"Sir Thomas Albrecht is still missing after disappearing four weeks ago from a St. Petersburg hotel."
The camera cut to gritty black and white security footage.
"The 42-year-old, Nobel Prize winning economist was seen returning from the evening of October 2nd and walking to the lobby elevator, but oddly, there is no footage of him leaving the hotel. He was not found in his room, but all of his belongings remained..."
MOSCOW, OCT 31
James stood in his towel brushing his teeth while he watched the TV. He never watched the 24-hour news circus except on the road. He'd wake up, do some yoga, and then -- relaxed and in a good state of mind -- turn on the TV. He'd listen to the indiscernible mumbling frequencies of the anchors through the steaming water. Then he would brush his teeth and watch the world burn before heading downstairs for a hearty breakfast.
James saw her at reception. Her presence was an immediate reprieve from the stone-faced Russian businessmen milling about in various states of vodka-induced drunk--and it was only nine in the morning. One of the two robed figures in her party noticed his gaze twisting up the length of her leg, but James would not be dissuaded from enjoying the curves of a woman so beautiful, even the curves he could only imagine. It was snowing, after all, and the women of Moscow were bundled up accordingly. Her stockings eventually stopped in a thick line of embroidered black lace that hugged her leg tightly. Above it he could make out the creamy skin of her thigh before his gaze reached the hem of her heavy coat. He let his imagination fill in the details between her thighs and breasts; her chest billowed out round and perky from the fur lining of her coat into milky cleavage. Curly dark hair spiraled around their contours inviting his glance higher. As he reached the profile of her face, she turned, gazing directly at him by sheer chance.
James was struck. Her deep green eyes were arresting -- scared. He would never forget the terrified look on her face. Where was she from? Central Russia? Mongolia? Somewhere in-between? She registered him for only a moment before flitting her long eyelashes and returning to her conversation with the concierge. He could tell by her manner that she was intelligent.
The two robed figures rushed to her sides, breaking all but a glimpse of her thighs and the curve of her coat as it rounded her firm butt. Were these monks of some kind? Bodyguards? Either way they had just spoiled his morning. He took another sip of coffee and went back to reading his report.
But then he saw it fall: a credit card from her purse. His heart leapt. He stood up and folded his paper, took a hurried last sip of coffee, grabbed his coat and walked over to her confidently.
"Excuse me. Excuse me, miss!" The robes spun around and stepped towards him. James bent to his knee, grabbed the card, and looked up to hand it to her with a smile. Two expressionless faces stared back silently from hooded shadows; between them she stood. Green eyes met his, and, for a moment, her scared expression broke. She smiled back at him.
"Clumsy me! Thank you so much! That would've been a disaster." Her voice was a mountain stream, its accent light and lively. The robes stood by, motionless. Not amused.
"My pleasure," James smiled. "Wouldn't want you trapped in Moscow."
"It might be too late for that." She laughed nervously. He tried not to swallow. She was truly wonderful. "Thank you again."
He backed away in agony, wishing he could stop time. As she turned back to the desk she cast a concerned glance at one of the robed figures. Her happy expression dissolved back into worry.
His good deed done, James turned for the door, pulling his coat over his shoulders. The bellboy opened the door. James turned his face from the freezing flurry of snow and looked over his shoulder to take her in one final time. The robes were standing at her sides, their backs to the concierge. They watched James as he left.
It was unseasonably cold for the end of October--so unseasonable it left the meteorologists scratching their heads. The snap had hit a few days ago, defying all weather models. The morning looked like evening. Dark, forbidding clouds swirled in the sky.
---
The second time James saw her was at the conference. She walked in unnoticed during his presentation, along with 'The Hoods' -- as he decided to call them -- and she sat in the back of the great hall. When he eventually noticed her, he stuttered for a moment before composing himself. He did his best to blend her into the faceless crowd; this was important, after all, and he was a professional. But as he reached the climax of his speech, his Three Points for World Economic Unity -- what he knew was the pinnacle of his career, thus far -- he looked towards her. She smiled at him, broad and wide. Yes. He continued with his points, emboldened, until seconds later, he saw her stand and abruptly leave the venue through the back, coat in arm, followed by her robed coterie. Before she ducked through the door, he saw...
Was she? No. A bump? WAS she...pregnant?
It was hard to tell from this distance. If so, it would only add to her beauty and the mystique that radiated from her. He wanted to give chase, to confirm his suspicion, to see her smile again. But he caught himself and continued speaking. He was a professional, after all.
---
Standing ovation.
Everyone in the hall stood, except for a portly man in the back row, who clapped lazily with a smirk on his face. James stepped from the stage, shook hand after hand, made small talk and signed a few books, gradually making his way to the man, who remained seated, legs crossed, doing a crossword puzzle. The man smirked.
"How could it be? Everyone else rushed to the man who will save the world, but in the end, he is the man who comes to me?"
"Hello, Nikolai the Great." The man stood and they embraced. "And I haven't saved anything yet!"
"And you won't!" Nikolai laughed from his belly. "But you can at least buy me dinner. Come! I'm starving!"
---
"I'm going to make one final point and then we will order dessert." Nikolai was already tipsy.
"Oh here it comes! I'm listening." James sighed and finished his last bite of salmon. After the stifling admiration of the crowd, dinner with Nikolai was always a breath of fresh air.
"You can reorder the world in any way you like, kind sir, BOT!" (This is how Nikolai pronounced the word BUT.) Nikolai held his fork up ceremoniously, "the cat will always come back."
"The cat?"
"Yes." He sipped his vodka. "The cat." He coughed. "A big one."
James laughed. "I didn't take you for a crazy cat lady."
Nikolai scowled. "Listen carefully." He rapped his fork on the table. "You make claims on natural order and evolution, human and otherwise. BUT! Did you ever consider the universe exists because Mother Nature wanted a smart phone and a hamburger?"
James applauded. "Riveting argument, as always! I'm swayed, truly! I have so much to do! I'll retract my economic proposal tomorrow..."
"Good! And tell them I said it was shit." They both laughed. "Now order me the chocolate cake and some strong coffee."
James motioned for the waiter and ordered. "Now if you'll excuse me for a moment, Nikolai, I have a quick call to make."
"Fine! Fine! Make your call. Your work is done."
---
James stepped into the long corridor that led to the toilet.
VIDEO CALL
The phone rang.
CONNECTING
A headless figure answered.
"Oh no! Where'd your head go?"
"It's right here!" the headless figure pushed a pumpkin head towards the camera.
"Whoa! That must have hurt."
"Evil rides tonight!"
James had been divorced for four years; he didn't want to talk about it.
"Where's your sister?"
"She already caught her bus."
His wife fetched the phone. "I've got to get this horseman to school. Halloween is hectic this year, as you can see: we're all losing our heads...Is it cold over there?"
"Yep."
