Her Russian Hero (International Romance Series) (15 page)

They strolled through a long dark
corridor, mounted the stairs and ended up in a small room furnished with rows
of plastic chairs—the departure gate of Minsk Airport. At the extreme right of
the room, a door opened. A flood of passengers poured in, moving straight to
the escalator hidden by a railing.

Cecile shrieked. “Oh, this is my
famous escalator.”

John burst out laughing. “The
notorious escalator that sent you flying right into the Major General.”

She moved toward the railing and
stared with rapture down the escalator. “It’s still broken,” she mused with a
shivering voice as if she was admiring a beautiful sculpture.

John slapped his leg and boomed,
“My goodness, Cecile, you should see your face. You’re rhapsodizing about a
broken escalator.” He mimicked her voice and rasped idiotically, “Do you want
me to take a picture and frame it for you?”

Exasperated by his teasing,
Cecile returned to her place. “Maybe if you’d almost broken your back on this
malfunctioning piece of junk you would understand.”

Nicouvitch nodded seriously. “Dr.
Lornier, my
Generalle
has sent a written petition to the Ministry of
Transportation requesting the escalator’s repair. It will be taken care of as
soon as the government gets some money.”

Cecile smiled with emotion.
Sergei too hadn’t forgotten the incident that propelled her into his arms.

The loudspeaker alerted the
passengers to Munich to line up at the gate. Cecile hugged Nicolai. “Thank you
for everything.”

“
Dasvidania
, Cecile,
John.”

Carrying their hand luggage,
Cecile and John walked down the ramp and stepped into the plane. Cecile slid
into the window seat. John, who couldn’t reserve a business class seat on the
overbooked flight, settled next to her.

Her nose glued to the window, she
watched the airport and the forest of thin trees disappear. The plane rose into
the clear blue sky sparsely spotted with clouds. Cecile leaned back against the
chair and closed her eyes. She remembered her disappointment upon landing just
a week ago. Everything had seemed gray and cold. Now, Minsk was the golden city
holding her prince charming within its gate, the pivotal place where she
couldn’t wait to return.

She had dreaded traveling to a
faraway country to perform a difficult task and ended up with the extraordinary
bonus of a perfect lover and a wondrous night.

“Cecile? Cecile?” John’s words
punctured through the foggy layer where her depressive thoughts twirled and
collided.

She tipped her head toward him.
“Yes?” she croaked. Faint and hoarse, her own voice surprised her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize you
were asleep.”

“I’m not asleep, just
daydreaming. What is it?”

John stared at her with a frown
of concern, “Are you sick?”

“No but extremely tired.”

“I understand. I’m tired too. I
miss my kids and I’m eager to arrive in Washington.”

She sighed. She missed her general
and would rather head back to Minsk.

* * * * *

“Hello Cecile, welcome back.”
Paul Miller’s booming voice reverberated from the laboratory hallway. He
strolled into her office his arms wide-opened and she circled around the desk
to hug him.

The logistics manager was a big
man, ten years her senior. Cecile considered him a friend rather than an
employee. She had regularly been invited to spend Christmas at the Millers’.
Paul, his wife, son and two daughters offered the perfect family atmosphere she
craved on major holidays.

Gifted with tremendous aplomb and
the knack to laugh at almost everything in life, Paul amused her. With sound
advice or outrageous jokes, he often lightened up the heavy burden of her
responsibilities.

“
Dobroye outroh
,
Dr.
Robota
,” Paul said, with a big grin.

She lifted questioning eyebrows.
“Holy moly, how do you know about that name?”

“News travels fast. Actually,
John Gordon called early this morning and told me about your trip. Apparently
the country is famous for its vodka and its pretty women.” Paul’s eyes twinkled
with mischief behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

Cecile didn’t feel like smiling.
No one had greeted her the previous night at Logan Airport. She still wondered
how she’d gathered enough energy to go through the customs arrival procedures,
collect her car from the long-term parking lot and drive for an hour through
the forever-jammed Callahan Tunnel and the busy streets of downtown Boston.

But she was safely home and back
into her lab. A familiar faint smell wafted into the corridor. She recognized
the acrid odor of nitric acid and the sweet alcohol-like smell of methylene
chloride, the bread and butter of her analytical laboratory. The technicians
used gallons of these chemicals on a daily basis for their sample preparation.

“We accomplished a lot in a short
time.” And not only in the laboratory. “I hope we can go back soon to complete
our mission.”

“There’s no rush.” Paul patted
her shoulder. “Cecile, you know my philosophy, enjoy life whenever you can and
as much as you can. Unfortunately, my dear, you are wasting yourself day and
night in the lab. I thought the trip and contact with a different culture would
alter your misplaced dedication to work. But according to John, it only
worsened over there.” He gave an exaggerated sigh.

Cecile averted his gaze. There
was no need to let him guess his concerned wishes had been fulfilled. She
walked to her office. “Paul, we’ll have a staff meeting at ten. Be there
please, even if you’ve already got your personal report.”

“Yes,
Dr. Robota
, will
do.”

With a lopsided smile, he left
her office. Cecile suppressed a relieved sigh. Let them think what they wanted.
At least, their incorrect opinion guaranteed her privacy. She could only
imagine Rob’s reaction if he heard that his serious ex-fiancée had thrown her
cool reserve to the Belarusian winds and fallen head over heels for a faraway
general.

Talk about the devil. Cecile
grimaced as Rob strutted into her office. “Welcome back, Dr. Lornier,” he said,
with the smirk she remembered all too well.

“Good morning, Rob.” She kept her
voice pleasant and plastered a smile on her face.

“I heard the news. Not bad at all
for your first time, my dear. You can unload the burden on me anytime, if it
becomes too hard,” he said.

“Bug off, Rob. Things are going
well.” She’d be damned if she ever asked for his help. To think she’d been
engaged to him and came close to marrying the creep. There was no way on earth,
she’d tell him to come and help with the environmental cleanup in Belarus.

Oh Sergei, I miss you so much
.

* * * * *

Three long weeks, occupied by
successive meetings with Paul and the senior chemists, passed in a strange
foggy blur. No news came from Minsk.

Cecile’s head spun from the blow
of a crushed hope. A depressive mood invaded her mind. These were the side
effects of getting involved with a man who lived on the other side of the
world, a hero dedicated to his country, a personality whose life was
scrutinized by the spying Director of National Security. Why did she have to
fall into Sergei’s arms?

Shaking her head in dismay, she
scoffed. She had fallen in his arms in the true sense of the word. Was she
going to keep on waiting and hoping? For what exactly?

It was time to get back on her
feet and move ahead. At home, Cecile buried her face in her pillow determined
to forget the extracurricular activities of the Minsk trip. She would control
her head and her heart and concentrate on her work. While listing the
instrument vendors she should call in the morning, Cecile fell asleep.

In the lab, she avoided useless
daydreaming. With draconian discipline, she suppressed her erratic thoughts and
rigidly focused on the task at hand. Two of the vendors assured her that the
equipment was on its way and the four others promised to expedite the shipping
to Minsk.

John called several times to
follow up on the ordering process and peppered his conversation with fond
Belarusian reminiscences that burned her heart like sulfuric acid on an open
wound. “If the first shipment is expected to arrive in a couple of weeks, we
should get ready for our next trip. Who are you taking with us?”

“Paul Miller, our logistics
manager and Jeffrey Burns, the lab manager, who will supervise the installation
of the equipment and the training. As soon as we bring the equipment to the
Belchem Lab, a team of five chemists will join us from here.”

“Well, fax me their names,
pictures and all information needed for their visas.”

They’d be going soon to Belarus. Did
Sergei still remember her? Or had he forgotten her with a local beauty?

Just as she was switching off the
lights to leave her office, the phone rang. “Dr. Lornier, please?”

“Speaking.” The caller’s Russian
accent was difficult to understand over the static on the line. Her heart
skipped a beat as she recognized the voice.

“Cecile, it’s Sergei.”

“Oh my God, Sergei. Where are you
calling from?”

“I’m in Frankfurt. I’ve been in
Germany for a week. When are you coming back?”

“Soon, Sergei. Soon.” She smiled,
trying to control her racing pulse. In a flicker, her despair evaporated and
with it the self-imposed stern resolutions. No more
Dr. Robota
who
worked, worked and worked. She wanted to live and be happy.

“I can’t talk long. I missed you,
Cecilya. Come back.”

“Soon.” She felt like hugging the
telephone.

The next day John called to ask
if she would be ready to leave in a week. “No problem at all.” She was ready to
leave now.

Chapter Thirteen

Cecile’s head jerked forward as
the plane landed roughly on the icy runway. Three weeks in Boston. Three weeks
that felt like three years. Too restless to idly wait in her place, she leaped
out of her seat and strode to the plane’s exit. The sight of two Belarusian
uniforms topped with two familiar faces greeted her as soon as the door of the
Boeing opened.

Without hesitation, Cecile kissed
the colonel on both cheeks, then flung her arms around the general’s neck. His
chin pressed against her
chapka
. “Welcome back, Cecilya.” His whispered
endearment melted away the fatigue of the long trip and the loneliness of the
past weeks.

As she immediately disentangled
herself, her heart sang.
I’m home in his arms where I belong.

Exuberant with relief, John
bear-hugged the colonel. “So good to see you. It was a long, long trip. The
snowstorm delayed us in Boston. We missed our connection in Frankfurt and were
rerouted via Moscow. A horrible trip.”

The general clapped him on the
back. “Welcome, my friends. So good to see you all safe and sound.”

Cecile stepped back and waved to
the two men standing behind her. “General, this mountain of a man is Paul
Miller, our logistics manager. A valuable guy to keep around.”

The general chuckled. “Such a
recommendation from Dr. Lornier is an incredible reference.”

“And the very tall guy is Jeffrey
Burns, our lab manager, who will install the equipment and train the Belchem
chemists.”

“Welcome to Minsk, gentlemen.”

Paul shook hands with the
officers. “Nice to meet you, General Fedorin but do you guys realize that, with
our hugging and kissing, we’re holding the rest of the passengers inside the
plane.”

They proceeded along the ramp and
reached the infamous escalator. Fedorin ordered, “Gentlemen, watch your steps.
We haven’t gathered the funds to fix it yet.”

Nicouvitch went first. The
general grabbed Cecile’s tote bag and briefcase in one hand and slid the other
under her elbow to help her down the escalator. She held on tightly to the
railing. He smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry.”

Hanging on her general’s arm,
Cecile progressed on the love escalator, as she spontaneously named it. “With
you I never worry,” she murmured. A blazing heat radiated from her arm to her
waist and spread all over her body. “How come you came to the airport?”

“The airport is almost deserted
at dawn. No one would question our motive for receiving the American delegation
after a very trying trip.”

At the bottom of the escalator,
Sergei left her and preceded them to passport control. In a record five
minutes, the four passports were checked and stamped under the watchful eyes of
the two officers.

Cecile laughed, the stress of the
past days forgotten. “You see, John, the benefit of being received by a
general. Last time, we waited for an hour.”

They crossed customs control even
faster. Sergei insisted on carrying her suitcases himself. The colonel helped
tuck the luggage in the military Jeep.

 At five in the morning, the
icy sidewalk shimmered under the flickering streetlights but beyond the
airport, the blackness of the night still enfolded the surroundings. Paul and
Jeffrey joined Tania in the van.

Sergei helped Cecile into the
backseat of the military Jeep and slid beside her. John settled in the front
next to Nicolai and the colonel drove away. Cuddled next to her general, Cecile
compared this arrival in Belarus to her first trip. She had a comfortable sense
of déjà vu with the added bonus of Sergei’s hands enfolding hers.

He raised her palm to his lips
and trailed a warm path over each of her fingers. She leaned against the back
of the seat and closed her eyes, happy to be with him. His arm slipped behind
her back bringing her closer. “Dr. Lornier, tell us about your trip. What has
caused such a delay in your arrival?”

She jolted up, stunned by his
official voice and the casual wording and twisted her head toward him. He
winked and blew her a kiss, then raised a finger pointing at a little bulb in
the Jeep’s roof. She remembered the damned KGB and its blasted bugging system.