The Roman Gambit Pt. 03

Sir Alex said, "Because the initial treasure was coerced from the German people by the Romans and since the treasure itself never actually left Germany UNESCO has decided that the German government deserves full possession of the hoard. He said, "So, one of their crack KSK special operations units secured the mine and the treasure site before you even got back to Prague. That turned out to be a wise move. Because, trucks full of Bratva showed up just after noon."

He continued with, "The KSK operators had to kill a few in order to convince the rest that they should turn around and go back to Prague. But the treasure that you discovered is NOW safely in the hands of people who will ensure its priceless cultural benefits."

He added, "The artifacts will be meticulously brought up from the mine and shipped to the Antikensammlung of the Berlin Altes Museum. The Berlin Museum is planning to feature the entire hoard as soon as it is properly curated and conserved."

Sir Alex sat back looking thoroughly pleased and said, "Needless to say we all recognize that you two have secured a unique part of our heritage and I have been asked to convey the thanks of the Director General, as well as those of the German government and Her Majesty herself."

John said, perhaps too eagerly, "And what about the Amber Room?"

Sir Alex laughed. He said, "Ah yes, the Amber Room. A few of your Spetsnaz buddies showed up just after the KSK disposed of the Bratva. They were disappointed that they didn't get in on the festivities. But they want to convey the thanks of the President and government of the Russian people for restoring Russian honor."

He added jovially, "And I believe that there is a 'Hero of the Russian Federation' in your future. It should look nice on your chest next to the 'Hero of the Soviet Union' that you won in Afghanistan, don't you think?"

John looked stricken. I must have turned white. Sir Alex looked distressed. He said, "Do you mean Hilley doesn't know who you are?"

I said with tears in my voice, "I thought he was an English academic named John Smith."

*****

Sir Alexander Haig, GC, KG, OBE, thought he had seen it all. But the reaction of his two spectacularly good-looking dining companions was something he had never encountered. Hilley had responded to his joyful news, like a wife who had just been told that her husband had ANOTHER wife. And Ivan had reacted like the husband who had just been caught having one.

To the best of Sir Alex's knowledge Ivan had only known Hilley for perhaps three days and could not have been with her physically any longer than from the time that Sir Alex sent him up to the Erzgebirge. Which was not quite a day and a half ago.

Was it possible that they had fallen that much in love in that period of time? Sir Alex rejected that thought entirely. He said in Russian, which Hilley didn't speak, "What's going on here old boy? Who does she think you are?"

Ivan said, "It's complicated my friend. I have been speaking to her in English the whole time and she has made some unfortunate assumptions about who I am."

Sir Alex said very decisively in English, "We had better talk." He loved Hilley Larson like a granddaughter and he considered Ivan Kovalyov to be the son he had never had. He had absolutely no idea how the two of them could be so entwined with each other in such a short time. But he sensed that the first step in the resolution was to get it all out on the table.

Sir Alex knew that Ivan was a man among men, accomplished in so many aspects of life that it was hard to list them all. He knew that Hilley Larson was a woman whose physical and mental gifts, maturity and sense of who she was demanded a much older man as her companion; or to be frank, "lover."

Sir Alex could NOT explain how the two of them could have possibly gotten that close in the matter of a few days. But Sir Alex was NOT an expert in matters of the heart. What he WAS though, was a master of the art of leadership and he knew that it was time for the truth to be told all-around. So, he turned his mild, humorous, old codger eyes on the two. The hard and dangerous man who lurked behind them commanded, "You first Ivan."

Ivan said, "I never meant to mislead you Hilley. It was just that I never had the time to tell you my life's story. And you would never understand who I was without knowing it"

He added, "The fact is, I was born Ivan Kovalyov in Leningrad. I led an adventurous life in the Russian Army. That is where the Spetsnaz gear you asked about came from. I was fed up with my comrades after the way the Red Army behaved in Afghanistan and so I migrated to the KGB, which became the FSB when the Soviet Union fell apart."

He said, "I met Sir Alex here in London as part of my duties with the FSB. We worked together for several years on issues related to humanitarian causes and we got to be good friends. I DID graduate from Balliol and I DO have a doctorate in Economics. I used that knowledge to acquire great wealth during the Oligarch period in the early 2000s."

He continued with, "I live in Provence now and I grow grapes. I legally changed my name to John Smith, which is the English equivalent of Ivan Kovalyov, in order to cement the break from my past. My being with you in Prague was simply me doing a favor for the man I consider to be my father. I never intended to fall in love with you. But I meant everything that I said."

Sir Alex turned his commanding gaze on Hilley and gently said, "Now it's your turn." She had tears in her eyes as she began to speak.

*****

I didn't know what to feel. I was heartbroken and at the same time elated. The relationship that I thought the two of us had was obviously based on a lie. Or at least it was a misunderstanding that John, or Ivan, or whatever his damned name was, did not see fit to clear up. Still, the fact that he had reacted with absolute horror and grief when the lie came out indicated that he must have strong feelings for me. That reaction was very satisfying.

I suppose I should have figured out that he was not an English academic, when he walked hours in the dark and rain, over a mountain range, to come to our aid; or when he threw four tough men around like a cat playing with a mouse. That is not a skill you pick up at a place like Balliol.

He was undoubtedly a man just as daring and mysterious as Jim Kelley, my CIA spook lover. I actually had the ironic thought, "What is it about me that attracts professional liars?" But this particular liar was anguished. He was clearly just as distraught as I was about the lie, or misconception, or whatever he wanted to call it.

Then of course there was the "misconception" I had perpetrated on him; except he had not guessed that there was one. So, I looked both of those two hard men in the eye and told them my story.

I said, "I am pretty sure that I am not who you think I am either, JOHN. You probably think that I am some up-and-coming little girly-girl who works for the Organization so she can pay for her fancy apartment."

I said with bitterness in my voice, "What I am ACTUALLY, is the richest, nearly twenty-six-year-old you will ever meet. I come from big money and I've already built my initial trust up to almost ten million dollars. That's ten times what my parents gave me to invest. And when I inherit my mother's fortune, I WILL be one of the richest people in the world no matter what age or gender."

I said sadly, "I work for the Organization because I am an idealist. I want to make a difference; like we just did. I am a full-fledged English Barrister. But I am also a licensed computer engineer. and my research work is considered to be groundbreaking in mathematics. SO, to make a long story short I am NOT a damsel in distress, and I don't need the likes of you to save me. In fact, I don't need you in my life."

I chuckled resignedly and said, "I am going to get up from the table now and I am going to get a cab. I will cry all the way home. But when I get there, I will forget that John Smith, or Ivan Kovalyov, or whoever you are ever existed. The sad fact is that I thought that you were 'the one'. But then again, I am just a foolish little girl who should have known better."

With that, I rose as graciously as I could, with no tears. He started to get up, but Sir Alex put a hand on his arm. I said with formality, "Thank you Sir Alex. I will await your call for my next assignment." Then I walked as dignified as possible out of the Club and hailed a cab. I wept in bitter anguish all the way home.

The problem was that I could not just dismiss Dr. John Smith. He had lied to me, or at least not been as forthright as he should have been. It might have been that he didn't realize how much I had fallen in love with him. So, he didn't think the backstory was important. I hadn't realized how hooked I was myself, until we got on the jet in Prague.

One other option occurred to me, which was that John was just as much in love with me. If that was the case, then I could understand why he would want to wait until he had time to clarify the situation. It also explained the sadness, since the longer he took to explain who he really was, the more likely it was going to be that he would get the reaction that he got.

The one thing that I knew for sure was that he would not chase after me, as the other men in my life would have. He would wait, like the wise soul that he is, for me to reopen the door. The question was whether I wanted to do that. I loved him and I also hated him for destroying my trust. I had some time now and whenever I am confused, I know who I have to talk to. So, I called my mother and asked her if we could go for a ride. She knew what that meant.

*****

Smith was devastated. He had known this incredible woman for three days and he had been overwhelmed by her intelligence and inner strength, not to mention her exquisite beauty. The relationship they had with each other in that short time was like a decade's long comradeship and the sex was unearthly.

He did NOT know any of the things that she revealed about herself. But she could just as easily been who he thought she was. It wouldn't have mattered. John Smith knew that Hilley Larson was the only woman in the world for him.

He started to get up to follow her. Sir Alex put his hand on his arm to prevent that. As Hilley stood and walked calmly, poised and dignified, out of the Coffee Room. John looked at Sir Alex with sorrow and distress.

Sir Alex said, "Easy old boy, she has to have space to think and process all of this. She is her own person and she has to draw her own conclusions. If she wants you, she will come to you and if she doesn't want you there is nothing on earth that you can do to convince her otherwise."

Sir Alex was very wise, and he loved John like a son. He knew that only time would tell, and he wanted to get John's mind off of the woman who had just walked out the door. So, he said in his best "Hail-fellow-well-met" English club manner, "Have a brandy and tell me more about the treasure old boy. I only know it exists, not how you found it."

John Smith was a strong man, a physical freak of nature, more feline than human. His heart literally ached in his chest. It was not that Hilley Larson was beautiful, accomplished and rich. It was that she had a majestic spirit and an adventurer's soul to match his own. And he absolutely believed that there would never be any other woman like that for him.

Smith had the personal honesty to understand what Sir Alex had said and he realized the truth. He knew he would have to stand and wait. Because, with a strong spirit like Hilley Larson there was no other option. Still, the waiting would take all of his innate ability to persevere. That was where the Russian part of him took control. He thought with bitter irony, "I might be an Englishman now, but Russians were born to suffer and endure."

John was a tough and realistic man and those kinds of men face things. So, he turned to Sir Alex as if nothing had just happened and said calmly, "Where do you want me to start the story?"

*****

I woke up in the morning. The sun had come up and the world continued to turn. I had cried again in the middle of the night. But I had things under control now. There are a lot of comings and goings in my life besides men and I was trying to keep my feelings for John Smith in perspective.

He was an absolutely perfect person to couple up with, strong, intelligent and good. But I had the sense that I still had a journey ahead of me and that having a man in my life was only part of the equation. I had had similar, but nowhere nearly as profound, feelings of love for William Southfield and Jim Kelley. But the way I felt about John Smith was a lot deeper and less logical.

I decided that I should take him at his word, that he had buried the Russian in his back garden. But he was still twenty years older than me and had a personal and cultural history that was nowhere near the experiences of my aristocratic upbringing. I had never needed to talk with my mother more than I did now.

My phone rang at that instant. I answered it with my heart in my throat hoping that it wasn't John. It was Mel and she was as full of good cheer as a little sparrow. She said in her best below-stairs voice, "Has Madame awakened?"

I laughed and said, "I'm up Mel and I would love the company if you want to spend a night at my parent's place."

Mel said in a parlor maid accent, "Will there be anything nautical involved in this visit?"

I laughed again and said, "I promise, nothing involving rocking boats."

Mel said, "Shall I meet Madame, or will she pick me up."

I said, "Can you be ready in an hour?"

She said, "At your service Madame" and broke the connection. I was suddenly in very good spirits. A friend like Melissa Brown is hard to find.

I picked Mel up in the Range Rover. The Rover is a study in quiet and leather and it suits her. She is terrified of the Lotus. She says that it scares her to know that her delectably round buns are no more than six inches off pavement that is rushing past at 80 miles an hour.

She was waiting at the curb holding a little overnight bag. She was wearing a skintight pair of black dance tights and a long light woolen jersey with some kind of jungle motif. It barely came down to her crotch. With those huge tits pushing out the front of the jersey and her exquisitely shaped legs, it was a fashion statement and also the sexiest thing I had ever seen on a woman; especially since she was wearing four-inch patent leather heels.

She jumped in with the boundless enthusiasm of a Jack Russell Terrier and said laughingly, "How many times did he fuck you last night?"

I must have looked a little sad when I said, "none." Mel suddenly turned serious and said, "Tell me about it." Mel has the finest tuned emotional sensors that I have ever experienced. Now, she was listening as only Mel can. I told her the entire story. She was blown away by the dual identity part of John Smith.

She said, "Do you mean to tell me he is really a Russian spy?"

I said, "Well that is one of the things that he is. But he is also a former elite soldier, and a financier, not to mention top level academic."

Mel asked the logical question, "Where is he now?"

I said, "I have no idea. I walked out on both of them when the real story came out."

Mel just looked at me with compassion. She is a genius where human feelings are involved, and she instantly went to the heart of the matter. She said, "Do you think you can ever trust him?"

I said, "I have no idea what to think. That's why I am going up to talk with my mother. When it comes to men, she is the wisest person I know. Perhaps she can help me understand how I feel."

I noted with extreme satisfaction that my little friend did not say another word about John. The last thing I needed was to talk about him.

Instead she said with awe in her voice. "Sir Alex called this morning to tell me that our share of the recovery came to four million pounds. They put it in my account, and I need to know how to transfer your share to your account."

I looked at her with love. She was trying to be as loyal and forthright as ever. Mel is the most moral person I know, but in her own terms. I said, "I don't want any part of it. I earned that much in investment return this year and you deserve every penny of it. I can still hear the crack of those Asps of yours. You are one ferocious little vixen."

She smiled demurely with the complement and said, "Yes, I know that my dear. But fair is fair."

I said I am going to drop you right here, by the side of the M4, if you don't shut up. Buy yourself a car with my share."

She said, "I don't know how to drive." I remembered that until very recently Mel's mode of transportation was a Moped.

She finally said, "Then I will pay for a couple weeks of sun and men somewhere tropical."

I said, "In that case it's a deal. Just keep the money."

I had another one of those moments with Mel when I turned into the mile-long drive to the estate. She had met my parents before. But that was in London. I forgot that she had never actually been up to the estate, which probably looked like she was approaching a castle to a former Cockney fish and chips girl.

I said warningly, "MEL!!" She said, "Sorry dear. I sometimes forget that you are a REAL princess." I said laughing, "I'm nothing more than your best friend, companion and partner in crime."

My daddy was waiting with Buster. Mel got out of the car with the same attitude she would probably have had if my dad was standing next to a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Then she looked into Buster's deliciously knowing Gallic eyes and appeared to fall in love.

She walked hesitantly up to him. He was standing there, pant-pant-slobber-slobber. She stuck out her hand and he daintily licked it. It was like a continental kiss of greeting. She reached out and threw her arms around the big lug, whose shoulders were not much shorter than she was. He looked embarrassed but stood there at attention while she hugged him.

I threw my arms around my Daddy, planting several kisses on his cheek. I didn't know him for the first twenty years, So, I had to make up for lost time. He said, "Can I get you girls something?"

I said, "I was planning on taking a ride with mother."

He said, "Well she's been waiting for you."

I went into the front hall and along to the conservatory where my mother was sitting. She looked a little concerned. I quickly said, "Nothing major, I just need advice on something mother." She knew THAT meant men.

Mel said, "Hello Mrs. Larson." Both my mother and Mel are small and perfectly voluptuous, and I suspect my mother had the same sex drive as Mel did in her day, which means she was voracious. At any rate my mother and Mel seem to have a tacit understanding that is different than our more, "motherly," relationship.

In Mel's case it is kind of like they share a secret about the world that nobody else knows. Mother said, "I had the stable boy saddle three horses if you want to get ready."

Mel blanched with horror. My mother said, "Haven't you ridden before." Mel said, "I was on a pony at the Stepney Green Fair once, but I was only six." My mother laughed loudly and said, "Then I'll have the boy saddle up a pony for you."

I thought she was kidding until Mel and I came out. Mel looked absolutely stunning in the tight white riding pants and high boots. Standing there were two horses and a sturdy Highland pony. If Mel had been a horse, she would have looked exactly like her mount. She was delighted.

Mother mounted her rip-snorting, fire-breathing stallion and I got onto my gentle nag. I did it much more adeptly than I had in the past. The one advantage of my man problems was that it was turning me into a decent horsewoman.