Section I, Next Section

Chapter One

Posted on Wednesday, 14 July 1999

Somewhere in Russia
November 12th 1928

Unknown History.

The freshly fallen snow made the tracks from her horse easy to follow, but this was of no concern at the moment. Due to the desolation of the area, he was certain that once free from the house no one would be aware of her location and for a short time they would be with each other without detection.

Approaching the barn his heart began to beat stronger but it was not to warm his body against the bitter chill in the air. Instead it was the anticipation of what awaited him once inside the low-pitched building and what he was going to offer her when given the chance. Vladimir had not traveled the great distance he did today to leave once more without Zoya.

Stopping outside of the stall door, he dismounted and entered with his horse trailing behind him. Inside was warm and dark with only one window available to let the weak Russian winter sun in. Temporarily blinded as his eyes adjusted, he found the hitching post and tied his horse next to hers, calling out her name while doing so.

The sound of her boots on the loose straw alerted him that she was nearing.

"I am here." A soft voice said not ten feet away.

"Have you been waiting long?" He asked in a voice just as gentle before turning to her.

"Only a few minutes."

As his sight returned, he could see the rosiness in her cheeks and took off his gloves to place his palms against them to warm her.

"You are cold, Love." Vladimir said as he kissed the tip of her nose.

"Not anymore." Was her reply as her pale blue eyes locked with his.

"Are you expected for any appointments today?"

"No, I have all afternoon to be with you. The house will be empty until evening."

Vladimir studied her expression as she spoke. Zoya appeared so at ease with her resignation that he was left with an impression believing no words he could say would get her to change her mind about staying in her current situation. But for his own sanity he must try once more and in his coat pocket was something that might produce a turning point in her unhappy resolution.

Bending down, he kissed her lips while still holding her angelic face between his hand. The love he had for her was so boundless and pure that it was a constant threat to his good judgment, but he would not be able to go through life knowing she was forever out of his reach. People would just have to accept that the match between them could not be stopped by anyone, not even the formidable Dimitri Vabka.

The kissing intensified as the sadness she concealed slipped away, and Zoya became lost in a world where all things good were possible. Vladimir's declarations of love, his tenderness and sincerity soothed the turmoil of her mind and conscience. How she wished they could always be together like this. But it was impossible and she had accepted this fact quite some time ago. If they were to leave together they would be hunted down like animals and the humiliation and public scorn for them would lend no relief or aid until they were caught and she was returned. Options were nonexistent and she would have to learn to savor the times like these to the fullest. They were all she had and although Zoya often compared them to being as dangerous as staring straight into the sun, they gave her the only hope she had in her life.

"Zoya," he murmured as the vapors from his breath hung heavily in the cold air, "I lose myself in you."

"I love you, Vladimir, without guilt or shame I do." Absolute truth escaped through her lips.

Taking his hand, she smiled prettily and led him to a pile of soft straw in the corner of the barn. Slipping off her heavy coat, Zoya opened one of the large wool blankets that she had brought from the house and laid herself down to wait for him to join her.

As had been repeated on countless occasions during the past four months, he spent a moment drinking in her form before surrendering to the heat that would override his senses and draw him back to her time and time again. He was a man almost possessed with anything Zoya. The depth was immeasurable and the pain of separation unbearable, but Vladimir held no defense against them. Any emotion Zoya stirred in him was welcome as opposed to none at all.

Zoya was life.

The utterances of lovers filled the barn with sounds not meant for the ears of others as they made love in the straw bed she had fashioned. Today they did not have to rush or worry and the rarity of these precious moments was not a point lost on the pair. These were the days they secretly wished for as they fell asleep at night without the comfort of each other's touch.

Some time later as the sun began to settle in the horizon, Vladimir brought his coat beside him while Zoya laid her head against his chest. He silently gave a little prayer he was certain God could not answer due to its nature and brought out a few folded papers and a passport.

"In my hand are credentials that I would like you to consider." Without elaborating, he handed the contraband to Zoya for her examination. Falsified documents and certificates bore the name of another woman who according to the issue fit her description. The trembling that resulted from her inspection gave Vladimir cause to worry, but only momentarily.

"I want to be with you." She said in a quiet voice before repeating her words as if they were to be written in stone as testament to her intention. "I want to be with you."

He did not answer her but allowed a low sigh of relief its freedom. They now had the means of escape and it had cost him his small life savings. Money well spent.

"Come Love, let us be off to Poland. My sister has agreed to take us in." Not able to hide his joy at her acceptance, Vladimir kissed her once again. After a time he pulled away to see his own happy expression matched by hers.

It was another twenty minutes before they left the relative comfort of the barn and headed westerly on the frozen tundra. The papers Zoya now had in possession listed her as an unmarried woman and in a gesture with dual meaning, she removed the wedding right she had worn for the past five years and dropped in the snow before spurring her horse onward.

Sunday
May 3 1999
10:42 a.m.

Home.

Charles was sitting on the floor in his study with a box William had given him full of information on the architect Frank Lloyd Wright. He had already been through half of it, separating the contents into groups relating to their topic.

Jane came to the doorway and put her hands on her hips. She suppressed the grin she was wearing, replacing it with a fake frown.

"I'm home." She announced. "Although my neglectful husband wouldn't know that. I see that once you get a wedding band on her finger, all of the wooing stops."

Charles looked over his shoulder and gave her a challenging smile.

"Boring sermon at church today?"

"Ha, my dear borderline agnostic! Don't try to use my pensive mood due to Father Raitt's inability to keep his congregation awake as an excuse for not welcoming me home."

"I don't suppose you'd forgive me this once and come over here. My legs have fallen asleep."

"It's a sure sign of old age when you can't sit on the floor for more than ten minutes without body parts dozing off." Jane kicked off her shoes and went over to sit beside him.

"I didn't hear your car in the drive." He explained as he kissed her.

"Is your hearing going, too? Poor baby, almost thirty-two and you're falling apart."

"Can you fix it, Dr. Jane?"

"I think so, but first I want to hang this dress up so it doesn't wrinkle." Jane pulled away from his embrace. "Have you found anything interesting from William's box?"

Charles shook his head.

"Not unless you find the specifications for the foundation of his former home interesting. He had a book that I didn't own, but otherwise there is nothing that we're looking for."

"I've been thinking--Maybe you're right and there is some logical explanation behind our both knowing the same story."

"Except, two things keep throwing me off. One is that you started having the dream so young. And the second is the fairy bed. You shouldn't have known about the bed being in the room."

"But it was intricate to the story. If I didn't know of the bed, the conversation they had about the fairies watching over them would not have made sense."

"Let's not give up just yet, Jane. We have nothing to lose by our search."

"Agreed. We're a strange little team, anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

"We just seem to share a lot of coincidences." She saw that he was waiting for her to explicate. "For example I was depressed, you are a psychiatrist. We both speak Polish, which is not the most common second language in the U.S. We're both Frank Lloyd Wright fanatics; you happened to live in my favorite house of his. We both acted out of character on what I consider our first date here at the house. I'm embarrassed to think about what you thought of me after I attacked you in my car."

"Are you serious?" One look at her told him she was. "Don't be. I wanted to make love to you so badly that I had to stand outside for ten minutes after you left just to get control."

"Did you?" His confession brought a smile to her face.

"Yes." Answering seriously, Charles looked into the eyes of the woman he treasured above all else as he remembered back to the moment he knew he loved her without even really knowing her.

"I wanted to, too." Jane leaned over him and gave him a kiss before continuing on. "But, everything I have listed can be explained away easily. What cannot is the shared dream."

"Where do you think this all leads? Or are you still not committing to a theory."

Jane shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, Charles."

It had been over forty minutes since Jane had left the office to retrieve some of her summer outfits from the basement. When Charles went down to check on her because she didn't answer his call, he found her in that room asleep on the fairy bed. Jane's dress was hanging on a hanger on the door and she had a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. He went over and moved the clothes to the dresser top before sitting down next to her. The lunch he had warmed up seemed unimportant when compared with watching his wife sleep.

Their lives were pretty hectic at the moment, and this summer it would only become more so, but all of it was manageable because they knew they had Sundays to look forward to. Other than Jane attending 8 a.m. services at the church in Oak Park, they made it a rule not to accept any outside invitations or company on this one day each week, unless it was a special circumstance. This was considered 'their day' and they didn't want to share it with anyone.

Charles brushed her hair behind her ear then bent over and kissed her. Sometimes he felt like he was bordering on insanity to love someone as much as he did Jane. It had an extent he could have never understood unless he had experienced it first. They had become so unbelievably close to one another in the six short months that they had know each other, and the two months living together as husband and wife had already taken away his memories of what life was like before.

It wasn't common what they had, and Charles knew it. Thinking back, he believed Lillian and Gregory might have been in a similar situation. He could remember a special warmth they had between them that existed even as they grew older. Lately he had begun to wonder how Lillian dealt with living for so many years without her much-loved husband. Where did she turn when she needed reassuring? Who did she have to share her fears and joys with?

He had always been there for his Grandmother, but now he realized that there is a difference between sharing yourself and intimately sharing yourself.

Charles once again kissed the cheek of Jane, this time causing her to stir. It wasn't his intention to wake her, but when her eyes focused on his and she looked him the way only Jane did, he was glad she was awake.

"Lay with me on the Fairy bed?" She asked sleepily before bring a pillow next to hers.

Charles laid down next to her, face to face.

"Do you think the fairies are watching over us, too?" He questioned lightly as he brought her hand up to his lips.

Jane's warm smile broadened.

"We could find out."

Later that day the fairy bed's head and footboard was moved to their bedroom, replacing the bed they had been sleeping in.

Chapter 2

Posted on Friday, 16 July 1999

Russia
November 15th 1928

Evil, Thy Name Is…

The silence surrounding General Dimitri Vabka could be compared to a concrete wall eight inches thick and he carried with him before him where ever he went. At the moment it was servicing him well as the eyes of the men gathered at his home betrayed the fear they were experiencing in his presence.

After what he calculated to be sufficient enough time, he spoke in his usual cold, dry manner addressing no particular man in attendance.

"I still have not an answer, therefore I will repeat my question once again. Where is my wife?"

A response was not received and for five minutes he forced the men to stand at attention and ponder their own doomed careers if he was not satisfied soon. No one crossed General Vabka--No one. He was the epitome of Soviet strength and determination coupled with a savageness that intimidated peers and betters alike. Known for his military genius, his tactics were always brutal and swift but extremely effective. This earned reputation granted him special consideration and favoritism in a society built on equality.

If General Vabka wanted to use his troops to search for his missing wife, then may they be successful.

The creaking of a door being opened broke the stillness but no one dared turn in the direction of the sound.

"You had better have information." Dimitri Vabka sneered without turning his head to identify the intruder.

A young comrade swallowed and in as strong a voice as he could muster, spoke.

"General, I do."

"Speak!" He still did not bother to recognize the man.

"General, I believe you might prefer…"

"Speak!"

"Mrs. Vabka was spotted two days ago on horseback nearing the village of Kell. She was following another rider. Once there, the horses they were riding were sold and passage was secured on a train bound for Moscow. She was traveling under the false name of Anna Grochowalski."

Purposely leaving out some of the more delicate details, the young comrade prayed General Vabka would release the other men before forcing the rest of the report out of him. Humiliating the General in front of his men would surely be a capital offense in the madman's eyes.

"Who was the other rider and what was her condition?" Refusing to form an opinion until he had the entire story, Dimitri Vabka found himself unreasonably calm.

"Franz Lesniack of Warsaw. Mrs. Vabka was in good health and did not appear injured."

"The name Lesniack is unfamiliar. Where is she now?"

"She crossed into Poland yesterday morning and her whereabouts are unknown at this time."

"You said 'she and her'. Is Mrs. Vabka now traveling alone?"

"No. From all accounts, she is still in the company of Franz Lesniack."

Without any show of emotion out of the conventional, Dimitri Vabka released all the men in the room but the messenger. An hour later after he had literally choked every piece of information out of the soldier's head, the rage that accompanied his realization of the truth boiled over into such a hatred that he could not keep himself from going into Zoya's room and destroying everything associated with her. If it took the rest of his life, he WOULD find her and drag her home where she would be taught about proper respect and reverence for a husband. But first, he vowed that she would bear witness to the death of her lover by shooting the man himself in front of her eyes.

That would teach her to betray General Dimitri Vabka.

Zoya walked down the stairs and made her way onto the first floor. Last night was the first real rest she had had since leaving her former home, and she was completely exhausted when her head finally hit the pillow. Even so, she could not help herself from waking every few hours to make sure Vladimir was still sleeping next to her. His sister's comfortable home was actually the house he grew up in, and the peacefulness of its decor made her feel welcomed as soon as she stepped over the threshold. It was decided upon that until they were able to rent a flat of their own, they would stay with Olga and lead a quiet existence safely within the four walls that Vladimir's father had designed and built many years before.

"Vladimir?" She asked before entering the small kitchen.

"No, dear." Olga answered. "He has left for work already."

"Oh. Thank you, Olga." Zoya was a bit hesitant being alone in the room with Vladimir's sister considering the circumstances surrounding her arrival, but the young woman sitting at the oval table had welcomed her with open arms last night and saw that her every need was fulfilled with the cheeriest of attitudes.

"He will return at luncheon but I will warn you now, he often brings home the designs he is working on and we may be subjected to an hours worth of talk about structural integrity, calculations, and building materials until our eyes are forced closed due to the boredom."

With a smile all her own, Zoya could think of nothing more heavenly.

Tuesday
May 18th 1999
5:16 p.m.

A Solution Of His Own.

With the index finger on his right hand, Eric Homman dug another pink pill out of his prescription bottle and dropped it right in front of him. Bending down so that his eyes were level with the desktop, he positioned the pill until it was in line with the goal he had placed. A flick of his finger sent the pill sliding across the smooth top until it flew off the side of the desk and landed in the trash can he had waiting for it.

"Two points." He said aloud before sticking his finger back in for more. The last pill was being stubborn and he couldn't get it out so he turned the bottle over on the desk and tapped it once to free it.

Hesitation stopped him from immediately repeating his actions and for a moment he just stared at the medication that for the past couple of months had done its job. But now it was more of a hindrance than help and Eric didn't need help anymore. He couldn't afford help anymore.

Today he had lost a land dispute case that should have been an easy win had he manipulated it correctly.

And he blamed the pill.

Over the course of the last two weeks three of his long term clients left him claiming they no longer required his services as their attorney.

And he blamed the pill.

That Jimmy woman Jane had hired to sue him was bearing down full force and up until now he had done almost nothing about it.

And he blamed the pill.

How could one little pink pill take away so much of his drive, ambition…Eric paused to think of another word…Fight? No, it was too high a price to pay and really, the more he thought about it the more he knew he didn't need it anyway. There wasn't a thing wrong with him that a little time wouldn't fix.

Closing his right eye, he once again lined up the pill with his target and flicked it into the trash.

"That one's for you, Jimmy! Eric Homman is back and I have a little surprise for you up my sleeve."

"Eric?" A voice from the doorway startled him and he quickly sat up in his chair.

"Hey, Craig. What do you need?"

"I'm heading home early today. My kid has a soccer match."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Could you lock the outside door on your way out? I have some work to finish up and I'm not expecting anybody."

Craig nodded his head and left his partner's office. As soon as Eric's case was over and his contract ended, he was going to go to work somewhere else. Homman was just a little too volatile and his tarnished name was beginning to affect his reputation, too.

Eric looked at the clock and listened until he heard the lock catch before he stood up. He was not at all thrilled with his partner lately and part of the reason was that Craig was hiding documents pertaining to his case from him. In hindsight he realized that he probably shouldn't have asked Craig to represent him and just done it all himself, but that was neither here nor there.

At the moment all that mattered was that the cleaning people were not expected for another hour, Craig was out of the building for the day, Eric had a spare key to his office, and he was in the mood to do some hard-core snooping.

Grabbing the empty Lithium bottle off his desk, Eric tossed it into the trash before heading down the hallway with keys in hand.

"Mood swing adjusters. Ha! I need mood swing adjusters like I need a hole in the head."

Memorial Day 1999

A Day To Recognize The Dead.

With four wreaths draped on his arm, Charles slowly walked to his family's plots at the cemetery. Jane never questioned his request to do this alone. Charles was a private mourner, and she respected his need for privacy. While he was paying his respects in Oak Park, she went on her own to her grandparents' site in Naperville.

The more reflective and somber his mood became as he traveled through the rows and rows of tombstones. Death had ever been his weak spot, and although he had helped several of his own young patients through the process, for himself he could not find the right words or ideology to ease his apprehension of it.

Approaching his destination, Charles noticed someone had already been there and left two floral arrangements next to his parent's gravesites. Bending over, he read the ribbons on each; one said 'Mother' and the other 'Father'. Louisa must have already made her pilgrimage earlier this morning. He placed his own offering on their joint memorial, pausing briefly to recall the memories he had of each. For his father there were none; he had died before Charles was old enough to know him. And for his mother they were not pleasant enough to devote much time to.

Stepping back, he moved to over to the people he had actually known. To the left of his grandparents were unmarked plots that would someday be his and Jane's. He fondly remembered a conversation he and Lillian had about the area.

"I have bought the spots next to your grandfather and me at the cemetery for you and your future wife. That way I can keep an eye on you." Lillian informed Charles over breakfast. He had driven down from Detroit to spend the long Labor Day weekend with her.

Laughing at her statement, Charles shook his head.

"I'm so glad to know you don't even trust me in death!"

"Bah!" She exclaimed before rolling her eyes at him.

"And what if I don't have a 'future wife'? What am I supposed to do then? Lease out the spot?"

"No, you'll have extra room to wiggle around like you did when you were a boy."

"Babcia, if you are referring to when you use to cut my hair with those dull razor scissors, I think I had a pretty good excuse. I would hide those things when you weren't around, you know."

"And I always found them because you hid them in the same spot every time! Not very clever I must say." Lillian leaned over the table and cupped his chin. "You look like you could use a trim now. I think I know where I put my scissors. Wait here while I go get them."

"Not a chance!" Smiling broadly, he pulled free from her grasp. "Not a chance. I want to keep my ears, thank you."

Feeling a bit lighter due to the remembrance, Charles put the wreaths into position and then went about pulling some grass close to the headstone that the men who mowed had missed. There still were times four months after her death when he would catch himself thinking 'I have to tell Babcia…'

Three quarters of an hour later he started back toward his car. His mind was full of the images and sounds from days past while he mechanically walked through the neatly arranged lanes. Charles had ended his visit by recalling how he felt as he signed Lillian's death certificate. It was a mistake to end his visit so, and he promised himself that the next time he came to the cemetery he would not do that again.

Several minutes later Charles looked up to see how close he was to the road and saw that he was a good quarter-mile south of where he should have been had he been paying attention. Using his car as a marker, he turned around and headed in the right direction.

Then came to a dead stop.

It had been so close. All this time it had been so close, and yet…

Falling to his knees, tears stung the eyes of the man who never wept in public as he wrapped his arms tightly around his stomach in an attempt to control the sick feeling he had welling up inside of him. It was some time before the feeling passed, and the deep breaths he was forcing himself to take were leaving him light headed and disoriented. Turning his head to the right, he found a focal point and concentrated on it until he was well enough to comprehend what had just happened to him. But everything had all been so fast and jumbled together that he could not make sense of it.

Reaching into his shirt pocket, he removed his cell phone and dialed Jane's car. For an instant he remembered that he was on call this holiday weekend, and the fear that someone would call with a problem while he was in this state prompted him to try to talk before he was certain he could.

"Hello?"

"Jane," he whispered although he was trying to sound normal, "come to the cemetery."

"Charles? What's wrong?" He couldn't fool Jane.

"Are you close to home?"

"I'm ten minutes from town. What's wrong?" she asked again. "Is everything fine there?"

"I'm fine."

"Tell me what's wrong. Are you ill?" Jane asked for the third time as she pressed harder on the gas pedal. The traffic was surprisingly light considering it was a three-day weekend, and she took advantage of the ease to maneuver between lanes.

"I don't feel well and I need you to come see something." Charles went on to give her a brief description of where he was located, then convinced her to hang up the phone.

Seven minutes later he heard the screeching of tires and right afterward a car door slam. Jane ran over to Charles finding him exactly where he said he would be.

After his phone call to her, he had been able to compose himself respectably as long as he didn't look around. His back was leaning against a tombstone and his eyes were closed.

Jane fell in beside Charles and began wiping his sweaty brow with her hand.

"Are you sick, honey?" she soothed him. "I'll take you home."

"I had stomach cramps but I'm not sick." He admitted unsteadily. "Something just came over me and I don't think I can drive home."

"What is it then? Did you have a hard time at Lillian's…"

He was already answering her by shaking his head no. Taking her hands away from his face, Charles leaned forward.

"Look" was all that he said.

At first Jane thought he meant his back and she examined it looking for a wound or anything that would give her a clue to what it was that he wasn't telling her. When she found nothing and looked closer at where he was sitting her face became as pale as his was.

With wide eyes, she asked him two questions.

"How did you find it? Did you know it was here?"

"I didn't know." Was his response, "but we have dates and a place to go for more of the story now."

Jane tore her eyes away and looked at him seriously.

"Do you think..."

"Yes, I do."

Jane broke eye contact and stared at the object that had caused her husband to have such a strong reaction to it.

Russia
December 2 1928

Like a flash of lightening General Vabka stood up from his position on his worn leather couch clutching the blueprints for his newly-erected barracks in his hand.

Very, very slowly he allowed his suspicions to be verbalized.

"The Russian born Polish architect from Moscow who was living in the village while the construction was taking place…I'll kill you when I catch you!"

Chapter 3 ~ Bad Moon Rising

Posted on Monday, 19 July 1999

Poland
December 8th 1928

If General Vabka felt any emotion, it was not expressed as he sat in the back seat of the unadorned black Russian military-issue car. Breathing shallow and even, only an intermittent blink of an eye indicated that he was yet alive, as his focus did not move from the doorway of the Lapinski and Associates Architecture Firm.

The driver announced "One minute" and this prompted the General to raise his hand in signal to the men occupying the car behind him. A similar situation was being played out in two other locations at the same moment as the residents of Warsaw went about their daily business unaware of what was about to unfold.

With ten seconds left before the designated 'storm' time, Dimitri Vabka exited his car and was joined by four other comrades. Today was a Day of Atonement.

Franz Sobieszozyk stood in front of the drafting table of Vladimir Oleksei gazing down at the man. Like his father before him, Vladimir had a slight artistic touch to his designs and the technical ability to turn his conceptions into structurally sound possibilities. Franz knew that with time and maturity the young man would someday become sought after, therefore he was more than pleased to offer him a position when he was informed about his having left Moscow two months ago. Other than Vladimir's occasional trip back to Russia to finish up a project he had started before his departure, Franz had no complaints and now that that was over, Vladimir was free to devote all this time to the firm.

Franz was about to make a comment, when something sounding like an army marching up the steps to the second floor tore his attention to the doorway.

"Russian soldiers" he hissed with great hatred under his breath before turning his head in the direction of Vladimir to see if he recognized the unwelcome guests.

But Vladimir was gone.

Olga Oleksei stood behind the counter of the small dress shop her father had purchased for her mother several years before their death. Since the tender age of sixteen she had taken over the management of it, and although it would never generate much profit, Olga nurtured the shop like the child she would never have.

A peck of uniformed soldiers burst through the door taking no heed to disguise their arrival. Upon sight, a customer let out a high pitched scream before fainting dead away. Rushing over to aid the woman, Olga was stopped at the end of the counter by the most terrible man she had ever laid eyes on.

"The woman is of no concern." He said in a dangerous tone. "You will answer my questions."

"What do you want?" Olga replied while not taking her eyes from his pockmarked face. Yes, she was frightened close to the point of fainting herself, but the clever, clever girl remembered the plan laid out by her brother should a situation like this ever arise.

"Mrs. Vabka."

"I know of no Mrs. Vabka," her voice trembled, "please elaborate."

Olga let her fear show on purpose. She wanted the man to believe she would cooperate if only to save her own skin.

"Don't toy with me, woman!" the officer bellowed as his fist came down on the glass countertop, cracking it on contact.

"I know of no Mrs. Vabka." She began to cry to hide her anger.

"What of Anna Grochowalski?"

"Anna Grochowalski?" Olga made her eyes go wide with recognition as her true acting abilities were about to be revealed to the men surrounding her.

"Where is she? I know she was in the company of your brother. Anna Grochowalski is a criminal and is to be returned to her homeland." Leaning closer to the young woman who could not be more than nineteen years old, he lowered his voice. "You would not harbor a criminal, would you little one?"

Olga shook her head in reply and paused for as long as she thought she might get away with it. The officer grabbing her by the shoulders was her cue and she confessed all.

"She is in residence of General Kukowski here in Warsaw. He is our distant cousin and a close friend of my brother." Some of what she said was true, but only the part of General Kukowski being a distant cousin.

Twelve minutes later the soldiers vacated the shop as Olga watched their retreat with narrowed eyes.

"Pigs" she whispered before spitting on the floor.

Today was the first time since coming to Warsaw that Zoya ventured out of doors to see the city now considered her own. For one short hour she took in the sights before returning to the house to prepare for Vladimir's break for luncheon. Under the heavy camouflage of scarves and a blue coat Olga had given her, she curiously blended in with the people milling on the street in front of her residence.

"They are Russian trash." She heard uttered by a man not four feet from her. "I hear the authorities are on their way to rid us of their presence."

Oh, dear God! Vladimir!

Zoya quickly turned and started to walk back in the direction she had come from. The location where Vladimir had told her to go if they were ever discovered was still fresh in her mind, but her inexperience with the area would make his plan a slow one to follow. A strong hand stopped her escape by firmly attaching itself to her arm.

"You. Turn around."

Praying that the voice did not belong to man whom would recognize her, Zoya did as she was told.

"Where are you going?" A young Comrade stood in front of her. Though he attempted to appear intimidating, from exposure to troops Zoya knew that he was not seasoned.

"Home, Sir."

"Take off your covering." A detailed description of both Zoya Vabka and Vladimir Oleksei were given to the officers before the mission began.

Zoya removed her scarves under the close scrutiny of the military man.

Comrade Pushkin examined the blond woman before him. He knew that Mrs. Vabka could have changed her appearance, but the dark complexion and blond eyebrows on this woman did not match said description.

"Do you know of Zoya Vabka?"

"No, Sir."

"Anna Grochowalski?"

"No, Sir." Honesty was in her reply.

Without doubt, the soldier released the woman and went about his business of watching the crowd. That woman was definitely not Mrs. Vabka.

Monday
June 14th 1999
Oak Park, Illinois
3:56 a.m.

For over an hour Vladimir waited in the shadows of the underground train station on the West End of Warsaw. Alternating between praying and cursing, he was beginning to feel the growing pains of lost hope when he finally laid visuals on Zoya moving with haste through the throng of people. She had indeed become lost on her way to the station, but the friendliness of a stranger guided her in the correct direction.

As she passed blindly by him, Vladimir took hold of her hand startling a yelp out of her constricted throat.

"Zoya." He hushed. "It is I"

The relief brought on by the sound of his voice produced the first tears to be shed since the drama had begun to unfold.

"Thank God," Zoya praised as he led her back to where he was standing.

"I thought you were…" Unwilling to enunciate his darkest concern, Vladimir did not finish his sentence. "Were you followed?"

"No." Replied she as her hand went around her own neck. "Vladimir, this is far too dangerous for you now. You must leave me here, alone. There is no other choice. I cannot jeopardize your safety any more for the sake of my own heart's desire. Dimitri will never cease until he is satisfied; he is a relentless man of no conscience.

Vladimir shook his head fiercely. He would hear nothing of a separation.

"Yes." She countered sternly. "Think of yourself. Think of Olga. If you continue to be with me…any association will ruin your life, if not end it."

"Zoya, do not ever say those words again. I willingly entered into our arrangement knowing that this day might come. If I had been ignorant of the consequences of my actions, I would not have devised an escape plan. No, I will not lose you to that miscreant."

"What of Olga? She is but an innocent bystander. Shall we destroy her life in the process?"

"Olga understood the hazard before I made my last journey to Russia and beforehand we spoke of nothing else for weeks straight. She gave me her blessing, and I must place my faith in her good judgment. Our cousins the Dahlkes will keep watch over her until all is settled. On my way here I stopped off at the elder cousin's home, and he assured me that Olga would be tended to. My sister might be young, but she is strong and courageous. She would not have you return to him on her account."

Although his word touched her to the core, Zoya remained unconvinced. It was unbearable to fathom that she was destroying him with her past.

"Do you still love me?" The question he posed caught her off guard, and she could not but answer it honestly.

"You need never ask that question, Vladimir, the answer will always be the same. Of course I love you."

"Do you trust me?" His unwavering gaze never left hers. This was the test of a lifetime.

"Implicitly." Whispered, it held as more weight than if it had been shouted.

"Then take your ticket and follow me. I will get us out of Poland."

Charles stirred in his sleep, mumbling incoherent instructions into the air. Not a minute later he was fully awake with the memories of what had just played itself out in his mind. This was a new dream. Attributing it to his impatience while waiting for the Oak Park Hall of Records to send him the requested death certificates for Vladimir and Zoya Oleksei, he almost passed it off as fancy and fell back to sleep. If it had not been for a conversation he and Jane had had on their honeymoon, the full recollection of the dream might have been lost forever. But her words "I write down everything of significance right away so that I may reference it later" gave him motivation to get out of bed and head down the hall to his study.

Same day.
5:41 p.m.
Lisle, Illinois

"Can I go down to see if Chris is home?" Lydia called into the bedroom. She and Jane had taken off early from working downtown and were at her apartment for a brief stop before Lydia was to be taken home.

"Yes. If he's working you need to come back up here." Jane answered as she searched the labels on the boxes she had never unpacked since moving from Champaign. She was looking for a small collection of expensive antique plates she wanted to put in a china cabinet at home.

Lydia was out of the apartment in a flash, taking the stairs to the first floor two steps at a time. Lately she had come to the judgment that Chris wasn't as boring as she once had thought, in fact he was kind of interesting once she got to know him.

As Lydia hopped from one foot to the other waiting for Chris to open the door, she was unaware there was a pair of eyes from the parking lot intently watching her every move.

Eric Homman sat outside of Jane's apartment building in a nondescript blue rental car. He was well aware of the personal risk he was taking by being here, but after careful consideration, he decided that the need to talk to Jane was worth any possible punishment he might receive.

Everything was simply falling apart in his life and he had to do something about it now, before the downward spiral continued anymore. That woman lawyer Jane had hired was making his life a living hell. Not only did she have the audacity to freeze all of his accounts and leave him scraping for money, but also her investigation into him had all but completely ruined his reputation.

Eric knew it was time to take matters into his own hands and convince Jane that she had to stop what she was doing and let them work out this problem on their own. Jane could be reasonable; he had witnessed that in the past, although he had to admit to a bit of hesitation about what her reception would be now. Had she changed that much? Was she really so deep into revenge that she wouldn't listen to reason?

He would have to cross that bridge when he came to it, but for now he knew he had to reach her one way or another and let her hear his side of the story. The telephone was not an option; she would just hang up on him. This meeting had to be done face to face.

That dark headed girl did throw a wrench into his thought-out plan. He reckoned it might be one of her sisters, but he wasn't totally sure. Hopefully Jane didn't have a roommate living with her. If that were the case, he would just have to go to plan B and follow her around until he found a place where they could talk without being interrupted.

For the moment Eric waited, watched, and dwelled on what had brought him to this position in the first place, as he slugged down more of the amber liquid wrapped discreetly in a paper bag.

He had always thought of himself as the type of person other people liked, but ever since leaks about his upcoming trial surfaced, the people he had once regarded as his advocates, especially those of his own social circle, were beginning to shun him. The invitations to parties and dinners dwindled down to nothing, the offers for a round a golf with the town's elite were nonexistent, and he could hear the whispers going on behind his back. The life that he had worked so hard to build, the image he had perfected to a point of being exactly what he wanted (less Jane) disappeared in the blink of an eye, and unless he did some damage control now, it might be irreversible later on.

"Damn it!" echoed throughout the car. Why couldn't have he and Jane worked things out between them? Why did it take him so long to see what he was throwing away by screwing around on her? And why the hell did she pick this point in her life to become so damn stubborn?

Something else that made Eric incensed was that just seeing Jane brought back all the old feelings he had once had for her. She was still the beautiful woman he had fallen in love with all those years ago, and right now, if Jane would act even a little bit interested, he'd forget all the pain she had put him through recently and take her back in a heartbeat.

More than ever he missed her soft voice letting him know that everything was going to be all right. He needed Jane to fix what was broken, especially since it was she who broke it in the first place. Why hadn't she just come to him? He would have given her the money and then it would not have blown up into this huge ass ordeal it was now. This wasn't good for either of them. If only…

Movement brought Eric's attention to the front of the apartment building and he slid down in his seat so he wasn't seen. It was Jane and she was going to the apartment downstairs that the other woman had entered.

"Hi Chris." Jane said as she gave him a hug. "I can't stay. I need to run an errand and get home."

Jane stepped back from him and gave him a once over. Chris had a light tan from the walking he had been doing and his muscles were starting to tone up. "You look healthy!"

"I feel healthy. Actually, I feel like a 20 year old should." A little embarrassed, he leaned over and gave Jane a peck on the cheek. Chris had made great strides in his battle with taking the weight off and although he still had a way to go, he was going to make it.

"Where's Lydia?" Jane asked as she looked around the apartment.

"She's in the computer room. I was showing her a graphics program, and she's playing with it."

"I'd better get her."

"Well," Chris stammered, "I think she wants me to ask if she can stay and I'll take her home. She's working on adding color to a logo I made. I'll have her call home and make sure it is okay with your parents, if it's fine with you."

"It's fine with me. Have her let them know where she is. I really should run."

"Tell Charles I said 'hello'."

"I will." Jane walked over to the computer room door. "Good-bye, Lydia."

"Bye, Jane," she answered back without looking up. "I'll see you tomorrow at work."

Jane left the apartment smiling and got into her car. She didn't see two things as she left the complex. One was Lydia running out of Chris's apartment to catch her because she had left her purse in Jane's car, and the other was the blue sedan that pulled out right behind her.

Lydia stood on the sidewalk yelling at her sister, but it was for naught. As she noticed the car behind Jane, she recognized the face of the driver right away.

"ERIC!" Lydia called as the car passed her. The driver turned and looked straight at her, but said nothing.

It took her about five seconds to piece together the bits and pieces of conversation she had heard over the past few months, and Lydia knew something wasn't right.

"Oh, crap!" She ran back into Chris's apartment bursting through the door. "Chris!"

"What?" Startled, he came out of the kitchen.

"I just saw Jane's ex-husband! I don't think he is supposed to be near her." Lydia had absolutely no skepticism about who she saw. She remembered his face clearly.

"Where is he?" Chris rushed for the door.

"In a blue car right behind her."

"She's gone?"

"Yes."

"I'm going after her. Call Charles and lock the door behind me." Chris found his car keys. "Don't let anyone in."

"I won't." She had never seen Chris move so fast as he was right now.

"Did he see you looking at him?"

"Yes."

"Lydia, after you talk to Charles, call your mother and have her pick you up. I don't want you to be in any danger."

She nodded her head, but didn't answer.

"Lock the door." He called as he ran to his car in a desperate attempt to catch Jane before she got on the highway.

Lydia did as she was told. After locking the door behind him, she followed his instructions and called Charles.

Charles laid the piece of paper he was reading down on his desk at home and looked at his sister sitting across from him.

"Did Caroline say when she was going to sell the jewelry?"

"This Friday, unless I wanted to buy any of it first. Other than the ruby ring, I'm really not interested in the other pieces."

Charles added up the cost of remaining quantity in his head. "Would you be willing to make the purchase for me? I don't think she would sell to me directly, and I want to keep them in the family."

Louisa nodded her head. She was embarrassed about her sister unloading the jewelry Lillian and Charles had given her, but Caroline wanted to invest in some vegetarian fast food restaurant venture and needed all the cash she could get her hands on.

"Thank you for giving me this chance." Charles took a checkbook out of his desk drawer and drew her up a draft.

"You're welcome. I thought it would only be right." Louisa looked around the room a little uncomfortably. "Do you expect Jane soon?"

"Yes. Why don't you stay for dinner?" Charles looked up and smiled as he handed her the check. "She shouldn't be much longer, and Iris left a Shepherd Pie in the oven."

"Oh, thank you, but no. I haven't unpacked from the weekend yet and I'm tired. But the offer was kind."

"Were you away for the weekend?"

"Yes," she admitted slowly. "I met a friend at the cabin."

"Anyone I know?"

Now it was Louisa's turn to smile as a natural blush spread across her cheeks.

"Yes, you do. Your friend from Detroit, Henry Hurst…"

The ringing of the phone interrupted her and Louisa insisted that he answer it.

"Hello?"

"Charles, I saw Eric." Wasting no time, Lydia got right to the point.

"Are you sure? Where? When?" Just the mention of Jane's ex-husband's name sent him into full alert.

"Following Jane in a blue four-door car about three or four minutes ago." Her voice was shaky and she was honestly frightened.

"Where is Jane?" Charles looked over at his sister with an expression of disbelief. Sensing his anxiety, Louisa stood up and moved over to his side. She knew something was terribly wrong.

"I think she is on her way home, but she was going to stop somewhere first."

"WHERE?" Wanting all of the information without having to ask, he was unable to control his tone.

"I don't know, she didn't say." Lydia began to cry, which was not a good thing for Charles.

"Okay, calm down. I'll call her cell phone. Hold on while I use the other line." He picked up the other phone and began to dial. Charles had a phone to each ear

"Come on," he said out loud. "Pick up."

Hearing a click on the other end of the line; Charles started to talk right away.

"Jane, you need to listen to me. There is…"

Then he fell silent and listened to the prerecorded message, completely defeated.

"...The customer you have dialed is either out of range or unavailable."

Unnaturally calm, he laid the other receiver into its cradle and returned his attention to Lydia.

"Lydia, where are you?"

"At Chris's. Jane stopped by her apartment and gave me a ride."

"All the way in Lisle." This wasn't a question, but a nightmare. Jane had too many miles to go that held too many possibilities.

"Yes."

Charles leaned his head back and looked up to the ceiling. Jane was out on the highway with a possible psycho following her and there was no way for him to warn her. If he only knew what errand she was going to do, he would at least be able to get help to her…but he didn't.

"Call your parents and tell them that if Jane shows up there, not to let her leave. Do it now."

Charles hung up the phone and grabbed some phone books off a shelf. Handing one to Louisa, he told her to look up the phone number of the police station in Oak Park, while he searched for the number in Lisle.

Jane was deep in thought as she traveled down the highway in heavy rush-hour traffic. The errand she was supposed to run to the dry cleaners was forgotten. This lapse of memory was a blessing in disguise.

"She didn't say where she was going, Charles," Elizabeth answered from the phone in her bedroom. William was on the same line downstairs in the office. "Is there anything we can do?"

"No. I need to get off of the phone in case she is trying to call." With that Charles hung up and Elizabeth ran down to William.

"What do you think?" she asked him nervously. "I say we get the hell out of here and go looking for her!"

"I don't know, Liz. It will be impossible to find her on the highway at this hour." William could not fathom what his friend was going through as different scenarios of what could happen began to flood his mind. If it was Elizabeth in Jane's place…

"If only she had a beeper like the rest of us. But her job doesn't require one." Elizabeth became angry at herself remembering back to when Jane asked her if she needed to wear a beeper, and she had told her 'no' in a condescending manner. "Will, there has to be something we can do. Eric will hurt her if he gets to her."

"What makes you so certain?" Her statement disturbed him. "Has he done so before?"

"No. To my knowledge he has never touched Jane, but believe me, he has it in him. Please, even if you think it is impossible, let's go to the highway and look for Jane. We can't let this happen."

"I'll get the car keys, and you write a note in case Jane shows up here. We'll sit on the exit for I-290 and see if she passes by."

"Thank you, Will."

Eric pulled his car up to the curb down from where Jane pulled into a driveway. He had no idea where they were but took a guess that this was either one of her sister's homes or that of a friend. This was his opportunity and he was going to take it. After all the effort he had used in pursuing her this far, he wasn't going to give up now.

"Dang." Jane cursed aloud in her car as the garage door closed. She had just remembered that she had forgotten the dry cleaning and would have to ask Charles to get it tomorrow morning before he went to work. Shifting the box she had brought from her apartment, she reached for the door handle but it opened for her.

"Thank you, dear. Would you take this?" She asked as she handed him her briefcase and purse from her left hand. Charles often met her in the garage on nights when he was the first one home.

Jane took hold of the box and got out of the car, closing the door with her elbow.

"I thought maybe we could…"

The next sound heard in the garage was a box of antique display plates crashing to the ground.

"Hello, Jane." Eric put her briefcase down and picked up the box she had just dropped. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Jane didn't answer him but stood very still.

He shook the box and put it on the hood of her car before moving within two feet of her.

"Was that your plate collection?" he grimaced. "I'm sorry. I know how much you liked them."

Even though his being near made her want to run for the door as fast as she could, Jane could only continue to stare. Her body would not respond to the mental command to flee she was sending it.

"Jane, you can say something. I'm not going to harm you." Reaching over, he took her right hand in his. "I just wanted to talk to you—nothing more. Everything has gotten a little out of hand between us, and I wanted to see if you and I could settle our differences without any outside influences. I know you don't want a messy court procedure any more than I do. Will you talk to me?"

Eric's tone was both soft and nonabrasive. He was hoping to reach the shy, sympathetic woman he once lived with. The very one who would never purposely hurt anyone if she could avoid it. He knew she still existed somewhere inside of Jane. When she didn't respond, he decided to take advantage of the situation to get even closer to her. Maybe if Jane could really see the difference in him, she would give him a chance to plead his case to her without any harsh words or accusation being thrown around. Slowly he raised his free hand up to tuck her hair behind her ears in a loving gesture he often portrayed when they were married. She was so pleasing.

Being a prisoner of her own body, Jane silently cried out for Charles to come and help her when she felt Eric fingering her face. His car was right next to hers, so she knew Charles was home, and Louisa's was in the drive. But with all of the doors closed, Jane realized that they couldn't see her, let alone hear her if she screamed. Jane was on her own and the fear held her immobile.

Eric smiled and told her a lie.

"You look very pretty with your hair down." He had never liked it that way. Eric was about to kiss her on the cheek when he noticed a faint, red mark on the side of her face near the hairline. He ran his index finger over the scar.

"Don't touch me!" Jane found her voice. It was unsteady, but it was loud.

"Sorry." He removed his left hand from her face but still held onto her with his right one.

"Eric, leave now. You're not supposed to be in contact with me."

"Jane, please. I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm just here to see if you and I can act like adults and save us some embarrassment. I have no idea where your fear of me came from. I've never done anything to warrant it, have I? I'm begging you, let's talk."

Shaking her head no, she tried to remove her hand from his but couldn't because he tightened his grip. Using her left hand, she began to pry his fingers away when he stopped her.

"Jane, what has gotten...into…you? Eric lifted his hand and looked down. Something was pressing deeply into his palm.

The diamond on her finger caught what little light that was coming from the garage door opener's security bulb and Eric was mesmerized as he studied it. Ever so slowly the reality of what was before him seeped in.

"You're not married are you?" Fighting with the weakness of his own denial, Eric waited for her to answer him, but she did not.

Use of her perception alerted Jane that admitting the change in her status at this time could prove to be a hazardous move. It was the way Eric was looking at her--with a gleam that could surely turn to hatred if provoked. There were a few times near the end of their marriage when he wore the same expression, but she had been able to avoid allowing his anger to build by bowing to his wishes and apologizing for any wrong that had made Eric turn on her. How she was going to get out of this predicament now she had no idea.

Jane chose to remain silent, believing this to be the best method.

It was not.

"JANE!" Eric bellowed as he demanded an answer. "Are you married?"

For the first time since entering the garage, he took a moment to really look around. There were two cars in the building, hers and another. Tools were lined up on a bench, but really, this could be nothing. What Eric wanted was proof since she wouldn't tell him. With his free hand he leaned over and pulled some papers out of her briefcase, all the while maintaining his firm hold on Jane.

The proof he was after was on the top page. It was a memo for Jane Bingley. A sick, sick feeling rested itself in the pit of his stomach, and for a short time Eric almost considered leaving. But, now more than ever, he needed to get her to come around to his way of thinking.

"So, did your husband put you up to this? Was suing me all his idea?" Sneering, Eric pulled her against him and wrapped his arm around her waist so she could not get away. Whatever plan he had come to Chicago with was now gone and he was acting out from only emotion.

"You couldn't even wait a year? Damn Jane, you knew how I felt about you, and yet you ran out and probably married the first stupid b*stard who asked. After all I have done for you? After all of the years I took care of you, and put up with your ways? This is how you repay me?" He drew breath and continued to berate her in a strong, threatening voice that sent chills throughout her with every word.

"Now it is my turn to give you one warning." Eric used a phrase she had said to him months ago against her.

"Drop the lawsuit tomorrow, or I'll do everything in my power to make sure this sweet little life you now have is turned to dust. Do you understand me? Don't think that I can't do it, you know me better than that. Say it, say you agree."

Jane cringed back as he came face to face with her. There was absolutely no way for her to get free from him; she didn't even have the room to knee him. As Eric's heavy breath made contact with her, she could smell alcohol. This was when Jane decided to give him the answer he wanted, even if she did not she mean it. All she had to do was to sound convincing.

"I will do what ever you want." Her meek response seemed to give him a little relief.

"How do I know you are telling me the truth?"

"Because I know what you can do." She replied mechanically.

Eric examined her closely and determined that she was indeed telling the truth.

"Oh, Jane. Why didn't you wait for me? I waited for you. It isn't too late, you can leave him and come back home with me." Eric swung her around and pinned her against the car. "Don't you still love me? Just a little?"

Without waiting for an answer, Eric kissed her full on the lips, afterwards pulling back to look into her eyes. They were full of tears. He mistook them for tears of regret.

"Let's go somewhere and talk about this. Just you and me, I'm really not in the mood to meet that man you are married to tonight." Switching grips faster than Jane's reflexes could react, he began to lead her to the door. "I'm going to trust you not to yell or try to run off. You know I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, but I think it is time for us to have a serious heart-to-heart. "

"No, please Eric, I…" Jane was trembling so hard she thought she might be ill. "I'll drop the lawsuit, but I don't want to go with you."

"No, that will not do. I don't want to talk here. That husband of yours might try to change your mind. Let's go somewhere quiet and discuss what we're going to do. Trust me, I know this is best. I have my car parked nearby."

Charles was in his study on the private phone line giving information to the State Police when Louisa went to the front door because she thought she had heard a noise. A frantic Dale Bennet calling for information on his daughter had temporarily disrupted her duty as lookout. Opening the heavy wooden door she looked out she didn't see anyone. But, there was a blue sedan that wasn't there a few minutes ago parked down the block. She next went to the back door to check if Jane's car was in the drive and noticed the garage light shining through the window.

"CHARLES!" Louisa yelled up the stairs.

His response time could be measured in seconds.

Continued In Next Section