Gold-Digger’s Daughter

In the language of modern Russia that was one very clear message: ‘toe the line or you will end up like your predecessors: dead’. She knew that. She did not need to be street smart, or worldly, or particularly politically aware, or even good at reading between the lines, to understand that message. Things that were not clear to her, however, were ‘what’, ‘who’ and ‘why’. What exactly was the line that she was supposed to follow? Who were the ‘powerful people’ that Grigori mentioned that had such an interest in what she thought or said? And why would they care – as far as ‘people of influence’ were concerned, she was a nobody? The part that she did read between the lines was that it was possible – perhaps even probable - that the only reason that she, herself, might be in a different category than those three dead men, was because Grigori was attracted to her. She had that feeling the last few times they met – and it was especially obvious earlier that day in St Petersburg. She sensed it. A woman knows these things. “Or at least he was attracted,” Natalie added … “As in the past tense? Maybe we just have not been eliminated yet – ‘yet’ being the operative term here - because Grigori used to like us? Now, it may be different …” “Yes, we got to be careful, “ cautioned Lara, “Grigori himself may very well be one of those ‘powerful people’ with, um … what did he call it … ‘a stake’ in Hydra. According to his street rep he could very well qualify for that role … “In addition – over and above his possible financial interests in Hydra’s success, he may feel that his personal standing hinges on our report,” reasoned Natalie. “Clearly, he is something like our sponsor.” She shuddered, recalling Grigori’s cautionary words way back in London. Something about being all in. “I think he said ‘100% committed’,” Laura clarified. “Now I am beginning to wonder if that meant a commitment to success – not to Hydra … If so, admitting to failure – any failure for any reason – may therefore be viewed as an unacceptable betrayal …” “Wow, if so – talk about zealots,” Lara said. “Success or death! Worse than Trotsky …” “As opposed to just committing to keep quiet about Hydra and staying loyal to the enterprise – which was how I took it back then,” Natasha said, adding an “oh shit!” for emphases. “Yes, he did say something like ‘major consequences’,” Laura recalled. ‘Now-what,’ rang in her head over and over again – like an old vinyl record stuck in a groove and skipping back to a single line: now what, now what, now what … “Well, it must be something to do with our conclusion,” started Laura. It made sense that she – the most calm and analytical one of her personas - would be the first one to recover her cool. “He switched off just as we were talking about the EUV system … Our take on the bleak likelihood of Hydra obtaining EUV lithography technology …” “So we better come up with a different conclusion,” Natalie opined. “Or we may be dead soon, too, ” “If,” stressed Lara, “if that is what he wants. We are only guessing now …” “True,” Natasha said. “We do not know. Let us face it. The situation is complicated and calls for deep analyses. Unravelling what is, or is not, really going on, and who Grigory is, and maybe what he stands for, requires in depth reasoning with a lot of cold hard logic … To pick out the real truths behind the postures …” “And currently,” Laura inserted, “we are not capable of that. Not only are we short of hard data, but also I feel that we are in no state to make any serious decisions right now … We need time …” “On the other hand, I do not feel like doing nothing is the right thing either,” Natalie opined. “I feel like the time we have is already borrowed … Like we need to do something to stop the proverbial clock ticking …” “Hmm, maybe you should text Grigori just to let him know that we got - and understood - his message,” Laura suggested helpfully. “Hopefully that would buy us time – so that they, whoever they may be, do not do anything rash. Give us a chance to collect ourselves?” They all nodded somberly. This was not a time for bickering … Natasha texted Grigori, “Message received. Will reconsider.” “There,” she said, “that should be vague enough. And hopefully buy us the time …” Still, she checked her front door and padded in her socked feet to mama’s apartment to make sure that hers was locked too. She then returned to her side, locked the partition door, closed the windows and all the curtains, and turned off the overhead lights. She considered jamming a chair against the knob of her door to the outside hall - like they do in the movies … “Fuck it,” she muttered. “This is silly! Unsubstantiated fears are getting to me.” She then went through her usual motions: remove makeup, hot shower, skin cream, pj’s, get into bed, last check of e-mails and other news, phone on charger, bedside lamp off … But she did not sleep much that night. Every creak of the old building, every rustle of the trees outside, every sound in the street below … Any sound, real or imagined, usual or not, sent a shot of adrenaline through her system.