Winter nights in Moscow
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A Well-Lived Life 2 - Book 2 - StephieChapter 7: Визи в Москву (A Visit To Moscow) free porn video
July 27, 1987, Chicago, Illinois
“Mama come?” Jesse asked as we loaded our things into the hired Town Car.
“No, both your Mamas are staying home. Dada, Aunt Kara, and Aunt Jessica will take care of Jesse.”
“Jesse like Kara!” he said emphatically.
“Well, there’s one vote for you, Kara!” Jessica said with a grin.
“Do we have everything?” Kara asked.
I nodded. “All of our bags? Check. Tickets? Check. Passports? Check. Letters from the Embassy and Vanya? Check. Jesse? Check!”
The girls laughed.
“I have all of Jesse’s snacks and some juice boxes for the flights,” Kara said. “I also have his diaper bag, and Kitty.”
“Check!” I said with a small laugh.
Kitty was a small, ratty-looking stuffed kitten that Jesse loved. He didn’t play with it, he just wanted it around, and he hugged and kissed it a lot, and slept with it, which had put some serious wear-and-tear on it. It was the first stuffed animal that he’d had, and had been a gift from my little sister.
“I think you’re all set, big brother,” Stephanie said. “You still have more than an hour to get to the airport with the required two hours before your 4:30pm flight to Amsterdam.”
“Our seats are confirmed and I have boarding passes, so we’re all set.”
“Business Class?” Stephanie asked.
“I considered it, but that would have cost something on the order of four times as much. And there was no way to book anything other than coach on the Aeroflot flight.”
“You should have done what your Colonel friend said and tried to arrange seats on a diplomatic flight!”
“I talked to her husband, and the problem with that was that I would have had to register as an agent for a foreign government. The US is pretty picky about who can be involved at that level. We’ll be fine. We have a four-hour layover in Amsterdam. On the plus side, Vanya arranged for us to spend that time in a VIP lounge at Schiphol.”
“I think we’re all set,” Jessica said.
“I think so, too,” I said. “Squirt, I left you all the possible phone numbers you could need - KLM, Aeroflot, the Russian Embassy in Washington, DC, Colonel Anisimova, Vanya’s home number, the US Embassy in Moscow, the Moscow Hotel, and the Russian Foreign Ministry where Vanya works. Just remember that calling Russia can be quite the pain in the butt.”
“I got it, big brother. Your company won’t fall apart with you gone for ten days, and the house will still be standing.”
“Have you heard from Jorge?” I asked.
“He’s arriving tomorrow,” she said. “I’m going to pick him up in his car. It’s been parked in the street while he’s been gone, and I’ve started it once a week to make sure it keeps running.”
“Cool. OK. Then we’re off!”
I hugged Stephanie, Sofia, and Elyse, and gave Matthew a kiss on the forehead. Kara got Jesse situated in his car seat, and got into the back of the car. Jessica got in the other side, and I got into the front seat.
“KLM departures right, sir?” the driver asked.
“Yes, that’s correct, thanks,” I said.
He put the car in gear, and we were off on our adventure.
“Where are you headed today?” he asked.
“Amsterdam, then Moscow,” I said. “It’s just a layover in the Netherlands.”
“You’re going to Russia? Why?”
“The wedding of a friend of mine. She’s going to enter their diplomatic corps, and she’s marrying a Red Army officer.”
“That has to be some story!” he said.
I spent the rest of the ride to O’Hare explaining how I’d come to know Tanya and her family, and answering a bunch of questions. It turned out that he was of Polish descent, and had little love for the Soviet Union. His family had been lucky to get out of Poland just after World War II, before the Iron Curtain came down on Eastern Europe.
At O’Hare, the driver unloaded our bags and turned them over to a Skycap, who checked our tickets and gave us baggage claims that we’d need to use in Amsterdam. We would have to re-check our bags, because there was no way to book them through because the second leg was on Aeroflot, and we had two sets of round-trip tickets: Chicago to Amsterdam and Amsterdam to Moscow.
With our bags in the care of the Skycap, we went to the KLM check-in desk and presented our tickets and passports. After a short conversation and review of our documents, we were directed to security. We went through the metal detectors and our bags were x-rayed, and then we walked to the departure gate. We still had more than an hour before the flight would be called, so I read, Jessica played with Jesse, and Kara worked on a cross-stitch project.
Eventually, Jesse tired, and came to sit on my lap while I read, and Jessica pulled out a medical text to read. That was another thing that I’d learned - Jessica had hundreds, if not thousands, of procedures, differential diagnosis, and other information to learn and memorize. Medical school had only been a start. The best analogy I could come up with was that medical school was junior hockey and residency was the minor leagues. She’d have to progress through to become a professional, the equivalent of the NHL. It was a silly analogy, but it worked for me.
When our flight was called, we put everything away, strapped Jesse into his combination carrier/car-seat that we’d use on the plane, and grabbed our carry-on bags. Because I’d booked far enough in advance, we had four seats at the front of the coach cabin, which gave us much more leg room than normal, at the expense of not having underseat storage in front of us. That didn’t cause any real trouble, because we each only had one small carry-on bag plus Jesse’s diaper bag. The nice thing was, that there was sufficient floor space in front of us that Jesse would have room to sit or walk around without going up and down the aisles.
“Jesse fly?” he asked.
“Yes, Jesse is going to fly in an airplane!” I said, as I strapped his carrier into the seat next to me.
I was sitting in the left middle seat, with Jessica on my left, and Kara on the other side of Jesse on the other aisle. When the engines started, Jesse jumped and looked a bit nervous, and the nervousness grew as we pushed back from the ramp and taxied. I reassured him, but he seemed almost terrified when the pilot fire-walled the engines and we hurtled down the runway. I took his hand and held it, and wondered if he was going to completely freak out. It turned out I was worried for nothing.
“Jesse fly!” he gurgled, his fear turning to excitement.
“Yes, Jesse is flying,” I said.
The flight across the Atlantic turned out to be a non-event for the adults, though Jesse was alternately excited and bored, and impatient as well. The funniest incident was when he’d asked the pretty, young, Dutch stewardess if he could go outside.
“I don’t think so,” she replied with a very friendly smile. “It’s too cold outside! And very windy!”
The adults around us chuckled, and Jesse looked a bit confused. Kara gave him a juice box and Kitty to distract him, and he was content.
July, 28, 1987, Amsterdam, the Netherlands
At Schiphol, we didn’t have to clear customs or immigration because we were not leaving the airport. We claimed our luggage, and then found the Aeroflot transfer desk. It took a bit of time for all of our documentation to be reviewed and approved, and eventually, our boarding passes were issued. We did use a bit of subterfuge when they asked about our relationship.
“I’m his sister,” Kara spoke up, quickly.
We needed a bit more, which Jessica quickly provided.
“And you are baby’s mother?” she was asked.
“Yes,” she answered smoothly.
Relaxing a few minutes later in the VIP lounge, we discussed the situation.
“I didn’t see any other way out of the issue,” Kara said. “If I hadn’t changed my name to Adams, then being a friend like I was when we went to Stockholm would have worked. I thought it might raise questions here.”
I nodded, “Probably so. I guess I should have talked to Vanya about this. Let’s continue with it. Each of us has our own visa and passport, and they don’t show any relationships.”
“I figured it was easier to claim to be Jesse’s mom,” Jessica said. “Fortunately the little tyke was asleep. Otherwise he might have ratted us out!”
“We need to be careful in Moscow when we present our passports, visas, and documentation. We don’t want Jesse to say something that he shouldn’t. This is why I hate the subterfuge, but governments, especially communist ones, wouldn’t understand. The Dutch might, but the Soviets? No way.”
Our flight was called about ninety minutes after we’d sat down. Jesse had slept most of the time, waking only a few minutes before the flight was called for a fresh diaper and something to eat. We made our way to the gate, and boarded an Ilyushin Il-62 passenger jet for the direct flight to Moscow. The plane was configured with three seats on either side of a central aisle, so we’d asked for, and received, side-by side aisle and center seats. It wasn’t the best choice, but it was the only way to keep one of us from sitting alone. Fortunately, the flight was less than four hours, so it wouldn’t be too bad.
Although this flight was shorter by about half, Jesse was much more frustrated, as we didn’t have the luxury of the extra space that we’d had on the KLM flight. I did my best to keep him occupied, and Kara and I switched seats a couple of times so that she could entertain him. I hoped the Russians sitting around us didn’t mind hearing the same four books read over and over, but it did keep Jesse quiet.
July 28, 1987, Moscow, Russian Soviet Federated Socialist Republic
Mercifully, the time seemed to pass quickly on the flight to Moscow, as the stewards and stewardesses seemed more intent on annoying the passengers than serving them. It fitted every negative stereotype that I had for Soviets, though one of the stewardesses, a young, thin, average looking girl with close-cropped hair, did take a shine to Jesse, who turned on all of his charm.
We landed in Moscow nearly an hour late, though I was unsure why, because there had been no announcement. The plane taxied to a gate in Sheremetyevo-2, the largest of the terminals at the airport. We gathered our things and prepared to leave the plane and pass through customs, immigration, and security. I double-checked that each of us had all of our papers in order, and that I had both letters of invitation with me.
“Ready?” I asked the girls.
“Yes!” they both said, and we headed up the aisle to the door, and then down the Airstairs to the tarmac. I was carrying Jesse’s car seat, and Kara had Jesse in her arms.
“Mr. Adams?” a young man in a suit said, as I reached the bottom of the stairs. He was flanked by a man in what I recognized as a KGB colonels’ uniform.
“Yes, I’m Mr. Adams.”
“Come with me, please, and your family.”
Jessica looked at me and I shrugged, and the three of us followed the two men to a door separate from where the other passengers were headed. We followed the two men down a long hallway, through another door, and into what looked like an office area. They led us to a small room where another KGB officer was waiting.
“May I see your papers, please?” he asked.
I handed over all of the passports, visas, and the letters from the Embassy and Vanya. After a cursory review, he stamped our passports and visas and handed everything back to me.
“Welcome to Russia, Mr. Adams,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said, not knowing what else to do.
“Please follow that man,” he said, pointing the young man in the suit. “Your luggage has been brought to the car.”
We followed him, and the KGB Colonel, through a series of doors, and then outside, where we were directed to what I later learned to be a ZIL-4104 limousine.
“This car will take you to the Moscow Hotel. Minister Voronin will meet you there.”
“Thank you very much,” I said as the driver put our things in the trunk. The girls and Jesse got into the back, and I got into the front, next to the driver. I noticed the man in the suit and the KGB Colonel got into a smaller car which followed us from Sheremetyevo to the Moscow Hotel, a drive into the heart of Moscow which took about 30 minutes.
“Stepa!” Vanya Voronin called out as we walked into the beautiful lobby of the hotel.
“Vanya! How are you?” I responded, before we hugged and exchanged a Russian greeting.
“Good! Good! And this must be Kara, Jessica, and Jesse Stepanovich!”
I introduced them, and Vanya greeted them the same as he had me. Jesse looked a bit confused, but certainly didn’t mind the attention he got from Vanya.
“Thank you for arranging things at the airport. I knew you would have a car waiting, as you said, but it was nice being escorted through quickly!”
“I personally vouched for you, and of course, so did Colonel Anisimova. That made things much easier! Would you like to get cleaned up and have something to eat?”
“Kara? Jessica?” I asked.
“Sure. I assume we’ll get to bed early tonight?”
“Yes, of course.”
Vanya led us to the reception where they took our passports and visas in exchange for room keys, and then had a bellman lead us to the elevators, and to a suite on an upper floor. Vanya came with us, and waited in the sitting room while the girls went into one room, and Jesse and I into another so that we could shower. Jesse and I were cleaned up and dressed and sitting with Vanya when the girls came into the sitting room.
We had a nice late-afternoon meal at a restaurant near the Foreign Ministry building that obviously catered to the elite of the Soviet Union. On reflection, it really wasn’t that different from the exclusive restaurants in New York that catered to the rich and famous. The only difference here was that it wasn’t the rich and famous, but the rulers of the people.
When we finished eating, all of us were tired, so Vanya took us back to the hotel. He had arranged a sightseeing tour for us for the next day, and then a dinner at his home with his wife, Tanya, and her Colonel of Tanks. While we were out, a crib had been put in one of the bedrooms, and we put Jesse down to sleep. I was sure he’d wake up several times during the night, and I offered to let the girls sleep in the other room so I could care for Jesse. They took me up on the offer, and held hands as they walked into the bedroom. I got ready for bed and was fast asleep in a few minutes, despite it only being 8:30pm in Moscow.
July, 29, 1987, Moscow, Russian SFSR
I got out of bed at what my watch told me was 4:30am local time, surprised that Jesse had only woken once during the night. I checked on him, then took a quick shower and dressed. I changed Jesse’s diaper, gave him some formula and a juice box, as well as some crackers to munch on. I read to him after he ate, and then we played a bit. At 6:30am, the phone rang and I answered it.
“Mr. Adams, you have a call from the United States. I will put it through.”
“Hello?” I said.
“Steve? This is Julia, with Elyse and Dave. We’re on the speaker phone in your office at home. Stephanie is here, too.”
“What’s up? And what time is it there?”
“About 10:30pm. Did we wake you?”
“No. Jesse and I were already up. So are the girls, I think, because I hear the shower running. What’s going on?”
“Dante,” Julia said.
“You called me in Moscow because of Dante? What the heck happened?”
“He was pissed that you weren’t at the meeting on Monday. It seems he expected you to do the programming. He threw what I can only describe as a temper tantrum. He demanded that you show up in his office on Tuesday. We tried to explain that you were in Moscow, but he was having none of it. He was waving the contract in our faces and shouting.”
“Jesus. So now what?”
“We left. There really wasn’t anything else to do. His brother called today and said that he calmed Dante down and he wants to meet with us again tomorrow. I’m honestly wondering if we should continue. The guy seems really volatile.”
“Meet with him,” I said. “And assure him that I’ll come see him when I get back. Tell him the 5th. I want a day to recover. Then talk to Jamie and find out what our liabilities are if we do want to tear up the contract.”
“What about Greg?” Dave asked.
“I’d feel bad rescinding the offer,” I said. “And I think Elyse said that we can afford him without this contract, though it would put us just above break-even at our current income and expense levels.”
“That’s right,” Elyse confirmed.
“Then don’t change anything. See if you can calm Dante down. Maybe ask my dad or Joyce to help, if need be.”
“We’ll call both of them in the morning. How is Moscow?”
“What little we’ve seen so far was nice. We have a guided tour today.”
Jo
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