Today his companions in the sauna were Nadia and Svieta, not the sisters who had originally shown him the path to middle-aged carnal enlightenment — not relatives at all, to his knowledge — but a willing and enthusiastic pair in their own right. An auburn brunette, Nadia was wearing a pair of gold hoop earrings and nothing else. Svieta, a cinnamon redhead, had chosen to accent her nudity with a gold anklet. Both were on their knees in front of Vostov, who had also shed his towel, and was seated on a wooden bench watching their heads bob up and down below his ample stomach, their breasts swimming freely in a pearlescent haze of steam.
That was when a rap on the door suddenly tore Vostov and his companions from their rapture. Nadia’s gold hoop stopped banging against his inner thigh, Svieta’s spread of red hair rose off his lap, and both looked up at him with somewhat baffled expressions on their faces, as if unsure how to proceed.
He frowned, thinking foul thoughts about whoever had ruined the moment.
“What is it?” he barked.
“Prasteeyeh, Mr. Vostov,” the attendant said from the hallway. “There’s a call on your cellular phone—”
“A call? I told you we weren’t to be disturbed!”
“I know, sir, but it’s been beeping constantly and—”
“Shit! Enough!” Vostov stood up, snapped his towel off its hook, and wrapped it around his waist. Then he opened the door a crack and reached an arm out, steam curling around his fleshy elbows. “Hand it to me, will you?”
The attendant passed the phone to him and backed away. Pushing the door shut, Vostov fingered a button on the keypad to accept an incoming call.
“Yes?” he said, lifting the phone to his ear.
“Ah, Yuri. I sincerely hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Vostov recognized Teng Chou’s voice and frowned again.
“You are,” he said.
“Forgive me, then. But I had been trying to reach you at your office for some time.”
Vostov glanced over at Nadia and Svieta, who had taken places on the bench and were speaking to each other in whispers punctuated by low giggles. Was there something funny here that he was missing?
“Never mind,” he said, growing more sharply annoyed. “What is it?”
“I’ve had trouble getting calls through to a certain party of our mutual acquaintance. Indeed, I’m sure that I transferred some of my impatience with him onto you.”
“I told you to forget it,” Vostov said. “Why get me involved, anyway?”
“My friend,” Teng said in a mild tone, enunciating his words carefully in Russian, “you are already quite deeply involved.”
Vostov blanched.
“You know what I mean. I’m not some permanent go-between between the two of you.”
“Of course not. But you did broker the deal.” Teng paused. “Probably the deficient line of communication, shall we say, means nothing. These are hectic days for us all. Still, my backers need some reassurance that they will receive full satisfaction. That matters will proceed as had been discussed.”
Vostov turned away from the two women and dropped his voice a notch.
“Look, I don’t give a damn about them,” he said. “Regardless of what you’re trying to imply, my part in this is done. You want me to call our friend, see what’s going on with him, I’ll do it. But as a favor, not an obligation, you understand?”
Teng paused.
“Yes,” he said finally, his tone still soft. “Although you should remember the search for truth can be steered back on course as easily as it was diverted.”
Vostov’s gut pulled in. These Asians made him edgy with their elliptical ways. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“You need to reexamine your interests, my friend. It would be unfortunate if they suddenly came into collision with my own. The backers you so casually dismiss have a long reach, and an even longer memory for holding grudges.”
Vostov felt his stomach tighten a little more. There was a sharp burning sensation in the center of it. Damn, he thought. His ulcers hadn’t acted up like this for ages.
He tossed a glance over his shoulder at Svieta and Nadia. They were still whispering and tittering and seemed to be paying him no attention.
Desire was a precarious and fickle sort of thing, he reflected. It could pull a man from the filthiest gutter to the top of the world, then push him right over into the abyss.
“I’ll call our friend right now,” he said, and pushed the Disconnect button on the phone.
Nadia moved closer to him then, hoping to distract him from the business of business, and refocus his attention on the business of pleasure. “Soon,” he said as he pushed her roughly away. “As soon as I finish dealing with this lamentable mess.” Then he turned his attention back to the phone. It rang — on the minister’s private line, so no secretary would remember the call. Five rings, and then he heard an irritated greeting. He responded in kind.
“Hello, Mr. Minister,” he said.
“Vostov? Are you insane, calling me at my office?”
“I’ll make it brief.”
“That isn’t the point. This connection isn’t secure—”
“Listen to me, Minister. I don’t like politics, and I’m beginning to regret having gotten tangled up in this business. But men have to live with their choices.”
“Would you quit sounding philosophical, and come to the point? And remember, we’re possibly not alone here.”
“Fine, then. I’m going to give you some advice,” Vostov said. “Do whatever you want with it, but I suggest you at least pay attention.”
“All right, all right. What is it?”
“Our associate abroad feels he’s being neglected at your end. He says—”
“The man is no associate of mine. Merely a mover of goods, who is in turn moved by others.”
“Whatever. You’ve been dodging his calls, or so he claims. And I think it’s important that you talk to him.”
“Vostov, can’t you see I’m trying to lay some groundwork here? I don’t have to jump at his whim. If he thinks he can have carte blanche with my time now, I can only imagine his future impositions. And those of his shadow masters.”
“Talk to him, Minister. Pacify him. I don’t want the man on my back.”
“And I don’t like the idea of him playing us against each other. He’ll wait until I’m ready to speak to him, and he can fuck himself in the meantime.”
“Look, you must understand that he’s capable of turning this whole damn thing on its head—”
“We have enough to occupy our minds without being concerned with him. 1 have intelligence about that American operation in Kaliningrad. Something may be going on there that could spell trouble, although I don’t know precisely what it is. We must be prepared to take quick action should the need arise. I think, under these circumstances, it’s time for you to make yourself useful.”
“That’s not my business. I’ve already done—”
“You’ll do more. I’ll require supplies. Equipment. Perhaps even manpower. Don’t make the error of thinking you can wash your hands of this now.”
“Fucking politics. As I said before, I never should have let myself become involved in it.”
“One can’t help but be, Vostov. Life is politics. From the time we’re children competing with our siblings for our parents’ attention, trying to outgrab one another for what we desire. I’m convinced that’s when the betrayals begin. The family is a Judas circle, the brother we love is our enemy, eh?”
“I don’t know. You’re losing me.”
“Am I? Well, just don’t forget you were on that boat in Khabarovsk.”