Chapter 17

A gangster from New York working with a gangster from Jurmala? And why not, for God’s sake? When it came to organized crime, here was film-noir stuff at its best, meticulously organized and with far-reaching connections. At times different factions of the organization were rivals, at times they worked  together. And they had their mules.

And the mules were now in a pickle—Svetlana hysterically gripping Vika’s arm, begging for help. Vika frozen, lost for words. Arsy pulling out his crumpled pack of cigarettes and his Zippo. Damn! The pack was empty.

It was no lucid dream; it was nightmarishly real. Vika was in real pain from  the vice-like grip and Svetlana’s long red talons digging into her flesh.

“Help me,” Svetlana gasped. Vika flinched as Svetlana shot her a pleading look straight through the heart.

Coughs and moans from other patients only added to the desperate atmosphere in the hospital room. This was no Lourdes. There would be no miracles.

“Please, let go,” Vika begged. It was actually the pain that had finally roused her out of her trance.

Svetlana’s terrified eyes communicated so much. She was helpless, fighting for her life. Truly a moment ordained by the gods. Vika held her gaze. How could she walk away from this? Go back to her nice hotel? She who had lived largely for herself. How could she? She couldn’t.

Svetlana had let go of Vika’s arm. She rubbed at it, inwardly shaking like a leaf. She was more scared than she had ever been in her life. But she couldn’t show it. She had to take action.

“Can you walk?”

“I try.”

Holding on to Vika, Svetlana slowly lifted herself to a standing position. Carefully took a step.  Arsy moved to her side and she took a few more.

Vika made her decision. “Let’s go!”

* * *

There was no one in the hallway when two people in blue lab coats ushered a patient from the ward to an exit door. Vera had mysteriously vanished. Either her shift was over or she was in hiding. They were on their own.

Once in the stairwell it took both Vika and Arsy to maneuver Svetlana down the three flights. They made their way slowly and painfully. Svetlana groaned and let out deep sighs of exhaustion but she was determined to make it out of the hospital.

At the exit, Vika grabbed their outerwear which they had discarded and left in a corner. Arsy ran ahead and flagged down one of the cabs parked at the hospital’s main entrance.

Thank God I’m rich, Vika breathed to herself. I can take care of this. At least for now.

The cab had pulled up close to the exit. No questions would be asked. A good payment would be expected. Carefully Svetlana was helped into the back seat. Vika, sitting beside her, made a shush sign with a finger on her lips. Svetlana nodded. She understood.

Meanwhile in the passenger seat Arsy was speaking to the driver in Russian. Vika hoped he was telling him something reassuring. This was not a kidnapping—at least not as far as the mules were concerned.

“Arsy, I can’t get Svetlana into the hotel in the condition she’s in. She needs time to recover a bit. Clean herself up. You know…”

It seemed that Arsy hadn’t been smoothing anything out but simply bumming a cigarette. His cheeks had turned cadaverous sucking in the nicotine. “Okay. Okay. Whatever…”

Vika’s voice was steely. “Give the driver your address.”

“No,” Arsy almost shouted. “That’s no good. Juris knows where I live.”

Bummer! What a snag! A knot took hold in Vika’s stomach. What am I to do? Not knowing what directions to give to the cab driver, Vika had to think quickly. I just need more time. Maybe…

She was in a strange country, not speaking the language, relying on people she didn’t know, getting even deeper into a situation she couldn’t control. She made her decision. She leaned towards the driver and told him in a firm voice, “Hotel de Rome.”

But no one got out of the cab as it pulled up in front of the hotel. Svetlana had slumped down in her corner of the back seat. Vika worried that she could be cold.

“Tell the driver to wait,” Vika instructed Arsy in a no-nonsense voice. “And give me your jacket.”

Covering Svetlana with the jacket, Vika racked her brain. Her old friends, (her tour guides, that is) were probably still miffed at her for the lunch at Sam’s. Sam’s! My God! Was that only a few hours ago? A lifetime had gone by. How can so much living be crammed into just a few hours? Vika flashed back to dozing on her daybed for hours on end, day after day, time stretching long and empty ahead of her. And here she was racing through time, defying it. She felt more alive than ever.

But she needed help. Who could she call on? As if an answer to a prayer Simone’s earnest round face appeared before her. Vika pulled out her phone. Eggy must have her number, she said to herself as she typed in his number.

Shit! He didn’t pick up. No answering machine. She’d have to wait and call back. There was nothing else to do.

She tried to relax but the harsh voice of the cab driver assaulted her ears. “You pay now!”

Vika rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, hold your horses.”

Dipping into her handbag, she went for the inner zippered compartment, found her cache, pulled out a fifty  and handed it to Arsy.

“Tell the driver there’s more where that came from. But he’s got to chill.”