Love Is for Tomorrow (5 page)

“Drink on the rooftop bar,” Antoine suggested. “Everything has a time and place, but a good laugh and a good drink are always welcome... especially the latter.”

“By the way, where did you say you got the card?” Bekkend called over his shoulder from down the hallway. 

Antoine looked after him, grinning. “I didn’t.”

***

Vienna, Austria

The airport hall of arrivals was a welcome sight after the three hour flight from Moscow, despite being packed full of other passengers’ relatives and drivers. Olga walked the line of name signs that stretched out in front of her, her bag trailing behind. She merged into the crowd as soon as possible to avoid attracting attention.

“Miss Kovalenko,” a voice said. “Miss Kovalenko!”

A woman squeezed through some bystanders. She was young like Olga, but dark skinned.

“You must be…?” Olga said and stretched out a hand, leaving her luggage on the floor.

She noticed the woman was a bit out of breath.

“Hello,” she said and gripped her hand. “I’m Kate Jackson, your host at the UN. You can call me Kate.”

Olga smiled.

“Olga.”

They exited the terminal.  A limousine was waiting. The first signs of summer were fresh in the air. Their driver put her luggage in the back of the car. Olga walked to the open door and let herself fall into the seat.

“It’
s a nice city,” Kate said.  She got in next to her. “You will enjoy your stay.”

“I’m sure of that,” Olga replied.

They drove over the Danube Bridge. Modern glass buildings mirrored the sun and Olga could see the Vienna International Centre of the United Nations building. She would visit there soon.

“I wanted to personally pick you up and run you through everything,” Kate said. “That way, I can also show you the city.”

“How kind of you.”

They don’t know who I am. They think I’m just a representative. I’m a perfectly disguised wolf in sheep’s clothing.

The car engine hummed. Traffic was constantly floating, but a red light stopped them.

“
Everywhere you go, you find the same fashion around the world,” Kate said. “Same shops, same brands. Signs of globalization.”

Olga caught a glimpse of the Vienna opera house and pointed to it.

“I have to say that this sand-colored palace of pompous arks and windows, takes me back to my childhood.  It was full of-dreams and hard practice to become a ballerina.”

On the other side of the street, people sat outside sidewalk cafés enjoying dessert and coffee.

“And see this culture of coffee,” Kate mused. “Do you know where it originates from? Several hundred years ago, the Turks besieged Vienna and in failing to conquer it, were forced to flee. What the Austrians discovered in leftover tents from the siege, were bags of coffee.”

“Those were different times,” Olga said.

“But there haven’t always been wars,” Kate continued. “Around the early nineteen hundreds, people met from the East and the West to share their ideas. Some important personalities all lived here before rising to power, meeting in these very cafés before they went on and changed the course of history for better or worse. The United Nations wanted to nurture this tradition in Austria. Now we are becoming one big village.”

Olga nodded silently.  

“Just don’t bring fear into the village.”

“Excuse me?
”

“This new world order you are talking about often paints my country as a villain,” Olga said.  

“Shouldn’t every country be judged on its actions by the international community?” Kate asked.

“Yes and no. As we all know, you can tip the scales slightly in the direction of one or the other with subtleties,” Olga said. “What history teaches us and how the media phrases certain words, to be injected into the minds of all. For example, how come our greatest ruler is known to the world as Ivan the Terrible, when every child in Russia knows his correct name was Ivan the Thunderous? Is it only because of an unfortunate translation error?”

“Please forgive my lack of knowledge and correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t he the one who boiled his enemies in wine?”

“Yes dear, I will correct you, because you
are
wrong. Wine would have been far too expensive.”

“But…,” Kate stuttered. “He did boil his enemies alive.”  

Olga shrugged, slightly amused by Kate’s trying to get to the point.

“As I said, different times.”

Buildings passed, filling the deadly silence.  After a time, Kate broke it. 

“Speaking of different times, what became of the ballerina?” she asked.

Olga lifted her hands. “Well, I guess like times change, so do dreams. As I grew older, it became clear there was no future
for me in ballet
. I had to look for other paths and other ideals. What better way than to do the same as the leader of the country? Becoming a person who could protect the wellbeing of nations. Not by fighting wars, but by preventing them behind the scenes.” She remembered her father, who formed her into what she was now. “My father taught me a lot.” 

The car entered the first district and they passed a lavish fountain. The sparkling drops caught the light, forming a rainbow down to the wet concrete. Behind it loomed a larger than life statue of a Soviet soldier from World War II. A remnant of the victory, liberation and occupation of her motherland, Olga recognized it proudly.

“And I can see why he liked it here,” she said, looking out of the window.

They arrived at the Hotel Imperial. The doorman took her luggage and followed them into the lobby. Kate led the way.  

“I will take care of everything for you while you’re here,” she said and went over to the reception.

Olga turned around, admiring the imperial style interior. Its huge chandelier and colorful carpet spread out beneath her.

“Starting with dinner. The restaurant should have a view of the city, above the roofs of Vienna.”

Vienna was aflame with orange lights. Olga and Kate dined one hundred-sixty meters above the ground in the Donauturm. Atop Danube Tower, the entire restaurant rotated in circles to grant a three hundred sixty degrees view over the city. The tables were decorated in the style of a traditional Viennese cafe and belied the fact that they were at the top of the world.

Olga’s phone vibrated. Her father’s picture flashed on the screen.

“Excuse me for a moment,” she said to Kate and picked it up.

“Father,” she said in Russian.

“Hello Olga. Did you arrive safely?”

His voice was strong, authoritarian, but she was so used to it. Nothing stimulated her feelings more. It was like a bridge to her childhood every time she spoke to him.

“Yes father. I just unpacked my bags and now I’m having dinner with my host in a panoramic restaurant. It’s a lovely city.”

“I know. I’ve been there many times. Just checking up on you. I will let you enjoy your meal.”

“Thank you. But now that I have you on the line can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, darling.”

She waited a couple of seconds. Their bond was close, so close she knew he would understand what she was saying, even if she didn’t say the actual words. He would read between the lines.

“If you meet someone again, after a really long time and you want things to be the same as they were the last time you saw them, how do you know the person hasn’t changed?”

“Are you talking about someone I know?”

“Yes.”

“And I assume it’s not your ex.”

“Correct. I would say that she was like your child.”

He sighed. “In a way, she was. Everyone changes. And I guess she would most of all. She got that from me.”

“Would you trust your child?”

“Trust runs through blood. We don’t share the same blood but we shared blood together. I would say that binds us even more. Did she contact you?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. After all these years? How? When?”  

Olga smiled. She was sure Kate couldn’t follow the conversation, if she kept speaking in Russian. Kate was South African after all and Olga kept her voice low to shield it from other tables.

“It’s the first time she talked to us since going off the grid. Tanya says she is in something deep.”

“Don’t,” her father scolded her. “Don’t mention her name.”  

“You think I’m not safe papa? After all I’ve done?”

He didn’t answer.

Olga decided to tell him what she learned from Tanya. “She’s in something deep. There’s a wedding happening soon.”

“How does she know the family?” her father asked. “Does she know the bride?”

“The groom is Russian. The bride, Nadia isn’t. She is coming to Russia for the wedding. They are still looking for a venue.”

“When? Are you invited?”

“I am going to meet…,” Olga paused as to not repeat her mistake again, “...my sister and get the invitation. She mentioned Victory Day.”

“So, weddings here, in our country? On our Victory Day? Is this becoming a thing now?”

“I hope not. But if it’s true, there’s a big chance for me to make a difference. Life changing, father. What I always waited for. I’m going to crash the wedding, stop Nadia. Make you proud.”

Her father listened with patient restraint.

“Did you meet the bridesmaid then?” he asked.

“Not yet. I will be going to meet her in a couple of days. I just had to tell you.”

“Good. Keep me informed.”

“I have to go now. Bye.”

“Give her my best.”  

She put the phone back in her bag and turned back to Kate.

Switching back to English, she said, “Sorry, it was just my dad checking if I’m alright. After all these travels, he still worries something might happen to me.”

Kate shook her head with a smile. “Dads…”

“Still thinking the world is a bad place for his little girl,” Olga said.

***

Vienna, Austria

The front entrance of
Schönbrunn
Palace was a princess’ dream. Paired lion statues in front of the wide courtyard led to an entrance gate flanked by two obelisks. They cast their shadows on the wide, white yard leading to the sun-yellow palace. Gravel crunched under Rose’s soles, white and hard as diamonds. Matching her name, a rose garden awaited her with stone sculptures and shapes cut out of the hedges, forming the huge labyrinthine backyard of the palace. Water splashing out of bowls held by statues of Greek gods drew birds thirsty for the first taste of spring.

“I have already taken up too much of your time,” Kate said to her. “I know you are busy.”

Rose waved her hand.

“I like to keep my promises”, she said. Rose caught herself treating Kate almost like a daughter. She saw things in her, that she would like to see in her own daughters, but didn’t. They would be taking another career path, which was fine. But Rose saw in Kate, how she was at that age. “It’s also good to get away. What else happened today?”

They walked up the
Gloriette
hill, toward a triumph monument and a coffee shop. Rose was looking forward to having a coffee there and watch the reflections on the surface of the duck pool, a clear sky with cotton clouds afar. Rose enjoyed mentoring young promising females. It was also a welcome break from running operations and intelligence gathering.

Chatting with Kate reminded her of what it must have felt like for Lance, when she asked him for advice.

“We’re always sent in when it’s already too late,” he had said at a dinner party when Rose was about to leave MI5. “It would be good, if instead of fixing it, we could prevent it.
”

That sentence stuck with Rose. It was the reason she joined Lance to form a deep black program, known only to a select few as the The Agency which Lance nicknamed the United Nations Intelligence - UNI.

“One thing struck me as odd”, Kate said. “I was bringing a Russian representative, Olga Kovalenko, to her hotel. She was on the phone with her father. I guess she thought that I don’t speak Russian. She said that something will happen at a wedding, that she would do something to make her father proud. Prevent the wedding from happening, once some Tanya tells her where it’s going to be.”

Rose almost choked on her coffee.