The Smart Girl

Samsonov cut himself short: “All right, Nina, I’ve told you everything, and now I beg you to leave. Don’t worry about me – I’ll get out of this mess somehow. And… Thank you for everything.”

But Nina was not about to leave – she was set on staying with her man to the end, whatever it might be.

She braced herself to argue with Samsonov, but the matter decided itself in a different way.

“It’s too late, Pavel Mikhailovich,” said Kolya.

He had cleaned and assembled his gun and was now standing by the window, peeping through the Venetian blinds down at the parking lot.

“Those two jeeps are new – they’ve just arrived.”

Samsonov came up to the window and took a peep.

“Did someone get out of them?”

“Not yet.”

Kolya tucked the gun under his belt and covered it with the flap of his jacket.

“That’s it, Pavel Mikhailovich, we have to go.”

“But how? Every exit is held in sights by a sniper.”

“I got an idea. Wait a minute, I’m going to do some recon – we need to know what our brave guards are up to.”

Kolya left but was back almost immediately.

“The guards are not there. The fun is about to start. We have to leave – now.”

They left the office, and Kolya led them to an elevator – not the big, passenger one, but a service elevator used to lift food stuffs to the directorate cafeteria. That elevator was not designed for people; they were barely able to get into it, bending painfully.

The elevator took them down to the basement where technical services were quartered. Through a dimly lit corridor, they came out onto an iron spiral staircase which took them further down, into a completely dark space that smelled of gasoline and machine oil.

“Where are we?” asked Samsonov.

“It’s the garage for the service staff. I guess, you’ve never been down here before, Pavel Mikhailovich,” responded Kolya’s voice which had a trace of irony to it.

“No lights. Careful. Follow me,” Kolya commanded.

In a minute, he brought them to a car which on closer examination turned out to be a Volga.

“Whose is that?” asked Samsonov.

“Mine. Get in.” responded Kolya.

They got into the car trying not to slam the doors.

Kolya turned the ignition key. The engine purred softly, but under the softness, power could be felt as if it were a Ferrari rather than a Volga.

With headlights off, Kolya pulled the car out of the parking bay and drove somewhere. Although Nina’s eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dark so she could discern the contours of the cars, it was still a mystery to her how Kolya could make his way.

They drove up to a wall against which some barrels were piled up.

“There’s an emergency exit here. It’s long been out of use, but chances are it’s usable. Let’s risk it. Only we need to go very quiet.”

The men got out of the car and started moving the barrels trying not to make noise. Soon the emergency gate was cleared.

Kolya produced an oil-can and oiled the hinges. Then he used a pry bar to unfasten the lock. The gate opened noiselessly.

It was night outside. About forty meters away, a noisy avenue lay which the bank faced with its front. The distant street lights barely dissipated the darkness of a narrow side alley cluttered with trash cans and stacks of boxes.

Kolya surveyed the alley.

“It’s all right, we’ll make it.”

In the car, Kolya handed the gun to Samsonov and instructed Nina to lie down on the back seat and never lift her head. Nina obeyed.

“Well, then, let’s go,” said Kolya.

The Volga glided into the alley noiselessly, turned around and headed to where the lights of the avenue were shining. Miraculously, Kolya managed to keep clear of all the boxes and trash cans.

At the end of the alley, Kolya paused and did some idle gassing to warm up the engine.

“Now. Hold on!” he said finally and pressed the gas pedal into the floor to the limit while turning the steering wheel abruptly.

Roaring and screeching, the car tore out onto the avenue.

Nina, who was lying in the back, was alternately pressed into the seat and tossed about fiercely.

Kolya cast a glance in the rear view mirror.

“Damn, they are quick.”

Nina rose. Two black jeeps had pulled out of the bank parking lot and rushed after them.

“Head down!” Kolya yelled.

Nina ducked. Almost immediately there was a shock, and the rear window above her head exploded littering her with broken glass.

Samsonov turned around. “Are you all right, Nina?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Nina replied, shaking broken glass out of her hair. “What was that? They what – shot at us?”

“You bet,” responded Kolya.

“Nina, I beg you – don’t get up!” shouted Samsonov.

He stuck out of the window and extended his gun-holding hand. A shot banged.

Nina was lying on the back seat obediently, trying not to distract the men. She was unworried; something told her that neither she nor Samsonov were in for any harm. Quite the reverse, she had the feeling that something very good was happening to them.

Kolya was spinning the steering wheel sharply, stepping hard on the accelerator. Nina heard the screech of the other cars’ brakes, and the indignant honking of the horns. The Volga was jumping from one lane to another violating all the norms of the drivers’ code.

Kolya looked in the mirror.

“No, we’re not losing them this way. Some good drivers, those are… But they’re in for a surprise.”

After a short while, Kolya made a sudden ninety-degree turn and darted out of the avenue on an impossible trajectory.

They were tearing along a narrow street in some built-up area now. Up in the window, Nina could see the façades of brick buildings flit by.

Then Kolya slowed down and turned sharply but carefully. The car plunged into total darkness. Nina raised her head. They were driving under an arc in some old house. The arc was so narrow that the Volga barely cleared the walls and actually scraped against them a couple of times despite all of Kolya’s skill.

From under the arc, they got into a through-passage yard, then onto a boulevard.

“That’s it,” Kolya said applying the brakes. “Those fellas are going to get stuck there. Their jeeps can’t make it through the arc – they’re forty centimeters wider than that.” He smiled a satisfied smile and patted the dashboard of his car. “Mark my words, Volga is the best. All it takes to make it run is to overhaul the engine.”

Kolya turned to Samsonov and Nina: “They’ll have to go around the block, so we have a couple of minutes. Let’s say goodbyes.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” asked Pavel Mikhailovich. “Your car’s going to be hunted for, so you have to dump it.”

“Dump such a great car? Not for the world,” Kolya laughed. “It’s going to run another hundred years.”

“What are you up to?” asked Pavel Mikhailovich.

“I’ll play cat-and-mouse with them for a bit. That’ll give you time to get lost.”

“Don’t be a fool, Nikolai! Come with us – we’ll find somewhere to sit it out together. I’ll buy you five cars such as this afterwards.”

“No way, Pavel Mikhailovich. And don’t you give me orders – reckon me quit. I have my own scores to settle with those bastards. They broke my rear window, see? Where am I going to find another one like that?”

“Where are you going then?” asked Samsonov.

Kolya scratched his head.

“Here’s what – I guess it’s time for me to visit the northern capital. Some guys that I know live there. We did some great racing together at one time. We’ll have a meet and talk motor club.”

Samsonov sighed: “Really, aren’t you a fool? … Let me at least hug you.” He hugged the guy. “Don’t you even think of getting yourself into trouble…”

Kolya freed himself.

“It’s all right, Pavel Mikhailovich… And another thing – give me your cell phone. They’re going to spot it, and it’s just as well. Cat-and-mouse it’s gonna be.”

Samsonov handed his driver his phone along with the gun. He and Nina got out of the car.

“Practice motorsport!” Kolya cried to them from the window of his Volga. On his face was his usual, boyish smile.

He stepped on the gas pedal and in a couple of seconds the car was gone.

Chapter 9

Samsonov and Nina were sitting on a boulevard bench. It was late in the evening, and the sky was already studded with stars. The day’s warmth was going rapidly, a cold, autumn night setting in.

Nina did not want to go anywhere. She felt good, lacking only for Pavel Mikhailovich to embrace her which was expected of all lovers sitting on boulevard benches in the evening.

But Pavel Mikhailovich was motionless. Nina saw suddenly that he was nodding. The enormous tension of the past days had prevailed finally over that strong man.

Nina took him by the hand.

Samsonov woke up.

“Where are you going now, Nina? Home? … Oh, no, you can’t go home. They’ve seen us together and are capable of visiting your place, too. Damn, it’s all my fault. I’ve drawn you into this mess…”

“You haven’t drawn me into any mess, and I’m not going anywhere,” declared Nina. “I’m staying with you.”

Samsonov rubbed his temples wearily.

“I don’t know whether I have anywhere to go myself… Some hotel, maybe? I only need to hide until morning.”

Nina remembered how quickly Samsonov had been figured out by the tennis club manager on the glorious day of his first tennis practice.

“No, Pavel Mikhailovich, it’s not a good idea.”

Samsonov grinned: “Well, then, I’ll camp on this bench.”

“The police will pull you in.”

“Yeah, the police…”

It was clear that Samsonov was incapable of thinking even for the sake of saving his life.

Then a solution occurred to Nina.

“I know of a place for us to hide.”

“Where is that?” asked Samsonov.

“You’ll see. Trust me.”

Samsonov finally put his hand round her shoulders and bent his head towards her. Nina shifted on the bench trying to sit in such a way as to make the embracing convenient for him. If her man decided to open his feelings to her, any hindrances should be removed.

But Samsonov’s head was dropping uncontrollably.

“Nina, why are you taking so much trouble for me?” he mumbled falling asleep. “Everyone else has betrayed me and left me, but you…”

“I’m not leaving you, Pavel Mikhailovich.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

There was no telling whether Samsonov got what she had said. Through the slumber that was seizing him, he murmured something. It seemed to Nina that he had said, “I love you, too…”

Thus they confessed their love to each other. It was very different from the romantic scenes that Nina had dreamed of, but it was neither the time nor the place to cherish her disappointment. She had to act.

Nina hailed a taxi. She bribed the driver and with his help, dragged Samsonov into the car.

“Railway station,” she said.

The suburban train was almost empty. As soon as he got seated, Samsonov dropped into sleep immediately again, with his head resting on Nina’s shoulder.

He was wearing a fisherman’s jacket and hat which Nina bought from some round-the-clock shop at the station. Of the same origin was a sleeping bag which Nina was holding, bundled up, on her knees. Samsonov and she looked like a couple of outdoor enthusiasts who were going to spend a nice day on some river, away from civilization. It was a bit odd though that they were going on their outing late on a Sunday night.

A middle-aged woman who was sitting across the aisle from them nodded at Samsonov disapprovingly: “Drunk?”

“No, just tired,” said Nina. “Works a lot.”

The woman was in a talkative mood.

“He’s kind of older than you, isn’t he?”

“He is,” admitted Nina. “But it’s all right, we are good.”

Not inclined to keep up the conversation, Nina leaned her head on Samsonov’s and closed her eyes.

“Yeah… The main thing is for the man not to drink,” the woman summarized with conviction.

At their destination train stop, they got lucky – in spite of the late hour, they managed to catch a car that took them directly to the dacha settlement.

Samsonov was still dozing in the car and woke up only when they arrived.

“Where are we, Nina?”

“It’s my parents’ dacha. Nobody’s going to find us here.”

Samsonov got out of the car and stretched his legs. It was a still, starry night. In the moonlight, the dacha looked picturesque and mysterious.

“A good house,” Samsonov said. “My parents used to have one just like this.”

With some difficulty, they opened the rusty lock and went in. Within, it was damp and smelled of mold.

“Nobody has lived here years since mama died years ago,” explained Nina.

The house had long been uninhabited, but it was fit for habitation. There was no electricity, but Nina found some candles. In the corner was a stove which her father had once built with great care, and there was even a pile of dry logs left over from old times.

They lit the candles and built a fire in the stove. The room became warm and cozy. Merry flickers of light danced on the walls and on their faces.

Samsonov went out to the water pump and came back with a pail of water. Nina found a copper kettle which her mother had once bought for their dacha. From her bag, some tea, sugar, and sandwiches appeared.

When they had made the tea and laid out their provisions on a piece of paper, they both felt suddenly that they were starving. Laughing, they devoured the sandwiches and gulped down the tea from large metal mugs which were almost too hot to hold between their palms. They barely talked, making only some joyful noises. They felt good.

Finally, they were full and warm. It was time to bed down. There was only one bed in the house, and Nina spread the sleeping bag on it.

“There are some bed clothes up in the attic, but they are surely all damp and moldy, so we’ll have to make do with this,” she said.

She sat down on the bed.

Samsonov who was smoking by the window killed his cigarette. Silently, he rose, crossed the room and sat down beside Nina.

He hung his head, this time not because of drowsiness. He was going to declare his feelings to Nina, but he clearly did not know how to start.

“Nina, I want to tell you that you… I mean, I’ve long been…”

Nina remembered vividly Dima, her unhappy, young ex-husband. “Why on earth are they all so…”, thought Nina.

“Kiss me, Pavel Mikhailovich,” she said.

“Nina…” he whispered as he entered her.

She had feared that he – being so huge – would crush her, but it was nothing like that. His weight was only agreeable to her.

She was connected to him – much more so than she had been once, at a corporate party. She anticipated his movements as if they were her own. At the same time, each movement and each touch of his was a wonderful, happy discovery to her – something that she had been waiting for all her life.

Their bodies were only half covered by the sleeping bag. The flickers of light from the stove were dancing on his shoulders and face. His grey eyes seemed black.

The time halted, and the planet stopped revolving. The whole universe stood still, with only one live spot left in it – a room in a deserted dacha cottage where a woman named Nina was giving herself completely to her man.

She had wished heartily for him to feel good with her but it was she who felt good. A couple of times in her life she had been close to experiencing ecstasy with a man. Now those episodes were infinitely remote and insignificant to her. Anything that she might have had with men had happened to someone else, not her. Her true life started here – she had just been born.

His thrusts almost immediately incited response in her body, her whole being. That response grew and grew and finally burst into a scream.

“Nina, are you all right? Does it hurt?”

“No…”

“You screamed so…”

“I am fine…”

And again he entered her, and again they became a whole, and again she screamed.

“Nina, I love you,” he muttered into her ear during the brief minutes of their rest. “I thought I’d never be able to love anyone…”

“Don’t think,” she whispered stroking his head. “Don’t you think of anything.”

…The fire in the stove went out, but it was hot under their sleeping bag almost until dawn when the chilly dampness crept into the cottage from the outside.

Nina did not have a wink of sleep. When her man fell asleep, she nested beside him, with her head on his powerful shoulder, and listened to his even breathing while watching through the window the black night giving way imperceptibly to an ashy morning.

She did not have a single thought in her mind. All her life she had been proud of her brain, but now it seemed as if she had totally lost the ability to think. Indeed, what did she have to think about if the most important thing had already happened to her?

The sun was rising. A ray of sunlight penetrated the room – first highlighted the far corner, then started approaching imperceptibly their nuptial bed. After a while, it threatened already to fall on the face of her love.

Nina got up and closed the shutters.

The squeak of the wood woke the man.

“What? … What’s the time?”

“It’s early yet. Go to sleep,” Nina quieted him and tucked the sleeping bag that had slipped down from his broad back.

The man turned over onto his other side and plunged into a deep sleep again.

Nina slipped out of the room shutting the door carefully after her. She had to make some breakfast and tidy up the clothes of her man which had got rumpled and soiled during their escape the previous day.

She went out of the cottage and sat on the porch. With a smile on her face she set about doing something that she had long wanted to do. The night before, as she was buying stuff for the journey at the railway station, she picked up a can of shoe polish and a brush. The polish was not the best kind but at least it did not stink like her beloved’s gutalin. It was all over with gutalin – from now on, she was going to take care of her man’s shoes herself.

“Nina, is that you?”

From over the fence, the neighbor was watching her polish a pair of men’s shoes.

“Is Yevgeniy here, too?”

“No, papa is not here,” replied Nina.

The neighbor was intrigued.

“Who’s that with you then?”

Nina smiled, “It’s my husband.”

The neighbor sighed.

“Congratulations. Look at you, Ninka – grown up already. When did you all grow up?”

Nina was sitting in the shuttered room looking alternately at the watch and the sleeping man.

At last, it was ten o’clock. That was it. According to the rules of the contest, all the bids that had been submitted to the committee by that hour were officially accepted. Along with the others, the package of documents that had arrived from Gradbank was now being registered and sealed. Nobody, not even the bank’s general director, could undo that.

The hunt for Samsonov was over – he won.

Nina touched him by the shoulder. “Darling…”

He opened his eyes, stretched sweetly and smiled, “Nina…”

He reached out his arms for her, “Come to me.”

Then his eyes fell on the watch.

“What time is it? … Damn, it’s ten already!”

Samsonov jumped to his feet.

Nina watched him wash hurriedly at the wash-basin, then pull on his trousers and shirt.

“Come have some breakfast. It’s on the table.”

He stepped up and hugged her.

“Sorry, I have to run. Are you going with me?”

“Ah, no, I’m staying. I have some tidying up to do here.”

“Sorry…” He kissed her. “I’ll call you as soon as I sort things out, I swear.”

“Sure.” She smiled and stroked his unshaven cheek.

She tucked some sandwiches into his pocket and walked him to the road where he could catch a car to the railway stop.

He leaned over her.

“Don’t you think that I… As soon as I’m done with this, I’ll…”

She drew his head down and kissed him.

“Go.”

Samsonov hailed a car.

Crossing her arms under her breast in the manner of a peasant woman, she watched her man leave.

Nina was sitting on the porch of the house in which she had spent almost every summer of her childhood, and where the main event in her life had now taken place.

It was another – probably the last – day of the Indian summer. Nina squinted as she held up her face to the caressing sunlight.

She did not know what lay in store for her, neither she wanted to ponder over it. What kind of relationship were she and Samsonov going to have? Was there going to be any relationship anyway? Maybe that night was destined to be the only one?

She could think about all those important matters some other time. At the moment, she could not be bothered – her whole being was absorbed in love. It was a new love – not the painful feeling that had gnawed her for months, but a calm and triumphant happiness. That happy love filled her to the brim.

Be that as it might, she had done what she had had to – what her nature had demanded of her: she had opened her feelings to her man and had given herself to him. Nobody would ever be able to take that away from her.

Nina was not aware how long she had been sitting like that. In was her neighbor that snatched her from her reverie. He hailed her from over the fence:

“Nina, you’re sleeping or what?”

Nina opened her eyes.

“I say, what’s that they’re talking about on the radio? It looks like there’s a crisis on. A global one, too!” the neighbor said excitedly. “You’re like an economist, so it’s for you to explain what it’s all about.”

Nina approached the fence. The neighbor’s portable radio was giving out news; it was being reported that the major stock exchange indices had plummeted, the business community was seized by panic, and rumors were abroad of a global financial crisis. Nina borrowed the radio set from the neighbor, and listened to it holding it tight to her ear.

While she had been experiencing her love, the world had been hit by formidable events. Everything developed exactly the way Nina had anticipated, but that did not make her happy at all.

The reality reached her in her refuge and thrust her out of her love trance. Her holiday was over; it was time for her to go back to the city and settle her affairs one way or another. Nina had no idea what she was going to do, but she knew one thing for certain: she was not returning to Gradbank. She had known for some time already that she had had enough of big business. She had to leave, and it was all the more obvious now: her working in the bank would be awkward if she and Samsonov were together, and it would be right impossible otherwise. Clearly, that page of her biography had been turned anyway.

She was about to lock up the dacha when a block of domestic news started on the radio. Among other things, a road accident was mentioned – a Volga fell down into the river from a bridge on the North-West highway. The ordinary event had attracted the observer’s attention by some curious details. A local herdsman who had been grazing cattle nearby was reported to have seen four trucks coming in the opposite direction. On the bridge, the trucks regrouped to form a rank which occupied all the lanes, so the driver of the Volga had no choice but to break through the side barrier and fall down. However, a denial soon followed. A road police spokesman said that no trucks had passed the bridge at the time. The accident had obviously been caused by a punctured tire and the driver’s want of skill. Apparently, the man had got killed, although his body had not been found – it had probably been dragged away by the stream.