Her Russian Hero (International Romance Series) (33 page)

The Vice-President slammed his
fist on the table. “Damn it, Fedorin. Defend yourself.”

Sergei arched his eyebrows.
“Vice-President, I thought I was in trouble precisely because I fought to
defend my privacy. Would anything I tell you now make a difference, or have you
already made up your mind?”

“Let’s hear you, Fedorin,” the VP
insisted.

“My achievements speak for
themselves.” He looked the VP squarely in the eye, determined to stick to facts
without bragging. “I am a war veteran. Vice-President, you have awarded me the
Vallianskaya
Medaal
for services given to the mother country. Two days ago, gentlemen,
you all attended the inauguration of the lab dedicated to the testing of our
environment, the culmination of the first phase of my project. The effort to
rid Belarus of pollution and carcinogens is rolling on. A second contract will
soon be in place for the actual cleanup.”

“What second contract? I was not
consulted,” Roussov barked.

His boss raised a hand, silencing
him. “It’s not signed yet but it’s a dream come true for our country.”

The Vice-President sighed. “Back
to the subject at hand. Fedorin, no one questions your past achievements. We
have all recognized them. I just wonder about the impact of your recent actions
on your career and on the future of our government. Explain these pictures and
your involvement with foreign currency.”

Sergei shrugged. “Our citizens
have not seen the pictures or heard any story of foreign money. They don’t have
to.”

The Minister of Defense inched
forward. “Nowadays, you can’t keep a secret and you can’t ask the press to keep
one. Because of your short temper, we will all be in the mud pretty soon. We
cannot allow this to happen.”

Sergei narrowed his eyes on the
selfish
dourak
but the Vice-President cleared his throat. “Fedorin, you
still have not explained the motives leading to the events of yesterday,” he
said in a conciliatory tone.

Exasperated, Sergei heaved a deep
breath. “I have nothing more to say, gentlemen.”

“Well, it is a good thing we
received a full report from a reliable source and she didn’t spare us any
detail.” The Vice-President’s lips stretched into a hint of a smile.

“She?” Sergei sputtered.

“Dr. Lornier,” the Vice-President
specified.

“Where the hell did you see her?”

“In my own house,
Generalle
Fedorin. After she had gone shopping with my wife.”

Sergei felt like his eyes were
popping out of their sockets.

“Yesterday, she visited the U.S.
Ambassador and our friend here, Minister Letovin of the Environment,” the VP
said, not bothering to conceal his sarcastic tone. “She was planning to
continue her tour by stopping at your Ministry of Defense to rattle Minister
Anatov’s ears. I asked her for a full confession, every single detail.”

A wave of frustrated rage
engulfed Sergei. He should have guessed that Cecile wouldn’t abide by his
command and keep her ass out of his business. His face must have revealed his
fury as he turned toward his colonel. Nicouvitch raised helpless hands at the
silent inquiry and shrugged.

Sergei grudgingly acknowledged
the ironic glances thrown in his direction. He remained speechless, his jaws
clenched so hard he was afraid he might break a tooth.

He glimpsed at Roussov and
noticed with satisfaction his disgruntled expression. Apparently, the Director
of National Security was not aware of Cecile’s campaign. For only a second,
Sergei sent her a grateful thought.

Roussov narrowed his one good
eye. “What type of confession are you talking about?”

But the VP ignored him. “Fedorin,
in view of yesterday’s events and the deep repercussion it may have on our
government, I am sorry to inform you we have decided to take action.”

Roussov smirked and leaned
against the back of his chair. Sergei stiffened imperceptibly. It was time to
activate his time bomb. He hitched his chin toward Nicouvitch who bent and
opened a tote bag.

Sergei folded his arms over his
chest. “Gentlemen, so far you have based your judgment on pictures. How about
some music to go with the show?”

“
Generalle
Fedorin, we
will not tolerate…” the Vice-President started and then gasped as Cecile’s
voice filled the room.

In the tangible silence, they all
heard the Director of National Security request five hundred thousand dollars
for his service, insisting and bargaining.

Petrified, Roussov slouched in
his chair.

Suddenly, his face twitched. “You
can’t do that. You can’t destroy my reputation. I will kill you. And I will
kill the bitch.” He drew a gun from inside his jacket pocket and waved it in
Sergei’s direction.

The men sprang out and crouched
behind their chairs. Sergei plunged and grabbed Roussov’s feet. The shot
deflected, splintering the desk while they all jumped back.

The door burst open admitting two
guards. “We heard a shot.”

“Arrest him,” the Vice-President
ordered. The two guards took over from Sergei, holding Roussov still between
them.

With icy calm, the Vice-President
resumed his seat and folded his hands on his desk. “This session allows us to
avoid the scandal of a military tribunal and an outside judge. All yours, Mr.
Anatov.”

The Minister of Defense declared
with an official tone, “Roussov, you are discharged from the Army of Belarus
for abusing your position as Director of National Security for the purpose of
your personal vendetta. You will be prosecuted for attempted bribery and
attempted manslaughter.” He addressed the guards. “Lock him up.”

Sergei went to the window. His
mind numb, he stared at the heavy flakes of snow swirling in a wind as cold as
his soul. Everything he held dear had crumbled and collapsed. Love, mission and
loyalty. Could a man lose everything at the snap of a finger—the flash of a
picture?

“Gentlemen, please return to your
seats. We need to continue this meeting,” the Vice-President ordered.

Apparently, they weren’t done
dissecting his life and his future. With a sneer, Sergei folded his arms and
sat.

The Minister of Defense cleared
his throat, a sure sign he was trying to marshal his strength and strike a
final blow. “
Generalle
Fedorin, just before coming here, our
Vice-President, Minister Letovin and I discussed your case. Your lousy temper
and lack of control have endangered the reputation of our organization and
jeopardized its future. You were right. The decision was already made. After
further consideration and with great regret, I have to inform you, you can no
longer serve as our
Major
Generalle
of Belarus.”

Nicouvitch gasped.

Fedorin kept his emotions under
control and stared at the Vice-President. Not long ago, the man admired
Sergei’s prowess and had bestowed a medal upon him.

The VP blinked and hesitated.
“Fedorin, you are a war hero. We will not tarnish you reputation. I will accept
your resignation. You will leave with all due honors.” He delivered his
sentence in a crisp tone.

Sergei’s eyes narrowed. His lips
thinned to a sad line. “You want me to resign? This is a bit too harsh. Don’t
you think?”

“Consider yourself lucky to get
out with your freedom,” the Minister of Defense bellowed with a slap on the
desk.

“I would gladly give my life and
my freedom for my country.”

The VP nodded. “I know, Fedorin. But
our Minister of Defense has the responsibility to protect the Army from further
scandal. You can still serve your country as a civilian.”

Sergei snorted. They acknowledged
his patriotism but they would take advantage of his feelings. Having trampled his
reputation under their feet, they would still expect him to serve. And he
would, because he loved Belarus. Because he had promised his dead wife and
mother to clear his country of pollutants. And because his greatest ambition
had been the satisfaction derived from his well-performed duty.

“This session is not over yet.
The
Major
Generalle
, I mean the former
Major Generalle
,”
the Vice-President corrected himself, “is leaving an important project
half-done. Colonel Nicouvitch, we will count on you to head the Belchem
Laboratory project and bring it to completion.”

“I am honored, sir, although, I
am saddened. And I wonder if I can fill the shoes of my illustrious
predecessor.”

Sergei’s lips stretched into a
half-smile. “Fill them, Nicolai. Fill them, my friend. I would prefer to see
you finish my project rather than an indifferent outsider. The American
delegation will continue to work with you.”

“Have we covered all the items of
this extraordinary meeting?” The Minister of Environment impatiently tapped his
fingers on the desk.

“I have an announcement to give
to the press,” the Minister of Defense said. “With the approval of our
Vice-President, as of tomorrow, the Bureau of National Security is dissolved.
We will organize an internal Intelligence based on better principles.”

“Gentlemen, this meeting is
adjourned.” The Vice-President gaveled on the table to dismiss them. “Citizen
Fedorin, please give this special message to your fiancée. My wife would like
her to join us for dinner sometime.”

Sergei felt a knife digging into
his heart. His eyes burning, he heaved a deep breath to control his rage. “Sir,
our engagement was secret and is broken now.”

“Tss, tss, tss, Fedorin. My wife
has set her heart on preparing a wedding and I can never disappoint my lady.
You have twenty-four hours to clear your offices and…make peace with your sweet
fiancée.”

“Vice-President, you have just
shattered the career of a loyal and disciplined officer,” Sergei sputtered,
unable to cope with more humiliation. “The
Major
Generalle
of
Belarus no longer exists. Citizen Fedorin will pick up the pieces of his
life…any way he pleases…and alone. I don’t intend to see you again, gentlemen.”

He strutted out of the room his
head high.

* * * * *

The hell with them all. Sergei
left the Vice-President’s office, his heart aching from the sting of ungrateful
selfishness. He was a man of action who never analyzed his feelings. Tonight he
had trouble sorting the various shades of disgust lumping in his stomach.

All he ever wanted was to serve
his country, to protect the citizens and bring a better life to Belarus. He
never really cared about his title of Major General. It had been an honor and a
mean to help his countrymen but more often than not, it had been a burden
restricting his privacy.

He wouldn’t have minded
relinquishing the title and remaining a simple officer. But to be relieved of
his duties before he could finish his mission tortured his heart like a burning
stick in an open-wound.

They had all hurt him. Roussov,
the ministers, the Vice-President and mostly, the fake little bitch who’d
promised to love him and hadn’t been able to trust him.

Like a wounded lion, he paced
around his desk, unable to sit. He clasped his hands behind his back, afraid to
give in to violent anger and destroy this now useless office.

He had asked her to marry him.
Twice. To please her, he had even fallen on his knees, for a formal proposal,
the way they did it in her country. He had offered his heart and given her his
mother’s ring.

And she’d betrayed him. She
consorted with his worst enemy. Dined with him. Let the vile snake wrap his
arms around her shoulders. Why?

Breathing with difficulty, Sergei
hurled an empty cup against the wall.

Why couldn’t she trust him? Ask
for his help?

He would have moved heaven and
earth for her. He loved her and trusted her.

Damn her. He still adored her.

Because of her, he’d fought and
beaten the photographers and guards. He wanted to protect her reputation and
their privacy.

Because of her, he’d lost
everything. His title, his career, his dream. And he would not keep his promise
to Sofya and his mother. He would not clean the environment and fulfill his
mission. Because of her.

An iron vise tightened around his
heart. His jaw clenched. He banged so hard on his desk the lamp trembled. A
glass snapped and shattered on the floor into thousands of pieces, just like
his dreams.

* * * * *

Sergei spent the night in his
little room at the Ministry of Defense. He put a lid on his churning mind and
stretched out on his bed. Soon, sleep provided the much-sought blankness he
yearned for.

The morning brought calm and
indifference. He felt no resentment and would seek no revenge. As a citizen, he
wanted to be free. Free for the first time in his life. When his head cooled off
and his heart relaxed to a normal beat, he would pick up the shreds of his life
and start somewhere else. With one regret hovering over his heart, he had not
completely fulfilled his pledge to Sofya.

With a detached spirit, he
dressed in wool pants and sweater and collected his few civilian clothes to
dump them into a plastic bag. The uniforms would remain the property of the
Army. Under the watchful eyes of two guards, he proceeded to empty his desk.

Again not much to take. Sofya’s
pictures, the Belchem’s latest progress report, a copy of John Gordon’s new
proposal for the Minsk environmental cleanup. Two sets of papers, two
unfinished projects. Somehow he couldn’t let go of them. He stuffed those few
precious items into the bag and slammed the drawer shut.

He threw his big coat over his
shoulders and took his plastic bag. He shook hands with his sergeant and smiled
with bitterness when he saw him straightening to salute him.

“
Dasvidania
. Goodbye,
Eugene and thank you.”

“
Dasvidania
,
Generalle
.”