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.”“This isn’t your home.This is your sister’s apartment.It’s her birthday.You have a much larger apartment several miles away.”Vladimir stopped walking and looked at Kostya and then Lev as if for the first time.“What do you two want?”“An apology.”Vladimir squared his shoulders to Kostya and straightened.“I’m not a man to trifle with, boy.”“Neither am I,” said Kostya.“You sent me to the same gulag you sent my uncle Piotr.That was a mistake.”“I did my job.That’s all.”“You worked for a tyrant and had my uncle executed so you could fuck my aunt without worry.”Vladimir turned and headed back toward his sister’s apartment.“Never come back here again,” he said.“I still have some sway with my former colleagues.They will arrest you.”“If you do, you’ll find that your former colleagues don’t have the power they once did.My colleagues, on the other hand, are at your house right now.”Vladimir stopped and looked over his shoulder.“Don’t lie to me.”“I’m not.Go home and find out on your own.”He looked at Kostya from his feet to his forehead.“Are you trying to scare me? It’s not working.Let the past stay in the past and leave me be.”Kostya shook his head.“You could order me around when I was a child, but not anymore.Right now, you have KGB officers in your house, men I know.They will find stolen letters to Party leaders, diplomatic cables, maps showing troop deployments, documents discussing troop levels, tactics, and morale.They’ll even find an English-language typewriter.I used every favor I accrued in my years of service to acquire them.”“You’ll have to do better than make up stories to intimidate me.Leave.”Vladimir turned toward the apartment again and started walking.Kostya grabbed his arm by his shirtsleeve and pulled hard.Vladimir cocked his arm back to hit him, but Lev caught the old man’s arm and pinned it behind his back before he could.“You will go to prison for this,” Vladimir snarled at them.“Army careers or not.I’m a member of the Party.You can’t touch me.”Kostya shook his head.“As soon as you go home, you’ll be arrested.After that, you will be taken to Lubyanka Square in Moscow where you will be questioned and tortured.When you pass out from the pain, they will inject you with adrenaline so they can start over again.That’s all that will happen.”Vladimir squirmed in Lev’s grip and sneered.“If you’re confident of these things, why tell me?”“Because I can.When they strip you naked and tear out your fingernails, know that I ordered the evidence against you to be placed in your apartment.When they burn you with cigarettes, know that I’m watching.And when they force your face into a pile of your own filth at the end of your miserable life, know that it will be my sister’s husband who pulls the trigger.You did this to yourself, and you made me who I am, Comrade Orlesky.I will never forgive you for that.”* * *Chicago felt ten degrees cooler than Indianapolis, but that didn’t make it comfortable.The wind whipped through the row houses and buildings around him, carrying the scent of cinnamon and clove from a nearby bakery.When Kostya first came to the United States, the Ukrainian Village had been a neighborhood for Eastern Europeans wanting to maintain a common identity and culture, but as time progressed, many of those immigrants assimilated into the greater American culture and left the area.Now the neighborhood had more yuppies in restored Victorian row houses than Ukrainians and more sushi restaurants than Orthodox churches.Some people called that progress; Kostya had his doubts.“Vitali still lives here?” asked Lev, looking toward the window in front of a Southwestern restaurant.Kostya and Lev had parked on the street in the center of a dense commercial district.Unlike the Loop or other major business centers in the city, few of the buildings in the Ukrainian Village reached over four stories.Kostya looked around him.From his vantage point, he could see Vitali’s bakery, several restaurants, and an art gallery on street level
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