started to walk back towards the top of the steps.