The Heart of a Lion

By Diana Vance

Russian History professor Alexis Caldwell, an American, has no idea when she arrives in Leningrad she would be caught up in an escape plan so heart researcher, Mikhail Berensky can defect to the United States. A hunt in the Caucasus Mountains is the cover for this dangerous venture.
When she meets Mikhail she is stunned by his handsome looks. Mikhail is quite taken by Alexis and when they find her room has been burglarized by the KGB Mikhail decides to protect her and escort her around Leningrad. In doing so, they fall passionately and deeply in love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 18, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477103678

Diana Vance

Diana has four loves in her life – her family and her friends, writing and service to her community. Her writing back ground began when she became a news and feature writer for an Illinois newspaper. The job was part time so she became a feature writer for a local public relations firm as well. Liking challenges she wrote a movie script that was used in a United Way fund drive promotion. Diana and her husband enjoy cooking and try to have one gourmet meal each week. Larry looks for recipes and Diana cooks which she thoroughly enjoys.

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CHAPTER ONE

The year was 1985. The Communist Party ruled Russia. The ruthlessness of the KGB still kept Russians in check. In spite of this, a dangerous venture was in the works. Using pretense, Winston Caldwell kept up the front of the lighthearted tourist and serious businessman. Today was the third day he was in the sable barn selecting the best sable pelts.

In this early June morning Johnny Williams joined him. Winston had on a wool navy sweater, while Johnny Williams wore his usual brown coveralls when he was working. They were in a long barn on the outskirts of Leningrad. Inside the barn were thousands of sable pelts hung for inspection and sale. Winston owns two furrier shops back in the States and one in Paris so he seemed innocent enough. Johnny is an expert at selecting the best sable pelts. He too posed no threat that would arouse the KGB. They selected most of their sable pelts over the past three days. But the barn was a safe place for them to meet and talk without being heard. But even though they believed a KGB agent was not in the barn they had to be careful. The stakes were just too high.

As members of Safe Haven, a secret brotherhood, they help world class Russians in their field defect to the United States. They were selected to carry out an escape for a brilliant Russian heart researcher Mikhail Berensky who wants to defect to the United States. Their cover will be a hunt in the Caucasus Mountains. There the defector will escape by going through the Riko Tunnel. The Riko Tunnel goes through the Caucasus Mountains into Iran. A Safe Haven guide will meet the defector at the end of the tunnel and smuggle him across the northern mountains in Iran. Once that is completed the guide will give the defector forged papers that looked official to give to the border guard. Once they are examined and accepted the defector will cross into Turkey and freedom. Safe Haven guides would be with the defector all the way.

Right now Winston and Johnny had to be certain that everything for the escape was in place. Johnny already had checked on what was needed. Yesterday afternoon he learned that there would be enough vans to transport the four of them, their rifles, food, tents, sleeping bags and water for eight days. That was all set just like Johnny had asked for when he contacted the Kuba Range mountain ranger. They wanted two vans, and Johnny was glad nothing had changed. They were reserved with room for four hunters, all their equipment, warm clothes, and there was room for one more should they need it.

Then Johnny inquired about the jeeps that will transport the hunters and the cargo in the rougher areas on the road up the mountain. Word had come down from the mountain that three jeeps were reserved to take the guides, the four hunters and their gear to the camp where they would stay for four days. During that time they would be on the mountain hunting. If we squeeze it there is room for one more, said Johnny.

I don’t like that extra room, Winston said a bit dismayed. I just hope we don’t get a KGB agent to fill that extra seat. If we do, all our plans for the escape will be dashed.

Johnny whispered to Winston, What is the likely hood that the KGB would be interested?

Even with all our planning there is always the chance that the KGB might be interested because there will be two Americans in the hunting party—you and me, Winston said quietly so he wouldn’t be heard. I think we need to have some feelers out there to see if we are still in the clear.

What do you have in mind? Johnny asked.

Our defector can do some scouting through the underground. He is familiar with that. And it would be one safe way of doing it. Then there’s our plant in KGB headquarters.

That’s right, Johnny said. I thought about her too.

She is very good, Winston said softly. We must remember she was trained at CIA headquarters at Langley. She’s been a plant at KGB headquarters here in Leningrad for three years now and has assisted with one escape. Her command of the Russian language is perfect, and she can read it as well. There are no slip ups with Iris. Do you remember that’s our name for her? Her Russian name is Yelena. She gets KGB information out by using the underground. We can ask our defector to check if there is anything from her, said Winston trying to tie up any loose ends if there were any.

Winston was quiet for a moment and then took a deep breath. I think we have everything out there being double checked so the escape should go smoothly.

Now I have just one more problem to address—my niece. She’s due to land here this afternoon. She has been invited by the Russians to give a speech to the American Consulate staff and some Russian dignitaries. But when I tell her about the hunt, she is going to be very upset.

Why?

I had a mild heart attack nine months ago so now she watches me like a hawk. I have to convince her I will be okay on the mountain. It won’t be easy, but there is no way she could come with us. It would be dangerous for her and for us, Winston said.

Johnny asked, What is her name? I think you told me but I’ve lost track of it.

Her name is Alexis Caldwell. She is a professor at the University of Wisconsin in Madison, Wisconsin. She teaches Russian History and was thrilled to get the invitation to come here.

She sounds like a pretty smart lady, said Johnny. If we keep her busy touring we will be all right. But I don’t envy your task of quieting her fears.

"Thanks Johnny. Maybe we should take one more look at these sable pelts.

Good idea, Johnny answered. That’s what we came here for, right?"

Yes. We want everyone to see we are pelt selectors, said Winston.

Earlier I saw a dandy pelt, and the number was #37," Johnny said.

Good. Tag that one for me Johnny, Winston said.

The two men continued their search for premium sable pelts for the rest of the morning. When they had finished, they took one of the shuttle buses back to Leningrad and their hotel, the Astoria.

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CHAPTER TWO

Alexis Caldwell awoke when the pilot’s voice came over the intercom on Soviet Aeroflot Flight 217. Buckle your seat belts, said one of the stewards as he walked the length of the cabin. Everybody buckled up. The plane would soon be landing in Leningrad. Alexis couldn’t wait to get out of that dank air inside the plane and into the fresh air outside. Peering out the window to view the city below Alexis’ took a deep breath, smiled and inside felt like cheering. She had waited a long time for the opportunity to come to Leningrad, and now she was here soaking in the beauty that lay below. Pastel colored castles lined the streets with one more ornate than the next. Huge squares and beautiful gardens, most in bloom, were all over the city offering solace to the weary and enchantment to the visitor.

The main street was eight lanes wide, and Alexis knew it was the Nevsky Prospect. Alexis thought if a director needed a setting for an eighteenth century movie Leningrad would be perfect with all its splendid edifices. If one castle had two pillars the next one had four. It certainly was a game of who could out do who, and the result was a city that was considered one of the most beautiful in the world.

Alexis was eager to see it on the ground and begin taking photos and movies to use in her classes. An amateur photographer, she dearly enjoyed the hobby. She got hooked on it after taking a class near the university. And now lavish Leningrad would be available to her for seven wonderful days. At that thought she shook her head and reflected, I’ve waited for this trip most of my life going back to when I was sixteen.

As she continued to scan the city it looked like a radiant June day. The three mile eight lane Nevsky Prospect did carry traffic through the heart of Leningrad and led to the magnificent St. Isaac’s Cathedral. As Flight 217 descended Alexis could see the happy faces of the summer shoppers. She marveled that even though the shops carried few goods it didn’t seem to matter. The sun was out, and it felt like a soothing silk robe. It was so unlike the punishing Russian winters of unforgiving ice and snow that seemed to go on without end.

Aeroflot Flight 217 landed, and Alexis tried to smooth out her soft green summer suit. It was wrinkled from sitting for 10 hours inside the muggy plane. Unfortunately it was a losing battle with the humidity and the body heat from passengers who apparently had never heard of deodorant.

The trip had been long. A United States plane flew her to Amsterdam where she caught a connecting flight to the Soviet Union on their plane Aeroflot 217. She did sleep some on the Soviet plane, so she was not too tired. She continued to view this majestic city designed and built by Russia’s greatest tsar—Peter.

In the following days this city, prize of all Russia, would be hers to explore before and after her speech at the American Consulate. I can’t believe I’m really here, Alexis thought when the plane came to a stop. As she looked out the window she thought of Vladimir Solenkov, the Soviet ambassador to the United States who befriended her several years ago. Oh what a good friend he has become, Alexis thought. Even though I don’t see him more than a few days here and there, our friendship is solid. I owe so much to him. She was told he had a hand in arranging this trip.

Soviet Ambassador Vladimir Solenkov, a widower, discovered Alexis through the articles she wrote for the academic magazines. He liked what she wrote, and her love of the history of Russian tsars and Russian craftsmen shone through her articles on every page. He had invited her to the Soviet embassy in Washington D.C. several times over the years and found her to be a delightful woman who was totally unaware of her beauty. She was smart, interesting and an excellent cribbage player. She had taught him the card game and enjoyed playing whenever she visited him during the summer. They would sit outside the ambassador’s residence and laugh and tease each other as they moved the pegs up and down the board. And now, with his help I am here, she thought.

The plane taxied to the tarmac where portable outdoor stairs allowed passengers to disembark.

Alexis stepped out and took a deep breath of warm, fresh air. The air actually smelled like gardenias. She looked around, and there were pots of them in and outside the airport. Oh yes, she thought, Russians love their flowers.

She looked for the car that was to take her to her hotel. She was eager for a shower. Standing on the tarmac Alexis’s American clothes made her easy to spot. Kit Jones from the American Consulate was waiting for Alexis, and Kit smiled at her wrinkled suit. Another Aeroflot clothing casualty, she thought. But that thought disappeared when Kit took a closer look when Alexis approached her. Alexis had sent a photo with her credentials, and Kit could see it didn’t due her justice. It was a black and white photo so it did not show her shoulder length hair to be auburn and her almond shaped eyes to be a vibrant green. Kit thought Alexis was one attractive lady.

Kit was impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit with the American flag pinned to her collar. She stepped out of the black Mercedes and walked towards Alexis.

Welcome Professor Caldwell, Kit said with a warm smile and a firm handshake. I’m Kit from the American Consulate. Did you have a good flight? Or should I say bearable’" as she looked at Alexis’s rumbled suit and wavy auburn hair. Perspiration caused it to adhere to her face. Even in this state Alexis was striking with eyes as green as the Irish Sea, smooth milky skin and tall bearing.

Bearable is right, Alexis replied. I knew Aeroflot’s reputation so I knew what to expect from their toilet paper and the unpleasant odor on the Soviet plane.

Kit liked her immediately. The car is over here, she said and pointed to the Mercedes. We’ll get your luggage, and then we can proceed to your hotel.

With luggage in tow following a thorough search by customs, the two women went to the waiting car. The driver opened the back door, and the women entered the car and shared the back seat.

We’ll have you to your hotel in just a few minutes, Kit said. You must be exhausted.

Not really. I was able to sleep on the plane. What I need is a shower. And didn’t you think they took quite a long time going through the clothes in my luggage?

Now that you mention it perhaps it was longer than most. But I think being an American could serve as the reason. We don’t get many Americans here.

They started off and soon were winding through the streets lined with landmarks at every turn. Passing enormous squares and crossing over many canals caused Alexis to think Leningrad—Venice of the North. Now her studies were coming to life. Oh how she looked forward to seeing more and more of this stunning, regal city where beauty blossomed wherever she looked.

It is almost check-in time for the tourists, and I don’t want you in that log jam, Kit said.

Okay. I want so much to see everything and use my cameras wherever I go. That will help me bring these beautiful buildings and gardens to life when I teach.

Sounds like you enjoy working with a camera. Is it a hobby of yours? Kit asked.

Yes. I took a photography class when I was in my graduate studies, and I discovered I liked it very much.

After a ten minute ride with Alexis using her motion picture camera, they arrived at the Astoria Hotel. This is the hotel where you will be staying during your time in Leningrad. That’s one week isn’t it? Kit asked.

Yes. And as for the hotel it’s lovely, Alexis said admiring the bisque brick walls and the front doors festooned in fleur de lee. A doorman, looking smart in a double-breasted ocean blue uniform with silver buttons, was ready to assist them.

Before Kit let her out of the car she said. It looks like the tourists have arrived. Do you want me come in and help you register?

You’ve been a wonderful guide, but I think I can carry on from here.

Kit handed Alexis her business card. If you need me for anything, anything at all just phone that number. It’s a direct line to me any time day or night. And I can’t emphasize this too much—you are in a police state. The beauty of the city makes one forget that.

I understand, Alexis replied. After thanking Kit she turned and entered the Astoria Hotel followed by a bellboy with her luggage.

Once in the lobby she couldn’t help but gasp. The Astoria was one of several opulent hotels built by Tsar Peter the Great that had escaped destruction during World War II. It stood like a monument towards the Soviet people who had refused to surrender during the Second World War. The siege of Leningrad was one of the heroic undertakings the Soviet people endured during World War II. It won the admiration of people around the world.

She thought about heroism like this, and how it was one of the things that drew her to learn about the people of the Soviet Union. Her love of their history and talent in the arts during the reign of the tsars was what had captivated her.

She entered the lobby and looked for the check-in desk. Standing on tip toes she stretched to her full 5'8 height but could not see it. At that moment a bellboy wearing a blue shirt with a silver shield sewn on the breast pocket arrived with her luggage. This way madam," he said in English.

Right with you, Alexis responded making a mental note that the staff was well trained and knew English.

On their way to the check in desk she thought how it must have been when the Astoria Hotel was a rendezvous point for Leningrad’s elite. Called St. Petersburg under Tsar Peter’s rule, buildings massive and jeweled, were under construction every day in the city. It was a magnificent effort because the land was really a swamp. That accounts for the many canals in Leningrad and the many bridges. Most were works of art.

At the Astoria the flow of champagne never ceased. Women wore rustling satin and velvet dresses with a number of petticoats that made the skirts billow. Much of the material for the dresses came from France along with directions on how to make a certain dress. The men were gallantly dressed in uniforms of red and black, plumed hats, sashes, and sabers.

What a far cry from Spring Valley, she thought as her mind traveled back to the southwestern Wisconsin village she grew up in. The secluded bluffs of Spring Valley had sheltered her from the world outside this rural sanctuary of strong family ties and the tradition of hard work.

Between the bluffs and the flat land to the east was the farm she grew up on. It was a good life but remote. She often asked Dad What was out there beyond the bluffs? In time he would say to her.

When she was 12 years old Dad decided it was time to show Alexis what was beyond the bluffs. They climbed into the red pickup truck and began a journey west to see the Mississippi River with its barges and other river traffic. Dad told her about the Mississippi River towns like Memphis, Baton Rouge and New Orleans. He talked about the history of those cities. Alexis hung on every word. With each description her curiosity increased.

From that day on Alexis spent hours in the library. The more she read the more she found herself drawn to the history books. After she read them all in Spring Valley’s small library she asked Mrs. Randall, the library director, to send away for more.

In the evening after supper dishes were washed and put away Alexis read. Russia was the country she was most drawn to.

When she was in high school a day came when a professor from the university at La Crosse gave a presentation of the history of the USSR when it was under tsarist rule. Alexis was sixteen when she heard this lecture. Now she knew she wanted to be a teacher of Russian History. She wanted to teach at the college level. That meant getting a master’s degree and then a Ph.D. with an emphasis on Russian History under tsarist rule. That also meant a cartload of student loans. But Uncle Winston took care of them. He cherished Alexis just as she cherished him. He was her only living relative and she did not want to lose him. She enjoyed his sense of humor and admired his savvy business acumen. But most of all she loved him like a father. Whenever she would see him the first response was a smile and a tip of his hat. Hats were one of his trademarks and he wore one whenever he could. He enjoyed looking dapper and his entire wardrobe was a collection of well tailored attire.

Alexis always enjoyed this aspect of her uncle’s personality and always looked forward to see what his upcoming apparel would be. She was never disappointed and she would give him the okay signal with her thumb and forefinger touching.

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CHAPTER THREE

She earned her Master’s degree in Soviet Agriculture and her Ph.D. in Russian History at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. She hoped to get entry into the Soviet Union. And with the help of her friend Vladimir here she was.

She felt honored to have this opportunity to give a speech at the American Consulate. She had a passion for Russian history that was profound and boundless. And that passion came through whether she was teaching or writing.

In late May the head of the history department, Professor Grant Herbert, received an invitation from the Secretary of State’s office in Washington D.C. It was a request from Soviet ambassador Vladimir Solenkov inviting Alexis to speak to the American Consulate staff in Leningrad, and some Soviet dignitaries who were eager to hear what this American professor had to say. Friend that he was, Solenkov had sent several papers Alexis had published in scholarly magazines to the diplomatic office in Moscow that dealt with Soviet history. He particularly liked the one on Russian men and their adeptness at intricate woodcarving. He also liked Alexis’s explanation how Russian men can carve a spoon with an ax. The Diplomatic Core and the Arts Board gave their okay. Anything that played up Soviet accomplishments in their history, particularly the arts, interested them. And so Alexis got her invitation.

Grant Herbert told her of Ambassador Solenkov’s request, and this aroused a warm feeling for her dear friend Vladimir. She wrote him a note that night thanking him for arranging the invitation and promising pictures when she returned. She went to bed that night, but she was so excited at what lie ahead she could not sleep.

The next day she was tired, but she had to finish grading her final exams. Coffee and adrenaline kept her going. Once the grading was done she posted them outside her office.

Now all she had to do was pack, buy film for her cameras and go to the bank for money to take on the trip. She drove to the bank first and took out what she thought she would need for a week’s stay. Then she purchased the film—forty rolls for the movie camera and thirty five rolls of film for slides. After that she drove to her condo and went in to pack. So far she had been treated royally. The Soviets paid for her plane ticket, hotel reservations, and a card for her to use to cover the cost of a meal at the hotel.

Getting ready had been one hell of a day. But she had it all accomplished. That night, as she snuggled in her red recliner, she was sipping a snifter of apricot brandy. The night before had been pretty miserable, but tomorrow will be wonderful. I’ll be in Leningrad she thought deliciously.

And so she was.

By now Alexis reached the check-in desk. Madame, the clerk said. Do you have a reservation?

It’s mademoiselle and yes I do. She gave her name and waited until the clerk found it. Clipped to the reservation was a red tag. Quickly the desk clerk snapped it off. When his eyes met hers they clearly resembled those of a border guard rather than a desk clerk. Little beads of sweat formed under her arms and in the palm of her hands.

May I ask what the red tag was for?" Alexis bravely asked.

By this time the desk clerk had regained his composure and waved his hand into the air. You must be someone special Professor Caldwell because these red tags indicate you should receive special treatment.

He’s lying Alexis thought. That quick little snap and his loss of composure meant something more than treating me like queen for a day.

Next the desk clerk asked for her passport. Alexis reached into her brown leather purse and pulled it out. She slid it over to him. When the clerk was sure it was indeed Alexis Caldwell from Madison, Wisconsin, United States of America he slid the hotel register over to her. Once signed, instead of a room key he handed her a card with a number written on it. Give this to the dezurnaya on your floor. She will give you your room key, he instructed. Each time you leave the hotel you must return the key to her, and she will give you the card.

Alexis accepted this as routine procedure. Even so the incident with the little red tag nagged away at her. She didn’t like it, but for now she wanted that shower.

So she pushed the red tag out of her mind and turned to follow the bellboy with her bags. As she did so she accidentally nudged the arm of a man standing behind her and knocked his straw hat to the floor. She bent over to pick it up. When she rose to return it to the man, she recognized the face was that of her uncle.

Uncle Win, you’re here to meet me. I should have known you would dear heart.

Well, I haven’t seen you for so long. I wasn’t going to let you roam around this hotel alone Lexie.

When you use your pet name for me I think ‘Am I in trouble or are you?’

Now don’t start thinking trouble. He took her elbow and said, Let’s sit on one of those plush sofas where we can talk. They left the check-in desk, and Winston added more discreetly.

I have to remind myself where we are. We do not want any trouble with the Soviets.

Uncle Win, you are not in any kind of trouble here are you? Alexis asked as a flash of anxiety shot through her body.

No, no, no. I’m here on approved business. In fact the higher ups were pleased to see me.

Oh that’s unusual. Why did you get such a welcome?

Sable pelts. You remember Johnny Williams—the man I hired to select the sable pelts. He’s the best in the business, and he accompanied me here.

Alexis raised her eyebrows. Oh yes. I remember. Sable pelts. You know what they do to capitalists here. You’ve got to be a professor who’s just in love with this city to be allowed here, Alexis teased.

She continued, How is that going by the way?

"The extremely wealthy in the States and the customers in my shop in Paris are going bananas. The sable coat is the diamond of the fur industry. Right now their price ranges from $148,000 and up for a coat. I’m here with Johnny to see what he looks for when selecting the finest sable pelts. They will go into my new studio in California