Black And White Ops

Chapter 2

The card was heavy in Monique’s hand as she walked back to her small apartment on the prospect near the school where she taught. She’d just met a handsome and hunky fellow American who wanted to go out with her the next time he was in St. Petersburg. It was cold that evening, about what you might expect for a city located so far to the North. Monique made sure the gloves were taught over her hands because the weather wasn’t going to get any warmer for the next few months.

She stopped and watched the river flow in the distance. Monique loved the city where she worked. She loved the statues, the museums and the streets. Tsar Peter had picked the ideal location for a city when he’d founded it hundreds of years ago. She could imagine him in the distance of time looking at the plans for his creation, wondering how long it would take the damn serfs to finish the job. He had built the city on the conscript labor of thousands of his subjects, but the result had been such beauty. Funny how he was revered everywhere with all kinds of statues to him in the city.

She stopped by a small chapel and gave thanks to God for having sent this man to her. Monique’s mother wasn’t all that religious and when she did go to church it was one of the Catholic ones on the West side of Philadelphia. She remembered the quiet service on Sunday mornings and the holidays. Monique had loved Easter the best because she always was given some new clothes. It was a time to get together with her relatives from other parts of the country. For some reason they didn’t talk much to her, but she enjoyed being around her aunts and uncles.

She wondered whatever happened to the last guy she dated before leaving for Russia. He was a medical student who had a bright future in front of him. But he didn’t see Monique as having a career of her own. The way he viewed any future wife was to be the mother of his children and stay home managing the household. Monique was having none of his June Cleaver future. She intended on going places and seeing the world. Her mother hardly ever left Philadelphia and she wanted more than clubbing on South Street on Saturday nights. She’d broken off the relationship with her medical school boyfriend the day she accepted the job to travel to St. Petersburg. She had no idea what he was doing presently, but it no doubt involved some fancy place in the suburbs. He was the kind of man who would be successful at anything he wanted to do and she had no desire to be a trophy on his shelf. There were too many opportunities to consider junking the career she had prepared herself for since entering college. Her mother would have been very disappointed if she had learned Monique was doing nothing with her degree.

And who was this Rick Wilson character anyway? He had given her a business card and the invitation to call him sometime. He claimed he was only in St. Petersburg for the next two days, but the whole thing seemed like some sort of scam. She had run into so many import-export people in the city who claimed to have “connections”. Monique would roll her eyes every time someone tried to impress her with a title. Everyone was a vice president of something or other. No one was a mere salesman or front line soldier. Did some of these companies consist of nothing but vice presidents? Were they indeed presidents of vice? She no longer cared. Five years in Russia had turned her into the worst cynic imaginable.

Two days later she had just finished locking up her room and was heading home. Some of the older residents claimed they didn’t have to lock their doors twenty years ago, but that was before they started showing up. By they the residents of the city meant the Armenians, Chechens and Turks. There was always someone more wretched than you to blame your troubles upon. It had been a long day struggling with unruly Russian kids and trying to get them to understand the variances in English. The kids would always stare at her dumbfounded when she tried to explain to them that “odor” and “smell” had the same essential meaning, but the origin of the words had much to do with the influences on the English language. She nearly had a heart attack when one of the kids messed up a sentence using “President Obama” and “black”. The poor kid had to be reminded of what kinds of comparisons are inappropriate.

She had her lesson plans gathered in one arm and was walking past the building next to the international school where she taught. Monique was wrapped up in a sheepskin jacket she’d bought in the open market the year before. She’d been told by the locals where you could get the best deal on winter clothing and managed to buy what she needed early this year. The man she bought it from, an older Kazak, was flattered she wanted his business. He was so flattered he reduced the price down to what he charged the customer before her. Although he’d conducted his business with her in English, he’d done the transaction before in Russian which he assumed she didn’t know. When Monique thanked him very much in Russian and told him to have a pleasant day, he nearly fell over his booth.

She turned and looked at the office building next to her while she walked home. There was a light burning brightly on the third floor. She found it a little odd since no one ever worked late at the place. Monique had learned early on there were some topics best not discussed. Such as why an office had plenty of people going in and out of it, although the name plate might read “Linguistic Research” in Russian. St. Petersburg was the Russian capital for a long time and still had plenty of government connections. If something seemed odd about a building or office, there was probably a state connection you shouldn’t be asking about. No reason to have a Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki man pay you a friendly visit in the middle of the work week to remind you that your residency status could be revoked at the drop of a fur hat. So whatever was going on in that building wasn’t her concern. If someone had to work late to get a job done, well they did that all the time back home in Philadelphia too.

So when the explosion went off on the third floor, it was a total surprise to her.

Monique was heading down the street when a loud “whump” sent her flying across the sidewalk into the street. She felt the shock wave of the blast before she saw the glass fly down from its level and shower her. Fortunately, none of the pieces were large enough to do any damage, other than cutting her hands. The gloves she wore prevented the sharpest pieces from doing any real damage.

She began coughing from the smoke and turned over to see the building behind her on fire. Flames were crackling out of the window where she had noticed the light, but she didn’t hear anyone screaming. Monique managed to right herself off the ground and tried in vain to gather up all the classroom papers scattered across the road. Lights were coming on in some of the stores across the road and people were starting to come out and look at the fire. She was wobbling on her heels while trying to stand up. Then she heard the sirens wail from miles away. The fire brigade was on its way; at least someone had pulled the alarm.