[El_Roy_1999]

Of course, comments are welcome. The FMG part is approaching, I swear. It took quite some time in my last story, but I hope it was worth the wait.

Lap of Luxury

As the huddled masses climbed out of the rusty Antonow airplane, Michelle and Calvin took a few minutes to accept the climate. Moscow suddenly seemed like Florida when compared to the biting cold of the Siberian countryside. A makeshift pathway made of wood led them to the airport hall. After a rather short bureaucratic procedure involving two hundred dollars, they got out and managed to find a taxi. The machine turned out to be a powerful and sparkling new Volvo, howling with diesel power.
The driver got out, actually saluted, and added:
“Mr. Lemontow sends his regards. You are invited to stay at his hotel for the time of your visit.”
The two travellers looked at each other in astonishment. Seconds later, they were on the road to the city centre. Passing several soviet-time buildings and apartment blocks, they arrived at a luxurious palace. Neither of them would have dreamt of spending the ridiculous amount of money to stay there, but being invited, a look of gladness washed over their faces.
Inside, a porter immediately took care of their luggage. The concierge quickly accomplished the welcoming ritual and informed them in perfect British English that Mr. Lemontow already awaited them in the lobby.
Moments later, they sat down. Their host turned out to be a thin, tall man in his forties, raven-haired and pale. Wearing a tailored suit and tasteful jewellery, he fitted perfectly into his surroundings. He gave them a friendly smile, offered them a glass of mineral water and said:
“Mr. Tartakin was right, you are gorgeous. I hope that you were not taken by surprise at my rather direct invitation, but it seemed easier for me to make contact. Do feel at home.”
Michelle seemed taken aback by the fact that Tartakin had informed this man of their coming. The dark-haired woman tried to hide her annoyance.
“What else has Tartakin told you? What is your interest in all this?”
“I see, straightforward and honest. As they say in bad spy films, American virtues. Mr. Tartakin has told me that you wished to visit the abandoned research facilities for a story in your newspaper. He also implied that you had friends in high places and that he’d be happy for you to have a nice stay. Being an old friend, I hardly could have refused, couldn’t I?”
The woman sighed. It was fascinating to see how small the world’s largest country could be.
“Indeed, we would like to visit the science centre. It’s an article about soviet research during the 1960s and 70s. Since most of the official is classified and shadowy at best, a local point of view might help. We’d like to interview the residents and see what they know about the workings there.”
“Splendid. I’d be glad to help. Of course, this is a free country, but if you need something, you are cordially invited to drop my name.” He grinned. “When you’re done, I’d definitely like to read the final text. Maybe there’s something to be learned about local history.”
“Are you from around here?”
“My father was deported here by Stalin and stayed here after his liberation. The Lemontows have always been businessmen and he soon managed to climb the social ladder. Just because we were a society of equals didn’t mean that there was no room above. I studied in Czechoslovakia and returned after the collapse. As a matter of fact, I have almost no knowledge about the local events in the 70s.”
“Alright. Well, we are thankful for your hospitality, but it was a long flight. If you don’t mind…”
“Do enjoy your stay.”
The pair got up. Going to the elevators, Michelle asked Calvin:
“Why were you so quiet?”
“I’m tired, it’s alright.” Whispering he added: “Besides, there was a guy in the rear who constantly observed us. I don’t think we can trust any of these people.”
She nodded as the elevator went up. Downstairs, the man in the back left the lobby and pulled out his cell-phone.

[El_Roy_1999]

Second part.

Freezing point

“Siberia, no less!” Calvin was furious. The 6’4” man had been compressed into a very small and uncomfortable chair in an equally small and uncomfortable plane, whose irregular yet frequent groaning heralded no good. “I cannot tell you how much I hate this country. It’s cold, everything is on the verge of breaking down and everybody keeps looking at you as if you were Santa Claus!” His left-hand neighbour, a large, mud-blond woman in her forties grinned at him, apparently amused by his anger.
As far as anybody on this plane was concerned, the last person Calvin was actually resembling was Father Christmas. He was tall, fit, wearing his chestnut hair in an intellectual’s ponytail. The designer-glasses and the equally expensive jeans completed the personal assistant’s attire. Michelle had hired him years ago, he had gone to college with her and had worked at the same campus newspaper. Actually, they were more like partners, but she was the “face” of their operation. After a very short moment of romance right after college, they had settled for a business relationship that had lasted for almost a decade, but which was right now on the verge of breaking.
“Calm down, please. If Tartakin told us the truth, we’ll be on our way back in four days. I assure you, the next project will be somewhere hot.”
He seemed unconvinced.
“I know, I know. It’s going to be the Sahara, or the Rub al-Khali or whatever. I’m seriously fed up with all this exotic locale shit. We could do something about a development project in India, or a political coup in South America. Get a Pulitzer. There’s no point to go somewhere where no man has gone before. “Gulag archipelago” has been done.”
“I’ll check with my aunt and we’ll go someplace that’s going to look like a holiday.”
“Anything will look like a holiday compared to this!” At this moment, the machine gave a loud, creaking noise, instantly silencing everyone aboard. At the rear of the plane, mumbling prayers were heard. Whispering, Calvin turned to Michelle and asked:
“What do you expect to find there anyway? All the research materials and personnel must have been taken to the US years ago if they’re worth the trouble.”
“I don’t think so. Apparently, there’s a local magnate, a guy by the name of Lemontow, who’s actually supporting the area and keeping the specialists around. Besides, it’s one of the wealthiest places in the world if you look at their resources.”
“They certainly don’t look wealthy if you look at them right now.”
At last, the plane started it’s descent, reaching the airfield safely. The continuous jerking and rumbling had scared both of them, but now that they returned to terra firma, they calmed down.

[El_Roy_1999]

What about Maria Grazia Cucinotta? She's not a big star, but she was in a Bond-movie, looks Mediterranean (she's from Sicily) and looks like this: http://www.tuxjunction.net/maria.htm

Besides, she was in Il Postino, so she's a kind of star. And she's not teenage.

[El_Roy_1999]

Well, more bangs for your buck!

Fullsize: http://img54.imageshack.us/my.php?image=aki25dd.jpg

[El_Roy_1999]

I'm not even remotely as good as those guys, but what the hell, I'm inspired. Consider it fanart!

[El_Roy_1999]

Well, my sister had the same thing going for a few years (if I'm not mistaken in your case). It eventually worked out, but she managed to explain it to me, so I understand it. I could go on for hours on the subject, but I guess it's best we leave it at that.
My scars are more of the "look at this one, I barely survived it" kind, so it's a case of pride. I look rather stitched for that matter. On the other hand, those are the hardships of youth.

Still: Kulli, all the great artists suffer, and even though you don't have to force it, you definitely are one of the greats in your field. Honestly, you rule.

[El_Roy_1999]

Here's my contribution: Yours, of course, is very beautiful and best of all, hand-drawn.

[El_Roy_1999]

Sorry. Didn't want to annoy you.

[El_Roy_1999]

Ladies, this definitely looks like someone is living the dream. I'm really impressed by both of your ambition and straight-forwardness. Definitely a fan!

BTW, Kulli, those are some awful scratches you got on your forearms. What happened?

[El_Roy_1999]

Late, but there: My try at morphing the marvelous Kulli. (Honestly, I prefer the original, but well, it's l'art pour l'art, isn't it?)

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