A Bride of Allah

Chapter 17

August 31, 10:15 PM

Vlasov’s Kitchen

“Yeah, Andryukha, you were right back then! They kill us, we kill them!”

Viktor moved closer and tried to look up into his neighbor’s eyes. Andrei, looking down, kept turning his empty glass in his hands. The glass bottom knocked on the plastic tabletop.

“Those bastards blow stuff up for big bucks; you wanted to do it for an idea. Revenge is a noble business. If someone did that to my girlfriend, I would… Remember Nord Ost?”

Andrei jumped up from behind the table; his chair fell over on the floor.

“I remember everything! I remember too much! I don’t know what to do with those memories! They are in me, burning me, burning – ”

Viktor hastily splashed into the glasses the remained of vodka.

“Drink it down, Andryukha! And forget everything!”

Yekaterina Fedorovna stuck her head out of her bedroom and winced.

“Another bash. Go easy on the furniture. Who’s gonna replace it? And they’re gonna it all the bread.”

“That bread really got to you, didn’t it?” Andrei grabbed the remains of the loaf and rudely pushed them into his mother’s hands. “Take it and hide it. And go to bed, don’t be in the way.”

“Got drank, didn’t you? Have some food after you drink. There are dumplings in the fridge. I’ll boil them.”

“I’ll do it myself, Mom.”

Andrei almost pushed his mother into her bedroom and came back; he grabbed the glass, vodka splashed out on his fingers. Andrei licked the wet palm of his hand.

“Tomorrow is Sveta’s birthday.”

“Will you go to her?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s drink to her,” Viktor lifted up his glass.

“To Sveta!” Andrei said and tossed back the glass. His lips pursed; he noisily inhaled through his nose. Vlasov looked at his buddy from under his eyebrows. “Now go.”

“Do you want to spend some time with the girl?” Viktor asked playfully, picking at the salad. “She doesn’t look right.”

“I told you. She’s sick.”

“Call her out here. We’ll cure her.”

“No. Go home.”

“And she’s dressed like a scarecrow, too. Hey, should I run and get another bottle?”

“Just go, okay?”

“Are you in heat?”

“Go, Vityok.”

“Look here, Andryukha. A pussy’s a pussy, but I wouldn’t do it with a Chechen. If her uncle isn’t a bandit, her brother just might be. Or she is a Shahid herself.”

“Nobody is asking you to do anything.” Andrei nodded toward the exit. “Go, I’ll explain everything later.”

Viktor reluctantly started down the hallway. Along the way, he, as if by accident, looked into Andrei’s room. The girl fearfully looked at the two men; her tense hands rested on her knees. Viktor winked at Aiza with a smile; he squinted and ogled the girl.

At the front door, he whispered to Andrei, “Have you changed your tactic? Now you suffocate the enemy by hugging?”

Andrei, silent, pushed out his laughing buddy and locked the door behind him.

Alone in the stairway, Chervyakov lit up a cigarette. His smile disappeared, his forehead wrinkled up, his lips whispered thoughtfully, “He used to bash their heads in.”

 
Chapter 18
Nord Ost
Day Two, Evening
 

His feet plodded through puddles. Cold gusts of wind blew through his clothes; drops of rain ran down his hollow cheeks, getting caught and breaking in his stubble. Andrei Vlasov, consumed by the idea of revenge, paid no attention to whims of nature; before he knew it, he was near the building he looked for. All the way over, he talked to Sveta in his mind. He though she was asking him to avenge her.

He came into a courtyard flanked by two standard five-story apartment blocks. Sveta lived in a building just like these, so Andrei knew the apartments’ numbering. Every time he walked his girlfriend home, he would stand under her windows waiting for Sveta to wave goodbye to him through a window.

He gazed over the façade. The windows of the Chechen woman’s apartment overlooked the courtyard. All windows were dark: no one in the apartment. That was even better; no need to break in, he would wait and do her in the courtyard.

Andrei tried to remember what the woman looked like. All he could remember was an eternally concerned stare of her dark eyes. Would he recognize her? Definitely. She was from the Caucasus after all. She would be his first victim! That was his decision. Why she? What did it matter? She had no time to look for another. He wanted to get it all done today!

Once he decided, he calmed down. His brain was coldly calculating the plan of the murder. The important part was to decide whether he wanted to disguise the murder as a robbery gone bad or to demonstrate right away that it was revenge.

After some deliberation, he decided to stick with option one. It was too early to show that Chechen women were being killed just for being Chechens. After the fourth or fifth instance, everyone would make the connection anyway. And if they didn’t, he would throw a hint to the nosy reporters.

How would he kill her? He wouldn’t use the gun just yet; he might have to use the bullets elsewhere. There are easier ways to kill a single woman.

Vlasov looked around. Along the road, there was a low metal fence, bent in a few places by recklessly driven cars. A few hits with the heel of his shoe, and Andrei was able to pull a piece of rebar out of the ground. Short and heavy: just what he needed. One strike, and that would be it!

Andrei wiped the rod with wet leaves; whatever the reason, he didn’t want to use a dirty rod. In addition, now he could hide it under his clothes. The piece of rebar fit into his sleeve up to the elbow. This way, it was completely invisible. The end stuck out and could be hidden in the palm of his hand. He only had to wait for the victim.

It was still raining; cold, disgusting drizzle. The weather was crappy. Vlasov walked into the other apartment block and up to the top landing. Through the window, he could see the courtyard very well. Wherever the Chechen woman were coming from, she wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Andrei also decided that if anyone sees him in the building, he would put the murder off. He’d find the woman later, elsewhere, and kill her anyway. But right now, he had to be careful. One victim was not enough. He had big plans.

* * * * *

Two hours went by. It was completely dark now, but it wasn’t raining anymore, so the streetlights, it seemed, shone brighter. Finally, he saw a silhouette in the courtyard; a woman and a boy of about six. For a moment, the streetlight highlighted the long-nosed face with a headscarf wrapping around it.

That’s her!

His heart started racing.

During this time, he hasn’t seen anyone. So he could act. But the boy? What to do about him? Should he leave a witness? He quickly came downstairs, feverishly adjusting the operation plan.

When he stepped out of the building, Andrei pulled his hood over his head and looked around. Not a soul. The Chechen woman and the boy were fifteen paces away, their backs to him. The ideal setup. The fog of doubt lifted completely; his mind was terrifyingly clear, his muscles tensed.

He would quietly walk up to them. Push the kid hard. The boy would have to fall face down, so that he wouldn’t see anything. When he falls, Andrei would hit the woman on the head. Better do it a few times to make sure. Then he would pick up her purse and walk away quickly, but without panic.

He wished the kid wouldn’t turn around, or he would have to get rid of him, too.

Andrei wasn’t worried about accidental witnesses. A black hooded figure in a dark courtyard; with a description like that, he’d never be found. He wouldn’t leave any fingerprints, either. He would only take cash from the purse and dump the rest around the corner. Let it be found. A typical robbery. And he would destroy his gloves and jacket. Just to be sure.

“Sveta, I will avenge you!” he thought excitedly.

Vlasov was catching up to the woman quickly, but quietly. He could walk stealthily; he learned that in the army.

Five paces between them. Now, only three. Show time!

The woman stopped and started to adjust something in the boy’s clothing. Andrei, looking only at the back of her head covered with the warm headscarf, took another step, pulled the piece of rebar from his sleeve unsteadily, and raised his weapon.

The kid! He had to push the kid first!

But his hand was already raised high. Now he would have to kill him too.

Chapter 19

August 31, 10:25 PM

Andrei’s Room

After he showed his neighbor out, Vlasov came back to Aiza. The girl’s tension and shivers were gone, her breathing was steady, but she was visibly depressed. She seemed full of sadness and suffering. Upon a close look, he noticed the slight tremor in her fingers and a carefully concealed grimace of pain.

“Poor girl,” Andrei almost said, but he immediately thought back to the outbursts of fury with which the mad girl with TNT wrapped around her waist attacked him in his car. He instinctively touched his neck; the scratches were still hurting.

The bobcat turned into a sick kitten. For how long?

“Have you taken the pills?” Andrei unceremoniously touched the girl’s forehead. Aiza nodded obediently; her sweaty cool skin felt slippery to the touch. “You’re not burning up. Looks like a hangover after a big party. Have you drunk anything since this morning?”

Aiza shook her head no.

“No smell… Have you been injected?”

The girl nodded. Andrei lifted up her powerless hand and rolled up her sleeve.

“Clean,” he concluded after he looked on the insides of both her elbows. “Did you get injected only today? Come on, talk to me!”

“Yes,” the girl said barely audibly.

“Did they say it was for courage, so you feel no fear?”

“Um, yes.”

“That can be fixed. Tell you what, let’s have some vodka! It won’t hurt you. A great antidepressant. I know it from my own experience. In Chechnya, we used to – » Andrei faltered and pulled on the girl’s hand. “Let’s go!”

In the kitchen, he sat Aiza at the table and rummaged on the shelves.

“Here!” He pulled out a bottle of vodka. “ER! Know what it means? Emergency Reserve. To be used only in emergency. Like now.”

He rinsed the glasses and poured vodka.

“Drink.”

Aiza obediently drank, then winced.

“Now that’s good,” Andrei approved. “Now eat something. By the morning, you’d feel cool as a pickle. Speaking of, we’ve got pickles. Great snack. And I’ll boil some dumplings, too.”

He was working the kitchen looking at Aiza over his shoulder and talking almost non-stop. Here are the dumplings, frozen. Now the water is boiling, I am tossing them in. Damn! I almost burned myself; splashes. Now let’s salt it. Do you like dumplings? Mom used to roll her own, but these days, there’s such variety in the stores, just pick. These seem to be okay.

The girl’s face lost its deadly pallor; her eyes came alive. She looked around.

“Do you live here with your mom?”

“Yes. You’ve met her.”

“Do you have a wife?”

“A wife?” Andrei paused, as if looking for an answer to a complicated question. He slowly stirred the boiling dumplings. “I don’t have a wife.”

“A bride?” Aiza asked quietly.

“I did… But not anymore.”

“What’s her name?”

“Sveta. Svetlana.”

“Did you have a fight? Did you break up?” Aiza got interested.

“You could say that.”

“Is she beautiful?”

Andrei turned away, pretending to remove a sore from his eye. He whispered quietly, “Very.”

“Is she nice?” Aiza wouldn’t quit.

Andrei, surprised, look at her. Why did she keep prying? But he answered, “Yes.”

“Then you have to make up! Call her.”

“Now?” Andrei was baffled. “I can’t.”

“It’s late,” the girl agreed and added convincingly, “Sveta will cal you! She definitely will! You’ll see. You’re a good man, she’ll call.”

Andrei instinctively touched the phone in his pocket. It seemed that the phone was about to start vibrating announcing an incoming call.

Just like it did that evening, when he raised a piece of rebar over a woman and a child.

Raised it to kill.

Chapter 20

Nord Ost

Day Two, Late Evening

Suddenly, something stirred inside his jacket. Andrei started, his fingers lost the grip, the raised piece of rebar dropped on the asphalt. The woman turned around, scared, trying to cover the child. Her pose betrayed the helplessness of a hen trying to protect her chick; fear was in her eyes. She understood everything, her fear transferred to the child, he squeaked, “Mama!” The woman’s wide opened eyes awaited execution.

Here eyes were light, a strand of dark blond hair fell from under her headscarf. It wasn’t the Chechen woman; it was someone totally different!

Andrei looked at her stupidly until he realized that his phone was vibrating. He turned the ringer off before he tried getting into the theater. He abruptly pulled the phone out. The woman jumped aside and fell down. The child cried louder.

“Sveta!” Andrei yelled when he realized whose voice he just heard through the phone. “Svetochka!”

“Andryusha, dear, honey,” Svetlana prattled incoherently. “I can’t call my mom. Where is she, did you talk to her?”

“Of course; she’s hanging around the theater. Waiting for you. There’s a bunch of relatives there; they’re getting help. Are you alive?” he asked a stupid question and immediately corrected himself. “Are you okay?”

The scared woman got up from a puddle, picked up the crying child and ran away into a building.

“Yes. Tell my mom to start organizing pickets against the war in Chechnya. Otherwise, we’ll be shot. Tomorrow, everyone has to come out into the Red Square.”

“Sveta – ”

“I can’t talk anymore. If there are no protests, we’ll be shot,” the girl kept repeating.

“Sveta, is anyone standing next to you?”

“Yes.”

“Can I call you later?”

“No.”

The call ended. Andrei stood in the dark courtyard, looked at his phone, and waited for another call. Then, he carried the phone in his hand for a while to be able to answer Svetlana’s call right away. Every now and then, he looked at the display to make sure that the battery isn’t dead and the network is available.

The phone was in working order. But no more calls came in.

She called him “honey”. It’s been so long since she called him that. An eternity.

The hostages may be shot! No, those were empty threats. Just empty threats, he kept telling himself. And immediately remembered: one girl was already dead. And kept beating away a shameful thought: good thing it wasn’t Sveta.

When he got home, Andrei took out a bottle of vodka and quickly drained it. It wasn’t enough.

He closed his eyes and saw the dirty pipes he crawled on, the scared Chechen woman with a child who turned out to be no Chechen, smiling Svetlana, a rusty piece of steel in his hand, someone else’s hand holding a gun, an armored personnel carrier, soldiers in helmets, wailing ambulances, and a body under a sheet on a stretcher.

He fell asleep with his clothes on, his mobile phone in his hand.

Chapter 21

August 31, 10:45 PM

Andrei’s Room

Andrei Vlasov looked at the clock and pulled out the sofa bed he usually slept on.

“It’s late. You can sleep here. I’ll step out.”

Aiza fearfully watched his every move. Andrei explained, “The bed is just for you. I’ll sleep in the armchair. But don’t be afraid; I won’t bother you.” He spread his hands apologetically. “I’d go to Mom’s room, but that’s even worse. She’d grumble all night. Okay, get into bed, I am coming out. Do you want me to turn off the light?”

He left before she could answer. When he returned after about fifteen minutes, the light was still on. Aiza was lying in bed, her hands clutching the edge of the blanket pulled up to her chin, her black eyes intently watching Andrei. Except the cardigan, he didn’t see any clothes removed; the shoulder visible from under the blanked had the blouse on it.

Andrei turned off the light, lowered himself into the armchair, and stretched his legs. His tired eyes caught waves of night light coming in through the open curtains. Each wave was accompanied by a steady noise of a car. Everything was in sync; as the light died down, the noise dissolved into the night. The night city’s lullaby to its residents.

Andrei yawned. Without turning, he asked, “Are you still afraid of me?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Aiza said, unsure.

“You must be, since you left your clothes on.”

“It’s not about that,” the girl sighed and added barely audibly, “I am not wearing any underwear.”

“I remember. I saw your horrible back. You could at least take off your skirt. It’s got to be uncomfortable to sleep in it.”

“I am not wearing any underwear at all.”

“At all? That’s strange.” Andrei turned to her, surprised. Black hair was spread over the white pillowcase. At least she didn’t put the headscarf back on. He tried joking, “I thought Muslim women were strict about it. All kinds of underpants.”

“I am spoiled,” the girl whispered.

Andrei thought he heard her sob.

“How’s that?”

“I am spoiled. I can’t go home. My mother cursed me.”

“Cursed you… Sounds medieval. What have you done?”

Aiza was quiet. Andrei tried to clam her down.

“If you had a fight with your parents, that happens. Look at me: not everything’s perfect, either. Worst case, you live alone. You’re an attractive girl, find yourself a proud highlander, marry him, and have kids.”

“I’ll never have a husband,” the girl replied quietly.

“Why? Do you still love that guy? That’ll pass. That was a war. We lost a lot of people too.”

“I loved him.”

“Of course you did. You know, many women get married without love. They say, patience now, love later.”

“No one would want me.”

“Why do you keep repeating, no one, never? You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You’re young and, by the way, attractive. Uglier women get married.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Tell me, if you’re up for it.”

Andrei waited. Aiza was quiet. He yawned, threw his head back onto the back of the armchair. His eyes closed by themselves.

“If you’re not, don’t,” his lips whispered.

What am I going to do with her tomorrow, he thought. Give her a little money and put her on the train to her parents. But she said something strange about her mother. Or let her stay in the city? Get her normal clothes and let her go to her people. I took away the explosive belt, they probably don’t have spares. Damn, the belt! I haven’t taken it out of the car! In the morning, I’ll have to lose it. Okay, let’s change he clothes and her hair style and let her go wherever she would.

What if she’s caught? Will she tell on me or not? She might. Then there’s no way out. Although why? I am not a terrorist! I’ll deny everything! Mom will back me up, I only have to set it up with Viktor.

Vlasov yawned again and heard a quiet voice. He opened his eyes in surprise; he thought the girl was already asleep. But the hesitant voice with long pauses was hers.

“When Doku, my fiancé, died, his relative, Aslan, showed up. He took me away… Mom couldn’t do anything… I have no father and no brothers; there’s no one to protect me… Back then, I didn’t know anything… I thought Aslan wanted to marry me instead of Doku. This kind of thing happens sometimes. But he brought me to strangers. Into the mountains… To bad people… Very bad… I was… It was horrible. They raped me… Several men… I screamed and fought. But they beat me… It’s their marks on my back. They beat me and raped me… All of them together… And Aslan was videotaping everything… That went on for many days… Then Aslan showed the tape in our village…” Gentle rustle of the blanket. The girl was wiping her quiet tears. “Mom cursed me. I couldn’t come back. I wanted to die… I really wanted to die, but Aslan and his people wouldn’t let me. He kept saying I had to avenge Doku and he knew how to do that. I didn’t care… As long as I get to die soon… Then they brought me to Fatima. She had other girls. They wanted to die, too. Fatima said that if I died as a Shahid, that I meet Doku in heaven. I agreed, because Doku knew me when I was pure. Then we were brought to Moscow. Mareta, Yahita, Zarima, and I.”

Aiza went quiet. Silence filled the room.

“You knew the girls that blew up the airplanes?”

“Yes. They are in paradise already.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Fatima says so.”

“Were you supposed to die at the metro station?”

“Fatima went with Zarima, and Aslan drove me. He said he would out me on a train. When the train goes into a tunnel, I would have to push the button. But when near the station he told me to go alone and get on the train by myself. I went. But there was a policeman.”

“I saw that.” Andrei pondered. “The girls that were with you, were they cursed too? Like you?”

“Yes. They were videotaped, too.”

“I thought you were a religious fanatic. Wanted to die for your faith. Do you understand what would happen to you after the explosion?”

“I didn’t want to live; everyone turned away from me. I am dirty, cursed by my own mother. Fatima explained that it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe like a mosquito bite. And I would go to paradise right away. At the gates, two stern angels would meet me and ask, what have I done on Earth? Why do I think I am worthy of paradise? And I would reply, I took revenge upon the infidels. I died for Allah. They would open the gates and let me into paradise. It is fragrant as nothing on Earth, and there are flowers. There are flowers everywhere, birds singing and eternal spring. I would be a pure girl again. I will meet Doku, and he would love me.”

“Nice fairy tale.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Do you really think soldiers ride the metro? You wanted to go to paradise for killing ordinary people!”

“Doku wasn’t a fighter, either,” the girl parried, affronted.

“Okay. Ours, yours, they’re all good for it.” Andrei couldn’t let go of the girl’s sad story. He caught himself thinking he felt sorry for her. “So that’s where you come from to our chagrin,” he sighed. “Why don’t you wear underwear?”

“Aslan forbade it. He liked it better that way. He could lift up my skirt whenever he wanted to – ”

“He did that in Moscow, too?”

Somehow, Andrei wanted to hear that all of that was left behind in the faraway Chechnya, where life is lived by different rules. But the girl answered, “Yes, and in Moscow, too… Both with me and with the others. I hate him… And I’m scared of him.”

“No need to be scared now. I think that Aslan of yours is long gone from the city.” Andrei paused to think. “Look, maybe you should tell everything to the police? You are essentially a victim, not a criminal.”

“I can’t. There would be a trial. I’ll have to tell everything. Everyone would know I was spoiled. It’s a dishonor. Everyone will point their fingers at me. And in prison, I’ll be poisoned.”

“Why?” Andrei was surprised.

“So they say. The federals first convict, them kill you in prison.”

“Well, looks bad whichever way you look at it. Why did you tell me all this?”

“You’re different. You helped me. You’re Russian, but you’re a good man.”

“A rare combination.”

“And tomorrow, we’ll separate forever.”

“Yes, we’ll have to separate in the morning. Where are you going to go?”

“I already figured it out,” Aiza came alive and even lifted herself up on her elbow. “I have a school girlfriend in Volgograd. She went to college there and married a Russian. She’d help me get settled.”

“Volgograd? Do you have an ID to buy the ticket?”

The girl pulled a passport from under the blanket, played with it, and hid it again.

“Aslan gave it back to me today. In case there’s an ID check at the entrance to the station. He said, it they don’t let you in, push the button right away.”

“And you got scared.”

“Only of the policeman. And pushing the button – ”

“Okay, okay,” Andrei interrupted. He didn’t want to go back to the events near the station. “So be it; to Volgograd, to the school girlfriend. Not a bad idea. I think that train departs from Paveletsky station. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out the train schedule and buy you a ticket. I’ll help you.”