Soon a signboard announced
Belozersk
in big black letters.
‘It’s a very ancient city. I looked it up and it was first mentioned in chronicles around 862,’ Nick said. ‘Apparently the city, or what would have been only a settlement then, was moved a number of times from one bank of the lake to another. In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries it was the capital of a princedom. But back then it wasn’t called Belozersk. That became its name in seventeen hundred and something. Until then it was called Belo-ozero.’
‘After the lake.’
‘Yes, after the lake.’
For a while they drove in silence as they entered the outskirts of what appeared to be a small city. Nick leaned forward and spoke to the driver, asking him to take them to a place where he could park the car. Twenty minutes later, he stopped the car on a small flat stretch of land and pointed to his left.
‘I must wait?’ he asked.
‘Yes, please.’
Now that they’d arrived, Amelia wasn’t sure she wanted to get out, but this was the last stop. The very last before she could get on with her life.
She took a few deep breaths, got out of the car and followed Nick through the trees for a hundred metres before they stopped side by side on the banks of a vast body of water. A cold wind rose off the lake and tugged at their coats.
‘There it is – Beloye Ozero. White Lake,’ Nick said.
Amelia stared in disbelief at the vast expanse of water that was frozen in patches. She hadn’t imagined it would be this enormous.
‘White Water,’ she whispered, thinking of the driver in the Krasnogorsk mental hospital. Staring at the water, she remembered the fear in the man’s eyes. He would probably be plagued by nightmares about this place for a long time.
‘I wonder what made Sudakov think of this, and more importantly, why he felt compelled to share with you his theory that the driver’s “white water” obsession was in fact “white lake”.’
‘It seems even the most criminal of men have their limits,’ Nick said. ‘He liked and respected Robert, and thought that Prism was taking the lawlessness that tends to reign in this country one step too far.’
‘Maybe.’
She walked a few metres away and then turned back to him. ‘How sure are you that white water means “White Lake”?’
‘Fairly sure. There is of course a chance that Patrick lied, but I don’t see why. Sunday afternoon on that bridge, well, I asked him a few pertinent questions.’
Although Amelia hadn’t heard a full account of what had happened on the bridge, she hesitated now, unsure of whether she wanted to hear everything, unsure of whether she had the inner strength to handle more revelations. But if this was the place where Robert’s body was, it was the most appropriate place to hear the final details.
She walked back to Nick. ‘Tell me,’ she said, turning her gaze to the water that stretched into the distance.
For a minute Nick was silent. Then he started speaking quietly.
‘It’s true that Patrick left the party before Robert. Because of Ratna’s role and his own involvement with Prism, he knew that the driver would take a longer route to get back to the embassy. He knew Jennings had organised for someone to wait for the car, intercept it and frighten Robert into keeping quiet about the value of the diamond deposit. They – Jennings and his sidekicks – didn’t know about the additional pressure Patrick was feeling. They had no idea of Robert’s ability to reveal Patrick’s mistakes and damage his career.’
Amelia nodded. This much she knew. She waited for Nick to continue.
‘After he left the party, he drove to a spot on Denezhniy Pereulok, to a different place than the one Prism had organised, and waited. He intercepted the car before Jennings’ henchmen could. As far as I could tell, a struggle ensued, but Patrick had come prepared. He managed to wound Robert to the extent that the option of frightening or convincing him to back off from any of it no longer existed. I believe Patrick went too far and that Robert was hurt badly. When Patrick realised what he’d done, he called Jennings and threatened to expose him if he didn’t take care of Robert permanently. Jennings didn’t have much of a choice. To insure himself, Patrick had most likely been collecting incriminating evidence against Jennings and Prism. They all thought that they’d run out of options, so they had no choice but to work together to hide the mess they’d created.’ Nick took a slow, deep breath. ‘The poor driver, Sergey Alyoshen, was forced to go with one of the Prism thugs to take care of the body. My guess is that they wanted to limit the number of people who would know how things ended.’
‘And they brought him here?’
‘That’s what it sounded like. To get as far away as possible from Moscow so that nothing could link them to what happened. I think they forced the driver to drive all the way here and after they’d rid themselves of Robert’s body, they roughed him up, left him for dead and thought it was the end of the matter.’
‘But then I came back.’
‘And threatened to expose them all. It sounded like Patrick was in constant contact with Prism and particularly with Jennings. I don’t know if we’ll ever have confirmation of meetings or conversations between them, but Jennings would have been pretty focused on trying to control Patrick’s actions. They were all involved in Robert’s death and they all needed to protect themselves. Most importantly, each needed to ensure that the other involved parties kept their mouths shut too about what they’d done.’
‘There’s a lot of guesswork in there.’
‘Yes, there is, but when I confronted Patrick on the bridge, he said a few things that revealed more of what happened. Other things I stated as facts and he didn’t contradict me. He confirmed much of what I was still speculating about without knowing that he was doing so.’
Amelia looked up at Nick’s troubled face, sensing the last awful fact she didn’t really want to know. But she had to and knew that he would tell her. It was the only way to move forward.
Nick became very still. He looked towards the lake and then back at her. ‘He said: “. . . don’t worry, he was dead when he was dumped into the water, he wouldn’t have felt a thing . . .”’
Amelia winced at the harsh words and involuntarily moved a few paces away. She’d expected the worst, but this was too much to bear. The image of Robert so helpless, so alone and so diminished in his last hours, was one she knew she would have trouble with for the rest of her life. A heavy grief gripped her heart.
For a long time she stared out at the half-frozen grey water, searching, yearning for a connection with Robert. At last, when nothing in the cold, unforgiving landscape spoke to her, she realised that there was nothing to be reclaimed from the shores of the lake. He was gone.
Eventually she turned back to Nick. ‘How big is this lake?’
He hesitated and she could see on his face that this role he was playing for her now, this role he had agreed to fulfil without having to be asked, was a difficult one.
‘It’s around 46 kilometres across and in places up to 33 metres deep.’ He looked into her eyes and she could see that the words that seemed so harmless, but conveyed so much, were not easy for him to say.
‘They’re never going to find him, are they?’ she forced herself to ask.
Nick didn’t answer immediately. He looked across the water and back at her. ‘I don’t think so.’
They stood gazing at the lake for a few more minutes, the icy wind slowly penetrating the outer layers of their clothing. The lake revealed nothing, and finally Amelia turned to Nick and said. ‘Time to go. I’ve said my goodbyes.’
They were both quiet on the way back. Even the driver seemed to sense the sombre mood in the car and he made no small talk.
Amelia was the one who broke the silence. ‘Your mother was right. Remember how you told me she acknowledged that people have at times indulged their worst instincts here in Russia?’
Nick glanced at her, but said nothing.
‘But that she also believed passionately in the goodness, or the potential for goodness, to be found here?’
‘You’re thinking about Sudakov.’
Amelia nodded. ‘I am. But mainly I’m thinking about you.’
Nick flushed and started shaking his head, but she continued before he could stop her.
‘You’ve chosen to do something good for someone. Despite the difficulties it must have caused you and the fact that you had no obligations to me, you chose to help me.’ Amelia hesitated. ‘She would have been so proud of you.’
‘Nick shook his head again.
‘And I am very grateful.’
Nick remained silent and only the visible emotions playing across his face told her that her words had meant something to him.
They drove in silence for a long while before he spoke. ‘What will you do now? Go back to England? Do you think you’ll continue living there or will you move back to Canada?’
‘I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll do a little bit of both. Maybe do some travelling. The importance of creating new memories and all that,’ Amelia replied, realising that she hadn’t given the future much thought. ‘And you?’
‘I think I’ll go home for a while, spend Christmas with my dad. After the last week or two it’s probably a good idea to keep my head down for a while. I’m due for a decent break, anyway.’
‘You certainly are.’
He smiled at her and hesitated for a long moment before he spoke again. ‘Have you ever been to Colorado?’
She shook her head. For a while he said nothing, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere.
When he spoke again, his voice was different, somehow deeper, and she could feel his eyes on her. ‘It’s very beautiful, you know.’
Amelia glanced at him quickly before dropping her gaze again, the unspoken invitation hanging between them.
‘So I hear,’ she said, unable to say more.
He turned to look out at the snowy landscape, choosing to add nothing more.
Amelia looked at him and eventually found her own question. ‘Have you ever been to the Canadian Rockies? The mountains, the lakes, the trees. It’s quite different from what you see in the US.’ She smiled when he turned to face her. ‘And it’s also very beautiful. Worth seeing.’
Nick returned her smile. It was gentle and happy and reached beyond his tired eyes. It was a smile she hadn’t seen before.
‘It sounds good,’ he said slowly. ‘It sounds very good.’
The smile remained on his face as he continued looking at her. ‘Shake on it?’
Amelia looked at the hand he was holding out to her. She took it carefully.
He pressed her hand, shook it slowly, gently and didn’t let go of it for the rest of the journey.
I
am grateful to the many who, whether knowingly or not, contributed to the way this story unfolded, but the following people deserve special mention: Gina and Jimmy Weir-Smith for their unwavering support, encouragement and a promise to buy the book; Delene Morgendaal for being a friend, adviser and first reader; Aaron Rosenstein for giving me new direction and valuable advice, and the people of Russia for allowing me to see a few of the many faces of their fascinating country.
All spouses of aspiring, hopeful, doubt-ridden, occasionally unbalanced writers deserve special medals for what they do (and don’t do). My husband Tom is no exception. Thank you for believing in me when I didn’t.
J
anet Rogers grew up in South Africa. Her early career was in teaching, followed by research for the management consulting industry. She has lived with her adventurous American husband in Canada, Russia and currently Portugal. She has no idea where home is anymore and probably never will, but she is delighted that her base at present is in a sunny, wine-producing country.
For more on the author, visit
janetrogersblog.wordpress.com