Evil Rides Tonight

"Sir Thomas Albrecht is still missing after disappearing four weeks ago from a St. Petersburg hotel."

The camera cut to gritty black and white security footage.

"The 42-year-old, Nobel Prize winning economist was seen returning from the evening of October 2nd and walking to the lobby elevator, but oddly, there is no footage of him leaving the hotel. He was not found in his room, but all of his belongings remained..."

MOSCOW, OCT 31

James stood in his towel brushing his teeth while he watched the TV. He never watched the 24-hour news circus except on the road. He'd wake up, do some yoga, and then -- relaxed and in a good state of mind -- turn on the TV. He'd listen to the indiscernible mumbling frequencies of the anchors through the steaming water. Then he would brush his teeth and watch the world burn before heading downstairs for a hearty breakfast.

James saw her at reception. Her presence was an immediate reprieve from the stone-faced Russian businessmen milling about in various states of vodka-induced drunk--and it was only nine in the morning. One of the two robed figures in her party noticed his gaze twisting up the length of her leg, but James would not be dissuaded from enjoying the curves of a woman so beautiful, even the curves he could only imagine. It was snowing, after all, and the women of Moscow were bundled up accordingly. Her stockings eventually stopped in a thick line of embroidered black lace that hugged her leg tightly. Above it he could make out the creamy skin of her thigh before his gaze reached the hem of her heavy coat. He let his imagination fill in the details between her thighs and breasts; her chest billowed out round and perky from the fur lining of her coat into milky cleavage. Curly dark hair spiraled around their contours inviting his glance higher. As he reached the profile of her face, she turned, gazing directly at him by sheer chance.

James was struck. Her deep green eyes were arresting -- scared. He would never forget the terrified look on her face. Where was she from? Central Russia? Mongolia? Somewhere in-between? She registered him for only a moment before flitting her long eyelashes and returning to her conversation with the concierge. He could tell by her manner that she was intelligent.

The two robed figures rushed to her sides, breaking all but a glimpse of her thighs and the curve of her coat as it rounded her firm butt. Were these monks of some kind? Bodyguards? Either way they had just spoiled his morning. He took another sip of coffee and went back to reading his report.

But then he saw it fall: a credit card from her purse. His heart leapt. He stood up and folded his paper, took a hurried last sip of coffee, grabbed his coat and walked over to her confidently.

"Excuse me. Excuse me, miss!" The robes spun around and stepped towards him. James bent to his knee, grabbed the card, and looked up to hand it to her with a smile. Two expressionless faces stared back silently from hooded shadows; between them she stood. Green eyes met his, and, for a moment, her scared expression broke. She smiled back at him.

"Clumsy me! Thank you so much! That would've been a disaster." Her voice was a mountain stream, its accent light and lively. The robes stood by, motionless. Not amused.

"My pleasure," James smiled. "Wouldn't want you trapped in Moscow."

"It might be too late for that." She laughed nervously. He tried not to swallow. She was truly wonderful. "Thank you again."

He backed away in agony, wishing he could stop time. As she turned back to the desk she cast a concerned glance at one of the robed figures. Her happy expression dissolved back into worry.

His good deed done, James turned for the door, pulling his coat over his shoulders. The bellboy opened the door. James turned his face from the freezing flurry of snow and looked over his shoulder to take her in one final time. The robes were standing at her sides, their backs to the concierge. They watched James as he left.

It was unseasonably cold for the end of October--so unseasonable it left the meteorologists scratching their heads. The snap had hit a few days ago, defying all weather models. The morning looked like evening. Dark, forbidding clouds swirled in the sky.

---

The second time James saw her was at the conference. She walked in unnoticed during his presentation, along with 'The Hoods' -- as he decided to call them -- and she sat in the back of the great hall. When he eventually noticed her, he stuttered for a moment before composing himself. He did his best to blend her into the faceless crowd; this was important, after all, and he was a professional. But as he reached the climax of his speech, his Three Points for World Economic Unity -- what he knew was the pinnacle of his career, thus far -- he looked towards her. She smiled at him, broad and wide. Yes. He continued with his points, emboldened, until seconds later, he saw her stand and abruptly leave the venue through the back, coat in arm, followed by her robed coterie. Before she ducked through the door, he saw...

Was she? No. A bump? WAS she...pregnant?

It was hard to tell from this distance. If so, it would only add to her beauty and the mystique that radiated from her. He wanted to give chase, to confirm his suspicion, to see her smile again. But he caught himself and continued speaking. He was a professional, after all.

---

Standing ovation.

Everyone in the hall stood, except for a portly man in the back row, who clapped lazily with a smirk on his face. James stepped from the stage, shook hand after hand, made small talk and signed a few books, gradually making his way to the man, who remained seated, legs crossed, doing a crossword puzzle. The man smirked.

"How could it be? Everyone else rushed to the man who will save the world, but in the end, he is the man who comes to me?"

"Hello, Nikolai the Great." The man stood and they embraced. "And I haven't saved anything yet!"

"And you won't!" Nikolai laughed from his belly. "But you can at least buy me dinner. Come! I'm starving!"

---

"I'm going to make one final point and then we will order dessert." Nikolai was already tipsy.

"Oh here it comes! I'm listening." James sighed and finished his last bite of salmon. After the stifling admiration of the crowd, dinner with Nikolai was always a breath of fresh air.

"You can reorder the world in any way you like, kind sir, BOT!" (This is how Nikolai pronounced the word BUT.) Nikolai held his fork up ceremoniously, "the cat will always come back."

"The cat?"

"Yes." He sipped his vodka. "The cat." He coughed. "A big one."

James laughed. "I didn't take you for a crazy cat lady."

Nikolai scowled. "Listen carefully." He rapped his fork on the table. "You make claims on natural order and evolution, human and otherwise. BUT! Did you ever consider the universe exists because Mother Nature wanted a smart phone and a hamburger?"

James applauded. "Riveting argument, as always! I'm swayed, truly! I have so much to do! I'll retract my economic proposal tomorrow..."

"Good! And tell them I said it was shit." They both laughed. "Now order me the chocolate cake and some strong coffee."

James motioned for the waiter and ordered. "Now if you'll excuse me for a moment, Nikolai, I have a quick call to make."

"Fine! Fine! Make your call. Your work is done."

---

James stepped into the long corridor that led to the toilet.

VIDEO CALL

The phone rang.

CONNECTING

A headless figure answered.

"Oh no! Where'd your head go?"

"It's right here!" the headless figure pushed a pumpkin head towards the camera.

"Whoa! That must have hurt."

"Evil rides tonight!"

James had been divorced for four years; he didn't want to talk about it.

"Where's your sister?"

"She already caught her bus."

His wife fetched the phone. "I've got to get this horseman to school. Halloween is hectic this year, as you can see: we're all losing our heads...Is it cold over there?"

"Yep."

"Good," she looked pleased with this news. "Say goodbye to daddy..."

A pumpkin head was held high to the camera.

"Evil rides tonight! Evil rides tonight!"

CALL ENDED

James laughed and walked back to Nickolai, who resumed talking before James could even sit down.

"But seriously, James, you'd be surprised what happens when you set about the supposed Path of Goodness. Take my friend Andrei Mikhailov for instance."

"The archeologist? The Andrei from your party last year? How's he doi--"

"SO MY FRIEND ANDREI..." Nikolai hated being interrupted. "Eight months ago a mining company calls him. They were drilling in Mongolia on the steppe. They came across something interesting: trinkets, a few chicken bones, some shards of pottery. Ancient garbage, basically. This was a Russian mining company owned by some billionaire, mind you -- you know the one's: with their 'McDachas' and yachts. Usually they would just drill on through until the black flowed, BUT..." Bot...

"...One of the new techs fancied himself an amateur archeologist. He calls Andrei, who quickly pulls some government strings. The mining is called off. The amateur archeologist is fired -- if you ask me, he's lucky he's not floating headless in the Moskva! I think Andrei took pity on the guy and let him join his team. Anyhow, they show up to the site and begin digging, and, before too long, it becomes clear to Andrei that he has found the big one."

"The big one?" James leaned forward, interested.

"The BIG one." Nikolai stretched his hands wide. "The find of his career!" James shook his head knowingly -- he felt close to a similar pinnacle in his own career.

"The artifacts Andrei kept pulling from the ground were of a nature so extraordinary and beautiful, he could barely contain his wonder. He kept it close. Of course, he confided in me, since Nikolai the Great can keep a secret--"

"Allegedly." James rolled his eyes.

"He calls me one evening late. He tells me. 'I almost have it. All the signs point to it. I know I'm close to reaching it.'"

"It?"

"IT! A burial chamber. He had hit a block. A stone! It was carved with ancient writing. Andrei is gifted in languages, so he could make most of it out, I assume. After he deciphered it, he sent his team away immediately. He told me he was going back in the dead of night to cut through the stone himself -- that he couldn't chance being killed on the steppe, his discovery going to waste..."

"Paranoid."

Nikolai scowled and continued. "BUT, he said something else. That what he had read on the stone had chilled him to the core. He said he might have to rebury the chamber. Rebury it! He said that some things were better left buried forever." Nikolai ate a piece of cake. "I was worried for him. I was, I was!"

"What did the block say?" James was fascinated, but not entirely convinced this story wasn't headed for a punch line.

"He wouldn't tell me. Believe me, I asked!" Nikolai said, with his mouth full of cake. "He told me he just needed to tell someone he was there. For his safety. For everyone's safety."

"So what happened?" James took a sip of coffee.

"That was the last I heard from him--"

"WHAT!?" James froze mid-sip.

"FOR THREE MONTHS..."

Nikolai hated being interrupted.

"And then his wife called me. He was back in Moscow. She said I should come by and check on him. So I did. He sat in his big plush chair, staring out the window."

Nikolai acted the part, stiffening in his chair and pretending to shake.

"He had a cup of tea next to him on the table, untouched. He could barely speak. I asked him, 'Andrei, what happened out there on the steppe?' He looked to me, I'll never forget the look on his face and what he said."

"What did he say?"

"He looked at me and he said:

'There is Evil. It is waiting for us. However good my intentions were: to stop the mining to begin digging -- I found it. And the moment I found it, it found me. I knew I had to control it. To stop it. To bury it. But however good my intentions were, I could not. It controlled me. It stopped me. It buried me. Finally I found a way to escape. But when I turned back to kill it dead and end the madness, I failed. And now it has escaped, and it's out there waiting for the right moment to take us all.'"

Nikolai took a final bite of cake and talked as he chewed. "He didn't say anything after that. I assured him everything would be fine and he should get some rest. He looked at me and said there's no time to rest. I hugged his wife and left. I heard a week later she had to commit him."

---

The taxi driver drove recklessly back to the hotel. James and Nikolai sat in the back watching the roaring blizzard through the windows. They had left dinner just in time. It was getting worse outside. They would be snowed in tomorrow for sure.

"Stay warm, dear friend." Nikolai embraced him firmly and held on.

"Thanks for coming."

"Anytime my friend." He huffed, patting James's back, before releasing his grip. "Keep fighting the good fight. May you have a life free of cats."

"Well, I have two cats back at home."

Andrei nodded. "It is enough."

---

The third time James saw her was when he walked in from dinner. She was at the hotel bar, her back to him. He recognized her immediately. He looked around. No robes in sight.

"Whiskey straight." He stepped beside her, eschewing a seat. He kept his eyes on the bartender and addressed her. "Shouldn't you be avoiding the alcohol?"

"Oh yeah? Why is that?"

"I can think of a few reasons." He gestured with his eyes to her pregnant belly. Though pregnant, she was a tiny thing.

She feigned a pout. "Can't a girl pretend? Or would you banish me to bed rest and soap operas?"

"I'll let it slide this time."

"Well, thank you! I'm learning pretty quickly that a body like this is asking for free advice -- mostly from old ladies who should mind their own business."

"I'm James."

"Eva."

James pointed to her glass. "So Eva, can I get you another--"

"Water with lime?" She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I'd prefer your whiskey straight. A few of them actually."

"What's a girl like you doing in St Petersburg in the dead of winter?"

"Nice line." Eva rolled her eyes. "I've been asking myself the same question." She eyed the green lime floating in her glass. "There's just something I need to take care of..."

Her voice trailed off. She grabbed the glass and took a sip. He noted how her bottom lip pushed softly against the glass, how the water poured over it. She pulled the glass away, leaving a lipstick print. He looked at her hand. Perfect and lithe. She wore no ring. She looked behind her nervously then back to her glass as she set it down.

"So where are The Robes, uh...your friends?"

"Asleep? Chanting in their room? Fuck knows!"

"They seem like quiet types."

"Ha, worse."

James figured he wouldn't beat around the bush. "Did 'daddy' come with you?"

She glared at him. "Cheeky! NO! He's not exactly the most present father, for which I am thankful." She looked forward, bringing a hand to her belly. She stared at the bottles in front of her on the bar. "I hope to never see him again."

James regretted being so direct. "So...I saw you today."

She smiled. "I saw you too, James."

"And?"

"Excellent work...though it's a bit optimistic."

"Ha. Okay, Nikolai."

"What?" she squinted and smiled. "Nikolai?" Fuck, she was cute.

"Excuse me, reflex. What do you do?"

"I'm an economist."

"Economist! What do you think about Sir Thomas Albrecht?"

"It's a crazy world." She shook her head. "But I'm fairly certain it could be worse." She took another sip. "You know Tom, I know we're two adults at a hotel bar, but maybe we shouldn't talk about something other than work."

"Sounds like you had a bad day."

"Luckily I can drown it with this water." She winked. "Cheers, James. Happy Halloween."

"Happy Halloween." They clinked glasses and drank and sat silently for a moment.

James touched her shoulder lightly. "Why don't you join me at the table over there? It will probably be more comfortable for you anyway. Better than a barstool."

"Sounds like more advice..." She eyed the marble table by the window. "...But I'll take it."

---

"You know they have a lovely is a spa here. You should get a foot massage."

She rolled her eyes and put her hand on her tummy, "You really do want me barefoot and pregnant!"

"Hey, it's not my fault. Your body is asking for it."

She laughed, brushed her hair from her eyes and looked out the window. Tom took the opportunity to ogle her ample cleavage.

She looked back to him demurely. "A foot massage would be nice, but to be honest, my body could use more than a foot massage." She looked in his eyes and bit her lip. "It's constantly craving things."

"Like what." James lost himself in her gaze.

"Well," she giggled to herself, "last night it was ice cream. Yes! In the dead of winter! Luckily room service is great here. They have a wonderful dark chocolate. Mmm. I ate it by the fire in my suite. Of course, I'm a picky girl and requested a cone. The waiter dished it up in my room. It was melting all over my fingers but just to roll it around on my tongue was heaven. My toes were curling in my slippers!"

James laughed. "What about this morning?"

"Chicken wings and pineapple." She gritted her teeth, shrugged, and rolled her eyes. "Soooo good."

Tom laughed "Chicken wings for breakfast. Not bad. And did your toes curl?"

"Yes" she giggled. She tried to curl her toes in her heels.

"And what about tonight?"

She swallowed and looked to him demurely. "Tonight..." she turned toward him. "I'll be honest if you promise not to laugh."

"I promise."

She leaned forward and, with a finger, motioned for him to do the same. Her cleavage pushed from her dress. He could barely contain himself. He took her presence in for a moment, and then inched forward. She brought her lips to his ear. Her hair brushed his neck. She whispered. "French fries."

"Well then." James pulled back to motion for the bartender but she grabbed his hand in hers. She didn't let go. "Wait Tom! I happen to know the French fries from the bar are awful." She squeezed his hand when she enunciated the word awful. Then she motioned him back towards her.

"However, room service has amazing French fries!" She leaned back and opened her eyes wide. "A huge plate of them!"

"You have all the information."

"Yes, I do. And my body's cravings are such that I must bid you and your whiskey adieu, go to my room, and call in an order immediately." Eva laughed.

James' heart dropped.

"That is...unless you like French fries, too."

James grabbed his whiskey and drank it in one big gulp. "You're in luck!"

He stood and offered his hand. She lifted herself up. She didn't let go. They walked to the elevator, her perfect hand in his.

"Your room or mine?" he smiled.

"There's really no question. Obviously, we should pick the best room...which is mine."

"And why is that?"

"You'll see."

---

There was a bronze plate next to the door. "Presidential Suite."

She released his hand at the door and opened her tiny black purse. She rummaged through her purse and with a click of her red nails, found her keycard. She handed it to James. He slid it into the lock. Green light. He pushed the door open and walked into the room, which was less a hotel room and more a lavish apartment with an elegant Russian flair; ornate wooden trim, chandeliers, a wide sitting couch with soft, red upholstery and dark wood legs. Eva set her purse down on the stand next to the door and removed her heels, looking over her shoulder with a smile -- her height dropping those few inches added a sweet vulnerability to her beauty. James wanted to draw her into his arms right there, to have her head against his chest, to run his hands through her hair. Instead he decided to be patient.