I had been working in overseas missions for about twenty years. It certainly was not a lucrative career but that did not matter to me. It had made me rich in other ways. I really thought I had made a difference in the lives of countless people that I had encountered. I thought I had seen just about everything and that there was nothing I could not handle. On this next trip, that would be proven wrong.
I had been asked to undertake a mission to Russia. Pockets of "evangelicals" existed in the major cities that badly needed whatever support or encouragement they could receive from the West. Accompanying me on this trip would be a recent recruit to our organization. Her name was Christine. (Her mother had so christened her in the hope that she would pursue a religious calling.) A recent college graduate, she had turned down chances at graduate school in order to come on board with us.
I was to serve as essentially her mentor on this mission. She made a very good first impression. Chris, as she asked me to call her, had a very warm smile. She had a bubbly, cheerful personality that I knew would serve her well in mission work. I also could not help but notice that, although she wore little make-up and was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt when I met her, she was exceptionally attractive. She was just beautiful--and she really did not have work at it.
This trip was expected to last for three to six months. For six weeks, things seemed to progress fairly smoothly. Our work was largely unhindered by local authorities, which was a pleasant surprise to me. Chris and I seemed to work well together. She was very much a "people person." I was more analytical and comfortable dealing with operational details. I also quickly came to become very protective of my younger ward, viewing myself as a sort of father figure for her. And that would make what would happen to us so much harder to accept.
It had been arranged for us to stay with the minister of one of the local congregations while we were in-country. One evening, I was there alone with our host when there was a sharp knock at the door. He answered, and three burly men brushed past him and approached me. They were insistent that I come with them to clear up some issues concerning the visa paperwork. My minister-host urged me not to go. But I assured him everything would be okay and I would be back shortly. I could not have known at the time that I would never see him again.
The men hustled me into a waiting sedan and off we sped. We drove to a walled compound on the edge of the city. At the entrance, military guards waved the driver through. We stopped in front of a nondescript two story building. Entering, I was roughly led into a small office. A uniformed officer was sitting behind a desk. The only visible adornments were a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling and a portrait of Vladimir Putin on the far wall.
