Heads You Win

Alex looked back to see Elena sitting next to Konstantin, who was holding her hand. She gave him a weak smile as the Gulfstream jet began to accelerate down the runway.

“Don’t forget my uncle was her only sibling, and she would have gone back to see him a long time ago if it hadn’t been for the thought of Major Polyakov standing on the tarmac waiting to welcome her.”

“But she must be excited about returning to Russia after so many years?”

“And apprehensive at the same time, I expect. She’s probably torn between fear and excitement, a toxic combination.”

“How different your life would have been if Polyakov had gone to the football match that afternoon,” said Anna, “and you’d decided to stay in Saint Petersburg.”

“All of us can point to a moment in our lives when something happens that causes us to go in a totally different direction. It can be as simple as that time you stepped onto a train and decided to sit n

ext to me.”

“Actually, it was you who stepped onto the train and decided to sit next to me,” said Anna as the plane took off.

“Or choosing which crate to get into,” said Alex. “I often wonder—”

“Dad, where will we stop to refuel?” asked Konstantin.

Alex looked over his shoulder and said to his son, “Amsterdam. We’ll have a short break there before flying on to Saint Petersburg.”

* * *

“How long will we be in Amsterdam?” asked Natasha as they strolled into the transit lounge.

“A couple of hours before we have to make the connection with our Aeroflot flight.”

“Will there be enough time for us to take a taxi to the Rijksmuseum?” asked Charlie. “I’ve always wanted to see The Night Watch.”

“I’d rather not risk it,” said Sasha. “The mayor of Saint Petersburg told me he’s expecting a large turnout at the airport, and if we were to miss the plane…”

“Of course,” said Charlie, once again reminded just how nervous her husband was. “In any case, I can always visit the Hermitage while you’re electioneering, and we can do the Rijks another time.”

“On the way home, perhaps,” said Natasha, grinning.

“In eight years’ time, you mean,” said Charlie.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Sasha. “If I become president, we’ll all go on holiday to Amsterdam, when we can do the Van Gogh museum as well as the Rijks.”

“Russian presidents don’t go on holiday,” said Elena. “Because if they did, when they returned, they’d find that someone else was sitting behind their desk, and they’d been left in the out-tray.”

Sasha laughed. “I think you’ll find that’s all changed, Mama.”

“I wouldn’t count on that, while your old friend Vladimir is still around.”

* * *

“How’s Elena feeling?” asked Anna when Alex returned to his seat.

“She wishes she’d gone back to Saint Petersburg years ago, and thanked Kolya properly for risking his life to help us escape.”

“She invited him to visit Boston several times,” Anna reminded him, “but he never took up the offer.”

“I suspect Polyakov made sure he couldn’t get a visa,” said Alex. “Elena’s always said she would happily have gone home to attend that man’s funeral.”

“After all these years, she still thinks of Saint Petersburg as home,” said Anna. “Do you feel the same way?”

Alex didn’t reply.