They group deplaned and Lucky stepped out of the hangar to find Bobby Boots just arriving in the car. The Navigator came to a stop, the door opened, and Anastasia hopped out. She ran over to Lucky, jumped up high, and wrapped her arms around his neck, squealing in Russian like the teenager she was, telling everyone how happy she was to see them.
“Anastasia,” Lucky said. “I want you to meet a friend of mine named Oleg. Oleg is Russian like you.”
Anastasia stared at him. She held on tightly to Lucky, begging him for protection. She was clearly frightened.
“No, no, don’t be afraid. He is a friend. He will not hurt you,” Lucky assured her in Russian.
“Oleg,” Lucky said. “This beautiful young lady is the princess, uh Duchess Anastasia Nikolayevna.”
“It . . . is . . . my . . . great . . . pleasure . . . to . . . meet . . . you . . . Duchess Anastasia,” he answered, in an almost trying-to-convince-himself, staccato voice.
“Perhaps, one day, Anastasia,” Lucky offered, “you may decide to return to Russia to live among your people. If you do, this is the man who can help you.”
Anastasia hesitated for a moment as she considered Lucky’s words and the possible ramifications of them all.
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Anastasia?” Oleg asked.
She looked at Lucky. He nodded his approval.
“у вас есть мое разрешение,” Anastasia answered, giving him permission.
Oleg asked her how she liked it here, what were some of her hobbies and then, once he felt that she was comfortable with him, he asked the big question, the one that had to be asked – how she came to be in America, how she had gotten here.
Her face turned solemn, her eyes turned cold, and then soft and scared. She recounted that night and the events of that night in terrifying detail and she prefaced it with events leading up to the night that Lucky arrived. She described court life and told him about her family being forced to leave their palace for Siberia. She vividly described how her family was murdered.
“How can people be so cruel?” she asked as she sobbed. “How can they just murder family, good family? How can enjoy doing such horrible thing? My beautiful sisters, my beautiful mother, father murdered before my eyes and I was to be murdered next. I was in corner, trying to shield myself from knives and guns pointed at me and suddenly, I looked up to see two men, Lucky and Charlie,” she said as she turned toward Lucky, her sad eyes filled with tears. “I cannot return to Russia,” she said and she walked away.
Part of the group climbed into the black Navigator with dark-tinted glass and Bobby took off for the safehouse. Lucky, the professor, Mickey, and Oleg remained behind. Zofski was still inside, soundly sleeping as they had to seen it – nothing that a little needle couldn’t handle. Lucky always traveled with injectable sedatives. It was something the agency taught him, something to use instead of murder. Lucky then surprised everyone and asked that they all reboard. The craft was still cloaked.
“Lindstrom, Flushing Meadows, please,” Lucky said, and the professor lifted them gently off the ground and flew the short distance to Flushing Meadows Park in New York City. He settled the machine onto the soft, cushiony green patch of grass in the empty field, near the portal. The professor remained inside the cloaked spacecraft while the rest of the men exited. As if on cue, Zofski awoke. Mickey had one arm and Lucky, the other. Lucky casually turned to Oleg and asked, “If you had to spend the rest of your life in another time, what time period would you choose?”
Without hesitating, Oleg answered, “Ancient Egypt during the building of the great pyramids or the Coliseum.”
“Are you serious?” Lucky questioned.
“I am most serious,” Oleg answered.
“Amazing,” Lucky said as they walked toward the portal. “Never mind. You’ll see why.”
Mickey quickly gave Oleg some instructions, the dos and don’ts of holding on, how he would feel some compression on his chest, how he could never venture outside without Lucky and without contact. Oleg stood, nodding in agreement.
Zofski, hearing this conversation, began to offer some resistance, but Lucky blasted him hard, right in the area where Mikilov had gotten it earlier. He fell to the ground.
“Get up, punk,” Mickey said as he dragged him to his feet.
“See, Zofski,” Lucky said. “You just had to go and be a smartass, threatening me, having your guys cause problems. You just would not take ‘stop’ and ‘no’ for an answer. I warned you, but you just couldn’t let go. Ya gotta know, Zofski, when to let go. I do not like the thoughts of a psychopath—that would be you, Zofski—running free to come back to haunt me.”
Zofski just glared at him. He screamed at Oleg, “What? Are you going to allow this? I am Secretary of State for the KGB, the most powerful Russian organization that ever existed. Oleg, you are now a classified traitor. You will fall on bended knees and be executed from behind by a gun so powerful that nothing will remain of your face. You hear me, Oleg?” he screamed.
Lucky glanced at Oleg and said, “Okay, then, let’s get the show on the road.”
This was the first time Lucky was taking four people through a portal and he really wasn’t quite sure what to expect.
“Hold the arm of the person next to you,” he said. “And stay close. And as Mickey said, whatever you do, do not let go.” All four men stepped into the portal.
Oleg was nervous, but tried not to show it. He had no idea what might happen, as nothing was said other than the basic instructions from Lucky and Mickey.
“First stop, ancient Egypt,” Lucky said.
There was silence and then constriction. The space seemed tight as though some life force was squeezing the breath out of them. Oleg was the last in line, behind Mickey. He closed his eyes momentarily, willing it to end. He was too afraid to speak. Zofski, sandwiched between Mickey and Lucky, clenched onto Lucky’s belt and dug his nails into his skin. The group, nudged along by Lucky, shifted to the left. They arrived at the end.
Lucky, as usual, looked outside, by taking one step out and leaving one foot inside the portal. There was no activity, no one there. The workers had apparently finished for the day. It was safe to leave. Oleg could not believe his eyes. Zofski stood speechless. There they stood, standing in the desert of ancient Egypt, at the base of the unfinished pyramid.
“My God,” Oleg said. “It is true. I am witnessing the beginnings of the Great Pyramid.”
Zofski fell to the ground as if to worship it. Lucky motioned to Oleg to follow him.
“Mickey, stay here and watch Zofski for a short while please.” He grabbed Oleg’s arm and said, “Let’s take a little tour.”
Lucky walked with Oleg across the field, littered with debris and stones of varying sizes and leftover pieces from the chipping and squaring of quarried stones being prepared for the Great Pyramid’s next level of steps. They ambled across the field, careful not to stumble over anything and entered the portal leading to Rome. This time, knowing what to expect, Oleg was a bit more comfortable as he entered the second portal. They remained at the edge of the portal. Lucky told Oleg to move toward him so he could see. It was almost too much to absorb. Spectators cheered wildly as their favorite gladiator appeared, calling for blood and murder in the midst of the grand Coliseum. Oleg stood dumbfounded, his mouth agape, unable to grasp all of what was happening around him. Two gladiators were fighting very close to the portal. One of the men ducked as his opponent swung his sword, missing his head by inches, and Oleg jumped back as the sword passed through the portal, apparently striking him. He looked down at his stomach to see where the sword had hit, searching for blood and marks on his body. T
he pain comes later,
he thought, but there was nothing, no sign of injury. The two gladiators continued their battle, unaware that visitors from the future were looking on. Oleg gazed at the structure. The Coliseum, in her magnificence, was grander than he ever imagined. He looked intently at the statues of statesmen guarding Rome from above, resting on the highest level of the building. It was as if they were passing judgment on those that entered the stadium. Everything was new, even the sand with the ever-widening patches of blood dotting the floor. Yes, even the blood was fresh and Oleg was watching as in the midst of this incredible structure, with all her grandeur and beauty, the most heinous of sports was taking place. It was contradiction at its finest.
Lucky whispered that it was time to leave.
“Hold on as you did before,” he said. The men took baby steps to the right, exited the portal, and picked their way carefully across the field, back to the first portal. Zofski was there with Mickey watching guard. Lucky motioned for Mickey to join them. Seeing this, Zofski started walking toward them.
“Run,” Lucky said. “Run to the portal now!”
Mickey and Oleg took off with Zofski trailing them. They arrived at the entrance of the portal and entered, Oleg first, Mickey second, and Lucky last. Zofski grabbed Lucky’s arm, begging, pleading, trying to hold on. Lucky lifted his right leg outside the portal and kicked him hard, right in the privates, once again.
The men stepped out of the Flushing Meadows Portal.
“Oleg,” Lucky said. “After you return home, wait a few hours and call your president. Tell him about the letter that you found on your desk, the one you have, the one that Zofski signed. Tell him that it was placed there while you were gone and you knew it was important. If there is mention of someone other than you assuming his position, contact me immediately. I will reach out to people that I know within our agency and see if we can help.”
As they walked towards the car that Nicky had dropped off, they talked like old friends talk. The car was parked across the street from Flushing Meadows Park.
Oleg looked over toward the Unisphere situated on the left – the sole remaining symbol of New York City’s 1964-65 World’s Fair. Lucky explained to Oleg that that the park was over twelve hundred acres and that prior to 1939, the park served as a massive dumping ground for ashes. Parks Commissioner, Robert Moses, and other city planners laid out an elaborate plan to replace these ashes with beauty and excitement. They proposed transforming the site into a World's Fair, which they did, and it became the site of the World’s Fair in 1939.
“To be honest,” Lucky said. “I always thought that the person who won the competition for the design of this monument could have come up with something more creative than a ball, but looking at it now, I have to admit, it’s a pretty cool structure that has withstood time.”
Oleg said that he had seen pictures of the Unisphere, but it was so different to stand before it, up close and in person.
“Ah, Oleg, but you have not seen all of it. Someday, if all goes well, I will send my plane for you and we will then take an incredible trip to the twelfth century. I’ll introduce you to the King and Queen of England, whom I’m proud to call my friends, and take you to a merchant friend for you to purchase extraordinary, priceless relics for your wife and children.”
“I do not know what to say, Lucky,” Oleg said. “I experience today things beyond words – invisible people, invisible spaceships, travels to ancient times. I met the real Duchess Anastasia. I now understand. Your ability cannot help us or help other countries. It is no threat either for if you change something there, you change the present and that could mean that even, you, Lucky, will not be standing here this moment in time. I hope I live to have grandchildren and to one day pass down this story as my ‘legacy,’ as you Americans say.”
Epilogue
At Lucky’s insistence, Oleg extended his vacation for another four days. Lucky and friends took him all over New York City. They dined at fine restaurants, took in a Broadway show, visited Ground Zero, the Statue of Liberty, and the Empire State Building. It was now time for Oleg to return to his homeland of Russia. Lucky toyed with the idea of taking the jet as opposed to the spacecraft but the craft, while not quite as comfortable, was faster. They entered the Russian air space and proceeded undetected and landed once again, at the same spot as before.
As Oleg descended the steps, Lucky handed him a box.
“Enjoyed getting to know you, Oleg. Hope we meet again,” he said.
Oleg took the box and left the craft. As he walked down the sidewalk, he opened it.
“From One Soldier To Another
” was the inscription on the Rolex Presidential.
Oleg turned around and smiled. He put the watch on his right hand and waved with it for all to see. He then nodded, gave Lucky a crisp salute, and turned and walked away.
Six days later, at the safehouse, a package arrived from Russia. It was addressed to Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolayevna, in care of Lucky. Lucky took the package into the kitchen, placed it on the table, and carefully examined it for anything suspicious. He tore off the paper, eliminating the possibility that the wrapping might be laced with traces of poison or chemical agents. Lucky opened the box to find an envelope taped to the top of another smaller box. Once again, he examined the envelope before opening it. He read the note and placed it down next to the box. He said nothing as he encouraged Anastasia to open the package. A giddy Anastasia gently opened the box and began peeling away layer upon layer of paper. Around and around she went until finally, she made her way to the last protective layer down to a beautiful doll, which she held in her hands, carefully examining the doll – her eyes, her cheeks, touching her hair.
As she held it close to her chest, she said in a small voice, “This French porcelain doll is my fondest, most cherished treasure. I thought it lost. I never see it again. It was gift from Grandmamma.”
Lucky handed her the note, written in Russian. It read:
“
This is for Anastasia. I hope the Duchess will never forget the countryman that you introduced her to. Please see that she gets this. Till we meet again.
Signed . . . Oleg
”