The Place of Quarantine

Chapter 6

Three friends – “Vanyok,” “Sanyok” and “Valyok” – grew up together on the noisy streets of the Zamoskvorechye district of Moscow. They played the same games, studied at the local school and were inseparable throughout their childhood. Then their paths parted: having flunked his exams after an unhappy love affair, Valentin Sakhnov – Valyok – ended up in the army, in a special-forces unit, and for many years fell out of touch with his Moscow “contacts.” Vanyok – Ivan Brevich – and Sanyok – Alexander Danilov – got into the same university, but Danilov was a poor student and, at the end of the Andropov era, was expelled for illicitly trading with foreign tourists. He managed to avoid military service with the help of a doctor relative and drifted into the antique trade, although he didn’t exactly excel at it. Being disciplined and dogged, Brevich graduated with an engineering diploma but, with the Soviet Union on the verge of collapse, never put it to use. A new era of private business and easy money had arrived, and the friends threw themselves into “nouveau Russian” commerce.

For several years they were tossed on the fickle waters of these turbulent times. Together and individually, they made and lost small fortunes, learned how to deal with police and mobsters, tried their hands at all sorts of activities, until finally, by the end of the nineties, each had succeeded in his own way. Brevich established connections in the mayor’s office and started dealing in land in and around Moscow, while Danilov developed a sudden interest in air-conditioners after a chance deal involving them. He bought into someone else’s business, “wrested” it from an incompetent partner, then found a good supplier in Europe, and things began to develop rapidly. The machines fascinated him; he loved them with all his heart. The principle of their workings remained a mystery to him, but the results they produced – arctic cold, emerging from apparently nowhere – never ceased to delight him. He liked to stand in front of the cooling units, putting his hands in the icy blasts of air. They seemed evidence to him of the greatest triumph of the mind, and his whole business acquired a very special meaning. Danilov straightened his shoulders, stiffened his resolve and began to feel he had really made it in life.

Not everything went so smoothly for Ivan Brevich. The land contracts brought the money in, but the process was extremely distasteful. The daily grind of smooth-talking the jackals and hyenas who pressed in from all sides crushed his soul and left him with a foul taste in his mouth. What’s more, in the hierarchy of players he was well down the pecking order, having to content himself with the crumbs granted to him by those with the real levers of power. This was dispiriting – Brevich was a leader by nature and could only be satisfied by being top of the pile. This servile role did not suit him at all; he would grind his teeth at night as he recalled the day’s mad rush from one office to another and was desperately jealous of Sanyok, whom he barely saw these days due to a lack of time and their different business interests.

Everything changed in the summer of ’98 – when fate performed another of its somersaults. In June, Ivan, utterly burned out, told himself enough was enough. Something had to change, and he decided to move to the US, to the West Coast, closer to Silicon Valley and Hollywood. He sold everything he had, including a three-room apartment on Taganka, and converted the proceeds into US dollars. The resulting capital was transferred to a Latvian bank, and Brevich had just applied for an American visa when Russia defaulted on its debts. The country’s currency collapsed, Ivan’s fortune increased fourfold in ruble terms, and, slightly stunned, he decided to delay his departure and see what prospects might now open up.

It turned out there was a lot to look at, and one prospect emerged right away. Two days after the “Black Monday” collapse, Brevich received a call from a very depressed Sanyok asking for an urgent meeting. Over dinner at the Peking Restaurant, he explained that he had been planning a rapid business expansion and had taken out a few loans. Now he had nothing to pay them back with: the raging ruble cash streams had been reduced to barely a dribble. What’s more, Danilov had also borrowed some of the money from people with dubious reputations. Now, he was preparing for the loss of his business, his good health and even perhaps his life.

Brevich understood: this was the moment he had been waiting for. Giving sentimentality no quarter, he acted decisively and brutally. With the help of his contacts in the mayor’s office, he frightened Danilov even more, leaving him with no desire to negotiate, and then bought his air-conditioning business together with its debts for a laughably small price. He let Sanyok remain in the company as executive director with a good salary but also all the hard work, and almost no shares.

Overnight, Danilov found himself transformed from a proud owner into a hired hand. He was shocked to the depths of his soul – especially at the ruthlessness with which his childhood friend had deprived him of the business he had grown almost from scratch. At first, he tried to pretend they were running the company on an equal footing, but he quickly realized his naivety and became wrapped up in himself. What made his depression even deeper was Ivan’s lack of deference toward air-conditioners in general. Brevich, with his technical background, even tried to explain to Danilov what a phase transition and a Freon circle were – which Sanyok regarded as yet another example of life’s bitter injustice. As for the business itself, it progressed and grew faster than ever. Successfully marshalling and unleashing Ivan’s administrative resources, they swallowed up their main competitor and its developed network of clients. Vanyok Brevich was now the biggest player in the entire air-conditioner market and over the next ten years became an extremely wealthy man.

But then, in 2012, his destiny took a new twist. Ivan had just turned forty-six; he was influential, respected and rich. His life had acquired an enviable stability, and this was suddenly beginning to bother him. Something important seemed to be passing him by; Brevich began to suffer from a persistent sense of irritation and fatigue. And, after a particularly tough February full of bureaucratic hurdles and never-ending quarrels with his wife, he decided to take a break from everything and everyone.

At that moment, an opportune invitation arrived from a supplier and partner from Essen. Ivan had been working with the cheerful and ruddy-cheeked Lothar for over a year, and they were on very friendly terms – often doing the rounds of German saunas and Moscow’s nightclubs. On this occasion, however, the supplier suggested moving their meeting from cold wintertime Europe to distant Bangkok, and Ivan agreed with enthusiasm.

Bangkok stunned him and somehow bewitched and lit up his soul. The city’s traffic jams, disorder and heat left Ivan unperturbed. He even liked the thick, viscous air, which caused Lothar’s nose to wrinkle. Subconsciously, without registering it, Ivan sensed an inexhaustible variety, unpredictability and the potential of the unknown waiting around every corner. And, from the very first day, he felt his virility revive – in contrast to the feeling of repletion he had long become accustomed to, believing that women could not interest him much anymore. Thai girls awoke something long dormant within him – and this was another big plus point in the city’s favor.

His first week in Bangkok was devoted to vice. After fleeting visits to the Royal Palace, the National Museum and the two main temples, Ivan let his partner take the initiative, and they plunged into a rampant spiral of depravity and drunkenness. Lothar was a connoisseur and applied his German thoroughness to the planning of their activities. They methodically tried everything – from the go-go bars of Sukhumvit and Patpong and soap massages in large “aquarium” salons to chic karaoke and gentlemen’s clubs. The days flew by in a blur of young girls’ faces and bodies, with their endless “Hello, handsome,” “What’s your name?” and “Where are you from?” – as well as shameless “I love yous” in the hope of a generous tip…

During the breaks between the pleasures of the flesh, Lothar shared his thoughts on Thailand. At one time he had lived in Bangkok for about three years, and he’d been coming back every year since. Yet his views were largely negative, boiling down to one overriding complaint: Bangkok was a city of the fake. Lothar was convinced everyone here was out to rip you off. From pirate discs to simulated love, they were constantly trying to foist fakes on you. The whole of Thailand with its countless smiles was just a false, hypocritical facade concealing a typical third-world country where life was based on greed, envy and a strict caste system, untrammeled by any kind of humanism. Despite this, people would flock to Thailand in droves, and Lothar was no exception, a vivid example confirming the rule. Because elements of fakeness can be plausible – and here Lothar counted them off on his fingers: an illusion of friendliness, the ability to enjoy life, even the same smiles masking the unsightly side of human nature – they created a completely unique atmosphere. And of course – he spread his hands – of course, there are the women, how could we forget them…

Whenever the subject touched on Thai women, Lothar would always become gloomy and pitch more heavily into the brandy. His tone would turn moralistic: yes, he said, they are bubbly, friendly, easy and a pleasure to be with. The main thing is not to fantasize too much and never get into a relationship with them – neither with the bar “fairies” nor with the ordinary “good girls.” Everything will end in disaster; it’s impossible to live with a Thai – and once again, he enumerated his arguments on his fingers: they are irresponsible, unreliable and narrow-minded, and their opinions are infantile, not to mention their total reluctance to develop themselves. And besides, Lothar added, they will always find a way to outwit you. Behind their smiles and solicitude, they have very cold, pragmatic minds. And they are constantly dishonest – they learn the art of lying at an early age and perfect it throughout their lives. For a reason or for no reason, they pile one lie on top of another and never admit to being deceitful – even if you catch them red-handed. They will only burst into tears or fly into a rage while figuring out how they might deceive you more successfully next time!

Brevich believed Lothar – because he had no reason not to. He himself noticed falsehoods everywhere, but at the same time, he felt a constant lingering doubt that his judgments might have been hasty. Even the smiles of the girls from the bars seemed to make him ashamed: it wasn’t all so simple. The unsettled, primitive exterior concealed an inner side that one could not immediately fathom… By the end of a week’s debauchery, Ivan had suddenly begun to feel he was wasting his time. And he decided to stay for another ten days, without Lothar, who had flown back to Essen.

Brevich moved from touristy Sukhumvit to a quiet five-star hotel in Chitlom and promptly found himself in another world. All day, he just wandered aimlessly through the back streets until dusk, without seeing another foreigner. The sun was beating down, sweat streamed off him in runnels and an unfamiliar life flowed around him without a hint of fakeness. Neither the humidity and dust nor the narrow streets with their lack of sidewalks and smelly scooters bothered Brevich. He eagerly took in his surroundings and in the evening noted with surprise that this had been the best day of his trip.

Next to the hotel stood the modest office of an excursion agency. Brevich went there the next morning – just out of curiosity as he was passing by. A girl was sitting at a desk – she looked up at him, and he realized there could not possibly be anyone as beautiful as her in the whole of Thailand.

“Welcome,” she smiled. “My name is Nok. If you’ve come for an excursion, I’m here to help.”

“Yes, an excursion,” Ivan nodded. “Or maybe several excursions…”

For some reason, he was feeling nervous, a sensation he hadn’t experienced for a long time. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and ended up looking to the side and then down at the floor, embarrassed.

“Okay,” Nok continued to smile. “What dates are you free?”

“I can do today. And then perhaps another three excursions. No, let’s make it five,” Ivan muttered. He simply could not bear the thought of her disappearing from his life, and the remaining days – utterly dull and empty – dragging on without her.

Fortunately for him, the agency’s business was fairly slow. Ivan breathed a sigh of relief and immediately purchased all her available free time before his departure.

That same day, they went to Muang Boran and spent several hours there. The time flew by – somehow they instantly relaxed into each other’s company. Now that he was guaranteed Nok’s time, Ivan settled back and lightened up. She, in turn, became less apprehensive about him. Initially, he had seemed too big, alien and threatening, but his first somewhat lost and boyish grin convinced her he meant no harm.

Muang Boran – a theme park reconstruction of the whole of Thailand – deeply impressed Ivan. Nok showed him the northern province of Phetchabun, where she had grown up. Next to a pond stood a house on stilts – a nearly exact copy of her childhood home. They looked inside and walked through the rooms while she talked about her parents – prosperous corn and rice farmers. Her father was extremely conservative – not allowing her to befriend any of the local boys. “Boys are a distraction,” he would say, “and you must get a scholarship to the university!” In the evenings and on the weekends, he would sit by the phone and answer every call made to the house… Nok spoke about this with a certain bitterness but immediately added that she loved her family more than anything in the world. She wasn’t upset at her parents – they’d had to develop their parenting skills on her, their eldest child…

Ivan asked question after question and gradually – in the park and over a late lunch – learned her life story. Nok was twenty-eight years old and had spent the last twelve of them in Bangkok. Before that, she had never traveled outside her village, where she had lived like any other country girl: cleaning the house, looking after the buffalo and helping out on the farm. She spent a lot of time with the other village children – they invented games, explored the forest and, during the rainy season when the river broke its banks, they would jump from the trees straight into the yellow water and have swimming races… It was a happy period, but then the time came for her to grow up and Nok was sent to live with her maiden aunt in the capital, where she spent her final school years. Her aunt had been strict, and life in the big city had been suffocating compared to the freedom of the village. There were no wide-open spaces, no forests and no buffalo; cars and people hustled and bustled everywhere.

Nok only became accustomed to the city after she got into college with a scholarship, to her father’s immeasurable pride. He arranged a celebration for the entire village and even gave Nok permission to move from her aunt’s house to the dormitory. She liked to study and, besides, she discovered she had a gift for languages. This allowed her to visit Australia on an exchange program and find a job in a good hotel. In five years there, she worked her way up into a management position but suddenly felt a longing for independence and opened her own excursion agency. Business wasn’t steady but Nok wasn’t discouraged – she still had her own apartment, an old Honda and lots of plans…

What Nok didn’t tell Ivan about was her personal life, which had not been a very successful one. The problems began with her move to Bangkok – she’d felt like a provincial, with little in common with the local children. Her facial features betrayed the fact that she was not from the capital – and she was also taller than most Thai girls. Her light skin made things easier, but she was still uncertain about her appearance, which was compounded by her inexperience with the opposite sex, thanks to her father’s heavy-handed vigilance. Nok had been tormented with self-doubt right up until the end of school, and her confidence only picked up with her success in English. By the age of twenty, she’d had a Thai boyfriend: a student, like her. In accordance with tradition and the expectations of her family and girlfriends, she considered it only natural to marry him, have children and live with him for the rest of her life, but this was not to be. Two years into the relationship, the mother of the “groom” declared there would be no wedding because Nok was from the north, and everyone knew that northern girls were lazy.

This was considered a disaster by everyone, and especially her girlfriends. During this difficult time, Nok did a lot of thinking that would change her take on life. She decided she was no longer interested, first, in other people’s opinions and, second, in Thai boys her age or even Thai men in general, with their overbearing, overprotective mothers.

Later, she took two foreign lovers, one quickly after the other. Things were simpler with them – she didn’t have to pretend to be less intelligent than she actually was, constantly repeating, “Oh, I’m so stupid!” or “Oh, I’m so silly!” to please a partner’s male ego. Therefore, after spending only a couple of weeks with her first farang, Nok began to think he might be the “man of her dreams.” This notion wasn’t mutual, however: there were too many attractive girls around and his attention began to wander. A month later he broke up with her – once again, Nok took some time to get over the experience, but in the end, she did.

Later, she met another European; they dated for about a year but then he suddenly left Thailand and stopped answering her letters. Nok wasn’t even surprised, taking it as a matter of course. She now understood clearly: it was all down to karma. She was destined to be unlucky in love, and besides, there were so few suitable men in the world that it was highly unlikely she would ever meet the right one. The only thing to do was remain calm and not take any amorous misfortunes to heart.

Of course it was easier said than done, but Nok managed to convince her friends of the sincerity of her new “doctrine.” People began to pigeonhole her alongside Western women – progressive and independent, knowing what she wanted from men, and building her relationships with them on the basis of cold reason. Nok told herself and others that she had erected a wall around her heart, and only she would decide when to open a door in it and by how much. This sounded convincing enough – many believed and even envied her. The only problem was the rather lackluster way she implemented this progressive concept in practice: she hadn’t had a boyfriend for over a year now.

Nevertheless, Nok tried to remain optimistic. She was constantly underlining the advantages of her situation – for example, the wall encircling her heart allowed her to be relaxed and laidback when she socialized with men, which helped her business. And that’s how it was with Ivan – all the more so because as a woman she intuitively sensed the strength of his personality. Strong people put her at ease – they weren’t constantly looking to assert themselves. With them, you didn’t have to pretend, which is what Nok valued above all else…

They returned to Bangkok late in the evening, and Ivan, slightly hesitantly, invited her for a coffee. “Of course I’ll come,” Nok joked, “how could I refuse? After all, your time isn’t up yet!” For some reason, Ivan felt flustered and clumsily tried to explain himself, which, in turn, embarrassed Nok. They ascended to the bar on the roof of his hotel, with a fabulous view of the city. It was already getting dark, and the lighting was on. The setting was suitably romantic, but Ivan didn’t know how to take things further. As a result, he simply accompanied Nok back to her car and went to dinner alone, irritated at his own awkwardness.

The next day, they went to Ayutthaya, the ancient capital of Siam, which had been razed by the Burmese. Nok came in a different outfit and had done something with her hair that made her look unfamiliar. Ivan didn’t immediately recognize her and was met with an ironic joke as if they had been old friends – she was already relaxed and used to him. On the way, acting as his guide, she regaled him with a barrage of historical facts, but Ivan was only halfheartedly listening, turning toward her to get a better view of her from the side. Nok’s profile was much more interesting to him – it seemed to hint at her own fascinating history that weaved a solid, seemingly impenetrable shell around her. This impenetrability greatly annoyed Brevich; he ruminated over it almost the entire journey.

At the parking lot, Nok bought a fresh coconut and stuck two straws into it. “I’m a coconut milk addict,” she confessed to Ivan, inviting him to share it with her. Then, with the coconut in their hands, they entered the gates of the old city and wandered for a long time among the stones and ruins, the statues of the Buddha and the dilapidated temples.

As they approached the moat that surrounded the fortress wall, Nok said, “The Burmese laid siege to Ayutthaya for six months, but it didn’t fall until someone betrayed a secret entrance through the city’s sluices.”

“Yes, yes,” Ivan nodded absentmindedly, wondering to himself who would help him find the hidden way into Nok’s soul. Sadly, it wasn’t available on any map. He, naturally, suspected she might also like him but had no idea what was really going on in her head.

Then they returned to the hotel’s rooftop bar. Again, for some reason, he failed to invite her to dinner, merely escorting her back to her car, but on the way, Nok brushed against his hand several times, and, as they said farewell, she pretended to stumble and held onto his shoulder for a brief moment.

“Wow,” she said, “you are electrified; it seems sparks are flying between us!”

Her words and the sensation of her smooth skin excited Ivan to fever pitch. He set off to roam the streets, took a wrong turn and spent a whole hour wandering around in the dark, tormented by the humidity. Once back at the hotel, he hurriedly changed, went back to the bar, sat down at the same table and took a long time over his gin and tonic while pondering the day’s events.

The events seemed strange, weird, unfamiliar. He was a grown man and had always known what he wanted, whether it could be achieved and how to make it happen, but now he wasn’t so sure. He was immensely attracted to Nok – despite all Lothar’s warnings and his own past life, including his experience as a Russian businessman who had been through a lot. He firmly believed: if something looks too good to be true, then it certainly is. Then it must be a trick played by this city of fakes – but what this trick might be and where it might be concealed, Brevich didn’t understand and didn’t want to guess. He desired only one thing – to see this girl who was more charming than any other he had ever known as soon as possible. To once again feel the incredible pleasure of being with her, watching her and talking to her. Unlike other women, she was so natural in everything she did! At the same time, she was intelligent and, yes, she was sexy – in a special, exotic way. It was just a pity he couldn’t work out how to take things to the next level…

Ivan’s thoughts raced about in his head, colliding and interfering with each other. Yet no one looking at him would have said he was a man tormented with doubts. He sat there leaning back in his chair, staring into the distance with a blissful smile on his face. Above the skyscrapers, the stars filled the sky, on this hot Bangkok night.

Chapter 7

The next morning, Nok drove Ivan to the west bank of the Chao Phraya River. After making the obligatory tourist visit to the Temple of the Dawn, they joined the narrow highway, turned south and spent half a day in the suburb of Tonburi, where life didn’t appear to have changed over the past hundred years. Brevich hungrily took in everything around him – the old houses almost swallowed up by lush thickets of vegetation, a small floating market for those “in the know,” an orchid farm on the side of a khlong canal, locals traversing the labyrinth of confined, palm frond–canopied streets on their bicycles… Yet another side of Thailand was revealed to him. Occasionally, Brevich even began to experience a special feeling toward the country and its people – but wasn’t able to grasp it. His mind was completely occupied with thoughts of Nok.

On this third day, she had changed yet again – as if casting off a veil, now allowing Ivan to see deeper inside. Still, not much was revealed to him; he just noted that, despite her modern city clothes, her smile, gestures and the features of her face were in harmony with those of her surroundings, including their neglect and poverty. On the way back, looking out of the car window at the interlacing bushes and lianas, the floating carpets of flowers on the small ponds and backwaters, Brevich reflected on Thailand’s hothouse climate: everything here grows so rapidly, abundantly and wantonly. As do Thai women, who also flourish in the humid moist heat, like the bright fantastical flowers of their forests. A great many things may be born and survive in the hothouse air – perhaps this explained their tolerance to life in all its various forms and manifestations? Their ability to love life, whatever it may be, their inherent compassion for all living things – no matter how unusual and unfamiliar. And, just like flowers, they would open up to others gradually, not immediately…

Later, they had lunch at a restaurant by the river. They sat there for a long time; Nok recounted the story of her first love and the canceled wedding, and he surprised himself by telling her about his wife and how they had long ago lost interest in each other. Then Nok drove Ivan back to the hotel and, as usual, he invited her up for coffee. They set off toward the elevator, their hands brushing next to each other. On the way, she took out a flyer from her bag. Ivan leaned over to see better, inhaled the scent of her hair and suddenly felt so close to her that the next step happened by itself.

Half jokingly, he told her that the rooftop bar wasn’t the only nice place in the hotel. There was his room, for example – and, by the way, he had some real vodka from Russia, which he was sure she had never tried. Nok laughed – no, she didn’t drink strong spirits. Ivan laughed too – well, then, he could reveal his other little secret: he had stashed away a couple of coconuts. “Wow,” Nok replied – also half jokingly, with a sly smile – “if that’s the case, then how could I refuse…”

The entire exchange was relaxed and cheerful, without a hint of awkwardness or shyness. Ivan wasn’t sure if she had taken him seriously and would agree to go to his room or not. Yet once in the elevator, he pressed the button for his floor, and Nok made no objection. Leaving the cabin, they went down the corridor, still brushing hands. Once inside the room, he immediately embraced her. She did not resist.

Afterward, they both felt acutely hungry, went to the Chinese restaurant next door and ate and laughed heartily. Ivan constantly caught himself thinking that he hadn’t felt this good for years. In the sexual afterglow, Nok was more beautiful than ever, and he was proud of this stunning girl sitting next to him. He was pleased with himself as well – he felt young again and a powerful burst of energy coursed through his veins. It was as if his life was just beginning, and he felt capable of so much…

They spent the rest of the week in Bangkok, never leaving the city. In the mornings, they would meet at about eleven; Nok would suggest a tour and drive Ivan to a new place, where yet another side of the city would be revealed. Two or three hours later it would already be unbearably hot, and they would look for a good foot-massage salon and then lunch in a café – here again, it was Nok who would take the initiative. She was very attentive to Ivan’s needs and especially what he ate – she constantly asked him if everything was to his liking, whether it was too spicy, whether he wanted another beer. She was fervently interested in his opinion about Thai cuisine and regularly alternated between Eastern and Western places, although she herself didn’t like farang food, leaving most of it untouched.

After lunch, they would go to his room and spend the afternoon there until supper. Nok always brought a change of evening clothes in her car – dinner was Ivan’s domain, which meant expensive restaurants and bars with live music. Then they would go back to his room again, and early in the morning Nok would return to her apartment, never staying for breakfast. For some reason, she felt this would preserve her “good girl” image.

The moment the door closed behind Nok, Ivan would begin to miss her, and by the time they were due to meet again, he would be in a serious state of anguish. With her arrival, however, life would get back to normal – she was a great healer of distress. A new series of kaleidoscopic events would commence – the city, Nok, food, then Nok again, her voice, her words, her body… The scenery, images, sounds, smells collided and interspersed, mirroring the turmoil going on in his head. Things would only calm down and come to a stop at night. Nok would fall asleep instantly and not wake up until morning, while Brevich lay awake for hours. He gazed at her face – tirelessly marveling at the flawless harmony of her features – and tried to understand for himself the nature and meaning of their “affair.”

Of course, the affair was extraordinary and wonderful. And – still as incomprehensible as it had been on the first day they’d met. Nok had occupied a big place in his heart, but he could not define its boundaries, let alone give it a name. Similarly, he could only guess what she thought about him and their relationship. Every day he learned many new things about her but nevertheless felt she remained a closed book to him.

Ivan knew that Russia was full of women who were generous with their love. He recalled them – Muscovites and Petersburgers, thickset beauties from Novgorod and Samara, dark-eyed Cossacks from the Don, fair-haired girls from the deserted Moscow suburbs desperate for tenderness… Many had been good and pleased him in their own way – leaving nothing in reserve, sharing themselves and receiving in turn. Brevich had long been convinced that nothing could surprise him, but Nok had succeeded in becoming something unexpected, new. She didn’t do anything special in bed; she was just totally sincere. Her scent with its aroma of cloves kept him in permanent anticipation of intimacy. Somehow she knew how to excite him with the slightest casual touch. With her, it was as if he had returned to his youth, a time of fevered desires. He had become indefatigable again, constantly ready, capable of everything – but of course, it wasn’t only about this.

Ivan tried to formulate what it was exactly – and gave up at each attempt. He simply felt he was in a place of extraordinary mental comfort, which Nok could create without the slightest effort. At the same time, she was by no means submissive or obedient; she had her own opinions on everything and it never occurred to her to keep them to herself. On one occasion, she declared, “You make the decisions and I will follow them and you – but if I do not agree with something, I’ll tell you about it immediately.” And that is exactly what she did, surprising him with a combination of feminine pliability and unshakable firmness, which would manifest itself in everyday trifles. The firmness, he knew, had nothing to do with a desire to insist on her own way. Nok only wanted to protect him from things he would probably not like – so that when he was with her, he would not experience any adverse emotions. This was unfamiliar – the care that his previous women had shown for him had never been so complete. And for some reason he sensed that her solicitude for her man would not dissipate soon; it would be long lasting…

Here, on the question of longevity, Ivan rebuked himself furiously. However much he wanted to believe otherwise, he had no doubt their romance would end with his departure. Their environments were too different, their countries too far apart – he understood, it was very difficult to argue against this. Nothing could survive such long distances, and their cultural differences would soon become a problem… Even thinking about it was painful. As a diversion, he scolded himself, trying to imagine everything from a different point of view, to remove his rose-tinted spectacles. He deliberately recalled Lothar’s diatribe: without exception all Thai women are masters of deception. Lothar had lived here for years, he’d had time to figure things out. Nok almost certainly had some kind of agenda, a selfish motive…

Ivan turned to look at her face, her black hair scattered on the pillow. Right away it became crystal clear: Lothar’s views were irrelevant to them. Lies, self-interest… What utter nonsense! Nok only ever gave, without demanding a thing from him in return. She even tried to pay her way in restaurants and bars – Brevich had never seen this before. If she had a hidden plan, it was hard to imagine how sophisticated and cunning it would have to be.

He sighed, tossed and turned, sometimes getting up to drink a glass of water. Returning to bed, he would change tactics, telling himself it was ridiculous to imagine such a girl could seriously become infatuated with an ugly, taciturn, middle-aged man like himself. It was she who was wearing the rose-tinted spectacles – she had invented a fairy tale for herself without any plan whatsoever. Thai women like to imagine all sorts of things; they live in a fantasy world filled with ghosts, spirits and dreams. Soon the veil would fall from her eyes, and she would see him for what he was: much older than her, battered by life and not at all positive. Between them were the language barrier and a large number of other issues, which would require a lot of work. No doubt Nok would wake up to that; hence he needed to simply enjoy the moment. All the more so since she, happily, never bothered him with questions – either about the future or their feelings for each other.

This really was the case, although she did once ask Ivan, as if in jest, “Do you think you could love me?” Brevich was so taken aback he started coughing, and Nok immediately set about easing the situation – by trying on clothes in front of the mirror, making funny faces and taking selfies. The topic was never raised again – including the last day before his departure, which arrived suddenly and inevitably.

It was Saturday; in the morning, Nok took him to a Buddhist temple. Having given the monks food offerings, they spent two hours at a meditation ceremony. The process entranced Brevich with its steady, unhurried rhythm. Thais – young and old alike – came in, took off their shoes, sat on a wooden platform and closed their eyes. Cameras stood on three sides – concentrated, serene faces floated across large screens. Brevich observed this incredibly slow-moving action, practically inaction, as if it were a fast-paced thriller. Its stubborn, unstoppable development seemed to comprise the quintessence of all realities, which began to open up to him – ever so slightly – and even the Thai incantation amplified through the loudspeaker acquired meaning. It was probably talking about a different life, the life that Brevich wanted to transform his own into.

He asked Nok what the words were about. She said they were the words of the Buddha. About the soul and what’s reflected in it. About the end and the continuity of everything. About the way the things you do return back to you sooner or later – with the inevitability of predestination.

“I thought so,” Ivan nodded. It seemed to him that all this really had been there in his thoughts.

“‘The ocean tastes of salt, but its dharma has the taste of freedom,’” Nok translated.

“I thought so,” he muttered, remembering her scent of cloves and her salty-sweet taste.

“‘Let those who can hear respond with faith,’” Nok translated.

“Yes,” Ivan said. “I thought so.”

Suddenly he felt a powerful urge for faith – not in any deity, but in what was going on around him. A belief that this was not a fantasy that will disappear tomorrow, but something unshakable and real. He desperately wanted the course of his and Nok’s “story” to enter the same slow, meditative rhythm – or even stop altogether.

But no, stopping was impossible. The ceremony ended, an elderly monk came out onto the dais and began to talk with those assembled, and Ivan and Nok went back to the car. She drove back to her apartment, and Brevich, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly weary, returned to the hotel and slept a heavy, leaden sleep right through until dusk.

In the evening, they met at a mall famous for its movie theater – Ivan had said he’d like to watch a new American blockbuster. But in fact, he wanted to buy Nok a farewell gift, considering it his duty. His plan was simple – to take her to some expensive boutiques, where she could choose whatever took her fancy. The ploy had always worked in Russia, but Nok flatly refused his offer. Avoiding his eyes, she joked, “You don’t have to worry about leaving me something to remember you by. I’m hardly likely to forget you as it is.”

Brevich just nodded, took her by the hand and led her up to the second floor, to the jewelry stores, knowing she wouldn’t protest openly in public. Ignoring her round pleading eyes, he went into the first available shop, where a flock of mewling salesgirls descended, their tenacious, predatory gazes fixed on him. Ivan frowned and snorted, but in a moment an elderly Chinese manager appeared who at once assessed the situation. With a single gesture of his little finger, he waved the girls away and, sensing Nok’s discomfort, sat her down at a small table, where a cup of coffee instantaneously appeared. Then, for the next five minutes, he conducted a quiet conversation with Brevich, and by the end of it, Ivan had bought a bracelet worth several thousand dollars. He put it on Nok’s thin wrist himself, and they left the store accompanied by envious glances.

After the movie, there was dinner on the roof of one of the city’s skyscrapers. At Brevich’s request, they were given a corner table next to the safety rail – like the bow of a ship rising above the city on the crest of a powerful wave. Night had already fallen, with Bangkok stretching beneath them like a chart of the stars. Nearby a neon light gleamed; everything around seemed fanciful and ethereal.

Nok asked to have her photograph taken against the backdrop of the night city – she walked up to the fence and turned round to him with a serious, unsmiling face. The wind caught her hair, sweeping it up; she raised her hands to catch it and the bracelet slid from her wrist to the middle of her forearm, its diamonds sparkling and flashing. Her thin dress clung to her body and her entire being seemed poised for flight, almost breaking loose from the floor to be borne away – upward, onward… It lasted for only a few seconds, but Brevich experienced and absorbed each gesture and moment – forever searing them into his memory. He even thought he heard some indistinct words – possibly the words of the Buddha. Finally, the course of nature slowed down; everything froze, stopped. And – there and then rushed off again.

Life continued on, and time flowed inexorably – in the clatter of crockery and the music from the bar, in the obsequious smiles of waiters and the rapid replenishment of drinks and dishes. It was still the same Saturday – and it was coming to an end. Despite the romantic atmosphere, the dinner flagged somewhat and the conversation failed to flow. Nok behaved strangely, making silly comments, ordering cocktails and setting them aside, reproaching Ivan, jokingly, for being old and overweight and for not speaking Thai. Brevich tried to make witty lighthearted replies, but they did not come out right – and for some reason, she failed to understand his English.

That night they both slept little – just lying in each other’s arms, after short, perfunctory lovemaking. In the morning, Nok took him to the airport. Registration was quick; afterward, they stood for a few minutes at the VIP turnstile, lightly touching each other like a couple of teenagers. Summoning all her strength, Nok pronounced the customary phrases – wishing him a comfortable flight and expressing the hope she would see him again. Ivan remained gloomily silent. She added with a smile, “There are many clichés on this subject; you don’t even have to make them up. Just read them on the internet and console yourself with the one that’s most apt. Such as, ‘Everyone has their own life to lead.’ Or ‘Everyone needs to move on…’”

Brevich moved to embrace her for the last time, but she suddenly recoiled, looked into his face and exclaimed almost with hatred, “Don’t you dare forget me!” And a second later was holding him tight in her arms, clinging to him, pressing her whole body against his. He whispered something to her, knowing in his heart that “to forget” was exactly what he intended to do. It was the right and reasonable thing for both of them, and the sooner it happened, the better.

In the departure lounge, Ivan switched off his phone and threw away his Thai SIM card. On the way to the plane, he talked angrily to himself, remembering like mantras his suspicions and nocturnal ponderings. But his words wouldn’t flow, and by the time he had reached his seat they had ceased to mean anything. He suddenly understood with the utmost clarity that there was nothing to ponder about. Nok simply loved him with all her big Asian heart – every minute, every moment. At the same instant, he realized how insanely bitter it would feel never to see her again. He knew only one method to fight the pain of this awareness – alcoholic oblivion. And so, Ivan Brevich spent the entire flight seriously drunk.

Chapter 8

Nok had a terrible three weeks after Ivan’s departure. The dust settled, and it became clear: her world had changed forever. At its core was a void – she had never previously imagined there could be such a huge empty space. What’s more, she had learned something about the walls that surround human hearts – if you’re happy with someone, they get thinner and thinner with each passing hour. Her own “wall” had crumbled without a trace after their first night together. Now it made no sense to hide this fact from herself.

She had no one to complain to, no one to confide in. Her girlfriends would never have understood it – there was no way a “good” Thai girl could possibly have gone to bed with a married farang on their third date. If, however, at a stretch, one were to throw modern progressive notions into the mix, explaining everything in terms of gender equality and a simple desire to have the same fun as men, then it wasn’t clear why her heart was troubling her so much. The “progressive” Nok should have been in control of the situation and not lost her head by falling in love – even and in spite of her hateful loneliness…

One evening she was watching a Thai television drama featuring a heroine who had discovered she could travel into a different time through an old mirror on her wall. There, quite predictably, she fell in love. A drama ensued, threatening a doubling of her being, a sea of troubles and a mountain of woes. In the end, she had to choose between reality and the looking-glass; the heroine ended up smashing the insidious mirror, thus closing her way to the other world forever… Wiping away her tears, Nok went into her bathroom and for a long time stared at the mirror above the washbasin. It wasn’t going to transport her to distant Russia or the recent past, when Ivan had been with her and held her in his arms. Yet she was sure: a different world did exist – and her own parallel future was waiting nearby. She, too, would have to make a choice – with or without a mirror – and there would have to be some sort of sign.

It didn’t take long for the sign to manifest itself. Soon after, Nok suddenly felt ill while climbing the stairs to a skytrain station. Her eyes clouded, and she sank down onto the platform, losing consciousness for a few seconds. An elderly woman standing beside her helped her to get up, led her to a bench and asked what had happened. Nok replied, “A darkness came over me.” And indeed, while she had fainted, all sorts of horrors had loomed up at her – undefined, terrifying shadows she didn’t want to recall.

The next day, she discovered she was pregnant. “Which part of the country are you from?” the doctor asked and made a joke about the fecundity of Nok’s home province of Phetchabun. Nok smiled back at him, happily, almost serenely. In some strange way, the news reassured her; she realized: here was the indication from fate she had been waiting for.

Her thoughts and feelings became clearer, her picture of the world falling into place decisively. She easily found answers to the questions that had been bothering her – it had seemed there were a lot, but in reality only two were important. An abortion was out of the question – for a Buddhist it would have been the most terrible sin, causing irreparable damage to her karma. That meant, Nok told herself, she would be having a baby. And simultaneously she acknowledged: Ivan, the child’s father, was the only man she wanted to live with. It wasn’t just a question of her feelings – they had not vanished, but now something else was added to them. Nok’s mind returned to basics; the challenge she now faced was to create a decent life for her child. The answer to this challenge was obvious: Brevich. He was the solution to her problems, filling all the empty gaps perfectly.

To assure herself of her decision, Nok did what any Thai women would have done – she went to see a fortune-teller. The latter was a young woman with large and powerful features who immediately stated, “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Nok nodded silently. The fortune-teller laid out her cards, studied them for a long time, shuffled them around the table and then declared with a sigh, “Your chances of being with the man you love or remaining alone are approximately equal. You’re not going to like this, but, believe me, fifty-fifty isn’t such bad odds. I can see your man – he is big, tall and much older than you… A farang, of course.”

Nok muttered timidly, “He has a wife.”

“So what?” The fortune-teller shrugged. “His wife, obviously, is no longer of interest to him. Since she has allowed this to happen, she must be a worthless woman – he will leave her and never remember her again. He has simply had no reason to think about it, but now – now there is you and what you are carrying in your womb!”

That very night, Nok leapt into action. She had kept Brevich’s business card, but this turned out to be of little use. Two of her emails were returned – having failed to make their way through Ivan’s company’s spam filter, which was a mystery to Nok. The next day, she rang his office, but this also led nowhere. Ivan’s foreign contacts were limited to Germany, and, knowing German well, his secretary hardly spoke any English. She failed to understand Nok’s accent and did not delve into the situation further, instead simply choosing to hang up. Nok called again – with the same result. Then, after a short period of reflection, she took the most improbable decision: to fly to Moscow, find Ivan there and talk to him face to face.

If Nok had discussed this with others, they would have undoubtedly dissuaded her, and the trip would never have happened. Journeying so far on her own, and especially to cold and unfriendly Russia, would have been unthinkable to any of her friends. But there was no one to advise her; her girlfriends remained in the dark. She hadn’t said a word to her parents either – the news of her pregnancy would have been a great blow to them, an indelible and shameful stain. Of course, her father would have immediately searched for some local groom or other and paid him for his silence to save the family’s honor. This was the last thing Nok wanted, so she made up a story about going on vacation to Singapore, took all her savings from the bank and set off into the unknown.

Nok landed at Sheremetyevo airport late at night at the end of a windy, damp March. Her cheap hotel room was terrible and barely fit for habitation. All morning she felt sick, could eat nothing and didn’t even know where or what people ate in this strange country. It was cold outside; sleet and snow were falling. Nok asked the elderly concierge to call her a taxi, barely managing to explain herself to him. The taxi driver circled the back streets for an hour before finally bringing her to the required address and asking for a completely absurd fare. Nok was unable to argue; then, having paid him off, she went into the building and showed Brevich’s business card to a gloomy guard with a crumpled face. There was some confusion, and she was told he was not in but would be back later. She sat on the couch next to the reception desk – frightened, tired and feeling completely out of place in this impersonal office foyer.

Things hadn’t been easy for Ivan either after his return from Bangkok – the same emptiness oppressed him from all sides and showed little sign of abating. Nevertheless, he did not entertain any doubts about the finality of their breakup. Brevich was adamant there was no way the relationship could survive them living in different parts of the world.

He returned to his usual Russian life, plunged into his work and drank heavily. A couple of times, he tried to let off steam with expensive prostitutes, but this only left him with a feeling of disgust and an even greater yearning. Then he took a sudden and unexpected step – he left his wife and initiated divorce proceedings. All her attempts to get an explanation were unsuccessful – Ivan avoided any contact.

In the days’ bustle and commotion, he almost succeeded in erasing Nok from his head, but during the drunken evenings, the memories returned irrepressibly. He surrendered – to them and to his thoughts – wandered gloomily through the rooms of his rented apartment, went to the window and looked at the Moscow night sky that was so different from Bangkok’s. For half an hour, for an hour, he just stood there, frozen, then poured himself another whiskey and sat down at his computer. He searched through forums and blogs on the web, looked for stories similar to his own, hoping for healing and to sober up. Desperately, he wanted to be sure he had done the right thing by breaking up with Nok forever and not building castles in the air. But, as if in spite, what he found was quite the opposite: other people’s castles seemed to be standing firm. Thai girlfriends were not ideal, notable neither for their sophistication, intellectual refinement nor any special kind of mystery – qualities more likely to be found in Russians. But at the same time, they possessed a very powerful source of feminine integrity – something that everyone seeks but almost none find. A quality not easy to describe and explain, not immediately noticeable, but once perceived, unmistakable – and, according to the accounts on the web, Thai women had it in abundance. And, Brevich now understood, there was much of it in Nok too – as there was much of Nok in each moment they had spent together. No, she did not push herself forward or intrude and she was not talkative; she simply offered her entire being to him – intending it only for him, thus forming a strong sense of belonging between them. It was a kind of generosity he had never encountered before – and for her it was as natural as breathing… Brevich recalled his past, his two former wives, one fiancée and a dozen long-term mistresses. They had all liked to stress how they had given him their all! At the time, it had seemed to him they really had offered him a lot; now those words only elicited a sarcastic sneer.

He also read about the other side of Thai women, about their vengeful cunning, their fury in an argument, the infantile superficiality of their views and their inability to plan ahead. All this, for some reason, did not negate their surprising appeal, which was deeper and broader than everyday life, money, domestic squabbles and every commonplace sentimental dream. There was some invisible, inexplicable humanity in relationships with them, capable of providing protection from disappointments and spiritual wounds, like a guardian angel. It was probably an illusion but an alluring one nonetheless. Others had tried to describe it awkwardly, and Brevich had attempted to analyze it himself – but to no avail. These were subtle matters that evaded verbalization. All that remained was bitterness and a sense that he had refused to see something immeasurably important through to the end…

Ivan cursed, frowned and drank even more. Then he began to look for stories of a different kind, as if searching for a remedy. With a wry grin, he read the revelations of sex tourists, types like Lothar – about their amorous “triumphs” bought with money, about the deceptions and artifice, infidelity and cunning lies of the semiliterate bar “fairies.” It was sobering; little by little Brevich seemed to get back onto the road to recovery. Sometimes he even thought about whether he should get himself an Asian-looking “sugar baby” – for example, a Tartar or a Buryat – to accelerate the healing process. It was at this very moment that Nok appeared in Moscow.

Brevich arrived at the office within an hour and a half – almost running into the building without looking around. Nodding to the guards, he headed for the elevators, but the receptionist called to him, pointed to the sofa and said uncertainly, “Over there…” Ivan froze to the spot, then walked slowly up to Nok, who stood up to meet him. “Why are you here?” he asked. Nok replied, “I’m going to have your baby.” They looked at each other silently for a few seconds, then Ivan canceled all his meetings, put her in the car and took her home.

Removing her shoes in the corridor, Nok leaned against the wall and whispered, “My energy is spent.” He gently helped her undress, carried her to the bedroom and laid her on his bed. She immediately fell asleep; Brevich sat for a while next to the bed, leaving her on only a few occasions to fix himself a drink. But the alcohol had no effect on him; now, with Nok by his side, he felt completely sober. And he was soberly aware that these were the best minutes of his forty-six-year-old life.

In recent years, Ivan had really wanted a son – an heir, to carry on the family line. He had often talked about it with his wife; they had even tried to have a child, but nothing had come of it. Brevich suspected she had been secretly taking precautions – her comfortable, carefree life was far too dear to her, and children did not fit into her idea of happiness. Be that as it may, it mattered little now – when he heard Nok’s unexpected news, Ivan felt as if everything in his head had fallen into place. The circle had reached its logical conclusion; his thoughts had acquired harmony. He saw himself at the beginning of a path leading to the creation of something genuine. Something incredibly important – and no obstacle would get in his way.

Over the next three weeks, they barely spent a moment apart. Then they got married – because of the pregnancy, the doctors advised Nok not to fly to Thailand, and the wedding was held in Russia. Brevich exhibited his strengths to their full degree – nothing could stop him. A dozen petty officials suddenly found themselves a lot richer, but every single bureaucratic issue connected with the marriage was resolved in the blink of an eye. Just as quickly – and very brutally – he concluded his divorce with his wife, giving her what he thought she deserved: an apartment in the center of Moscow and some money. She became indignant and started to talk about a full-fledged division of his capital and business, but Brevich pressured her, threatening to leave her with nothing, and she signed the papers. As a result, one beautiful April morning, Ivan and Nok found themselves standing in front of the registrar at a local registry office.

The only people present at the wedding were their families – Brevich’s father and mother, Nok’s parents and her younger sister Pim. Ivan got to know his new relatives on Skype – it was not easy and happened in several stages. First, Nok talked to her mother who, having sighed and wept a little, quickly realized that what had happened to her daughter was not a fantasy, but an irreversible fact needing to be accepted for what it was. They set about discussing the main question: how to break the news to Nok’s father that his pride and joy was pregnant, stuck at the edge of the world and planning to marry a foreigner whom neither they nor their neighbors had ever met. The discussion went on for two days and a detailed plan was hatched, but even this was insufficient to avoid her father’s wrath. He shouted and cursed, flatly refusing to admit the obvious; he blamed both mother and daughter for their folly, claiming that farangs were not to be trusted, Nok had been duped, Ivan would soon abandon her and the whole family would lose face. Nok, however, remained unperturbed, knowing that her mother, Brevich and the future child were all on her side – and in the end, common sense did prevail. Her father’s anger softened to forgiveness and he agreed to talk with Ivan, which took place in the presence of Nok and her sister.

To everyone’s surprise, they got along quite well, and then Brevich arranged for their trip to Moscow, providing a luxurious program. He paid all their expenses and on the very first day not only ceremoniously presented the head of the family with a generous sin-sot – “ransom” for the bride – but also organized a fun-filled tourist schedule with their personal Thai-speaking guide. This greatly impressed the family, and Nok’s parents came to the cautious agreement that their daughter had been unexpectedly and unusually lucky. Her father, however, added that they still needed to be on their guard with Ivan. You need to have your finger on the pulse and be ready for anything, he insisted. Out of habit, Nok’s mother agreed with him, not seeing any reason to argue. Although, in fact, she really liked the big silent man with the grim face that instantly transformed the moment he looked at her daughter.

After the wedding, which was held quietly at home, Brevich promised that in a year he and Nok would come to Thailand for a considerable period. He even agreed to another wedding ceremony – a Buddhist one this time. That finally inclined her father to fully accept Ivan – especially when he imagined how envious the whole village would be when they set eyes on his new son-in-law. So, on that positive note, Nok’s family set off for home, and the newlyweds were left to start their life together, full of minor cares and pleasant trifles.

Brevich rarely went to the office; his entire attitude toward his business cooled. He knew this created consternation, and his colleagues were gossiping that the boss had gone off the rails, but he didn’t give a damn. Soon he realized that – for the first time in his life – he was deeply in love. He felt fully in possession of what he loved – and he was well accustomed to taking responsibility for what he possessed. When Nok cautiously hinted that her family might be hoping for some material “support,” Brevich only shrugged. For him, who always paid for everyone and everything, it seemed only natural. In addition, the size of the expected assistance was laughable by his standards, and the very fact that he could offer it won him great respect in the eyes of his wife. For her, this was the finest of his masculine qualities, and in return, she was happy to express all the best sides of herself. Sometimes he would joke to himself that business-wise their marriage had been a very good “deal.” Maybe that was why he had fallen madly in love, like a teenager, at his age?…

Still, all joking aside, he was perfectly capable of looking at what was happening seriously. Of seeing and acknowledging that fortune had really smiled on him this time. It was undoubtedly a level of happiness he had never experienced before. Other people’s opinions, rumors and gossip did not bother him in the slightest; his and Nok’s cultural differences no longer frightened him – especially when he reminded himself of the pretentious nonsense he had experienced from girls who shared his culture and spoke the same language. And he knew: Nok would genuinely love their child. This was much more important than anything else.

Time passed swiftly, tempestuously and richly. Brevich was overflowing with positive energy; he thought he could move mountains. Most of this energy was directed at organizing their everyday life. The very best that Moscow could offer, from doctors to beauty salons, was identified, verified and placed at Nok’s disposal. Ivan searched and found food she was used to and a pile of films with Thai subtitles – even some classic Soviet comedies, which they heartily laughed at together. He showed her the city, took her to its museums and performances at the Bolshoi, which delighted her immensely. Before going to sleep, they would have long talks – about which country it would be better to live in or who their son would resemble – they already knew Nok was expecting a baby boy. Looking after her was an extraordinary pleasure; Brevich felt that every minute of his existence was filled to the limit with meaning. He was living in an idyll in real life; he was aware of it and not even surprised. For some reason, it seemed perfectly natural and could not be otherwise.

And then the idyll turned into tragedy.

Chapter 9

Ivan Brevich’s new life wasn’t just the subject of idle rumors and gossip. In at least one person, it provoked intense hatred. That person was Inna Vitzon, his ex-wife.

Inna had been brought up in a very straitlaced, very “Moscow” Jewish family. The diploma she had received from what people called Inyaz, a prestigious university in Soviet times, gave her cause to believe that by marrying Brevich she had raised his social status. Her family was of the same opinion, despite the fact their well-being depended entirely on Ivan. Brevich was not particularly bothered about this: he didn’t take his relatives seriously. But for Inna, everything was serious and always had a strictly defined place. Nothing in her life could be deemed insignificant – because her own significance was beyond measure.

Now – seriously and definitively – Inna hated her ex-husband. There was so much hatred that she could not keep it bottled up – it had to be released in some form of revenge. Strangely, this made Inna resemble Thai women, who, she believed, embodied in the person of Nok, had caused this catastrophe in her life. What she now felt about Brevich had much in common with the famous saying of all wronged Thai wives: “Death is not enough!”

It wasn’t his adultery that constituted the essence of the catastrophe – Inna could easily close her eyes to that. Their lack of interest in each other was mutual, and both had had more than one liaison on the side. The crux of the matter lay elsewhere: Inna had been shaken to the very core by the way Brevich had ended their marriage. And this was something she was not going to forgive.

Over their years together, her own complaints had accumulated too. There was a lot of irritation on her part, mainly because she had been unable to experience the true taste of success, despite having all its attributes. She held Brevich accountable for this – since there was no one else to blame. To make matters worse, he completely failed to see any grounds for her disgruntlement – his unceremonious response was that Inna needed to get off her backside and do something with her life. That really offended her; she believed – and often intimated so to her friends – that her husband didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand.

This was why, when Ivan for no apparent reason announced his intention to divorce her upon his return from Bangkok, Inna, despite at first being taken aback, quickly pulled herself together. She sensed that a project worthy of her had finally materialized – a long-term enterprise that could be undertaken with great enthusiasm. The aim of it was to suck Brevich dry. To exhaust him with the most grueling legal proceedings, to sue, sue and sue again… Inna’s eyes sparkled with renewed vigor; she was filled with energy as if the years had dropped off her. Soon, with the help of two lawyers, an action plan was developed full of stratagems and cunning, but then Nok flew into Moscow and everything came to naught. Brevich was completely unbending, explaining both to Inna and her lawyers that with his connections she could end up homeless and penniless. He sounded convincing; she had to accept his terms, but her anger knew no bounds. Inna persuaded herself that Brevich had caused her irreparable damage. It wasn’t a question of the money – she was still getting a reasonable amount. The thing was that in a single stroke he had suddenly stripped her of the purpose in life she’d just found. And for this, she told herself, Brevich would have to pay.

After several sleepless nights, she hatched an intricate scheme. The main role in it was to be played by the Danilovs – Sanyok, who had his own accounts to settle with Brevich, and his wife Tatiana, whom Inna had known since her youth. Back then, they had been close friends, but later their friendship had given way to jealousy and envy. This was now going to prove useful.

The first step had seemed the most difficult but had been achieved with ease. After a “chance” meeting with Sanyok next to his office, Inna had invited him for a coffee, and within a few days they were lovers. Using attention and flattery, she deftly ignited his passion and then just as suddenly announced they were splitting up.

“I’ve realized we’re better off parting ways,” she shrugged at his bewildered consternation. “You’re clearly a loser, and soon you’ll be out of work altogether. My ex is going to fire you; he can’t forgive or forget that the business was once yours, that you were the real trailblazer. And it also irritates him that you really love those stupid machines of yours – which he doesn’t. Your wife told him they turn you on more than she does… By the way, you do know she’s slept with him for almost the whole of last year – just to spite me? He told me all about it; we used to be open about these things… Tanya was constantly complaining to him you’re no good in bed. But that’s not fair: you’re a good lover, you have such a thick, powerful cock…”

Danilov was crushed, furious and frightened. He believed every single word – in his wife’s infidelity, that he was about to lose his job, and in Inna’s sudden, insightful contempt, to which he was prone, having long ago lost any respect for himself. That evening, he created such a disgraceful scene at home that Tatiana packed her things and left to live with her mother. A couple of days later, he tried to make it up to her but only ended up losing his temper again and, in an attempt to hurt her even more, mentioned his brief interlude with Inna. After this bombshell, it soon became clear his wife wasn’t ever going to return. Danilov repented and asked for forgiveness, but she only laughed in his face and went away with her mother to a Turkish resort, leaving him all alone in rainy Moscow.

In a word, Inna had achieved a lot in a mere three weeks. This gave her the confidence and conviction she was in the right. Soon, she called Sanyok again, said she was lonely and even wept into the phone, begging him to come and see her. They drank a lot – and, after the alcohol, clumsy sex and drunken, tearful complaints against life, the idea of revenge seemed to emerge of its own accord. Brevich was the source of all their current and impending misfortunes. He was the cause of what they had lost, were losing and were set to lose – and that meant: he should have to feel the devastating nature of loss himself. Something precious should be wrenched from him, Inna declared angrily – to show him he was as weak and vulnerable as everyone else…

Thus, an “avenging duo” was formed, and their means of revenge was worked out that very same night. Nok would have to be taken away from Ivan – even if only for a little while, but in all seriousness, without fooling around, so that he would experience the pain to the fullest. And so that he would be made to pay – with his powerless despair and money – for the return of his “plaything.” With serious money, which he owed both of them!

Waking up in the morning and remembering everything, Danilov sat down on the bed, clasped his head in his hands and emitted a long, protracted groan. He realized he was about to do something savage and terrible – and somehow knew he couldn’t turn back. Even the fear, which caused his hands to tremble, couldn’t persuade him otherwise. What’s more, he already had just the man for this sort of job: Valyok, his and Ivan’s childhood friend, Valentin Sakhnov.

Valentin had returned to Moscow a long time before. At one stage he had made a good career for himself in the special forces, quickly rising to the rank of captain, but then he and his entire command had been dishonorably discharged from the army for an ugly incident in Chechnya. This shocked him to the depths of his soul – despite some disciplinary problems, Valyok had served honestly. He saw himself as a loyal officer, a patriot, and even considered the army his cherished calling, telling himself his way in life was that of the warrior. Therefore, he saw his dismissal as the betrayal of a basic notion of justice, and for a long time his mind refused to acknowledge what had happened.

For a couple of weeks, while his papers were being formalized, he wandered around in a daze, blind to everything around him. People shied away from him, taking him for a dangerous, unpredictable head case. Eventually, his stupor passed; only anger and resentment remained. Sakhnov was served his papers and went home to Moscow, but at one of the longer stops on the way he left the train briefly to buy some beer and ended up missing it after a run-in with a policeman. Without thinking twice, he made friends with the driver of a freight train and arrived in the capital sitting at the back of the driver’s cabin, bawling out army marching songs and contemplating the fields, woods and villages passing by. Somewhere on that journey, he underwent a complete catharsis, and his picture of the world was fundamentally rearranged. He realized that, however things turned out, he would always remain a warrior – and his war from now on would be fought for himself, against everyone and everything.

The first thing Valentin did in Moscow was ask Brevich to make him his head of security. Ivan pretended to be friendly, patted Valyok on the back and treated him to a cognac but did not give him a job, fearing that the Chechen scandal would come to light and harm his business. Sakhnov took the rejection as another serious blow. It was a breach of the “fraternal comradeship” that he considered sacred after his years in the army. Yet he was not surprised; it was already clear: the dirty tricks fate was playing on him were all links in the same chain. His life had changed course, and he would have to accept it for what it was.

He went to work for a private security firm and after a while brought in a few former army friends. Soon, they quarreled with the management, resigned and set up their own “outfit.” They would take on anything; their moral compass had long since stopped working. Money was their only criterion, and on the whole business went well. Rich clients paid generously – although the depravity they encountered in the course of their work crossed all boundaries. This only convinced Valentin all the more that his life was moving in the wrong direction, but there was no turning it around.

Sometimes, he would talk about this with Sanyok Danilov – they would call each other regularly and about once a month get thoroughly drunk together. With regret, Sakhnov noted that Sanyok had changed for the worse too. Friendship was a distant memory; the only thing uniting them now was their discontent with their lives. As for Brevich, Valentin never saw him again, but he hadn’t forgotten and wasn’t going to forgive the snub. He believed sooner or later he would get a chance to get even.

And now the chance had fallen into his lap – when Danilov told Valyok about the plan to abduct Nok, he agreed almost immediately. Everything had fitted into place perfectly: Brevich needed to be taught a lesson – and this lesson would be a good one. People like Brevich should be punished, money-wise – and the amount promised to be lucrative!

The roles were split logically: Danilov was charged with financing the operation, and Sakhnov and his team with executing it. The cost of the hit, as Valentin quoted, seemed exorbitant to Sanyok at first, but after a little reflection he acceded, hoping for a generous ransom from Brevich. They agreed to share it equally, although Sakhnov had his own plans on that score. For him, this was another argument in favor of action – if he succeeded in hitting the jackpot, it would allow him to get out of business, change his circumstances and even go abroad for good. Who knew, maybe somewhere sunny, next to the sea, he’d work out where to take his topsy-turvy life later…

Valentin enlisted his most reliable people for the job. After observing Nok for a week, it was decided to kidnap her outside a secluded salon on Veskovsky Pereulok. Nok visited it once every two days and always walked home on foot – Brevich’s apartment was in the next block. She was only accompanied by a single bodyguard – the special-forces guys took a good look at him and decided he wouldn’t present too many problems. The operation began smoothly, but, as it turned out, the plan hadn’t covered every eventuality.

The man guarding Nok was from the tough neighborhood of Lyubertsy and had an identical surname and nickname – the Horse. His level of training wasn’t comparable to that of the former commandos, but he was an extremely strong and experienced street fighter. When two strangers in masks suddenly appeared out of nowhere, he instinctively feinted slightly to one side. As a result, the devastating short blow aimed at his temple didn’t fully connect, and, as he fell down, he managed to roll over, grab his gun and randomly open fire in his semiconscious state.

Almost all the bullets went astray, except for one – it hit Nok and inflicted a fatal wound. In the last few seconds of her life, several images flashed before her eyes. She saw her father and mother in the doorway of the house on wooden stilts. Then – the yellow river and her favorite buffalo. Then – the face of her unborn child, looking a bit like an alien. Then – nothing more.

Within an hour of the botched kidnapping, the perpetrators had disappeared from the city, and Valentin called Danilov saying they needed to talk urgently. They agreed to meet in a quiet section of the park where they had once played cops and robbers. Alexander arrived first; Sakhnov saw him from his hiding place behind the trees. Sanyok stood and smoked, nervously shifting from foot to foot – although he had no idea what had happened or what was awaiting him.

Stretching out his hand, Valentin calmly said, “Hi!” Then with a single, barely perceptible movement he knocked Danilov off his feet and, kneeling over him, slit his throat – carefully avoiding any blood, as he had been taught in Chechnya. For a few brief moments, he stood motionless, contemplating the dead body of his childhood friend. It was clear: fate had led him to exactly this juncture, having elected the most misguided path possible. Then he carefully wiped the knife, threw it into the bushes and walked away.

Chapter 10

The news of Nok’s death plunged Ivan into a kind of stupor. He felt almost nothing and was oblivious to the world around him. His receptors were not working – his brain no longer processed their signals. As if it no longer cared.

Nevertheless, functioning on autopilot, he was able to deal with the most pressing matters as efficiently as ever. First of all, Ivan called Pim, who spoke a little English. Choosing the simplest words, he told her the tragic news and asked her to help him talk to her parents, having prepared them beforehand.

Pim agreed; they all met on Skype the next day. Ivan was confronted with two people who had visibly aged, crushed by their grief. He spoke slowly, enunciating each word, “Nok is no longer with us. And neither is our son. All I can do is to bring her body over for the funeral and find those who are responsible. And I will do this.”

Nok’s father got up and left without saying a word. Her mother covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. It was clear there was nothing more to say. Pim signed to Ivan to hang up.

Two days later Brevich was sitting on a plane along with Nok’s embalmed body. This was his second trip to Thailand, a journey of sorrow. He spent the entire nine hours of the flight barely moving, staring unseeingly in front of him. As soon as the steward pronounced the word “Bangkok” over the PA, the anesthetic stupor began to fade, giving way to despair and pain. It rolled, crashed and retreated like the waves of the dull gray ocean.

Brevich understood: the ocean knew no bounds. Everything connected to Nok had been and would continue to be limitless. What he sensed now was only a premonition of something terrible waiting ahead. He knew it would come and was ready to accept it, but for now he still had a straw to cling to, an illusion of invulnerability. In a sense, he and Nok were still together. She was almost there next to him, on the same airplane.

And he desperately held onto this, clenching his jaw, hunched in his soft armchair. He could picture her face with his mind’s eye – a face alive and full of joy, the way he had been used to seeing her. The shadows of his thoughts were bound to the image with a steel chain. Their writhing remnants encircled it, seemingly emitting sounds – bitter, howling moans. Then their rumbling echo dispersed – as they were ripped away from the circle, floundered in swamps, sunk in quicksand without forming themselves into anything of substance…

He brought Nok’s body from the Bangkok airport to her parents’ house in a specially ordered limousine and settled nearby in the only hotel in the area. That evening, the first of the farewell ceremonies took place, and the whole village gathered. Ivan did not take part; he just watched, standing to one side. Any rite, whatever it meant, seemed false to him now, superfluous.

Nok’s body lay on the table, covered with a veil. Only her head and right hand were bare. People came up to her in turn to pour a little sweet, floral-scented water on her hand. As the mourners all went back to their places, an elderly monk intoned a singsong prayer. It all lasted a long time; Ivan was silent and frowning as if sensing that Nok was moving away from him with each new ablution.

Then the same monk tied bracelets twisted out of white thread around her wrists and ankles. The table with the body was decorated with garlands of flowers. Their sweet aroma made Brevich’s head spin. He went out and walked back to the hotel, feeling with acute clarity that time was flowing through his fingers like water – and soon Nok would leave his life forever…

In accordance with Buddhist tradition, the final leave-taking lasted five days. Ivan would arrive around noon and sit next to Nok until dusk. At about six, once the heat had abated a little, the monks would appear at the house and the prayer ceremony begin. After that, everyone would disperse, and Ivan with them. The only person with whom he exchanged any words during the day was Pim. Nok’s mother spent all her time in tears, dealing with domestic chores, and the father just wandered around the house, his face frozen, enveloped in a black cloud, not speaking to anyone and not seeming to notice Ivan at all.

At the hotel, Brevich would eat something hastily, without tasting it. Then he would take a bottle of Thai rum to his room and stretch out on his bed. He was absorbed by the night, by its hot, sticky darkness. A quiet reigned, accentuated by the cicadas and the barely audible swish of the fan blades over his head. Ivan was transported to another reality, plunged into a trance. Again, as on the plane, Nok appeared in his mind’s eye, laughing, full of life. Her face was bewitching; he meditated on it like a crystal ball.

For the first four nights, his visions were very specific. Brevich recalled and resurrected all the days they had spent together. From their first meeting to their first intimacy, from their separation to their marriage and then week after week of happy life in Moscow… The look she gave him at the Bangkok airport. The meeting in his office in front of the astonished security guard. Morning breakfasts in their sun-drenched kitchen. Visits to the doctor and long examinations of the ultrasound pictures… All this appeared before him in strict chronological order. The images were vivid, like in a waking dream or under the influence of a powerful hallucinogen. It seemed that he could hear Nok’s voice, could recognize her scent.

Then, without warning, his mind was immersed in a muddy fog. All the pictures disappeared; he was seized by a total, blind frenzy. Ivan clenched his fists as if sensing his fingers on the throats of his enemies, the perpetrators of his grief. He tore their flesh and destroyed their souls, inventing the most appalling punishments. His heart raced; his breathing became irregular. He understood that his rage, expanding to the very limits of the universe, was killing, strangling him – and he took a long swig from the bottle, attempting to curb the madness of his rage. He couldn’t allow himself to die until due revenge had been taken.

Just before sunrise, he finally fell into a doze but soon emerged from it, greedily gulping in the air. He had dreamed one and the same thing, albeit in different guises: Nok was in trouble and he could do nothing to save her. It was unnatural, unbearable – for him, accustomed as he was to being capable of resolving anything… Brevich, who had not experienced fear in a long time, really began to be terrified of this dream. And he could not rid himself of it.

As he was going up to his room on the fifth and final evening, Ivan suddenly froze on the spot. He was pierced by the sudden realization that tomorrow Nok would disappear permanently, forever. Brevich ran down the steps and set off at a fast walk back to the village, weaving in the dark. He was driven by the thought that he must do something, postpone it, prevent it…

The street on which Nok’s house stood was illuminated by two dim lights. Approaching, Ivan noticed a silhouette on the porch. It was her father; he was standing and looking out into the distance, all alone against the whole world. There was so much hopelessness in his posture that Brevich immediately understood: nothing could be changed. He retreated into the shadows and for about half an hour watched a man who was a stranger to him yet evidently suffering as he was. Then he went back to his cramped room, to the swish of the fan and his bottle of Sangsom.

That night, his recollections became blurred for some reason; Nok’s face faded. Details of reality gave way to abstraction – a series of chaotic images from his life proceeded before his eyes. He seemed to be watching his past from a distance, from an alien space, moving arbitrarily from point to point, from one moment to another. In black-white-gray flecks and trembling sine waves, he recognized the years spent building up his business, success and wealth, the sequence of women, mistresses, wives. Everything gleamed weakly, barely distinguishable from the background. And then an incredible surge of amplitudes and colors beyond all conceivable scale. A furious dance of analog signals, renewed youth, an excitement with life and… a return to grayness but this time without the harmonics: a void. The future did not exist; in its place was a gaping abyss. Somehow, existence was only possible here in the room of a cheap hotel with a fan under its ceiling, dispelling the murky darkness…

The next day, Nok’s body was burned in the crematorium. The ceremony with fireworks and firecrackers, donations to the monks and a bountiful feast, lasted a long time, from morning till dark. It was a Buddhist celebration of death, a festival of liberation from the earthly hardship, a step toward reincarnation. But for Ivan and for Nok’s parents, it merely held a grief before which any religion was powerless.

Brevich sat the whole evening hunched over an untouched plate, staring at the floor. He did not touch a drop of alcohol, remaining completely sober and immersed in himself. Toward night, when the friends and neighbors had finally left, he stepped outside and sat down on the steps, holding his head in his hands. Maybe for the first time in his life, he felt utterly lost, not knowing what to do, where to go, how to save himself.

Then Pim came up and sat down beside him. She wanted to help him somehow. “You know,” she said, “there’s a room in the house… Nok spent her childhood in it and slept there whenever she came to visit us. Would you like to see it?” Ivan nodded silently.

Pim talked to her mother, who had no objections. Brevich was taken to Nok’s room and left on his own. At first, he sat at her desk – clean, without a single spot – then began to pace from corner to corner, noiselessly, like a caged animal. His state of mind worsened. Despair and pain circled him, spinning like demons somewhere nearby. Brevich could feel their breath, their irresistible might.

Suddenly a floorboard creaked underfoot. This distracted him; he stopped in his tracks and then, stepping cautiously, went up to the shelf on the wall. There was a stack of notebooks; Brevich began to leaf through them absentmindedly, one by one. In the semidarkness, in the light of a dim lamp, he was looking at Nok’s handwriting – initially a child’s hand, diligent-neat, then becoming stronger and more adult. He ran his finger along the lines, trying to understand the meaning of the Thai letters clinging to each other, forming an intricate filigree…

In one of the notebooks, Ivan found pages with short poems translated into English – probably an exercise. He began to read them absentmindedly, hardly registering their contents – and then froze suddenly, stumbling upon four lines, underlined in red. His legs collapsed beneath him; he sat down at the desk. Staring fiercely at the lined page, he repeated the words to himself, moving his lips, whispering them aloud.

You will lose me in the cold night, under a blanket of hostile darkness, but we will meet under another Sun, if you look for me hard enough, he reread again and again. Sparks flashed before his eyes; his thoughts seemed to have gone berserk. The dams had burst, overwhelmed by this final drop; the flood gushed forth. And swept everything away.

In those few seconds, Ivan understood: his mind was irrevocably changing. Either it was becoming free, breaking all its bonds, or dragging itself down into the worst possible dungeon – that was immaterial; they were one and the same. To hell with names, to hell with demons; only this newly found essence could lead to panacea and salvation…

He now saw everything clearly, without impediment. Nok had not left him; it was all an illusion, a trick played by the hostile world. The small, limited world – their shared cosmos stretched far beyond it. Nok had known it, sensed it before they had met. She had given him a sign in advance, prepared a supremely clear message. Saying everything without omissions, without reservation!

Ivan sat over the open notebook for several hours. In the middle of the night, Pim brought him some water with lemon and a bowl of rice. He turned to her, and she took a step back, seeing the fire burning in his eyes.

“There is a spirit of sorrow in him; he is fighting with it,” she told her mother, but that was a long way from the truth. Ivan no longer had time to mourn. He was a man of action; he knew how to achieve his goals. And now he had the most important goal in life.

Step by step, a plan of action was building itself in his head. Brevich was aware of the complexity of the task, but he had no doubt a solution would be found. Sensing that he wasn’t ready to guess at it yet, he didn’t try to give any meaning to the notion of “another Sun.” He simply knew that this place existed.