Her Russian Hero (International Romance Series) (10 page)

He ushered her toward the sitting
area of the lobby and gestured to the sofa. Cecile hastened to sit in a chair.
He squinted at her and lounged on the sofa. She couldn’t give him the
satisfaction of gloating about her distress. Forcing a smile, she continued to
stare at him. He scowled and his smile disappeared.

He studied her for a moment and she
let the silence drag, hoping he’d leave soon. But he patted her arm. “You’re an
amazing woman, Cecile. Now I understand why you were awarded this contract and
why they all respect you at the Belchem Lab.”

She hated both his touch and the
undercurrent of his compliment. “My name is Dr. Lornier. I like my title as
much as you do yours, Colonel Roussov. I’d appreciate if you keep using it,”
she insisted with an icy voice. “And I don’t like familiarity, even when you
pay me a compliment.”

“I’ll remember it, Dr. Lornier. I
have the deepest respect for you.”

“It’s very kind of you, Colonel
Roussov.” She nodded and stood up to terminate the courtesy visit. He heaved
himself out of the sofa.

“Wait. I would like to invite you
for dinner.”

Roussov, making a pass at her?
She lurched forward, unable to believe her ears. “Pardon?”

“In a restaurant,” he said with a
snort. “We are two executives involved in the same project. You are helping my
country. I want to show you my gratitude.”

Darn, how was she going to extricate
herself from this pothole? “Thank you for the invitation.” She hesitated. “But
I must decline, just because we are working together. People may view our
getting together alone as unethical.”
And you are not Sergei
.

“Dr. Lornier, you had dinner at
Colonel Nicouvitch’s flat. He is also working with you. Right?”

“I see that you are well
informed.” He was a suspicious man by profession. She suppressed a shudder.
What else had he learned through his spying lamps?

She averted her gaze from his
bulky figure but he stepped closer and held her arm.

“As the Director of National
Security, it is my duty to be informed of everything, Dr. Lornier. Everything.”
She heard the hidden intimidation. “You will need my help as soon as your
equipment arrives. I control the customs. My invitation remains open. Think
about it. Good night.”

He turned around and left the
hotel lobby. She couldn’t forget, even for a second that he was determined to
destroy the Major General. Her throat constricted, the joy she’d felt in Sergei’s
arms overshadowed by Roussov’s threat.

Why the invitation? What did he
want from her?

* * * * *

The next two days were spent in a
whirlwind of activities. Cecile held meetings with Dr. Kadelov and John Gordon.
She took notes, drew floor plans, videotaped the whole lab and evaluated the
few computers. And did her best to forget about Roussov.

On behalf of his general, Colonel
Nicouvitch extended an invitation to the American delegation. “Dr. Lornier, the
party will be held in your honor, on Thursday evening, at the Officers’ Club, a
restaurant located on the first floor of the Hall of Officers. Many officers
will attend. We will organize a typical Belarusian banquet with dinner and
music. Be prepared to dance.”

“Are you serious?” Cecile raised
an eyebrow. Would they expect her to dance? With their Major General? Talking
about dance, her own pulse started a wild one in expectation.

“We always sing and dance at our
soirées. And of course, we drink vodka.”

“Of course.” She chuckled. How
would they perform without the indispensable vodka toasts? Flattered that the
Belarusians would finally recognize her efforts, Cecile expressed her thanks to
the colonel.

Behind her, John Gordon snorted
and pulled her aside. “Cecile, you know, of course, that you’re the one paying
for the dinner?”

She calculated that at the rate
of six thousand BR to the dollar, the dinner would not be expensive.

“No problem.”

“You bring your cash in rubles.
Foreign currency is not allowed on the army premises,” John specified.

In the afternoon, Cecile stopped
at the hotel bank in the lobby to exchange a couple of hundred dollars as
suggested. The clerk gathered the change in bills of one hundred rubles. She
stared mesmerized as he counted for ten long minutes. He secured individual
packets of five hundred bills with elastic bands and shoved them into a plastic
bag. “1.2 million rubles. Do you want to check the count, Madam?” he asked as
he handed her the big bag.

She blinked—he looked too solemn
to be joking—and smiled back. “No need for that, I trust you.”

“Now be careful when you walk
with this fortune.” He glanced dubiously at her purse. “It’s not going to fit
in there. Here, keep the plastic bag in your hand and hold on to it.”

“I’m not going to walk by myself.
We have colonels and army officers to protect us.” She saw his eyes widening
with respect for the rich American lady who could spend a million rubles and
was driven around by mighty colonels.

Cecile handed her precious bag to
John. “Here, macho guy, play the boss tonight and pay on my behalf.”

Around six o’clock, Tania drove
them to the Officers’ Club. As they arrived, the place rapidly filled with
officers. With a sigh of relief, Cecile noticed Roussov was not present.

Sergei came to greet them. He
surveyed her flame-colored silk blouse and fashionable red and black skirt and
smiled his appreciation. “Red suits you.”

Cecile let him lead her to the
main dining room of the Officer’s club. He seated her at the center of the long
table adorned with three vases of pink and red flowers and sat right beside
her. When everyone settled according to the correct protocol, several
waitresses poured vodka in the shot glasses.

Sergei unfolded his big frame and
cleared his throat. He spoke in Russian while the attendees listened in
reverent silence. The unintelligible words flowed over her. Cecile studied his
noble face, waiting for the interpreter to take over. Sergei’s voice rose and
enthusiasm suffused his speech. She heard her name mentioned more than once.
The word
robota
kept on coming several times. The general concluded
with, “
robota, robota, robota
.”

The interpreter translated the
lengthy monologue and concluded on Sergei’s behalf. “Dr. Lornier has insisted
on excellent performance. She has repeated ‘we will work, work, work.’ And I
greatly appreciate her effort in reorganizing the Belchem Lab.
Spacibo
bolshoye
. Thank you, Dr. Lornier.”

The general waited, straight and
proud during the translation and raised his glass for his first toast. “Dr.
Lornier,
Na zdorovie
.”

Like a well-orchestrated ballet,
the guests sprang from their chairs, raised their glasses toward her and
repeated, “
Na zdorovie
.” They emptied the shot glasses in one collective
swift motion. Cecile remained seated and brought the vodka to her lips, sipping
slowly. She nodded using her newly acquired Russian, “
Spacibo bolshoye
.
Thank you.”

When the guests sat back, John
delivered his response and thanked the general for his hospitality and
graciousness. Everyone stood again and downed the second glass. Hierarchy
played a role even for toasting. Nicouvitch gave a toast, followed by Kadelov.
John kicked her foot under the table. She stiffened and glanced his way. He
winked at her.

Cecile pushed her chair back and
scanned her audience. Sergei encouraged her with a smile. Everyone’s gaze
focused on her. In the pregnant silence that followed, she raised an almost
full shot glass.

“General Fedorin, dear friends
and colleagues, I can’t find enough words to describe my happiness at being
here in Minsk to work on such an important project.”

She paused for a second and
turned toward Sergei. “Tomorrow, the local chemists will collect samples. We
will take them to Boston to be analyzed in our EAL lab, as you asked. General,
I promise you that with the help of Dr. Kadelov, my staff and I will do our
best to deserve your trust and from now on everybody will work, work, work.
Robota,
robota, robota
.
Na zdorovie
, to all of you.”

In an emotional uproar, they
cheered her and downed their vodka. The general took her hand and bent over it.
He swiftly trailed a warm kiss from her palm to her wrist. “
Spacibo bolshoye
,
Dr.
Robota
.” She didn’t need translation. He’d bestowed on her a name
that, from now on, many Belarusians would use with respect when talking about
her. In the middle of the noise, he murmured, “Thank you for the samples, my
Cecilya.”

After dinner, the general and his
guests adjourned to the club reception room. One of the officers opened an
accordion while Nicouvitch adjusted his guitar. The music started, soft and
languorous. Two of the officers began to sing. Their baritone voices enchanted
her. She remembered that when Nicolai had invited her, he’d specified dinner,
toasts, music and dance. Would Sergei…?

The general clicked his heels and
bowed in front of her. “May I have the honor?” She put her hand in his
outstretched one. They danced in the middle of the hall. John followed with
Tania.

“You’re doing a great job, Dr.
Lornier,” Sergei said in a voice loud enough to be heard by the officers around
them. A moment later, he murmured, “Tomorrow is your last day for this trip.”
He raised his voice and for a few minutes, he jumbled loud neutral sentences
with whispered words, holding two conversations with her at once, a private and
a public.

“We count on you to restore the
lab... I need to see you... I told my superior at the Ministry of Defense they
could count on you... Spend your last night with me... My officers will
facilitate your work in every possible way... Nicolai will bring you... Thank
you Dr. Lornier... I’ll miss you terribly.”

Cecile fought to maintain her
cool composure. Being in his arms and acting in a businesslike manner was
exhausting. She eased away and smiled playing the game. “Yes, General, it’ll be
as you say… I’ll miss you too.”

Chapter Nine

 The wind tossed back her
raincoat hood and the icy rain slapped her face and drizzled down her neck.
Cecile shivered and wrapped her coat tightly around her. John followed her from
the van and proceeded up the tilted marble stairs of the Belchem Lab.

Dr. Kadelov darted down and
extended a courteous hand to help her inside the building. “
Dobroye outroh
,
Good morning. Dr.
Robota.
”

Cecile tried to tidy the rumpled
and wet strands plastered to her forehead. As she shoved her gloved hands into
her pockets, she forced a smile. “Good morning, Alexander. Is everything
ready?” she mumbled through chattering teeth. “Today is our last day in Minsk.
We will wrap up the work.”

“Yes,
da
. My lab manager
will update you on the chemists’ progress to organize the lab. Then, you can
proceed with your audit.”

“Great. I’d like to start our
meeting as soon as possible.”

Alexander nodded. “
Da
,
okay,
niet problema
, no problem.”

They went down the long dark
corridor. Kadelov activated the lock combination to the laboratory. The five
chemists came to greet them and gathered around Tania, monopolizing her
attention and speaking in Russian. As she removed her wet raincoat, Cecile
tried to detect familiar words out of the cacophony. She understood from the
interpreter that the chemists had followed her instructions and worked very
hard to clean their laboratory.

She rubbed her hands and shivered
again. “I don’t know how they work in such a cold place. I’m always freezing.”

“Dr. Lornier, the Belchem chemists
would like to invite you and John to tea and cake in the manager’s office
before you start the lab round.”

With a genuine smile of
gratitude, Cecile acquiesced. “A cup of hot tea would be heaven right now.”

General Fedorin and Colonel
Nicouvitch arrived on time to share their little celebration.

“Good morning, Dr. Lornier,”
Sergei said with an official voice and a warm gaze.

“
Dobroye outroh
,
Dr.
Robota
.” Nicolai grinned. “Did you recover from last night’s party and our
many toasts?”

She nodded with a smile. “Good
morning. You sure know how to throw a great party. I had a lot of fun and I
feel fine.”

They crowded the small room where
innumerable books piled up to the ceiling and cluttered the bookcase and the
desk. A cleared area accommodated an antique copper samovar, the china cups and
several plates. One of the chemists poured the tea and pointed to the food.
Tania translated. “Help yourself. We have cake, cookies, cheese and black
bread.”

Cecile, touched by their
hospitality and their eagerness to please her, rotated the hot cup between her
hands and swallowed the boiling tea. At last, a warm feeling seeped into her
bones. “Thank you.
Spacibo bolshoye
. I feel much better. You’re all so
nice. I’m falling in love with this place and its people.” And one particular
Major General. She tasted the cake and licked her lips. “The cake is
delicious.”

The chemists understood her body
language and limited vocabulary and beamed at her approval. Cecile finished her
tea and glanced at the general. “Thank you, my friends. I appreciate your
hospitality. Now I think we should start our daily work.”

While the chemists and their
manager shuffled back into the lab, Kadelov ushered his guests toward his
office. John and Cecile sat in front of the desk, waiting. The Belarusians
officers lagged behind, still conversing. With a quick flip of the wrist,
Cecile looked at her watch and strummed her fingers on the desk. “Gentlemen, we
can start as soon as you’re settled.”