Page 30 of Power's Fall
“Don’t open the—” He skidded to a stop, staring at her.
“Did you think I was going to open the door?”
“Yes.”
“Even though I have no way of seeing who’s on the other side?”
Vadisk grinned, the expression quick and wolfish. “I guess not. Smart.”
“I’m delighted you’re impressed with my basic common sense. What a lovely compliment, husband.” She kept her tone flat, mildly annoyed.
Vadisk’s expression was serious as he moved to the door. “Stay back. I checked from the upstairs window. It looks like two men in uniform, but I couldn’t see the details of the uniform.”
Dahlia moved back until she was hidden from view but close enough to hear what was said.
Vadisk opened the door.
There was a long silence before an unfamiliar voice said, “We’re here to talk to the Americans,” in Russian.
“My employers are busy,” Vadisk replied.
“You’re the guide?”
“Yes.”
“You’re just some penis from the mountains.”
Being called a “penis from the mountains” didn’t make much sense in direct translation, but it was a common enough Russian insult. The soldiers were speaking Russian, but given that most of the country did at this time, that wasn’t necessarily indicative if anything. However, that distinctly Russian phrase made her wonder if they were Russian soldiers from the occupying force.
“I can give them a message,” Vadisk said after a tense silence.
“No, we’ll talk to them. Move.”
A second later, there was a pained grunt.
Dahlia whipped around the corner, heart in her throat. The part of her that was always ready for a worst-case scenario imagined seeing Vadisk laid out on the floor, a bullet hole in his forehead.
Vadisk wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even on the floor. He stood with one hand holding the edge of the open door, the other arm outstretched, palm planted flat on the wall, his massive body a physical barrier.
A man in a badly fitting urban camo uniform was sitting on the ground just outside the door, his partner standing on the landing behind him while staring down at him, open-mouthed.
“Vadisk?” she said in English. “Is everything okay? Who are these people?” She was hoping her sudden appearance would diffuse the situation. And she had to play her part, since she didn’t know if they spoke English.
“I don’t know. But I told them you were busy.” Vadisk didn’t turn as he answered her in English, though he bit off the last word.
“Now isn’t a great time,” she said, infusing regret in her tone, hoping they would understand that, if not her actual words. “Perhaps we could set up a meeting? Vadisk, can you translate and coordinate?”
In a way, this was a test. So far, except for the tense interview at the airport, she’d spoken English to, and in front of, everyone they’d met. However, it wouldn’t take much research to realize she was at least conversationally fluent, as she had filmed her visit to the Azas Nature Reserve several years ago.
Classified by the Russian government as a strict nature reserve, Azas was an ecologically unique area in the Tuva Republic, and one of the few places in Russia where even other Russians were discouraged from visiting. After hiring a local man as a bodyguard, it had been a tense trip, and in an effort not to make it entirely obvious she was a foreigner, she’d spoken only Russian, even when filming end-of-day confessional wrap-ups, which were just her and a camera.
All that was to say if these men, or whoever sent them, had really done their research on her, they’d know she spoke Russian.
Vadisk’s reply to her careful question was a grunt. The man on the floor scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off as he stood on the porch. Vadisk started to swing the door closed.
“No!” The soldier who hadn’t ended up on his ass started forward, skirting his companion, his face set. His head tipped back comically as he tried to get in Vadisk’s face.
“You can come back tomorrow.” Vadisk took a small step forward. The soldier rocked on his heels but refused to back up.