Chapter 9: Natasha
Back in Moscow from Paris in the summer of 1992, Iris rang Psycho. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to anyone else. He, at least, would listen to what she had to say.
“So, how’s it going in France? I’m pleased everything’s worked out for you,” said Psycho, welcoming his friend. “How many years is it since we last met? Three? Four? Are you back in the land of your ancestors for long?”
Psycho didn’t believe Iris when she said she was back in Moscow for good.
“Don’t even think about it,” Psycho said, waving his arms. “There’s nothing but blood and filth here. I’m thrilled to bits that the evil empire has come crashing down but life for the garbage in the dustbin of history doesn’t hold out much hope for the garbage.”
“I’m garbage,” Iris replied, almost shouting “I do
