Easy Day for the Dead (29 page)

The interior of the Pulkovo-2 terminal appeared more modern than Alex expected. Skylights brightened the terminal with natural sunshine, and artistic geometric shapes and lines adorned the ceiling. Alex and Cat stood in line for fifteen minutes before their turn came to pass through immigration and customs.

The immigration officer greeted them and asked for their passports.

Alex and Cat handed him their passports. Alex's was German, and Cat's was Lebanese.

The officer's lips pressed tightly together. He slowly eyed the passports before checking the pictures with Alex's and Cat's faces. “What is the purpose of your visit?” he asked in unaccented English.

It bothered Alex that this officer might be a cut above the rest, but Alex didn't show his concern. “Travel.”

“You two are married?”

“Yes,” they said emphatically.

The officer's gaze focused on Cat. “But you're from Lebanon?”

“Yes, we met while skiing in Germany.”

“Where in Germany?”

“The Black Forest,” she said.

“How's the skiing there?”

Cat grinned mischievously. “I'm a better skier than he is.”

“How long have you been married?” the officer asked.

“Just a little over a year,” Cat said.

“Why did you come to St. Petersburg for travel? Most people choose Moscow.”

“We didn't want to go where most people go,” Cat explained. “We wanted someplace unique—for us.”

The officer smiled. “Welcome to St. Petersburg, Mr. and Mrs. Lehmann. Enjoy your visit.”

Alex felt relief, but he tried not to show it. They proceeded to the baggage carousels and retrieved their luggage. Then they entered another line to pass through customs. Alex and Cat carried separate bags. Together they approached the customs officer. He pointed to Alex's bag and gestured for him to put it on the metal counter and open it. Alex did.

“Do you have anything to declare?” the customs officer asked with a thick Russian accent.

“No,” Alex and Cat replied.

The customs officer rifled through Alex's clothing, leaving a wrinkled heap. Then the officer dumped the toiletries out of Alex's toiletry bag on top of the heap of clothing. He flipped the pages of Alex's German paperback novel then tossed it on the heap. Next, he opened Alex's notebook computer and turned it on. He opened the DVD drive and saw it was empty. After tapping his finger on the keyboard, he closed the cover, returned it to Alex, and waved him through. Cat volunteered to show the customs officer the contents of her luggage, but the officer waved her through, too. Alex wasn't pleased about the mess the customs officer left him with.

Cat snickered.

Alex glared sideways at her. People passed through customs around him as he repacked his suitcase.

Cat laughed. It was contagious because Alex laughed, too. His anxieties about passing through Russian customs and immigration and his irritation about repacking flowed out with his laughter. Nothing else seemed to matter more than her. Rather than fold the rest of his clothes, he just stuffed them in the suitcase and closed it. Alex lowered his suitcase to the floor and rolled it over to where Cat was standing.

“You think that was funny?” Alex asked, pretending to be angry.

“Sidesplitting.”

“You know what I think?”

“What?”

“Your smile is irresistible.” He kissed her in front of customs and all the people passing by. Instead of keeping a low profile and moving on, he'd just committed one of the dumbest moves of his tactical career, but Alex didn't care. They continued to kiss as arriving passengers bumped into them on their way out of the customs area. Finally, the Russian officer who'd rifled through Alex's suitcase yelled at them in Russian, gesturing for them to get out. Alex and Cat stopped kissing.

“You smell funky,” Cat said.

Alex aimed his nose at his right armpit and took a whiff. “I need a shower.”

“I do, too,” Cat admitted.

They grabbed their suitcases and walked through the sliding glass door. Alex and Cat navigated their way through the airport until they found the exit. Outside the wind blew and the weather was below freezing, so they put on their jackets, gloves, and knit caps. Alex and Cat located the Avis rental car agency and rented a Mercedes-Benz E-class—
capitalism
.

Alex drove them out of the airport area and on a road that cut through white-powdered evergreens and leafless trees before turning left. Snow blanketed the countryside. Because most everything was written in Russian, Alex couldn't read it, but he could read “Coca-Cola” written on the factory they passed on the right side of the road. Then Alex drove under two levels of highway before reaching an oval-shaped intersection in St. Petersburg.

Formerly known as Leningrad, St. Petersburg was originally founded by Tsar Peter the Great at the beginning of the eighteenth century and had served as the capital of Russia until 1918, when the capital shifted to Moscow. On the western edge of Russia, St. Petersburg also had the distinction of being the northernmost city in the world with a population of more than a million.

In spite of being in the city, trees seemed to grow everywhere. Deeper in the city, bus stops appeared more frequently, and there was what looked like the entrance to a subway. Soon they crossed a hundred yards over a canal. Above the city rose two skyscrapers: a broadcasting tower and the golden dome of St. Isaac's Cathedral.

Although the main streets were clear of snow, side streets were untouched by snowplows or crews with snow shovels. A prosperous city like St. Petersburg with more than five million inhabitants should have generated enough money to clean snow off the streets—instead, the money probably went to corrupt officials or organized crime.

Finally, Alex stopped in front of the Grand Hotel Europe. The five-story building covered half the block and was more than a hundred years old, but its baroque façade retained its elegance. Alex and Cat removed their bags, and Alex handed the valet the car keys. The valet parked the car, returned, and gave Alex a laminated ticket to use later when he needed to pick up his car. “You will love hotel,” the valet said. “Tchaikovsky, Pavarotti, and Elton John stay here. Many famous people stay here.”

A porter greeted them and carried their luggage as they checked in. Marble and gilt decorated the interior, friezes were carved in the ceilings, and antique furniture added class to the five-star hotel.

After they checked in, the porter pushed their baggage on a cart to room 112, the Fabergé Suite, inspired by the Russian jeweler, Carl Fabergé. Alex tipped the porter, and he departed. Standing inside the suite's vestibule, Alex surveyed the living room. Nineteenth-century gold-colored patterns covered the walls like the designs on Fabergé Easter eggs. Also, the bases of the dark-colored table lamps were patterned like Fabergé eggs. A picture of the jeweler hung on the wall next to the window. Aged copper and precious stones encrusted the antique-style furniture. A painting of a young nineteenth-century woman hung over the couch. There was a closed wooden cabinet for the TV, and the ceiling was more than twelve feet high. Walking farther into the room, Alex saw a king-sized bed in the bedroom. The bed looked soft and luxurious.

“Do you want to shower first, or shall I?” Cat asked.

“Go ahead.” Alex walked over to the window and looked out. It was snowing, but he could see the Russian Museum, Arts Square, and the statue of poet Alexander Pushkin—Alex read Pushkin's “The Gypsies” while studying at Harvard: “In the deserts you were not saved from misfortune, / And fateful passions are found everywhere. / And there is no defense against fate.” Alex sat and checked his computer for a secure email from JSOC, hoping for an update on General Tehrani's location, but there was no message.

When Cat finished showering, Alex took his turn in the spacious bathroom made of Italian marble. After they both had cleaned up, Alex and Cat ate lunch in the hotel restaurant. Then they went for a ride to do a reconnaissance of the pier where General Tehrani's oil tanker was scheduled to arrive. Although it was bitterly cold outside, Alex and Cat stayed warm inside the Mercedes. She snuggled up against him as he drove.

After their reconnaissance, they returned to the hotel and stopped at the Caviar Bar and Restaurant. Even though the restaurant wasn't open on Mondays or Tuesdays, Alex and Cat were in luck because the restaurant opened on the other days. They were also fortunate because the menus were in English. In the center of the white tablecloth at their table was a lit white candle sitting in a silver candleholder.

The waiter pushed a cart over to their table. Cat hungrily eyed the wide selection of caviar on display.

“Would you like some, Mrs. Lehmann?” Alex asked.

“Yes, I'd love that, Mr. Lehmann.”

Alex ordered the caviar bar cocktail: beluga, osetra, and salmon roe.

Using a small spoon, Cat put chilled caviar on small blini and added a touch of sour cream, chopped egg, and a sprinkle of chives.

“The way you eat caviar makes it look so delicious,” Alex said.

“You want to try one?”

“No, thanks. My parents tried to initiate me, but it didn't stick. Sarah and Grandpa didn't care for caviar, either.”

Alex put his hand on hers. She looked in his eyes as she pulled her hand away. His eyes locked on hers. She put her hand on his.

“I'm thirsty,” Cat said.

“Russian Standard Premium Vodka?”

They continued gazing into each other's eyes until their drinks arrived. Alex and Cat took a sip. “I didn't know you liked vodka,” she said.

“You know what I like?”

“What's that?”

“Your eyes. The way the candlelight flickers in them.”

The waiter arrived and served their soup. Alex ate meat
solyanka
. It was thick and tasted spicy and sour. Cat had clear Russian mushroom soup made with barley and vegetables. They shared a taste of their soups with each other.

Alex enjoyed the soup. It was masterfully made, but also just being with Cat had elevated Alex's sensations. On the downside, he felt as if he were softening as an operator. “You ruined me,” he said.

“What? When did I do that?”

“As an operator. You ruined me in Switzerland.”

“You kissed me first.”

“It wasn't part of the mission.”

“You make me feel alive,” she said.

“You make me forget things.”

“That doesn't sound so good.”

“Things that don't matter.”

“You know we could walk away from this mission, if we wanted to.”

“This mission still matters.”

“We could.” She slid her finger around the rim of her glass.

“Don't say that, please. Don't push me away tonight.”

Cat let it go.

For the main course, Alex enjoyed beef Stroganoff. Cat tried the steamed Kamchatka crab Romanov-style with champagne sauce and salmon caviar. Although it didn't sound good to Alex, she fed him a bite with her fork, and he liked it. From his fork, Cat sampled the Stroganoff.

For dessert, Cat ordered the Composition of Russian delights: Russian mille-feuille, baklava, berry
kissel,
and lemon vodka sorbet. Alex ate Pavlova cake with berries—meringue cloud with Chantilly cream and berries. They ate more of each other's dessert than they ate of their own.

Alex paid the check. “What would you like to do tonight?”

“You know what I like?” Cat asked.

“What's that?”

“Your eyes.”

He took her hand in his and didn't let go. Even when they returned to their room, turned the lights on, and gazed into each other's eyes, he didn't let go. Alex took her other hand. She kissed him.

He pulled away so he could stare into her eyes.

“I wish . . .” she said.

“You wish?”

“You're easy on the eyes.”

“That's not what you were going to say.”

She let it go and kissed him again.

Alex stopped kissing her and kicked off a shoe. Giggling, Cat kicked hers off, and the shoe hit the far wall. Laughing, they kicked off their remaining shoes together, hitting the far wall. He led her to the bed, and they stood next to it. Snow continued to float down from the sky outside their window. They kissed. He finally released her hands to unbutton her blouse. She stripped him down to his silk shorts, and he stripped her down to her bra and panties.

Cat giggled.

“What's so funny?” Alex asked.

“You still have your socks on.”

He smiled. “So do you.”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

Alex stripped off her bra and panties, and Cat removed his silk shorts. They kept their socks on and lay in bed embracing each other. At some point during the heat of passion, they lost their socks. Afterward, they showered together and made love under the hot water spray. When they returned to bed, they made love once more. Morning came quickly, and Alex ordered breakfast in bed. Shortly
after Alex put the empty dishes in the hall, he and Cat made love again. Finally, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

When Alex awoke, it was Friday evening. Cat's side of the bed was empty, and he heard the shower running. After she finished in the bathroom, Alex showered, too. Then they left their room to eat dinner in the hotel at L'Europe. The spacious hall featured high illuminated arches above balconies that filled the length of the hall. An enormous stained-glass window, Apollo riding in his chariot, covered the end of the hall. On a stage below the window, two musicians played Tchaikovsky, one on harp and the other on a baby grand piano. More stained-glass windows served as skylights that ran the length of the ceiling. Potted plants added color to the restaurant. Alex and Cat ate the gourmet menu for two: truffle-flavored scrambled egg inside an egg topped with salmon caviar, American prime beef tenderloin, and cake layered with milk chocolate and berries. In spite of the exquisite surroundings and delicious meal, it was merely foreplay. Alex and Cat hurried back to their room and made love again.