Fires of Kiev Page 4

  “You must visit some of the city while you are here,” Kostya insisted. From her hotel window, he pointed to the golden, onion-shaped towers and white stucco walls of Kyiv Pechersk Lavra, a cathedral that had been built into the side of a hill overlooking the Dnieper River. “Under that church are tunnels that burrow throughout the city. Once, my brothers and I made it all the way across the Dnieper River in the tunnels.”

  “They just let you explore like that?” Meredith looked at him incredulously.

  “We may have gone past some barriers.” He smiled mischievously. “But it was really amazing. And we knew where we were going.”

  “How can I say no to such an accomplished guide?” Meredith laughed.

  The iconic building was within walking distance, so they slowly made their way along the parks and shops of downtown Kiev. By the time they toured the cathedral and left the caves, evening was falling, so Kostya led Meredith on a walk along the Dnieper through the park. The green trees were thick and overlapped above them, making a shaded passageway for them to walk. The sidewalks were lit with black, Victorian-style lights, and as the sun started to set, they flickered on, one by one.

  Near the top of the park, Kostya stopped briefly at a vendor’s cart that was packing up for the evening. Kostya offered a bottle of water when he returned, and Meredith gratefully accepted, taking a long drink of the water. When she finished, Kostya took her hand. “There is one more thing I want to show you before it is too dark.” As she followed him toward the road, she couldn’t help but think of two nights ago when she was settled in the back of her car, totally helpless. Now, she felt like she had known Kostya forever.

  In front of them was a narrow pedestrian bridge that spanned the busy road between the parks. Fashioned out of black iron, the stairs on each side of the road rose to a narrow walkway demarcated with ornate railings. As he started toward it he explained, “In Kiev, there is a legend that lovers who pledge their love by placing a lock on the railing and sharing a kiss while crossing this bridge will have a love that lasts forever.”

  Meredith regarded thousands of locks and ribbons placed on the railings of the bridge as they approached. “How romantic. How many couples have made promises to each other here, do you think?” She studied a few of the individual locks. “Many have initials or sayings written on them.” Taking her hand, Kostya led her slowly across the bridge, stopping halfway across. The streetlamps glowed, lights illuminated the golden roofs of the nearby cathedral, and the first stars appeared.

  “Make a wish,” Meredith said, spinning to face Kostya.

  He looked puzzled, so she explained. “When I was a child, whenever you were present as the first stars emerged, you had to make a wish.” She leaned onto the railing, breathing in the night air and the view. “It can be anything you want.”

  “A wish on a star.” Kostya stood beside her, and raising his eyes, put on a thoughtful face and gazed toward the heavens. Within seconds, Meredith felt the weight of that gaze on her.

  He stepped in closer until he was standing behind her, a shadow that skimmed her body but didn’t touch. She perceived his breath first, leaning in, tickling her ear with his lips. “If I tell you the wish, will it still come true?”

  “No. You never tell your wish.” Meredith said the words she’d known since childhood. “It’s the rule.” All at once frightened and thrilled, she forced herself to look at the sky as he put his hands on her hips and his presence filled in where the shadow had fallen.

  “What if I just show you?” Kostya pulled Meredith around and swept her into his arms. Dazed, her eyes searched his but fell closed as he drew her in to him. His breath bloomed on her cheek, an accidental touch skimmed her chin, and then his kiss softly found her lips, its restrained intensity rising as quickly as her heart rate. At first, she braced herself against his chest, but he took her hands and held them by their sides, fingers intertwined. “Meri,” he breathed. And he slipped something heavy into her hand.

  Opening her eyes to look, she saw a golden padlock and two keys attached with a small chain.

  “Tomorrow is the end of this time together, but I believe in the possibilities of fate. Who can say what may happen if we place a love lock here and invite destiny to write the ending of our story?” He ran his hand along her cheek, stopping to lift her chin. “Let’s share this moment of endless possibilities.”

  Meredith nodded, her eyes believing at last. “Wait,” she said, and pulled a Sharpie out of her purse. “We may not be able to have it engraved, but we can write our initials.”

  Kostya smiled and held the lock as Meredith scribed their initials inside a heart. Then, she turned the lock over and wrote, A wish on a star that came true.

  Kostya read the inscription, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Every cell in her body vibrated as he leaned in toward her. “I’m done waiting, dushen’ka,” he growled, causing a jolt of energy to shoot from her heart to her knees. He kissed her with a deep intensity beyond her experience, immediately awakening desires she didn’t know existed. Every fiber of her became committed to this man at this moment. She cheered the fates that threw them together and booed the pragmatists who picked out impossibilities. How could something so intensely right not be meant to be? She suddenly believed in stars granting wishes, the hands of fate, and the Tooth Fairy. When she kissed Kostya, anything was possible. So why did she feel tears pricking her eyes?

  Kostya noticed the tears and used his thumbs to dry them. “Meri?”

  Meredith shook her head, fighting off doubts. “I want to believe, but…”

  He kissed her gently on the forehead, and cupped her jaw with his hands to look at her intensely. “Then believe.” Kostya took her hand to hold the padlock together with her. They both knelt on the bridge and clasped the lock together. Kostya removed the keys and placed one in her hand and put one in his pocket. He helped her stand and kissed her again.

  “It is done. We are bound.”

  She laughed. “Bound for the weekend at least.”

  “No, more. It is already Monday. Who knows what else we may see together.”

  They walked quietly down the stairs on the other side of the footbridge, and followed the path toward Meredith’s hotel. Along the way, they stood at the edge of the Dnieper River. The vast power of the river crossing through the beautiful city was magical. She clasped the key in her hand, almost as if making a wish for what would be. They wandered past closed shops and cafés offering a late meal or drink, but eventually, arrived at the hotel.

  Kostya followed Meredith to the elevator and they rose to the ninth floor. Taking her to her door, Kostya faced her, their hands clinging to each other palm to palm, fingers intertwined. They said nothing for several moments, until Kostya pulled her into his shoulder. Wrapping his other arm around her waist, he sighed.

  She gripped him and held for several seconds, basking in the security of Kostya next to her. If the world were a different place, she thought. If political barriers and class structures and economics could all disappear, she could be loved by a man like Kostya.

  She thought of her debutante lifestyle back in Louisiana, her days as a sorority girl, and her acceptance into medical school. These were part of her life in America and would not exist in the Ukraine. Kostya, who would be a professional, a computer engineer here in the Ukraine, would still have a life of hardships and struggles in a land where the government was as unstable as the economy.

  Yet with him and his family, she saw home. She saw love and loyalty and pride in one’s work. There were many of the American upper class who didn’t have those things.

  Nonetheless, in two more months she would be on an airplane to the U.S. with Doctors Without Borders on her resume. She’d start medical school at George Washington in the fall, and she’d likely return to her life of school, friends, dating, and stress. There would be no Kostya beyond the tender memories of the past few days.

  Even though it had only been such a short time, she wondered
if she’d ever experience a love like this again. Could she leave Kostya after this? Would she always wonder what the fates would have written for them? It was an impossible situation. There was no life for her here. No life, except for Kostya.

  He ran his finger along her jaw, lifted her chin, and brushed his lips against her forehead and eyelids.

  “I can never forget this.” He kissed her lips, slowly and softly at first, but rising in intensity. Her heart pulsed, and she could feel her body flushing as Kostya pulled back slightly, pressing forehead to forehead, still breathing her air.

  “Stay,” she whispered. Neither one of them moved, frozen in each other’s touch.

  “I don’t expect…”

  “Stay,” Meredith said again, this time more insistent. “I want you to. I want this to last as long as it can. I want to share the night with you.”

  Kostya’s breath became harder and he gazed into Meredith’s golden eyes. “Yes.”

  Meredith slid the keycard into the door and Kostya led her into the room. He pressed against her, bringing her lips to his. “Dushen’ka.” He circled her waist with his arm and swung her up into his arms, carrying her across the threshold of the room. He kissed her while lowering her to the ground and pushing her against the wall.

  The relaxed pace outside the room exploded with need and desire inside. Meredith arched her back to urge him closer. He slipped his hands in the back pockets of her jeans pulling her hips into him. His legs, straddled across one of hers, pressed against her thigh, proving he was just as affected as she was.

  Meredith’s body was dizzy with need, drunk from his touch, and high from the adrenaline coursing through her. Yet inside, her doubts couldn’t be silenced.

  Am I really doing this? Meredith’s heart pounded as she fingered the buttons to his shirt. Shaking as she loosed each one, she giggled quietly when her hands slipped.

  Flashing his dimples, he asked, “What’s so funny?”

  “I think I’m just nervous.” She locked gazes with him. “I don’t do things like this—I mean—not ever.”

  Kostya breathed, patiently watching her fumbling actions. “Never?”

  As soon as the buttons were loose, Meredith looked up at him. “Um, no.” Stepping back she dropped her eyes and stammered, “I wanted to… I mean… I wanted it—him—us to be special, and it just never happened.” Her face reddened with her confession.

  When Meredith looked up, Kostya was staring at her with a hungry intensity that warmed her all over. “Do you think I am special?”

  Meredith couldn’t help but smile. “Beyond what I ever dreamt, Kostya.”

  “Then come here, dushen’ka.” He quickly pulled off his shirt. “I’m glad you don’t—you know—do this. But I have a secret.” Meredith raised her eyebrows. “I don’t do this very much either.”

  Meredith’s lips turned up coyly, a show of bravery to hide her quaking insides. “Perhaps it’s time we both got some practice.”

  Bursting with a grin, Kostya pulled his undershirt swiftly over his head, and Meredith ran her fingers over the lines of muscle on his chest and stomach. He weaved his hand through the back of her hair, freeing the ponytail she had worn and stroking her curls. Guided by his hand, she leaned forward and kissed his chest, then tilted her head up to find his parted lips waiting.

  Kostya expertly slipped his hands oh so dangerously along her sides, then reached beneath her blouse. Raising the hem past her head and arms, he tossed the fabric on the floor. They both looked down at her lacy bra, and Kostya took a deep breath. “You are beautiful,” he said, inciting another nervous giggle from Meredith.

  He laughed, and the tension eased as Kostya pulled her close, kissing her deeply and running his hands along her shoulders and cupping her breasts. Playfully he swept her into his arms and lifted her, carrying her to the bed in the center of the room.

  “There’s a list of things I want to practice,” Kostya said kneeling over her.

  “Hmm,” Meredith mused. “Why don’t you tell me what you want to try first?”

  Needing no further invitation, Kostya lowered himself on top of her, kissing along her neck and jaw line, then whispered in Meredith’s ear. Blushing, her mouth, a perfect O of surprise, evolved into a grin. “I know it’s just practice, but I hope we get that one perfect.”

  “I have a feeling we will.” Kostya pressed against her.

  Together, they started working through the list.

  ****

  “I don’t want tomorrow to come,” Meredith whispered. Their eyes heavy and sleep imminent, Meredith brushed her hand across his cheek, rough with dark stubble.

  “Just stay with me. That will be enough.” He pulled her into his side and stroked her hair. Falling asleep in each other’s arms was so natural. Rest came easily to them both.

  But in the gray light of morning, Meredith’s doubts returned. Still warm in his embrace, she slid out of bed without waking Kostya. She gathered her belongings and sat on the edge of the bed watching him breathe. The light filtered across his cheekbones and nose, highlighting the straight lines of his profile.

  He is beautiful.

  She touched a lock of hair on his forehead and pushed it back. Then lightly she ran her finger on his lips.

  I could love you, if the world would stop turning.

  But it wouldn’t stop, no matter how tightly he held her. Their lives were too different, their goals too far apart.

  She stood and gathered her things. As she left, she checked her pocket for the key from the lock on the bridge. She almost put it next to his wallet, but she couldn’t bear to part with it. She clutched it in her hand.

  As she closed the door and left, tears streamed down her face.

  Chapter 4

  November, Five years later

  Dulles Airport, Washington D.C.,

  Customs and Border Patrol Area

  Kostya Dychenko’s jaw clenched as he watched one more desk agent closing his service window. Rubbing the back of his neck, he leaned against the wall, shook his head, and looked at the floor. The line for customs clearance was long, and the arrival of yet another jumbo jet from Europe only lengthened the wait and dashed the hopes of travelers planning to get through anytime soon. With as many people as there were waiting, Kostya wanted to complain. Instead he remained calm and avoided bringing attention to himself. It was hard to be patient when he knew what was at stake.

  He scanned the room again for familiar faces, at the moment, one of his greatest fears. Beside him, children fussed in their mothers’ laps, and business people thumbed out emails on their cell phones hoping to fill the time as they waited. The CBP officers seemed unhurried by the bigger crowd of people. It was just another day at one of the busiest international airports in the United States. In just moments though, he, a wanted fugitive, was going to beg for asylum.

  Slouched by the wall, Kostya held a black backpack on his shoulder. He brushed his fingers against the chip he had sewn in the top media pocket as he slipped a pair of earbuds out and into his ears. He avoided making eye contact with anyone. No one had approached him on the plane or on his layover in Amsterdam, so he was probably safe, but who knew what would make the news cycle here in the United States.

  A few days ago, he was happy to do his job as a high-level programmer for Parcera, a computer company in Kiev. There were hundreds of such nameless companies in the Ukraine, farming out capable computer skills to companies in the U.S. who paid a fraction of what they’d have to pay their workers at home. The work was mundane and repetitive, but it paid, and it was what he had been trained to do.

  The money supported him, but also helped his mother and father who still lived deep in the Ukrainian farmlands of Cherkasy. They had kept their land despite pressure to sell from the farm corporations around them. Each year, profits were driven lower and lower. Kostya had been afraid they would have to sell out and move his parents to live with him in Kiev.

  Then came his manager, Mik’s, offer of extra wo
rk.

  There are some old computer parts a customer wants fixed. The job used skills Kostya learned as a boy, pulling apart and putting together anything mechanical or electrical. He remembered his mother’s frustration when she found the telephone spread out along the kitchen table. His father laughed and asked him to show him the schematic drawings he made, and helped him to improve them. By the time he was a teenager, neighbors brought him their broken televisions, failing engines, and jammed sewing machines—he had the reputation of being able to fix anything.

  Find out the purpose of each unit and fix them to work again. The pieces were rack mounted computer modules in the putty color that truly typified the era in which they were made. He needed to reverse engineer each box, mapping out and repairing the workings of each one, although they looked like they belonged in a museum, not a repair shop. A modern PC could do any function easier and faster than these heavy computer units could. But, it wasn’t his call, and as long as the customer was paying, he would reverse engineer anything.

  Let me know if you find anything unusual. When he opened the fourth box, he knew there was more to his work than a collector’s whim or a museum’s project. The memory chip inside the fourth component was protected with a fail-safe, the kind of protection the Soviet government put on the high-level algorithms used to produce and verify launch codes—launch codes for Cold War nuclear missiles.

  Take the money and don’t ask questions. No matter how much Kostya wanted to, he couldn’t ignore the implications of the components he was rebuilding. When he started to look around, his employer threatened him. Kostya expected them to come after him. He just never dreamed they’d involve his family—his parents.

  How life had changed in the last few days.

  “Number 281,” the clerk called out, and at the same time, the number flashed on the red and black displays around the room. He took his number and his backpack and sat down in front of the clerk’s workstation. He pulled papers out of his jacket’s inside pocket, ready for when the clerk asked for them.