Together in Paris

9.

He had a large advance on Popov and Dmitry, this was little, but sure. They had gotten off the train around Kiev, so it would take them about twenty days to get to Paris on foot. And since he had spent two days more to reach Constantinople and then another week to get to Paris ... he probably had about eleven days or so to get organized before they arrived in the city. He pulled the little red notebook out of the coat and opened it gently, the familiar Cyrillic letters greeted him immediately; there, at the bottom of the page, there was a small note that, as he had already thought before his departure, would have certainly have helped him: the Neva Club. It would have been enough to look for a place called like that and he would have found the solution to his problems: Lily Malevsky-Malevič, countess and lady in waiting of the Dowager Empress Maria Fëodorovna. He would have found a way to persuade her, then he would have talked to her, made the situation clear and ... made sure that Anya would understand her mistake.
Yes, he would have brought her back to Russia.

And there, he would have helped her find her family.

"C'est pour une femme, n'est-ce pas (It is for a woman, isn't it)?" the driver asked.

"Eh, le femmes sont précieuses, mais dangereuses. Si elle vous conduit ici, elle doit être très intelligente (Oh, women are precious, but dangerous. If she has brought you here, she really is intelligent)."
An exasperated sigh escaped Gleb's lips: couldn't it come into that man's head that he didn't speak French?

"I don't understand." he muttered nervously rubbing his temple. The driver seemed surprised to hear him speak.

"Are you Russian?" he asked, stunned. Gleb frowned, confused.

"Yes ... you do understand me?"
The driver burst out into a loud laugh.

"Ah, of course I do!" he shouted turning the steering wheel as the car veered so furiously to make the tires whistle.

"I'm from Moscow, you know? What a pleasure to find a compatriot! Where are you from?"

"Leningrad."

"Saint Petersburg? I love it, I've been there some time ago."
The rearview mirror reflected a sad smile on the man's lips.

"How are things back there?"
The police men shrugged.

"We are improving."

"Did you run away too?"

The question cut Gleb's chest. He quickly raised his head, surprised, a chill ran through his spine. The driver glanced at him through the mirror.

"From Bolsheviks, I mean." he resumed talking, this time in a low voice, as if afraid that someone could hear. The Deputy Commissioner lowered his eyes, breathing deeply. So everyone saw them as the monsters. They all imagined them as crazy, impudent traitors, creators of revolts. He clenched his fists.

Run away.

Russia was a place to love, it was the only reason to live for each and every Russian, it was not a prison, it was not an ice hell as many thought. People didn't need to run away. They had to stay, to work all together to make Russia shine even more than it had sparkled with the Tsar.
He frowned at the thought.

The Tsar lies cold.

"Take me to a hotel, please." the soldier wearily said "I need to rest."
The driver nodded.

"I understand you. It must have been hard for you."
A deep sigh made Gleb's chest lift.
Gosh, he had been sighing quite a lot lately.
His hands automatically slipped into his pockets, his right hand started stroking the gun charger. It was still there. He wanted to throw it away, and at the same time he couldn't get away from it.

What you don't want to see.

He would have had to face that one day.
He needed the gun.
His new office, his new telephone, his new position and the beautiful view of the Nevskij Prospect were up to him.
Anya's life was up to him.
His left hand touched the sharp side of a card, he looked down in confusion; he grasped the piece of paper, pulled it out of his pocket and, into the dim light of the Parisian night, he read the elegant and cursive Cyrillic letters written in black ink on the small cardboard.

Vassilisa Gorlinskaya
Hotel Houdini, Constantinople
Room 808
I'll wait for you there ...

He rolled his eyes as he read those words. He had almost forgotten about that Gorlinskaya viper! Had she really thought he would join her? Risking his life and position just to satisfy her?!
She and Gorlinsky made a perfect couple.
Both unfaithful.
Annoyed, he tore the note into two, four, eight pieces, untile the cardboard turned into a paper snowfall. He would never need it. Vassilisa wasn't of his concern, she was in Constantinople. He was in Paris.

Anya was in Paris.

Not yet, but ...

"Here we are." the driver said with a smile once the car stopped. Gleb took out some money, sound francs that the spy back in Leningrad had pledged to get him. But the man shook his head, raising a hand to stop him.

"Nyet, tovariš." he replied. A shiver went down the back of the Deputy Commissioner: comrade.

He had called him comrade.

The driver smiled at him.

"Free ride for a fellow Russian from a fellow Russian."

One look was enough, and for Gleb it was as clear as the sun: this man had been one of them too. He had been one of his comrades, once.
Gleb climbed down the car, the driver smiled at him again and, crazily, he drove away into the Parisian night, leaving him alone again.

"Do zvidaniya!" he shouted disappearing into the darkness.

The soldier waved slowly in his direction, a tired smile painted his lips. Now, the only thing left to do was find something to wear to go unnoticed into the crowd. And he needed to rest too, of course. The Neva Club wouldn't have been so easy to find into that huge city. His stomach grunted loudly, he blushed hardly as he walked inside the hotel.

Well, perhaps he would have something to eat too.

~☆~

A/N
Hi everyone! I'm so sorry I am late! I just totally forgot about updating! I hope you can forgive me!
Anyway, how's your day going? Here life's ok. It's raining and I love it when it rains!
Question of the chapter: who would you rather choose between Anya or Anastasiya?
I know they are supposed to be the same person, but to me they are slightly different. I personally would choose Anya. She's strong, not afraid of anything -- for real --, she's tuff and cute at the same time and, most important thing, she's an independent woman. She knows how to take care of herself and how to live on her own, and she doesn't need men to protect her! She's kind of the feisty one, and I really am into feisty characters (after the angst-y ones, of course, hehe). But what about you guys? I really am looking forward to know your answers and motivations!
I remain your obedient Storyteller,

Nor.Weg.