Julia Gousseva - Gray Shadows - Russian Historical Thriller

“Natalya, Vanya and I are back,” Nikolai said. “As you asked. Right, Vanya?”

“We’re here,” Vanya said.

“Do you have the sales contract for me?” Natalya said.

“Not yet, but I can send Vanya for it. Should he take it straight to the car?”

“NO! Bring it to me. I want to make sure you’re not playing with me.”

“I don’t know where it is or what it looks like. Please ask Pyotr Alekseevich,” Vanya said.

“Vanya,” Pyotr Alekseevich said. “The contract is in the blue folder, with all the other documents. It’s on the conference room table. Please bring the whole folder.”

“Will do!” Vanya said. Nikolai motioned for him to leave.

Through the door, he heard Natalya’s phone ring. “Yes, Mikhail? Got a different car? Good. We’ll be there soon, as soon as we get the sales contract.”

A few minutes later, Vanya came running, huffing and winded from the trip. In his hands, he had a blue folder. “Got it!”

“Natalya, we have the contract,” Nikolai said.

“Slide it under the door and get out of the building. All of you.”

“But what about Pyotr Alekseevich?”

“What about him?”

“You need to release him when you get in the car,” Nikolai said.

“That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? I’ll release him once we’re out of the front gate. He can walk back. And don’t even think of following us.”

“All right. I’m leaving now. You’re free to go.”

Nikolai motioned for Vanya and other guards to leave the building. “Wait at the front gate,” he said loudly. “On the outside. And as soon as Pyotr Alekseevich is out of the car, let me know.” Then, he whispered to Vanya, “Call the police and the ambulance.”

Nikolai left the hallway, walked away from the main staircase and down the narrow fire escape staircase, equipped with fire extinguishers and fire alarm buttons, to the first floor. He hoped that his calculation was correct. Pyotr Alekseevich’s life and the fate of the company depended on it.

When he reached the first floor, Nikolai crouched in the dark corner under the staircase, took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, and waited. For a while, everything was quiet. No footsteps, no doors opening or closing, just dead silence. A few minutes ago, Nikolai was ready to bet his life on this move, and now a tiny shadow of doubt crept in. What if he was wrong? He chased away the thought and focused on keeping still in his hiding spot. It was getting more difficult as his leg was starting to hurt from lack of movement. He slowly rubbed it, relieving the ache, and kept waiting.

After a few more long quiet moments, he heard a door slam up above him, followed by two sets of footsteps, going down, lower and lower. Nikolai peeked out of the corner and saw two figures going down. The light was dim, but he could clearly see that it was Pyotr Alekseevich and Natalya. Pyotr Alekseevich was in the front, Natalya right behind him, a pistol pointed to his head. Andrei’s pistol, no doubt.

Nikolai let them take a few more steps down as he kept crouching in the corner. When Natalya was right next to Nikolai, he jumped up, grabbed and twisted her arm with the pistol, sending the pistol flying into the corner. Pyotr Alekseevich rushed to get the gun, but Natalya was quicker.

She dove to the ground and rolled, loosening Nikolai’s grip on her arm. As he tried to take a hold of her again, she kicked him, hurting his bad leg and freeing herself completely. Immediately, she leapt after the pistol. It ricocheted off the wall of the narrow hallway, and Natalya grabbed it. She pointed the pistol at Nikolai and back-kicked Pyotr Alekseevich, sending him to the ground.

Natalya took a step sideways so that both Nikolai and Pyotr Alekseevich were in her field of vision. Now, her pistol was pointed at both of them. Nikolai’s pistol was pointed at her. Nikolai shifted to the side.

“What are you doing?” Natalya said. “Stand still!”

“It’s just my old wound aching,” Nikolai said and bent his knee.

“You’re not so invincible after all, are you?” Natalya said.

“I guess not,” Nikolai said quietly. Grimacing in pain, he leaned against the wall. He knew exactly what he needed to do, and he hoped he remembered a small but important detail about the wall behind him. He put his back flat against the wall, pushing the fire alarm button. The sudden and loud wailing of the alarm startled Natalya for just a moment, but a moment was all Nikolai needed. He drew his gun and shot Natalya in the arm. As the bullet grazed her flesh, she dropped the pistol. This time, it was Pyotr Alekseevich who grabbed it.

Nikolai dropped Natalya on the ground, took a pair of plastic handcuffs out of his pocket and handcuffed her. Then, he wrapped his scarf around her wounded arm to stop the bleeding.

“Still saving me?” Natalya said. “What, it makes you feel good about yourself?”

“It’s in my contract,” Nikolai said.

In the distance, he heard the wailing of police sirens.

Vanya burst through the door, his gun drawn.

“We’re okay, Vanya. Put the gun down,” Nikolai said.

“Pyotr Alekseevich, you aren’t wounded, are you?” Vanya asked. “And you, Nikolai?”

“No, we’re fine,” Pyotr Alekseevich said.

Nikolai glanced at Pyotr Alekseevich’s ashen face. “It’s over now,” Nikolai said. “You’ll be fine.”

Pyotr Alekseevich nodded. “Thank you, Nikolai.”

When two uniformed police officers walked in to take Natalya away, Nikolai picked up the blue folder that Natalya dropped in the struggle and handed it to Pyotr Alekseevich. “It’s all yours now. And so is the company.”

As Nikolai, Vanya, and Pyotr Alekseevich stepped outside, Vanya excused himself and left to check on the others. Svetlana came running up to them. “Pyotr!” She hugged him. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

“Me, too.” He hugged her, too, then pulled back, as if suddenly realizing something. “Where’s Ilia? Is he okay?”

“There’s something you need to know,” Svetlana said. “I am really sorry…”

“Is he wounded?” Pyotr Alekseevich said, his expression turning somber. “Has something happened to him?”

“No, no, he is not wounded,” Svetlana said. “It’s not that.”

“Let me explain,” Nikolai said, “since all this was my idea.” He turned to Pyotr Alekseevich. “I’m going to spare you the extra worries and just say it the way it is. Ilia is not your son. Your son is not here. And neither of them has any developmental challenges or disabilities.”

“What? I don’t understand.” Pyotr Alekseevich looked at Svetlana, then at Nikolai.

“It was all an act, to help protect you. Ilia works for our agency, and when Svetlana said she was coming here with your son, that seemed like a perfect opportunity to bring him in, undercover.” Nikolai lightly touched Pyotr Alekseevich’s arm. “And it was all my idea. Svetlana only agreed to it because I convinced her that Ilia’s presence could help save your life.”

“And it looks like your plan worked, Nikolai. Thank you,” Pyotr Alekseevich said. “Is Ilia his real name, by the way?”

“Yes, it is, just like your son’s. And that’s a coincidence,” Nikolai said.

Pyotr Alekseevich paused for a moment, as if absorbing all this information. Then, he addressed Svetlana. “Where’s our real son?”

“Still in Moscow. I told him all about you, and he really wants to meet you. He was disappointed when I had to change our plans at the last minute, but he understands that a board meeting can be stressful and agreed to wait until after it’s over. Plus, his engineering professor assigned a big project at the last minute, so staying in Moscow and working on it was the best choice for him.”