VOLUME 2

Chapter 1

Vika felt like a society lady sitting at her favorite table in the Hotel de Rome. She had taken the same chair at the same table and in the same elegant five-star hotel where she had confronted Mafia boss Juris Lapins and had him put away for a very long time. She had even ordered the same very expensive Veuve Clicquot Brut and this time her mother was joining her. Savoring the warmth and safety of the elegant cafe on this cold, sunny, winter day, Vika felt such relief and happiness that it almost frightened her.

“Um-um. This is so good,” Irena said lifting her glass. The sun coming through one of the windows created a honeycomb of light across the table, making the crystal shimmer and the bubbles in her glass sparkle enticingly.

Vika wasn’t yet ready to make her happiness permanent. You never know, she said to herself. Did she really have the right to feel so good? Of course she wasn’t going to allow herself to feel powerful, even though she had singlehandedly broken up an international crime syndicate—and gotten rid of her husband in one fell swoop. At least this is what she liked to tell herself. In reality she had disrupted the crime spree of only a few players. There were others out there. She chose not to consider this. And why should she? Intoxicated with so many possibilities, she was starting a fresh new life—and planning a career.

“I’m going into art,” she told her mother.

Irena’s eyes widened. She looked quizzically at her daughter.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, Riga should be another New York. The art capital of Europe. Paris is dead as far as exciting new art is concerned.”

“But you don’t know anything about art.”

Vika was defiant. “I do so. I’m a collector. I have two Arsys.”

Irena couldn’t help laughing. “Two Arsys! That’s a hoot!”

“Mummy dearest, there’s nothing to laugh at. He’s very talented. Have some more bubbly and then I’ll order lunch.”

Irena shook her head. “I don’t feel like eating, Vika.”

“Try to be a ray of positivity, Mum.”

They rarely quarreled. Irena smiled at her daughter. “No, it’s not that.  I’m still a bit jet lagged. I think I’ll just go up to my room and rest a bit.”

Vika smiled back. “That’s fine. Have a little nap. There’s always room service if you change your mind.”

Mother and daughter kissed affectionately. Vika hoped she wasn’t wrong about feeling safe. It was still a new feeling.

* * *

Well-heeled, freshly divorced and brimming with unflagging enthusiasm, Vika had decided to open her own art gallery. It wasn’t long before she started hunting for premises.  She shunned little side streets and headed for the heart of Riga. It had been over two months now that she had been living there. She was no longer an absolute newcomer and had never really been a tourist.

Having explored her favorite part of central Riga, her eyes had alighted on a building on the corner of Barona Street and Elizabetes.

“Let’s hit the pause button,” Eggy said lighting a fresh cigarette. They were having coffee at Sam’s and Vika had excitedly told him of her plans.

“Here’s the reality facing you. You need to get a Latvian permanent visa or a passport  (which means citizenship) in order to own or rent property in Latvia.”

Vika smiled. “Let’s back up a bit, Eggy. I was hiring you as a tour guide and we both know how that ended up. Now I’m offering you a new opportunity. Will you be my…” she stopped as something occurred to her. If she married Eggy all the bureaucratic morass would go away. Eggy was looking at her intently. Vika  thought for a moment, then continued, “… will you be my social coach?”

Eggy took a sip of his coffee. in his mind’s eye, he heard a voice. It sounded like his mother. “What are you getting into, dear son?”  He was about to answer Nothing as he always did when she was alive. Now he wondered if he should be more mindful.

“Well…” he hesitated. “I’d have to think about it. First you have to learn the language. And citizenship would take ages. Permanent visa a bit faster, maybe.”

Vika frowned. “Really? Then how do the Russians who don’t speak Latvian get property in Jurmala?”

Eggy laughed. “You are a newbie, aren’t you? Payoffs, of course. And knowing the right people.”

Vika was still frowning. “You mean bribes?”

“Sometimes yes, but If you meet the proper financial threshold there are plenty of legal loopholes to bypass the system that is meant for mere mortals.”

Now it was finally time for Vika to grin broadly. “There’s no threshold I can’t meet, my friend. So, is that a yes? Will you take the job offer?”

“Let me sleep on it.”

“Sleep on it? You should be paying me for teaching you colloquial English.”

Vika knew Eggy was teaching English and had his own group of devoted students. She bet he did well with those bedroom eyes of his.

Vika chuckled. “Maybe you’d like to book me as guest lecturer.”

Eggy was not amused. “I’m getting a headache, Vika. I’ll think about your situation—and about your job offer. Now I have to get back home and make supper for my father. I’ll text you tomorrow. Either way you’d better start learning Latvian. Find yourself a good teacher. ”

“But Eggy…”

“No, Vika. Not happening. Goodbye for now and good luck.”

Whatever, Vika said to herself and gave Eggy a short finger wave. Next she ordered herself a gin and tonic and looked around. What she really needed was a bodyguard, social coach and language teacher all wrapped in one gorgeous hunk.

Just then Misha winked at her. “Your drink is on the house, dear lady.”

“Thanks, Misha. But please sit down. I need to talk to you. Some serious stuff.”

Serious? What could be serious for this rich American? Misha asked himself. Playing for time he replied. “Let me just make sure everything is alright in the kitchen and I’ll be right back.”

Vika sipped on her drink thinking that perhaps she should eat something. She still felt a bit of a buzz from the Veuve Clicquot she had shared earlier with her mother. A bit of rest and they both would be doing major exploration of Riga. No tour guide needed. It was bound to be exciting for both of them. And Irena did speak some Latvian. Not good enough to teach her the language but good enough to ask for directions and order in a restaurant.

She stopped daydreaming as Misha approached with a nice dessert. “People tell me this is the very best we have. I’d like to know if it tastes good to Americans too.”

“Up to now, Misha, everything in this restaurant was delicious.” Vika smiled as she eagerly polished off the almond pastry drizzled with Armagnac. “But this…this  is sensational!”

Misha glowed at the compliment and signaled to the waiter to bring him coffee.

Vika continued. “Right now I need your advice about some business.”

Misha nodded his head several times and looked attentive.

“You do own this restaurant, right?”

Misha was startled for a moment. Where is this leading?

“Yes?”

“So, here’s the thing. I am going to open an art gallery here in Riga. I’m thinking of buying part of the building on the corner of Barona and Elizabetes. The ground floor.” Just as she said this it occurred to her that possibly she should buy the whole building. There’d be room for her to live and a nice suite for her mother as well.

Vika was so involved with telling him her plans that she hadn’t noticed Misha’s look of surprise. A look that said just how rich is she?

“I will need a lawyer to do all the necessary paperwork. Can you recommend someone I could trust? I need someone I can trust. Someone trustworthy and connected.”

Misha let out a soft chuckle. “And you trust me to tell you?”

“No. Listen. Joking aside. You will help me, won’t you?”

“Sure. Don’t worry. I know a good lawyer. And you will need good insurance. To keep your gallery safe.”

“Protection?”

“We call it insurance. Just so that nothing bad happens. No fire or anything that might ruin your enterprise.”

“Well shit! It looks like I just can’t get away from mobsters.”

“C’est la vie, dear lady. That’s how things are done here. Just like in New York, they say. You did ask for my advice, didn’t you?”