Page 83 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

Vaslav passed the plaque at his side a disinterested glance. Gold lettering in Russian and English spelled out the historic nature of the site, and the still present dangers because no one had the funds or means to tear it down. The government sure as hell didn’t care.

Igor leaned closer to inspect the small memorial.

“What, jumped off the bridge?” Vaslav asked.

Igor shrugged, murmuring the names under his breath of kids who had drowned after jumping—whether the current took them, they had been tangled in something under the water, or they jumped into something just beneath the surface; they each got a spot for their name.

And an unfortunate series of dates. One year after another. Nearly all the months looked the same. Summer. Strangely, it was also not a spot that saw a lot of suicides.

“Yeah, would you?” Igor asked. “I could see you doing it, had you been given the chance.”

“Almost, one summer.”

Igor stood up straight at that. “Really?”

The old, forgotten covered wooden bridge, or the half left still standing on worn and broken cement blocks, just outside of Dubna’s town limits was a menace to the teenagers of every generation, and the parents who buried them year after year. A risk any rebel couldn’t pass up. To jump from a hundred feet into what seemed like bottomless black waters had become a rite of passage for only the boys and girls who had the most reckless and wild hearts.

Yet, for every ten that dared to take the plunge, it was said that an average of two wouldn’t come back up. Only to be found later caught up in a dam upstream.

Despite knowing that what remained of the fallen half of the bridge was still under the calm waters of the stretch of Volga River, ignorant youth, and undoubtedly stupid pride drove kids to walk the fifty rickety feet to make the jump. A sad state of affairs and too much danger prevented the people of the area from taking matters into their own hands and pulling down the bridge. It was a shame, because back before the kids used the rickety edge to jump off, the water down below had been a popular swimming hole.

Even standing at the mouth’s edge of the old bridge, with its large entrance eave beams blackened with age overhead, Vaslav couldn’t honestly say he would have made the jump in his own youth.

“A guy drowned the day before, but since he didn’t show up at the dam, they had a few boats in the water.” Vaslav shrugged, adding, “I don’t think I could have done it if I was standing there, though; they put me in the colony before the next summer, so I never had to find out.”

Igor’s grin faded, and he swiped his palm down his mouth and jaw as he eyed the quiet, short road leading to the remnants of the bridge that connected off from the main trek. While the neighboring townships had erected barricades to block the road, they didn’t do much good. Someone could easily fit a vehicle in between the two cement blocks painted bright yellow.

Vaslav and Igor, on the other hand, had left their SUV running just beyond the safety of the dividers. It left more than enough room for the man of the evening to arrive and follow Vaslav’s very specific instructions about how he should pull up to receive his payment.

“Looks like we didn’t have to worry about time at all,” Vaslav said as Igor rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands into his parka’s pockets. “You’re never one to be late, Igor.”

“Yeah, well—”

Vaslav’s comment had come right on time; the roll of wheels on gravel drew the gazes of both men to the black Porsche pulling off the main road. The headlamps on the car flicked off as the driver navigated the vehicle in a half turn so he could back up beyond the cement dividers keeping the bridge blocked.

Feliks’ Porsche came to a stop only a foot from Vaslav and Igor’s feet. The trunk of the car popped open a second before the driver’s door opened wide and out stepped a man Vaslav would forever call a coward.

“Feliks,” Igor greeted.

The only living Abramov took his time closing the driver’s door and joining the two men waiting at the rear of the car. Despite directing his words to Vaslav, his gaze didn’t leave the six duffels sitting just inside the mouth of the bridge on the ground.

“I didn’t know you were also making a trip out to see me tonight,” Feliks said. “Am I that special, Vaslav?”

“Or that unlucky,” he returned frankly.

Feliks, quick like he was, took the subtle threat for what it could be. He put his hands up, averting his eyes from Vaslav’s unforgiving stare when he said, “No harm meant, of course.”

Vaslav didn’t bother with a reply.

Igor stepped up to the plate, still ready to get on with the evening and remove one more thing from his unofficial to-do list. “Took six bags. All various bills. Should make distributing it easier, however you choose.”

Feliks nodded, his gaze back on the duffels. Right where Vaslav expected it to be. “I have plans for it. It’ll go far with renovations, and funding at the school. Although, the kids will be sad that Vera isn’t returning.”

Every word the man let slip out of his mouth was a lie. Vaslav knew it, too.

Vaslav spoke up, then. “Don’t worry Vera’s got her hands full of other things to do.”

For now, he added silently.