Say it in Russian Page 5

  CHAPTER 20

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYO2CQsMwIo

  The restaurant has a classic marble staircase, leading to an ornate foyer, where a baby grand piano sits. They rise to leave. Andrew plucks a flower from a fresh bouquet, but Daria has already headed for the piano in the foyer. Andrew stands there like a clown with the flower, looking at Daria. On the way out in the restaurant is a piano. Daria sits down at it and begins to play a piece from Chopin. A man with greying hair, dressed in a wrinkled suit, notices Andrew and Daria. Andrew sits nearby to listen. The Man in the wrinkled suit approaches Andrew.

  “Good evening sir.”

  “Good evening.” The Man takes a seat across from Andrew. Daria plays out her emotion through the piece.

  “What lovely music your wife is playing sir, if I may say so.”

  “I agree about the music, but that is my friend, not my wife.” Daria continues to play. Andrew notices that the man is quite drunk, but is tolerating it very well.

  “You are from the United States, are you not?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Interesting country, the United States. And your friend, she is from the United States also?”

  “No, she’s from Moscow.”

  “Moscow. Really? Sir, may I speak freely?”

  “Well, I guess so.”

  “You are being followed.” Andrew is amused. Followed by whom? More drunks?

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. You are. They look like Federal Security Service. We used to call them the KGB.” The Man’s speech slurs, slows down, and his head starts to bob.

  “You know, I saw the two of you together coming into the restaurant-that is where I saw them watching you. . .” The man’s head droops. He wakes up and looks back at Andrew.

  “It's a good idea to have some security. . .” The man’s head bobs. . . . When you are in Russia. . . . And if you buy me a drink. . . I can. . . .” The Man’s head slowly bobs to his chest, and he starts to snore, slumped in his chair. Andrew turns his attention back to Daria and her piano playing. Daria finishes her piece, and Andrew gets up from his seat and applauds her performance.

  “That was great!”

  “Who were you speaking to?”

  “Oh, just a drunk. He passed out before he could tell me how he could give me the best security in Moscow.” Daria gets up from the piano and they leave the restaurant.

  Andrew and Daria walk across a bridge over the Moskova River, toward Red Square and the majestic St. Basil's cathedral, its multi colored towers caked with snow. The snow has covered Red Square in a carpet of white.

  “It's not so cold,” he says, blowing a white plume of steam.

  “When you're in Russia, your heart is so filled with warmth, you never get cold.” Andrew and Daria give some money to an Old Babushka in the square in front of the majestic Bolshoi Theater.

  “I’ll take you somewhere really interesting,” she says, “Pashli!”

  CHAPTER 21

  Daria buys a T-shirt for Andrew on the Arbat. Old Arbat is one of the oldest parts of Moscow, Pedestrian Street, lined with old buildings, filled with shops and restaurants. The street has a circus atmosphere, with multi-colored lights, and street vendors peddling to the crowds of people. Its capillary streets and dark alleys hold many other types of vendors; namely drugs and prostitutes. Everything is for sale on Arbat. At its border is Novi Arbat or "New Arbat Street," a huge boulevard filled with night clubs and casinos. Old Abrat Street is bustling with people and activity.

  Daria sits for a portrait by a Street Artist, 40's, blond, with hands stained by pastel chalk. Andrew watches the numbers of passers-by and the progression of the portrait. Andrew pays. The artist takes the money humbly. Andrew admires the portrait, as the artist describes his work.

  “Smatri. Goot, wery goot. Da?” Daria laughs as the Artist takes Andrew by the hand, showing him the portrait.

  “Horosho?”

  “Yes, yes. It's great.”

  “Krasivaya, da? No ne nactilko, nackolko, kracivaya vasha spoutintza.” (Beautiful, isn't it? But not as beautiful as your girlfriend). Andrew turns back to the chair Daria was posing in. The chair is vacant. She is nowhere to be seen.

  “Daria-- where are you?” There is no response. Andrew looks around the immediate vicinity to see where she may wandered off to. A Father comes up to the artist, holding the hand of his Little Girl who looks at the portraits with big eyes. The artist is busy with the new customer, the Little Girl sits down in the artist's chair. A group of people have formed a circle around the artist, observing his work.

  “Did you see where she went?” said Andrew, pointing at Daria’s portrait. The Street Artist shakes his head.

  “Net.”

  “Did you see her?” he says to a group of passers-by, showing the portrait. Andrew moves, first up one side of the street. He breaks through the crowds of people, looking over their heads, looking in the shop windows, holding up Daria’s portrait and asking people if they have seen her.

  A Couple on a bench down the street is kissing. Andrew runs up to them.

  “Have you seen her?” The Man gestures to Andrew that he has his own girl, and smiles.

  Andrew's search for Daria begins in humor and disbelief, evolving to terror and panic, as he shows the portrait and tries to communicate in English to Russian speaking people. An Old Woman comes up to him.

  “No, shto, dorogoy? Shto sluchilas?” (What's happened, dear?)

  “I don't understand. Have you seen her,” he says, showing the portrait, “I’m looking for this girl.”

  “Net.” He frantically switches direction, battling the crowds on the other side of the street, calling out her name.

  “Daria!” He peers into the throngs of crowds passing by, bumps into one man, and gets bumped by another.

  “Daria!” Andrew, exhausted, now frantically looking for Daria, covers the alleys and streets that feed into the Arbat.

  “Daria! Daria!” In his panic, he goes through the arches of the old neighborhood, into darker, more desolate courtyards and alleys. Andrew ducks into a dead-end alley. A Drunk comes staggering up to him, his filthy hand outstretched.

  “Pamogite mne, pajaluysta.” ( Help me, please).

  “No, no, Net...I'm looking for someone.” He holds up the portrait. The drunk gets irritated and animated. Three Street Thugs come up the alley.

  “Jardni bagati Americanitz.” (Cheapskate, rich American.) Andrew is disheveled and sweating. Of course, he doesn't understand the Drunk, but he does understand the man is angry with him. The leader of the Three Thugs, the better dressed of the three, in a navy blue silk suit, approaches him.

  Can you help me?-I'm looking for someone,” he says, pointing to the portrait. “This girl.”

  Unbeknownst to Andrew, the Three Thugs have surrounded him. The Drunk, looking at the Thugs with fear, stumbles away.

  “You want girl?” says the Leader.

  “Yes, yes. Please, it’s very important. Can you help me? Her name is Daria and...” The Leader laughs. The other thugs laugh along with him.

  “Americanitz?”

  “Yes, I'm American. I'm looking for this girl, she’s Russian, and she’s lost.”

  The thugs start to close in a circle around Andrew, pretending to look at the picture, treating their business like a game of cat and mouse. Two Blonde Hookers stand on the side of the alley, waiting for work. Andrew tries to walk away from them and the Leader blocks his way.

  “We have lots of Russian girls,” he says, motioning in the direction of the Hookers. The Hookers cackle like chickens. Andrew accidentally bumps into him. He strikes, then the Thugs close in the circle on Andrew and beat him. They pummel him, kick him, and he falls to the ground, a limp sack of potatoes. The Hookers, frightened, disappear into the darkness.

  The Leader’s cell phone rings. They stop beating Andrew momentarily. Andrew lies on the ground, coughing and moaning.

  “Da, sdelano.” (Yes, it's done.) The Le
ader flips the cell phone closed and pockets it. Davai Ribyata, on nam bolshe ne nouzen.” (Come on guys, don't finish him off.) The Thugs kick snow on Andrew, leaving him lying in the alley, and head off to New Arbat Street.

  The Leader pulls out his cell phone again. Raf, in his office, picks it up. “Come pick up your American shit.” Looking at the street number, “46, Stari Arbat.”

  “Come pick up your American shit.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Andrew is shrouded in thick fog. Then.....things start to come into view. Raf is there, standing over Andrew.

  “Andrew...” Andrew squints, the room's coming into focus.

  “What's going on?” He struggles to sit up, and falls back onto the bed in pain, “

  ...Ahh!”

  “You'll live.”

  “Where am I? Oh, Mr. Larin, is she back?”

  “Back? From where?”

  “Where, what, I don't know. How did I get here?”

  “He doesn't know. I've known you for a just a few hours and in those few hours you have created more chaos in my life than there has ever been!” Nikolai enters the room.

  “Raf...could you come downstairs right away, it's urgent.”

  “I'll get back to you,” Raf says, and leaves the room.

  Raf enters his office, joining Sergey, his Security Guard. In his trembling hand, he holds a manila envelope. Sergey hands Raf the envelope. Raf reaches in, pulls out...a photograph. Daria is bound to a chair, flanked on either side by two figures wearing hoods worn during the abduction. One cradles a high caliber assault rifle in his arms. The other has a large knife, pressed against Daria's throat. What's even more horrifying is Daria's face -- her entire face and head have been painted black. Raf turns the picture over, written on the back is a message: “DAUGHTER WITHOUT HEAD, a Portrait. Waiting for you to comply and accept our mission. If not...a head she'll be missing. Await further details."

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Inside gates, on grounds.” Raf looks down at the floor, his expression grim.

  Nikolai tries to comfort him, “I understand you're extremely upset but...”

  “You understand...? What could you understand?”

  “I told you before, you can't win with these people. You have to give them what they want. “

  “I must release him. I thought she was safe in Paris. Why did she come back now, and with that American too?”

  “Remember, he was your friend...”

  “Oh, I remember....”

  “Daria, you have to save her.” Raf sits down in the chair, laying out the photos. Nikolai puts his hand on Raf's shoulder.

  “Let's get the paperwork going...we shouldn't hesitate or waste any time.”

  CHAPTER 23

  In a musty barge on the Moskva River, Daria is tied to a chair. A Man’s Hand rips the duct tape from her mouth, and wipes the black sooty makeup from her face.

  Inside Raf’s study, Raf is on the phone while Andrew, arm in a sling, enters the room.

  “Where is Daria?” Raf puts down the phone.

  “We are taking care of it.”

  “You know where she is?”

  “This is not your business.”

  “Not my business? “

  “That's what I said. You've known Daria for what - a week? Maybe not even that long...”

  “And you have more of a right? You, the proud father. My daughter lives in Paris, she goes to Sorbonne University...Just as long as she stays out of your way, right? She comes here with her heart full of love for you, wondering why you've turned your back on her and you do it again..and again...and again.”

  “You're wasting time. I have to act quickly, now that they've taken her.”

  “Taken her? Who? “

  “You fool. Stay the hell out of it. Do you want her to get killed?”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “This is not a police matter. And it's not your business.”

  “I think it’s obvious what kind of business it is. How could you let this happen? She trusted you.”

  “I was trying to protect her.”

  “Yes, you've done a fine job of that. What kind of a father are you?” Raf throws the photographs at Andrew and angrily leaves the room.

  Andrew, seated at a desk in Raf's study, stares at Daria's photograph and the note. His eyes wander about the office. He examines the note, written with a black ink pen. An old style ink pen. He keeps staring at the note. Andrew's eyes grow heavy, and his gaze is diverted from the note to the other papers on the desk. He looks at the papers on the desk, then back at the note. Nikolai enters the room.

  “What are you doing here?” Andrew looks up from the papers.

  “We shouldn't look outside your own circle for Daria.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at this writing, it’s done with an old style ink pen like this one - same with these papers. Looks like the same person...”

  “You're a detective now? “

  “No, I'm a lawyer. Detectives work for me.”

  “Don't worry, we know who has taken Daria and steps are being taken to get her back.”

  “You know who took her? Who?”

  “I can't tell you.”

  “Why not? Where is she? What do they want?”

  “I told you. It’s being handled. Now please excuse me....” Andrew stands up, to block his way.

  “I want to help.”

  “You've done enough. She was safe in Paris and you brought her here. Let us take care of it and go back to America.” Nikolai pats Andrew on the shoulder and leaves the room.

  In the dead of night, Andrew still cannot sleep He notices that Raf has still not returned. He goes from room to room, looking for clues, and looking for Nikolai. He sits in the living room, looking out the window, exhausted. Andrew spots Nikolai's Mercedes outside. His eyes grow heavy and he falls asleep in the chair, and awakens in the twilight of dawn.

  Nikolai's Mercedes sits unattended in front of Raf's house. Andrew approaches it, tries the back passenger's side door, and opens it. He slips quietly into the back seat, concealing himself with some blankets that are there, and waits.

  Nikolai comes out of the front entrance, carrying a box. One of Raf's men goes to open the driver's side door. “Net, net, ya sam.” (No, I'll drive myself.) The Man takes the box from Nikolai, gives him the car keys, and goes to the back of the car to deposit the box. Inside the Mercedes, Andrew crouches down under the blankets. From his point of view, he can see the Guard bringing the box to the car, and reaching to open the door. Andrew tries to calm his breathing.

  “V bagagnik,” says Nikolai (Put it in the trunk.) The Guard pulls away from the door. Andrew breathes a sigh of relief. Moments later, Nikolai gets into the driver's seat, starts the car and pulls away.

  Nikolai's Mercedes enters the city. He pulls into a dock area, heading toward the river. From a high point, a Man with binoculars stands watch. He puts down the binoculars and pulls out his cell phone, calling. Nikolai pulls up alongside a barge, docked on the river. He exits the car, opens the trunk and gets out the box. Two of the Thugs who beat up Andrew appear at the entrance to the barge, and Nikolai hands them the box. The Thugs thank him, and walk off the boat, one Thug holding the box. Nikolai disappears into the barge.

  Andrew peeks out the window and notices the Two Thugs leaving, chatting to each other and laughing, opening the box and taking out sandwiches and biting into them. He waits for the moment, then slips out of Nikolai's car, and creeps around to the side of the barge. Through the cracks of the wooden slats covering the windows, Andrew sees Nikolai, but nobody else. He can hear the muffled sound of voices, but can’t make out any words.

  “Your old man is pathetic,” says a man.

  “That's a million times better than you,” says Daria.

  CHAPTER 24

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pt_u6Ctl3s

  High walls topped with barbed wire surround the Prison. Across the road, Ra
f waits. Some men approach the car, and walk Raf into the Prison. A mechanical whirr of three locks opening. The steel reinforced door clanks open from inside and Raf steps through, into the sally port entrance. Behind him -- the door slams shut again, followed by the mechanical whir of the three locks closing, sealing Raf in the no man’s land between the two doors. Then the second door opens, and he walks into the Prison.