Her Russian Hero (International Romance Series) (19 page)

Cecile’s frown deepened. “Why
would things go wrong?”

Sergei shook his head. “Because
the officer who is supposed to sign the application is my dear father-in-law.
The customs bureau is under his jurisdiction and he seems determined to
undermine every one of my projects.”

With a shrug, Sergei dismissed
the potential problem. He’d found a way to accomplish his dream of ridding his
country from carcinogens and was not going to worry about the details right
now. His colonel could handle the situation with his usual efficiency.

Cecile turned to face him. His
body ached with need for her, yet he made a superhuman effort to appear
unperturbed by her pleading look.

“General, as soon as I retrieve
the equipment from the airport I’ll work with you on the requirements of the
new proposal.” Contradictory emotions played on her face, assertiveness,
reassurance and supplication.

He arched an eyebrow. She wanted
to see him but on her own terms. Without smiling, he acknowledged her offer.

“Thank you, Cecile. We’ll see how
things work out tomorrow at the airport.”

He was losing his grip on his
control with every passing moment. He stood, signaling the end of the meeting
and bowed, formal and polite, without handshakes or hand-kissing. Her gaze,
puzzled and sad, pierced his heart.

In the past, even with people
around them, he’d managed to reach her directly or through his colonel. Today,
he’d turned a page, a very short one, crowded with feelings.

There was no room for feelings in
their worlds.

At the door, Cecile paused and
turned. She threw him a desperate look, her eyes a shining green pool of tears.
He clenched his jaw and sat at his desk, his muscles rigid and tense. How long
could he ignore her?

* * * * *

In complete arctic weather attire,
Cecile braved the frigid winter to head to the airport at two o’clock in the
afternoon. Paul, Jeffrey, John and Dr. Kadelov settled in the back of a large
military Jeep driven by Colonel Nicouvitch.

At the airport, Nicolai parked in
front of the customs zone. He knocked on the door of an office, then entered.
Cecile and Kadelov followed him while the others waited outside the cramped
little room. Nicolai greeted the clerk. “
Dobroye deen
,
Comrade
.”

After five minutes of animated
conversation and hand gestures, the colonel’s face turned red. His voice rose.
Through her limited vocabulary and their facial expressions, she could guess
the discussion was not proceeding in the right direction. Cecile waited for
Nicolai to translate the Russian conversation.

“The clerk has not received the
permit from the customs bureau. He cannot release the equipment without it.”

Damn Roussov, he hadn’t sent the
permit.

Nicolai pointed to the
decorations on his chest and shoved what looked like his identity card under
the man’s nose but the other just shook his head.

She heard a lot of
Niet, niet,
niet
.

Nicolai banged on the desk. The
clerk sprung up from his chair and spread his arms with his palms open, then
nodded and dialed a telephone number.

This time, the words uttered
were,
Da, da
,
okay, okay
, before the clerk hung up the phone and
talked to Nicolai. He shook his hands several times, crossing them back and
forth on top of each other, in a denial gesture. The colonel hammered the desk
while shouting.

At least she understood the body
language and put a restraining hand on Nicolai’s arm. “Calm down. I’m sure
there must be some confusion here. Explain to me what this guy said.”

“He has not received the permit.”
Nicolai inhaled and exhaled deeply. “He called to inquire. They said, ‘the
permit would be signed when Colonel Roussov has time’. And now, this man can’t
release the analytical equipment and can’t break the regulations.” Nicolai
rubbed his forehead and hesitated before adding, “They also told him that if
the American Program Manager wants a permit for her equipment she has to call
Colonel Roussov herself.”

Cecile gasped. “The jerk, he
wants me to call him.”

“No way, Cecile. Don’t.” Nicolai
shook his hand.

“I need this equipment out of the
airport and in the Belchem Lab as soon as possible. Tell this guy I will call
Colonel Roussov and I will be back tomorrow to get my stuff.”

Kadelov translated. “He says,
‘make sure you come tomorrow because after that he will be away for the rest of
the week and his substitute is not a patient man.’ We cannot stay longer in his
office, Cecile. He has to take care of other people.”

She stubbornly refused to leave
and moved her chair to the corner of the room watching a new petitioner fill
out a paper and hand it to the clerk. “How come this guy has no permit?”

Nicolai talked to the clerk who
sighed and raised his arms up with hands wide-open. “He said you are a very
difficult woman. This man is retrieving agricultural machines and doesn’t need
a special permit. You are dealing with chemical and analytical instruments.
They are listed as dangerous and cannot be released without a permit from the
Bureau of National Security. Now, can we go?”

Cecile chewed on her lip for a
moment. “Who told him that our equipment is ‘chemical and analytical
instruments’?”

Nicolai fixed a questioning look
on her. “As soon as we entered, I told him that the permit for ‘chemical and
analytical instruments’ should have been sent to him.”

She sighed. “I see. So he
wouldn’t have known otherwise. Too bad you talked too fast.”

“But you cannot hide that fact.”
Nicolai’s face reddened with righteous indignation.

In the hallway, they explained to
John, Jeffrey and Paul the outcome of their useless conversation with the
clerk.

During the drive back to the
hotel, the men discussed the best approach to solve the problem, mingling
advice and suggestions. Cecile remained quiet, immersed in her own thoughts.
She would meet with Roussov, and if he still wished to play his dirty tricks,
she would use a last desperate approach to retrieve the equipment.

After he dropped them in front of
the hotel, the colonel took her aside. “Please, for your own sake, don’t call
Roussov. Sergei will never forgive you.”

“How else am I going to get the
equipment? I have to set the lab in order to fulfill both my contract and
Sergei’s plan for analyzing the soil of Minsk.”

“Forget the soil. Forget the lab
for a moment. Think about Sergei and how mad he will be,” he said with earnest.

“Today, he already seemed upset
at me.” She scowled, bitterness overwhelming her heart. “Believe me, Nicolai, I
care more about Sergei’s plan than my own contract now. I can always have other
contracts. For him, it’s the goal of his life. I have to get the equipment from
the airport. Please, don’t tell Sergei about my meeting with Roussov.” She may
lose her general but she would give him a proof of her love and set up the lab
as fast as possible.

“I’ll keep your secret. Do what
you think is best but be very careful. You’ll be dealing with the devil
himself.”

* * * * *

Lying on her bed, staring at the
ceiling, Cecile debated how to handle Roussov. With a Machiavellian mind like
his, she needed a good plan of action and a backup one. She had to see him all
right but in a way that meant he couldn’t harm her or force himself on her, in
case he’d ever consider it.

On a sudden impulse, she jumped
from her bed, took her key and rushed down the corridor to John’s room.

Cecile knocked a couple of times before
and opened the unlocked door. “Hey, what a good surprise,” John said. “Come on
in, my dear, join us.” She entered and found Paul sitting in a chair across
from the bed.

He stood and gave her his place.
“We were drinking and brainstorming about the best way to handle this difficult
situation.” They both sat on the bed facing her. John reached for the vodka
bottle.

“I can’t believe you’re drinking
vodka, even when you are alone without Belarusians around,” she said with a
half-smile.

John filled a shot glass and
handed it to her while Paul laughed. “The Belarusians are right. This liquor
has incredible benefits. Two days ago, it cured you and right now it’s stirring
our brain cells into action.”

“Well, I didn’t come to drink but
if your head is still clear, I’ll ask for your opinion. We have a big problem
here. I need to solve it without ruffling too many feathers.”

“Why do you think Roussov insists
on you personally calling him?” John raked his frizzy hair with a nervous hand.
She could see that he didn’t dare ask a more specific question.

Paul didn’t have such qualms.
“Hey boss, did he make any unpleasant advances?”

“No but…” She paused and they
both narrowed their eyes. Her gaze flicked from one to the other. “I think his
attitude is more directed at harming Sergei. But I don’t know how he plans to
achieve this goal if that’s what he has in mind.”

They forgot to drink for a
moment, John staring straight ahead and Paul fixing a bleak look at his shoes.

“When you’re done squeezing your
brain for a plausible explanation, I’ll share my plan with you.” They both
focused an expectant gaze on her. “I’ll call Roussov and ask him for the
permit. Now if he insists, I’ll agree to meet with him.”

She hesitated, not sure about how
much she wanted to reveal. Paul arched a questioning brow. He knew her well
enough to guess her nervousness. “Is there anything else we need to know? You
can trust us. It wouldn’t be fair for you to cope with all the problems alone.”

He was right. They wanted to help
her and she owed them some explanation. She related her previous encounters
with Roussov but didn’t mention her relationship with Sergei.

They listened intently. “If you
insist on meeting with him, do it in a big restaurant. We’ll drop you off and
wait for you outside,” Paul suggested.

Cecile shrugged. “I don’t think
he would physically attack me. I’m more afraid of what he’ll say or ask.”

Paul swallowed a sip of his
drink. “In that case, take your little memo recorder. Turn it on. If he
harasses you, we’ll have proof of it.”

“Great idea. I’ll do that.”

John scratched his head. “We
better take the bull by the horns. You should call him right now, Cecile, so we
can listen to the conversation.”

He handed her the telephone. She
dialed the number of the Ministry of Defense, asked for Colonel Roussov and was
transferred to his office. A secretary put her on hold, then she heard the
syrupy voice of Sergei’s father-in-law greeting her as if she was his longtime
friend.

She went straight to the point.
“Colonel Roussov, we were at the airport this afternoon to retrieve the
equipment. I was told that you hadn’t signed the permit yet. Are you by any
chance opposed to the U.S. aid to Belarus?”

“Dr. Lornier, please, I am
shocked.” On the other end of the line, his voice grated on her nerves, polite
but chiming with righteous indignation. “How can you ever imagine such a thing?
I am so grateful for the aid provided by your country.”

If she hadn’t seen Roussov on two
previous occasions and personally felt the sting of his malevolence, she would
have sworn he was the sweetest man on Earth.

“Well, why didn’t you sign the
permit?” She hissed through gritted teeth while fighting to keep her calm.

“You’re a busy person, Dr.
Lornier. You, more than anyone, should understand that a man in my position
dealing with so many responsibilities can overlook one of the hundreds of
papers piled on his desk for a signature.” His voice dripped with kindness. “I
would like to prove my good intentions. We will meet for dinner in a downtown
restaurant. I will sign the permit and give it to you.”

Cecile brought her fingers to her
mouth and gestured to her friends that he wanted to take her to dinner. John
wrote on a piece of paper, “Don’t worry. Go ahead.”

She bit her lip and suppressed a
sigh. “Colonel, I’d be honored to join you. Please, give me the address of the
restaurant.”

He wanted to pick her up but she
refused and he didn’t insist. She hung up and repeated the conversation. “I’ll
see him tomorrow at seven. He’s up to something but I can’t guess what.”

She swallowed hard, unable to
discard the image of his hand grasping her shoulder on the sidewalk and his
devilish gaze glued to her face.

The next morning, Cecile joined
her companions in the hotel restaurant for a cup of coffee. Her mind riveted on
her dinner with Roussov, she had hardly slept the previous night, one
hypothesis after another swirling around in her brain. His invitation to a
reputable restaurant eliminated the conjecture that he’d try to impose himself
on her. She still couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for his
determination to take her out.

They were surprised to see
Colonel Nicouvitch walking into the hotel dining room. He settled beside them and
poured himself a cup of coffee. “Tell me, my friends, what are your plans for
today?” The four men looked at Cecile.

With a nervous finger, she rubbed
the scowl knitting her forehead. “I don’t know about John but we’re going to
the Belchem Lab. We have a lot of work there. Jeffrey is continuing the
computer training. Paul and I are meeting with Kadelov to plan the logistics of
the equipment installation.”

The colonel rubbed his hands
around his cup and leaned toward them. “No trip to the airport today?”

This was a sore point for her.
“No, not today. Hopefully tomorrow.” Cecile sighed. If tonight’s dinner didn’t
turn into a fiasco. “Why? What do you have in mind?”

“I explained to my
Generalle
that the equipment will not be retrieved for a couple of days. He suggested
that you and John come to work with him on the new proposal.” His gaze shifted
from her to John.