KRAIT MC STORIES
MOSCOW 1995
Chapter 7
LATE
January came quietly.
For the first few days, nothing happened.
That bothered Jora more than if something had.
Barinov didn’t call.
Oleg didn’t appear.
No one came to the apartment.
Work continued.
On the fourth morning of the year, Maksim picked them up shortly after ten.
Kait climbed into the back seat with a cup of coffee and a half-eaten piece of toast.
Jora looked over his shoulder.
“You ready?”
Kait held up the toast.
“Locked and loaded.”
He smiled and faced forward.
They were halfway across the city when Jora noticed the car.
A dark Lada.
Two vehicles behind them.
He watched it in the side mirror.
At the next intersection, Maksim turned right.
The Lada followed.
Jora said nothing.
Kait leaned forward between the seats.
“Are we going to the warehouse first?”
“No.”
“Then we’re going the wrong way.”
“Yeah.”
She looked at Maksim.
Maksim kept driving.
Jora watched the mirror.
“Take the next left.”
Maksim did.
The Lada followed.
Kait sat back.
Her coffee stopped halfway to her mouth.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Jora looked through the rear window as they turned again.
“Keep your head low just in case.”
Kait came down lower in the backseat.
Maksim took another turn.
The Lada stayed with them.
Kait watched Jora instead of the car.
Maksim looked in the rearview mirror.
“What do you want to do?”
“Lose them.”
Maksim glanced at him.
Jora nodded.
The Mercedes accelerated.
They cut through two streets, crossed an intersection as the light changed, then turned down a narrow road lined with parked cars.
The Lada made it through behind them.
“Persistent,” Maksim said.
Jora looked ahead.
“Go toward the river.”
Maksim took the turn.
Barricades narrowed the road ahead. A truck occupied most of one lane while two workers unloaded something beside it.
Maksim slipped the Mercedes through the remaining space.
Someone shouted after them.
The Lada reached the obstruction seconds later and stopped.
Kait twisted around.
This time Jora let her.
One of the men had climbed from the car and was arguing with a worker.
She faced forward again.
“They’re stuck.”
Maksim and Kait laughed.
Jora smirked for a split second then looked at Kait.
“Don’t go anywhere alone for a while.”
Kait frowned.
“You don’t even know who they were.”
“Doesn’t matter. Just don’t, please.”
Kait held his gaze. Then nodded.
A faint smile touched his mouth.
Maksim drove.
Then he looked forward again.
They didn’t go to the warehouse.
Jora changed the plan and sent Maksim to the collection without them.
Kait didn’t argue until they reached the apartment.
Jora unlocked the door and waited for her to enter.
She stepped inside.
He remained in the hall, looking toward the stairs.
“Hey…”
He came in and locked the door.
“What’s going on?”
“I told you. I don’t know yet.”
He crossed the room and picked up the telephone.
Kait watched him dial.
The conversation was in Russian.
Short.
A name.
A place.
Jora hung up.
“Who was that?”
“Maksim.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Jora looked at her.
“You understood that?”
“I understand enough to know you weren’t talking to Maksim.”
For a second, he almost looked proud.
Then it was gone.
“Stay here for me, okay? I gotta go out for a few.”
Kait stared at him.
“What?”
“I need to go somewhere. I won’t be long.”
Jora went to the bedroom.
Kait followed.
“You just told me not to go anywhere alone.”
He opened the wardrobe and reached for his coat.
“Where you going?”
“To find out who was following us.”
“Let me come with you then.”
“Kitty…”
He checked the pistol beneath his coat.
Kait leaned against the doorway.
“I can help.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Jora stopped.
Because he couldn’t take her where he was going.
Not now.
The man he intended to see had already given him one name connected to Dragunov.
Jora needed another.
If the car belonged to Barinov, walking Kait directly into that meeting would be the stupidest thing he could do.
He crossed to her.
“Not this time, okay?”
His hand settled against her neck.
“Lock the door behind me.”
“Jora…”
The look in his eyes stopped her.
Not angry.
Not impatient.
Serious.
“If anyone knocks, you don’t answer.”
Kait’s expression changed.
“Are we in danger?”
Jora looked at her.
“I don’t know yet.”
It was the first answer she’d believed all morning.
He held her and kissed her forehead.
“I’ll be back.”
Then he left.
Kait locked the door behind him.
Jora stood in the hallway until he heard the deadbolt turn.
Only then did he walk away.
Outside, the cold hit hard.
He pulled his coat closed and walked two blocks before finding a taxi.
He gave the driver an address nowhere near where he intended to go.
Twenty minutes later, he got out, crossed the street and went into a crowded café. He stayed long enough to finish an espresso, then left through the rear entrance.
No one followed.
At least no one he could see.
He took another taxi into Khamovniki.
Jora watched the streets through the window.
He had been careful before.
Now he wondered whether careful had been enough.
The man he was going to see had given him information twice. Nothing useful enough to bring back to Kait. A name here. A business there. Someone who might know someone close to Dragunov.
Jora had followed every lead.
He had told Barinov none of it.
There had been no reason to.
Finding Konstantine Dragunov had nothing to do with Barinov.
Until this morning.
Jora paid the driver several blocks early and walked the rest.
The restaurant was nearly empty.
He found Viktor in a booth near the back, drinking tea and reading a newspaper.
Viktor looked up.
“You’re early.”
Jora sat across from him.
“I didn’t know we had an appointment.”
Viktor folded the newspaper.
“I need to know something.”
“That usually costs you money.”
Jora reached into his coat and put several folded bills on the table.
Viktor looked at them, then at Jora.
“Something happened?”
“Do you know who watches people for Barinov?”
Viktor’s expression changed.
“Why?”
“A car followed me this morning.”
Viktor picked up the money and slipped it into his pocket.
“You’ve been asking questions about Dragunov for months. Maybe people have started noticing.”
Jora said nothing.
Viktor lowered his voice.
“You’re not the only one asking questions anymore.”
That got his attention.
“Who else?”
“Someone came around two days ago asking about you.”
“What did they want to know?”
“Who you’ve been meeting. Why you keep coming to this side of town. Whether you’ve been trying to get close to Dragunov.” Viktor paused. “They asked about the girl too.”
Jora’s face hardened.
“So you think it was them following me? Dragunov’s people?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Viktor leaned back. “But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To get his attention.”
Jora stood.
“Right. You got anything?”
Viktor took a sip of his tea.
“I do, actually.”
He slipped a piece of paper over to Jora.
Jora opened it. A phone number.
He looked up at Viktor.
“Security detail for Dragunova.”
Jora only nodded. He slipped the paper in his pocket and got up.
“Keep looking.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
Jora nodded and left without another word.
Outside, snow had begun falling.
He walked quickly, scanning parked cars, windows and faces.
Nothing.
He found a public telephone several streets away and made a call.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Jora hung up.
For several seconds, he stood with his hand resting on the receiver.
Then he put in more coins and dialed another number.
Maksim answered.
“Where are you?”
Jora looked through the glass booth at the street.
“Working.”
“What you need?”
“Watch my apartment.”
Maksim went quiet.
Jora rarely needed to explain himself to him.
“How long?”
“Until I get back.”
“All right.”
“And Maksim.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let Kait go anywhere.”
There was a pause.
“You want me to tell her that?”
“No. Don’t let her see you. She’ll know something’s wrong and will want to do something about it.”
Maksim laughed once.
Jora didn’t.
The laugh stopped.
“I’ll be there.”
Jora hung up.
He stayed inside the booth for another moment.
He had spent months trying to find Konstantine Dragunov.
Now somebody wanted to know why.
And for the first time since Kait had walked into that basement club carrying her mother’s photograph, Jora wondered whether finding him might be the most dangerous thing he could do.
The apartment stayed quiet after Jora left.
Kait stood by the door for a few seconds, listening to his footsteps disappear down the stairs.
Then she went back to the kitchen.
Her coffee had gone cold.
She poured it out and started a fresh pot.
While it brewed, she went to the bathroom.
The toilet paper holder was empty.
“Shit.”
Kait opened the cabinet beneath the sink.
One roll left.
She reached for it, then stopped.
The box of tampons sat right beside it.
Kait stared at the box.
She hadn’t opened it.
For a few seconds, that meant nothing.
Then it did.
She picked it up.
Christmas had come and gone.
New Year’s too.
Before that, the Bolshoi. The collections. Clubs. Days sleeping until afternoon and nights that disappeared into morning.
Kait tried to remember the last time she’d had her period.
She couldn’t.
“Fuck.”
She sat back on her heels and started counting.
October?
Yes.
Because she was on it when she came back from the Middle East.
November?
She was pretty sure she bought the tampons for when she got it around her birthday.
Yet the box was still unopened.
Then I guess not.
December?
Kait frowned.
Definitely not.
Two months late.
And she and Jora had never been particularly careful.
No… they hadn’t been careful, at all.
“Fuck.”
She shoved the box back under the sink and stood.
The coffee finished brewing in the kitchen.
Kait poured herself a cup and stood at the counter thinking.
There were plenty of other reasons.
Too much vodka. Cocaine. Barely sleeping. Eating whenever they remembered. Her entire life had changed in the span of a few months.
Any of that could screw with her period.
But there was a pharmacy a few blocks away.
Jora had told her to stay inside.
Kait looked at the clock.
She could be there and back in twenty minutes.
There was no reason to tell him anything until she knew there was something to tell.
She drank half the coffee, went to the bedroom and pulled on her boots and coat.
The cold outside made her eyes water.
Kait walked quickly, paying more attention to the street than she normally would.
Cars.
Doorways.
Reflections in windows.
Nobody seemed interested in her.
The pharmacy was warm and painfully bright.
Kait stood in front of the shelf comparing boxes she couldn’t read until an older woman behind the counter noticed her.
Kait brought two over plus a 4-pack of toilet paper.
Kait paid for the tests and the toilet paper, shoved the tests deep into her coat pocket and tucked the toilet paper under her arm.
The walk back felt longer.
She kept telling herself there was probably nothing wrong.
Her body had plenty of reasons to be confused.
That was all.
Probably.
She reached Jora’s building and hurried upstairs, unlocked the apartment and locked it again behind her.
She checked the clock.
Less than twenty minutes.
Jora would never know she’d left.
Kait carried the toilet paper into the bathroom and put it beneath the sink.
Then she pulled the two small boxes from her coat pocket.
She opened the first.
Russian instructions.
“Of course.”
There were pictures, at least.
She studied them until she was reasonably sure she understood what she was supposed to do.
A few minutes later, the test sat on the edge of the sink.
Kait waited.
One line appeared.
Then another.
She stared at it.
Her stomach dropped.
“No.”
She picked up the box and compared the picture to the test.
Two lines.
Positive.
Kait sat down on the closed toilet.
For several seconds, she didn’t move.
Then she looked at the second box.
“No fucking way.”
She opened it.
She wasn’t trusting one test she could barely read.
A few minutes later, the second test sat beside the first.
One line appeared.
Kait waited.
Nothing.
She waited longer.
Still one.
She looked at the first.
Two.
Then the second.
One.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Kait sat on the closed toilet and stared at them.
Positive.
Negative.
Which meant she knew exactly as much as she had twenty minutes ago.
Nothing.
She shoved both tests and their boxes into the cabinet beneath the sink and closed the door.
There was no way she was telling Jora about this yet.
She needed another test.
Maybe five.
Kait went back to the kitchen and found the coffee she’d abandoned earlier.
Still warm.
She carried it into the living room and sat on the couch.
Outside, a car pulled up across the street.
Kait didn’t notice.
Maksim parked where he could see the entrance to Jora’s building without being seen from the apartment windows.
He settled behind the wheel and lit a cigarette.
As far as he knew, Kait had been inside the entire time.
And as far as Kait knew, she was alone.
The lock turned a little over an hour later.
Kait looked up from the couch.
Jora came inside, shut the door and shrugged out of his coat.
“So?”
He glanced at her.
“Everything okay? Did you find out anything?”
“Probably nothing. Just a coincidence.”
Kait stared at him.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
Jora hung his coat.
“Jora, are you hiding something from me?”
“No, Kitty. I’m not.”
She waited.
He gave her nothing else.
Kait set her coffee down.
Jora crossed the room and stopped in front of her.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“I saw a restaurant the other day I’ve been wanting to try.”
She frowned.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing.” He held out his hand. “Put on something nice. We’ll go eat.”
Kait looked at his hand, then up at him.
He seemed calmer than he had that morning.
Whatever he had gone looking for, he either hadn’t found it or had decided it wasn’t worth worrying about.
For now, she let it go.
“Fancy?”
“Very.”
Jora smiled.
Two days later, Kait woke up with her stomach turning.
She barely made it to the bathroom.
Jora appeared in the doorway while she was still on her knees in front of the toilet, her hair pulled back in one hand.
“Kitty?”
Kait held up the other.
“Don’t.”
He stayed where he was.
She threw up again.
When it finally stopped, Kait flushed the toilet and sat back against the bathtub.
Jora crouched in front of her.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. My stomach is fucked.”
He touched the back of his fingers to her forehead.
“I don’t think you have a fever.”
Jora looked concerned.
Kait looked away.
Two pregnancy tests.
One positive.
One negative.
Now this.
She hadn’t taken another one.
She’d spent the last two days trying not to think about it.
Jora stood and wet a washcloth with cold water. He wrung it out and handed it to her.
“Maksim will be here soon.”
“I know.”
“You’re staying here.”
Normally that would have gotten a reaction.
This time Kait pressed the cloth against her face.
“Yeah. I feel like hell.”
Jora watched her.
“We can leave it for tomorrow.”
“No. Go.”
“Kait.”
“I’m fine.”
He crouched again.
“You’re throwing up.”
“Probably those clams.”
“The clams?”
“Or the chicken. I don’t know. Something from that restaurant.”
“I ate the same food.”
“Maybe they gave me the expired stuff.”
Jora’s mouth almost moved.
Kait sat on her heels and took a deep breath.
“Seriously. Go without me. I’m not sitting in a car all day feeling like this.”
He studied her for another moment.
“All right.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll bring you something for your stomach.”
He kissed her forehead and stood.
“Drink some water and stay in bed.”
“I will.”
Jora left the bathroom.
Kait waited.
She heard him moving through the bedroom, then the living room.
A few minutes later, he came back wearing his coat.
He bent and kissed the top of her head.
“I’ll be back this afternoon.”
“Okay.”
“Just take it easy, alright? Go back to bed.”
“I will.”
Jora leaned and kissed the top of her head.
“I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“Okay.”
He left.
Kait stayed on the bathroom floor until she heard the apartment door close.
Then she counted to thirty.
She got up.
“Fuck.”
She went straight to the cabinet beneath the sink.
The two tests were still there.
Positive.
Negative.
And now she’d thrown up first thing in the morning.
Kait closed the cabinet.
She needed an actual doctor.
She dressed quickly, carried the telephone book to the kitchen table and started searching.
The Cyrillic made it miserable.
She found medical listings and began calling.
The first place couldn’t understand her.
The second had someone who spoke enough English to tell her no.
At the third, Kait managed to get as far as pregnancy before the woman transferred her to someone else.
A man answered in English.
“Yes?”
Kait sat straighter.
“Hi. I need a pregnancy test.”
“No problem. You come one week?”
Kait closed her eyes tight.
“It’s an emergency. Can I please come in right now?”
The woman on the other side of the phone spoke Russian to a man, probably the doctor.
“Can you pay cash?”
“Yes. Of course.”
She gave her an address and she headed out as soon as she hung up.
The clinic was farther away than she’d expected.
She took the paper, grabbed her coat and left.
By the time she found the place, she’d already missed the appointment time.
They took her anyway.
Then she waited.
And waited.
A nurse took blood.
Kait waited again.
The nurse who answered the phone brought her into an examination room and asked questions about her cycle, contraception, medications.
Kait answered honestly until they reached drugs.
She hesitated.
“Drugs.”
The nurse looked up.
“Sometimes.”
She wrote something down.
“How often?”
Kait shrugged.
“Parties.”
More writing.
“Alcohol?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
The nurse looked at her.
Kait sighed.
“A lot.”
The nurse finished her notes.
Eventually, a doctor came in.
He spoke English well enough that Kait didn’t have to struggle.
“The blood test is negative.”
Kait stared at him.
“I’m not pregnant?”
“No.”
Relief came first.
Immediate and enormous.
She leaned back against the chair.
“Okay.”
Then she frowned.
“I took two tests at home. One said I was.”
“Home tests can be wrong.”
“So why haven’t I had my period?”
“That may have several causes.”
He looked through her chart.
“Stress. Weight changes. Alcohol. Drugs. Changes in sleep. Changes in diet.”
Kait almost laughed.
She had managed every one of them.
“So I’m fine?”
“I would like to examine you.”
The examination led to an ultrasound.
Kait lay on the table staring at the ceiling while the doctor studied the screen.
He moved the instrument slightly.
Then stopped.
“What?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Kait turned her head.
“What is it?”
“You are not pregnant.”
“Right.”
“Not pregnant.”
He pointed toward the screen.
“Ok, that’s good.”
“Uterine Septum.”
Kait stared at him.
“Uterine what? That sounds gross.”
He explained it slowly.
A congenital abnormality.
Tissue dividing the uterus.
Something she’d been born with.
Kait listened until he reached the part that mattered.
“It may make pregnancy more difficult. It can also increase the risk of miscarriage.”
She frowned.
“So I can’t have kids?”
“You could, but maybe difficult. I recommend correcting before you attempt pregnancy.”
“How?”
“Surgery.”
Kait stared at the screen.
She was twenty years old, living in Moscow with a Russian criminal she’d known for three months.
Children weren’t exactly on the schedule.
“Do I need surgery now?”
“No. But if you want baby. Yes.”
“No. I don’t need surgery.”
The doctor began explaining follow-up care.
Kait listened just enough to understand that nothing was immediately wrong with her.
She wasn’t pregnant.
She wasn’t dying.
Everything else could wait.
By the time she left the clinic, several hours had passed.
She stopped outside.
“Shit.”
Jora.
Kait found a taxi.
Traffic made the ride back worse.
She checked the time twice and finally stopped looking.
When she reached the building, she paid and hurried inside.
The moment she opened the apartment door, Jora was there.
He crossed the room so quickly she barely got inside.
“Where the fuck were you?”
Kait stopped.
She had never heard him yell at her before.
“Jora—”
“Where were you?”
He grabbed her by both shoulders.
Hard.
Kait gasped.
“Jesus.”
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“Let go of me.”
His grip tightened for one second before he seemed to realize what he was doing.
He released her.
Kait rubbed one shoulder.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Jora dragged a hand over his face.
He looked furious.
But beneath it was something Kait hadn’t seen from him before.
Fear.
“I told you not to go anywhere.”
“I was only gone for—”
“You’ve been gone for hours! I got back right away because I was worried about you… and then, you’re not here.”
“Stop, yelling, please… I just went to a doctor.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
Kait exhaled.
“I went to a clinic.”
“Why?”
She looked at him.
There was no point lying now.
“I… thought I might be pregnant.”
Jora went completely still.
“Pregnant?”
He got closer to her.
“Yeah… I bought a couple of tests the other day and they confused me even more. Then I threw up this morning, so after you left, I called around until I found somebody who could see me.”
He stared at her.
“What did the doctor say?”
“I’m not pregnant.”
Something moved across his face.
Kait couldn’t tell whether it was relief or disappointment.
Maybe neither.
“The blood test was negative.”
Jora nodded slowly.
“And you’re okay?”
“Yeah.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then at the shoulders he’d grabbed.
His anger was gone.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
He reached toward her, then stopped before touching her.
Kait saw it.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve said something.”
“I thought someone took you.”
Kait’s expression changed.
The car.
Oleg.
Barinov watching her at the party.
All the things Jora had been pretending were probably nothing.
“I’m sorry.”
Jora pulled her against him.
He held her tighter than usual.
Kait let him.
Over his shoulder, she looked toward the bedroom.
She didn’t tell him the rest.
Not because she wanted to hide it.
But because it didn’t matter.
Not pregnant.
Surgery someday if she wanted to… but at barely twenty years old, children were the last thing on her mind.
