Death and the Russian Winter

German Embassy, Moscow

11:01PM December 31st, 1928  

Leona Graaf tried to adjust her tiara for the fifth time. She failed miserably.

“Arrgghh!!!!” she screamed at the empty washroom. She stamped her foot, damn Peter, damn him! She sighed and looked in the mirror again. The tiara remained at a drunken angle on her head, mocking her efforts. Worse, some more of her fine blonde hair had come loose and fallen across her face. Trembling with anger she tried again. First she put the hair back in place, then she moved the little collection of paste jewels and pearls to one side. She paused, peering into the washroom mirror then shifted the tiara the other way. Somehow, she finally managed to get the little crown to sit more or less centrally on her head. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm herself down. No matter how angry she got it was unlikely to improve the situation, it was best to try and focus on what needed to be done. Calmer now, Leona opened her eyes and looked down at her beaded party dress.

The outfit would have been fine for  a night out in Munich or an informal party but she was completely underdressed for an Embassy reception. Damn Peter! Why hadn’t the bastard told her where they were really going? Leona had many more suitable outfits in her trunk but Peter had said that they were going to a New Years party and had only sprung the Embassy on them once they were in the car. Leona felt the anger rise in her again. She had seen the looks the other women had given her when she’d been announced, the overly polite nods and  the whispered comments after she had passed. God, even the Russian women were laughing at her and they knew nothing about style. 

Not for the first time Leona wondered what she was doing here? New Years Eve 1928 should be being spent with her father back in Munich, not making small talk at the German Embassy in Moscow. If she’d had any sense Leona should have turned around and left. Only her friendship with Alison had caused her to stay behind. Leona grabbed the seams of her dress and tried to adjust them with her white opera gloved hands.  Yes, she had to look out for Alison, had to ensure that her American friend kept Peter Heiden at a safe distance.

They had met Peter at a party in Munich. Young and good looking, he had claimed to be the son of an industrialist from Heidelberg and to have attended the university there. He had cut a dashing figure with his rugged good looks and the dueling scars he’d acquired as an undergraduate.

Alison had fallen under his spell almost immediately. The young American had been completely taken in by his charm and old world manners, hanging on his every word like he was a guru. Leona hadn’t fallen so easily for the young man’s charm, there was something shifty about him, something in his eyes. When Peter had suggested that they should visit some of the capitals cities of eastern Europe Leona had done her best to talk her friend out of the idea. There were difficulties in getting visas she’d explained and there was no way that she was going _anywhere_ without her maid. To Leona’s horror Alison had quickly agreed to Peter’s suggestion, using her money and influence to secure the necessary visas and passes in record time.

At twenty one Alison Michaels was one of the richest women in the world and since the death of her parents in an auto accident there had been no one to tell her what to do. Stubborn and spirited she had ignored all of Leona’s warning. As Alison had prepared to leave with Peter, Leona had been left with little choice but to go along with them.

The girl shivered, remembering the look Peter had given her when Alison had announced that Leona was to accompany them. There was a darkness in that look that Leona  hoped she would never see again, a murderous stare almost hidden by a thin veneer of charm. At the time he had seemed to accept it with good grace but almost immediately he had tried to get the pretty American heiress to himself. There had been that time in Prague when Leona had been directed to the wrong train, the mysterious double booking in Moscow that had forced her into a different hotel. As these “accidents” had become more and more blatant Leona had started to worry about their safety. 

There were a lot of good reasons for Peter’s interest  ---since the War Germany had been almost bankrupt and there were lots of young men from good families hardly able to make a living. The prospect of a good marriage and a way into America would be reason enough for Peter’s interest. In addition Alison’s huge fortune made her far too tempting to pass up. However, Leona was worried that Peter had more in mind than just a wedding. In recent days Peter’s little schemes had seemed to be centered on separating the girls for just a few hours. Admittedly he could be plotting an elopement but Leona could see darker motives.

She gave the mirror another worried look and straightened her dress one final time. That settled it! Despite everything she had to stay at the party otherwise she would be leaving Alison in Peter’s hands.  Tomorrow she would take her friend aside and beg her to return to Munich straight away. It seemed that some of Alison’s infatuation with Peter had started to wear off, with luck she could be persuaded. If the girls were quick there was a chance they could leave Moscow without Peter knowing.

Feeling better now that she had a plan, Leona returned to the ballroom.

The room was full to overflowing. The British had withdrawn diplomatic relations following Soviet support for the British Miner’s strike of 1927 and the Americans hadn’t normalized relations since the revolution. As a result the Germans had the best party in town this year. For a moment Leona let her eyes scan the room taking in the revelers. It was easy to spot the Russians as they were dressed in badly made, ill fitting copies of last years fashions. The westerners were a mixed group, mainly German but with a large contingent of Americans and British who where there despite their government’s policies. Relieved, she caught a glimpse of Alison standing off to one side of the room talking with Peter and one of the Embassy staff. The redhead was quite a beauty and dressed in the latest French fashions she was attracting all the young men. Leona nodded her satisfaction. Hopefully seeing off the competition would keep Peter busy for the moment.

Right now Leona was thirsty. A waiter passed by and she tried desperately to attract his attention. Failing, she looked around for a drink.

“Fraulein, please allow me.”

Leona blinked and looked around. A young man with dark hair, small goatee beard and mustache was standing next to her patiently offering a flute of Champaign. Leona took the glass gratefully.

“Thank you Herr?”

“Comrade,” he corrected her with a small smile, “Comrade Representative Aleksei Rostov at your service madam.”

He gave a small bow and kissed the back if her gloved hand.

She smiled. “I am...” she began.

“Fraulein Leona Graaf of Munich,” he said in perfect German. “Your father is the owner and operator of Bayern Chemistrifabric, the fifth largest chemical company in Germany.”

“Third largest,” Leona said, sipping the Champaign, “two of those factories were in the Lorrane and were succeeded to France as part of the reparations.”

“Ah,” he said, “I stand corrected.” He smiled.

Leona looked him over. Unusually for a Russian his suit seemed to be both well made and well fitted. His face, though narrow and feral, seemed strangely handsome but it was his eyes that captured her attention. The  pupils were huge and black with thin lines of gold radiating from the center almost like a spider’s web. The effect was make the eye look large and almost crystalline. As she continued to look Leona found herself falling into his eyes. His intense unwavering gaze seemed bottomless and Leona began to loose herself in its depths. There at the bottom an intelligence burned, dark and disturbing. Leona recoiled, blinked, fought her way back......

“Errr yes,” she managed to say at last, “well you know so much about me.... why don’t you tell me something about yourself. Starting with why you speak such excellent German?”

He laughed. “My mother was German,” Aleksei said, sipping his own wine, “my father was educated in Germany and they met and married while he was there. When he returned to Russia she came too. My father was a geologist working for the Imperial Science Commission. About a year after they were married he was posted to Siberia to do the first full geological survey. That was where I was born, in a little shack on the Tunguska river. Needless to say there were no state schools so I was educated by my parents, hence my excellent German. When the Japanese invaded after the Revolution I took it upon myself to organize the local Soviet. That is how come I’m the official representative for the Irkutsk region.”

“So you are a career politician?” Leona asked, swallowing a mouthful of wine.

Aleksei smiled. “I am a servant of the will of the people,” he said at last, “and when I was summoned to Moscow of course I came.”

“Summoned?” Leona asked, “that sounds mysterious.”

He laughed. “There is a  tradition started long ago by the Czars.” he whispered conspiratorially, “You see there is always a problem policing a country of this size. Russia is made up of many peoples, many races and there is a risk that petty nationalism and racial decent will spread amongst our people. To guard against that the Czars always used people from outside the region to head the internal police services. That way there was no risk of a conflict of loyalties. Coming from Siberia I seemed the obvious person to be in charge of the Moscow section.”

Leona took this in. It proved to be harder than she imagined, her mind seemed unusually sluggish and unresponsive. The wine must have been better than she thought.

“S...so you’re a policeman and a politician?” Leona finally managed to ask.

“Exactly,” Aleksei said with a smile, “though here we call them Commissars.”

There was something she had been meaning to do, Leona thought, fighting the confusion that seemed to be enveloping her mind. Alison.......

Leona turned towards the dance floor. There were Peter and Alison, probably on their tenth dance of the evening. Peter always seemed so jealous, as if he was afraid to let another man dance with Alison. Perhaps he was afraid of the competition?

“They make a pretty couple don’t they?” Aleksei said.

Leona blinked. It was getting hard to think. She struggled for a moment to find the right words.

“I....I think he wants to marry her,” she managed at last.

Aleksei raised an eyebrow. “Really,” he said, “I thought he intended to kidnap her and sell her as a slave to her uncle?” He took a swallow of wine.

Leona blinked, her addled mind trying to understand what he had just said.

“K....kidnapped?” she asked, “s...slave?”

“Yes,” Aleksei said, “Peter Heiden is a white slaver who works this part of central Europe.” He spoke as if it was a normal thing for a person to do, like a broker or an accountant. “After the revolution there were a lot of accomplished aristocratic young women trying to escape Russia. The organization that Peter works for immediately saw the possibilities and set up a local office. They offered to help smuggle White Russians to the west, but in truth they would kill the men and sell their women into slavery in Arabia.” He took another sip of wine. “They are decadent imperialist pigs and I dare say that when the goal of universal socialist brotherhood is a reality they will be made to pay for their crimes.”

Leona knew she should feel shocked but her sluggish mind refused to respond. Aleksei turned and smiled, locking her wide eyes with his own. Leona started to fall into his gaze this time without the will to resist.

“You see,” Aleksei continued, “the death of Alison’s parents was not an accident. The 1927 Dussenberg has excellent brakes, unless they have been tampered with. Alison’s uncle had her parents killed so that he could take over their chain store business.”

He took another sip. “To gain complete control he needed Alison to sign some papers, voting proxies,  which of course she was unwilling to do. The Corporation, which Peter works for, has an excellent reputation for breaking the wills of difficult female subjects. Unfortunately it takes many months of extreme physical torture to get the desired effect. Someone as socially active as your friend could hardly disappear without people noticing.”

Aleksei nodded towards the dancing couple. “The Corporation decided not to cover up her kidnapping. Instead they will make it a media event. Alison will go missing on an eastern European vacation. The uncle will offer a large reward for her return and in a few months she will be rescued from “bandits” who had been holding her for ransom. The American Press will make a big thing of her rescue from dirty foreigners. By then she will be more than willing to do as she’s told and the proxies will be signed. She will spend the rest of her life as her uncle’s sexual plaything.”

He turned and watched as the couple left the dance floor. “So ruthless these imperialist,” he said.

Leona was stunned. “But,” she started.

Aleksei laughed and playfully touched her nose. “I know what you are thinking little one,” Aleksei said, “why hasn’t Peter done something before now? The answer is that you are in the way. He can’t kidnap her while you are with her and he can’t touch you. You see the Corporation doesn’t kidnap the daughters of its executive board members.”

Leona’s eyes widened as the implication of that statement struck home. Her father? White slavery? That was ridiculous. She wanted to protest but she found couldn’t speak or move.......

Aleksei laughed and took the wine flute from her limp hand. “Do not worry my dear,” he said, “when he leaves the party tonight Peter will be arrested by my men for a minor visa violation. He will be held until tomorrow afternoon and so your friend will be completely safe. The only kidnapping that will happen tonight is me kidnapping you.”

He smiled as he saw her eyes widen again. “I laced your wine with a mild opiate.” he explained, “It will wear off inside of an hour but for the moment you’re ability to resist mental domination is extremely weak.”

Aleksei focused his attention on the girl’s forehead, the power of his will crushing hers.

Leona found herself lost in his eyes.

“This is how it works Fraulein,” Aleksei said with a smile, “you are the puppet and I am the puppeteer. Resistance is futile. You live to serve.”

She realized that she should resist but she found it impossible to form a coherent thought.

He took another sip of his wine. “Understand?”

“Yes,” she mumbled.

“Good, now get your things from the table and meet me near the door.”

Like a sleepwalker Leona turned and walked over to her table, picking up her shawl and purse. Then she turned and walked to the door.

“Look at me, smile and take my hand,” he murmured.

Aleksei detected a momentary resistance which he easily crushed. Leona smiled and took his hand the movement looking fluid and natural. To an observer it would appear she had accepted his offer to take her home.

Smiling Aleksei led the mesmerized girl towards the exit. On the dance floor Peter noticed that they were leaving and gave a small smile of victory. Aleksei chuckled, imagining Peter’s disappointment when he got outside and was arrested.

Like a clockwork doll Leona collected her hooded cape from the cloakroom and again took Aleksei’s hand. Inside the girl’s confused mind the idea that she should resist managed to become half formed before Aleksei’s will crushed it. Quiet and compliant Leona climbed into the back of Aleksei’s official car.

The car was built like an old fashioned carriage with two sets of seats  facing each other. Leona was directed into the seats with her back to the driver while Aleksei sat opposite her. As the car pulled away he picked up a small felt bag and reached inside. He took out a number of items that he put on the seat beside him. Then, he faced the drugged girl and looked deeply into her glazed eyes.

“I’m going to have to tie you up and gag you Leona,” he said pleasantly. The girl’s eyes widened yet again but her rebellious thoughts were easy to control. “I’m sorry to have to do this but the distance to my home is such that you will have almost certainly recovered from the drug by the time we arrive. Frankly, although I could keep my hold on your mind it would be tiring for both of us and you have a very long night ahead of you. Now, open your mouth as wide as you can.”

This time the flicker of resistance was even weaker as if the girl had accepted the hopelessness of her position. Aleksei squashed it, watching with satisfaction as Leona opened her mouth for him. He took one of the silk scarves he was holding, rolled it into a ball and thrust it deep into Leona’s unresisting mouth. Taking another scarf he folded it corner to corner, spun it around so that it formed a narrow band, and then tied a knot in the middle. Reaching forward he shoved the knot between Leona’s teeth, mentally ordering her to bend forward before he tied the scarf with a solid knot at the base of her skull. He had her continue to lean forward for a moment while he folded a final scarf.

“Only one more to go now,” he said as if he was talking to a child. He took the flat band of silk he had made and tied it tightly over her mouth covering the other gags. He tied the final scarf so tightly that Leona’s cheeks bulged over the silk and the girl gave a small muffled moan of pain, the first sound she’s been able to make since the Embassy.

Reaching up Aleksei unfastened the cape at the girl’s neck.

“Stand,” he ordered, “turn and put your wrists behind you.”

When the girl complied he tied her elbows together with cord. Then, taking a longer length he bound her wrists before running the tail ends of the cord around her waist like a belt. Once those where tied off he replaced the cape and sat her down.

“Just one last thing,” he said with a smile. From the felt bag he produced a ladies woolen scarf which he wrapped around her mouth and nose concealing the gag. “My neighbors are good communists, they know to ignore what I do for the good of the party. Still, there is no point in promoting gossip is there?” He pulled her hood up and settled back to take in the effect. Although she was obviously a foreigner, there was no visible indication that the girl sitting across from him was his captive. He nodded. So far so good.

It took a while before Leona could think again. Gradually the cotton wool feeling in her brain subsided and she found herself able to move. She frowned. How had he done that to her? Now that she was able to feel again all the pent up fear of the last hour came back to her.

“Ummm,” she said weakly. She tugged at the cords that bit into her wrists but found no give. She looked over at Aleksei. “Ummm hee?” she begged, eyes wide, pleading for release.

“I can’t,” he said, settling back. “Shut up and relax, you’ll understand soon enough.”

“Ummmm,” she said

“I said be quiet!” he snapped

Leona felt a sudden wave of pleasure/fear ripple down her spine. There was something dark and dangerous about Aleksei now, something that struck a cord with some dark part of Leona’s own consciousness. She found herself suddenly aroused at the idea that she could be alone and helpless with this man. Raised a Catholic, Leona had saved herself for marriage. Still a virgin at twenty one she had always had certain dark fantasies, of being taken and controlled by a powerful man and used for his pleasure. Now the brooding figure of Aleksei had become the focus of those fantasies. To her horror she felt the familiar tingle between her legs and the dampness that signaled her arousal. Squirming a little, she tried to avoid eye contact with her captor.

.......................................................................................................................................

“There must be some mistake,” Peter said.

Yuri Andropov checked the papers again. “There is no mistake comrade,” he said gruffly, “these papers are not in order.”

Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out some other documents. “I think you will find that these papers *are* in order,” he said.

Andropov opened the little packet of papers. There on the top were two British five pound notes, the preferred currency of the black market. For a moment Andropov was tempted, this year the winter was harsh even for Moscow and the cost of fuel was impossible for a normal man to meet, and yet the Commissar had been a personal friend of Lenin, and while his power was on the wane, he could still make life hell for the young KGB man.

Andropov pocketed the money. Peter grinned. “I take it that *those* papers were in order,” the young German asked.

“No,” Yuri said, looking at Peter with cold eyes, “you will have to come with us.”

Peter frowned. “But I thought..” he began.

“What did you think comrade?” Yuri asked, a dangerous tone entering his voice.

Peter shivered. “Nothing,” he said, “nothing at all.”

..............................................................................................

It was a good neighborhood for Moscow but like a lot of the city it was tired and run down. A group of homeless people stood around an improvised brazier trying to warm themselves with a small piece of burning wood. The harvest had been poor this year and hundreds of people come to the city from the country looking for work. Now a bitter winter had descended trapping many of them on the freezing streets. As the car pulled up many of them slid into the shadows. These days cars meant police and those found inside Moscow without the correct papers were sent directly to the new labor camps. Such was the conditions in the camps that freezing on a Moscow street corner was preferable.

Serge watched as the figures stepped out from the car. A man and a woman, both well dressed and obviously well to do. One glance told him they were foreigners rather than the police he half expected. He settled back and relaxed wondering what to do now. Foreigners would doubtless be carrying hard currency, perhaps even gold, and that would buy a lot on the black market. For a man who hadn’t eaten in nearly a week the temptation was too much. Reaching down he grasped hold of the steel bar he carried for protection. He stepped back a little, letting the shadows cover him. The couple walked towards him, the man helping the woman along, Serge could see the way he tightly gripped her arm. If Serge could hit him just right, then there was a chance he could knock them both down. He smiled imagining the jewels the woman could be wearing. For now he waited, pretending to doze, watching through half closed eyes as the couple entered the alleyway.

Serge pounced bringing the bar down on the man’s head.......

Amazingly the man reached up and caught the descending bar, stopping it dead with one hand. As Serge watched horrified the man’s foot flashed out. Serge heard a crack and felt a sheering pain in his shin. Before the feeling had even subsided the bar was torn from his grasp. A blow to his side broke a couple of ribs, another to the side of his face dislocated his jaw. Serge managed to let out a gurgle scream before a blow to his throat crushed his larynx.

Aleksei stood over the dying man. Perhaps it was good that he was going to leave, he thought, to be attacked in his own neighborhood seemed to suggest that social order was about to break down. Shaking his head Aleksei dropped the bar and glanced down the alleyway just in time to see Leona take the turning at the end. Aleksei nodded. She was all he had expected and more. She was going to make quite an exceptional drone. The hunt was on! Quaking with anticipation he took off in pursuit.