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    E K Stokes
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Vanishing Act - 3. Chapter 3

Ethan is after what he finds out is a missing piece of the jigsaw that could resolve the mystery of Damien's murder.

"Ethan has left the country," Eliott informed Max Hainaught, his voice filled with a mix of resignation and urgency. "We can't follow him to Russia." Max paced around the office. "I gave you the job," he emphasised YOU. "Get it done! Even if you have to take a holiday." The implication was clear, although Eliott even if he was willing to follow him, had no idea where Ethan had gone.

As Ethan boarded the plane, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. A man in the corner seemed particularly interested in him. It was a strange sensation, but Ethan tried to dismiss it. After all, he knew the police were on his tail, ensuring his safety. At least they were before he fled the country.

The plane landed in Moscow. Ethan collected his baggage, one small case. He waited in line at the taxi rank and asked the driver to take him to a small, not too expensive hotel. The driver looked at the young man in the mirror and pulled out into the traffic, fleeing the airport. Ethan checked into what seemed to be a discreet hotel, it was in a small street nestled between larger buildings.

He decided the only thing to do was follow the little information he had and contact the number on the card, but it was late and could wait until the morning. Slinging his suitcase into the bottom of a rather old single wardrobe, he closed the thick curtains and went to bed. Tired from the flight and exhausted from the stress, he quickly fell asleep.

Russian Dolls turned out to be nothing like he had imagined. Far from being an escort agency or purveyor of brides to be, it was a manufactory. They made Russian dolls, also known as matryoshka dolls, nested wooden dolls of decreasing size, typically painted in bright colours, often with folk art designs. The larger doll contains a smaller doll and so on until you reach the smallest, often no bigger than a walnut. A symbol of Russian culture, a popular souvenir and collectible.

This company had factories all over Russia and workers who painted the dolls at home. It was a national network, more than that, an international network, because they exported the finished product as well as distributing the dolls across Russia. Although primarily in Russia to the large cities which tourists visited, Moscow, Saint Petersburg etc.

Ethan had not thought it would be so easy to get information about the organisation known as Russian Dolls, but they had provided him with invaluable assistance and this was perhaps because they were under the impression he was a Western buyer. But now, as he stood on the brink of uncovering their greatest secret, he realised the true extent of their operation and the danger that lurked within their ranks. He didn't believe the whole company was corrupt, simply it had been infiltrated and was being used by criminals.

The object Ethan sought was a relic of immense historical significance, an ancient scroll of inestimable value which originated from the Amber Room. He had learned this information and its location from a source within Russian Dolls, a woman named Anya who at no small risk to herself had contacted him when she suspected Ethan was not at all the buyer from the West, but had a different agenda.

Anya had a very personal reason to trust Ethan and perhaps she was particularly astute in approaching him. She suspected he was like her brother, a barsuk*. She was desperate to get Maxim out of Russia for that reason and saw Ethan Blake as the perfect opportunity. At least this was the story she explained to him. Anya had taken Ethan on a factory tour and wined and dined him. They were immediately at ease with one another, Anya reminded Ethan of his own sister, and after sharing a bottle of wine and later several vodkas, Ethan began sharing his life with her.

It was completely crazy, but events had compiled to make him feel his head would explode if he didn't let some of the angst and fear out. Anya was sympathetic, of course that was her job, but there seemed to Ethan something genuine about her and their brief encounter became profound when she had to accompany him back to his hotel. He was rather drunk.

"Anya," he addressed her by her first name as he half leaned against his bedroom door. "I would invite you in, but..." and somehow whatever kind of drunken explanation he was about to give her turned into an explanation that he was not into women. It was all very muddled because he didn't want her to think he didn't like her, quite the opposite. Anya smiled at him and then laughed gently, telling him she understood.

That night in the modest hotel bedroom as she ordered coffee and he took a cold shower, they each told their own story. Anya needed to get her brother out of Russia, Ethan needed answers from Russian Dolls. By early morning Ethan had learned about certain special shipments and about a scroll which was hidden deep within a remote Siberian monastery, a place of spiritual significance that was also a heavily guarded fortress. This was without doubt what the criminal gang was after, the special piece, but it was not in the West, it was still in Russia.

Ethan had to know how Anya had all this information and after he had promised to return home with Maxim and set him up in the West with a job, promising he could stay in the apartment until he got settled, she told him. Anya had been present when Damien had received a very special wooden box which contained cryptic messages. She explained the messages only made sense together with a scroll, the two together were like a jigsaw.

Ethan realised then why they had kidnapped and tortured Damien. Among the possessions scattered throughout the apartment there was indeed a wooden box. To all intense and purposes it resembled any other artefact, a small intricately carved box, adorned with wooden inlay. He could see the box in his mind, it was inside a display cabinet. He'd never thought anything of it, certainly not that it had any significance other than as another collectible. Now there seemed to Ethan only one thing to do and he knew he would need all his skills and a bit of luck to infiltrate the monastery and retrieve the scroll.

***

With the help of Anya, Ethan managed to forge documents that granted him access to the monastery. He posed as a religious scholar, claiming to be conducting research on the monastery's history. The guards were suspicious but ultimately allowed him to enter.

Once inside, Ethan began his search. The monastery was a labyrinth of ancient corridors and chambers, each filled with priceless artifacts. He spent hours exploring, following clues and leads that Anya had provided. Finally, he found himself in a hidden chamber deep beneath the monastery.

In the center of the chamber was a cabinet, and inside, in a drawer, was the scroll. It was wrapped in a cloth and tied with a ribbon. Ethan knew this was the object he had been searching for.

Anya was waiting for him, she had driven him to the monastery, and they drove away together back to the nearby town. Snow covered the ground and ice clung to the windscreen, their breath vaporised in the cold. As they pulled up at the station one thing was very clear, they had to get out of Russia as quickly as possible. Anya was an amazing woman, she had organised everything and booked passage on a train bound for the border. They waited together in the little room off the platform, the tiny stove barely warming the place. Ethan kept thinking all this was not possible, it was like a movie, they would never make it. Suddenly he was struck by nerves and found it difficult to breath.

"Don't fall down now," Anya hugged him to her, "We've nearly made it." He looked up and smiled at her, her confidence was reassuring.

As the train sped through the Siberian wilderness, Ethan felt a sense of relief. He had survived the ordeal and he now possessed the scroll that would solve the mystery. But he also knew that his journey was far from over. At that moment he thought about the shadowy figure that had followed him before, because Anya told him whoever that was, it was not the police, not from his country, not in Russia.

Ethan's heart raced as the train slowed to a stop at the small, deserted station sat amidst a wasteland of tundra. Anya peered out the window her gaze scanning the platform for a familiar face. There, strolling onto the empty platform, she spotted him.

Maxim.

Ethan was next to her, watching, not expecting things would happen like this. "It's the deal," she said, turning to look at him. "I'm leaving him in your hands."

He watched her open the door. They met for a brief moment on the platform, in that cold, hostile environment, just as night was falling, and darkness comes early this far north. She kissed him on the cheek, hugged him, and then she was gone. Disappearing into the station building as her brother climbed aboard.

He was young, Ethan thought as he watched him come down the corridor: his blond hair seemed to glow in the lights of the carriage and his deep blue eyes held a hint of shyness that was both endearing and alluring. As he approached, Ethan couldn't help but smile.

"Maxim," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Maxim returned his smile, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Ethan," he replied, his voice soft and gentle. Ethan extended his hand for a handshake and Maxim gripped his hand, lightly. They shook hands as the train lurched forward and for a second Maxim lost his balance. Ethan held him briefly, the boy's cheeks turning even redder. "It's nice to meet you," Maxim mumbled.

As the train began to pull away from the station, Ethan spotted Anya and waved. Then he turned his attention back to Maxim. "Don't worry. You'll see each other again soon."

As the train gained speed, Anya watched it until it was just a small dark shadow enveloped by the night. She sighed, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. She knew that crossing the border would be difficult, but she was also certain their plan would work.

The train journey was long and tiring, Ethan's thoughts were filled with worry about making good their escape. As the train approached the border crossing, he felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. He knew the process could be time-consuming and stressful. But as they stepped off the train and into the busy customs hall, he was determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead. He had promised Anya he would look after Maxim and he wouldn't let her down.

Now Ethan has someone with him who he has promised to take care of... but he has to cross the border and with the scroll!

*The Russian word Barsuk translated into English means badger. It is slang to refer to boys who have had homosexual experiences.

Copyright © 2024 E K Stokes, Talo Segura; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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