The Never Ending Quest For Sanity

CHAPTER 12B

Everyone had a king they wished to kill in life, no matter the circumstances.  For some, it was competition with their wife’s affection, whether it was a person or even a job that took their time away from the time they wanted with that special woman in their life.  More than too often, men were taken aside by work, the life of a workaholic an unpleasant strain on the one that was supportive, but conditionally, the extent to which they were equipped to handle only reaching so far before either walking away or, in some cases, sabotaging their career or social circle with such secrets that would rock their lives to the core.  There were too many Kings to kill and the ammo, as well as the methods, were rather limited.

As they began, there was evidently a large part of the detective’s life that had been disturbed prior to what had brought Sergey to the attention he needed someone to talk to concerning his lot in life.  The portfolio of his life lay before the two of them in the office where Sergey would work to revive the purpose of many who had temporarily misplaced, all not being lost as they had perceived.

As the detective took his seat across from Sergey, the pressure was on Sergey to train this man to be a pawn of his own doing.  However, since he was affiliated with the Police, there were obviously signs he recognized, the ability to read people possibly on a blinding level of perfection.  

However, this would prove to be almost entirely true, as Sergey could also read people and sum them up in 10 minutes of conversation, the answers they provided completely definitive of their personality.  

“Please, have a seat.”  Sergey was nervous, but didn’t let it show.  This would be a downfall in which he could not correct nor recover.  It was essential that he should deliver, the dependency on his abilities on the highest of all considerations.

“Thank you, Sergey.”  

As he sat, he began to scan the room, noticing the degrees on the wall from impressive universities that showed he was capable in the eyes of the institutions that had provided so many with the keys to their future and fortune.  

“Tell me, have you ever been to Russia?”  He noticed the detective was studying a framed photo Sergey kept on his desk that showed the family standing in front of the front door of Sergey’s childhood home that had been kept in the family, bequeathed to his parents after his grandmother passed away.  It had been a ghastly accident that involved a man who was mentally disturbed.  They soon arrested the man in the act of stabbing Sergey’s grandmother as well as the doctor that had labeled him as mentally fit to return to society.  The paperwork for the patient, Mikhail Kravkov, had been falsified due to a bribe from the Kravkov family.  Both were soon in prison.  

The man, however, had not acted alone.  Nastassia Sivkova had aided in the attack, playing the part of the woman who was in search of her dog.  Sergey’s grandmother had always loved animals and even owned a dog as well.  She was unknown to the assailant and it was by mere, damnable chance that they had encountered one another.  

“What is wrong?”  His grandmother, Masha Naumova, soon learned that there was an error in helping strangers that day.

“My dog!  He’s disappeared and I fear someone may have taken him or he may be dead!”  She had a natural ability to portray the sorrows that accompanied someone who either was genuinely experiencing a loss or had experienced a loss.

“Oh!  Do not worry!  We will find him.  Please, take this.”  She offered a tissue from her purse, which the woman took in hand, wiping away the crocodile tears that had streamed along her cheeks unbidden.  

“Thank you.”  The woman stood for a moment, appearing to regain composure.  She began to scan the scenery that the dog she had pretended to lose might have explored.  There was an abandoned building where her partner in crime lurked, laying in wait for his victim as she came.  She pointed toward the building, then turned to Masha.  “Please help me look for him.  I think he may have entered that building.  Can you come, please?  I would feel much better knowing there were 2 sets of eyes.”

“It would be my pleasure.”  

The two women began the journey to the building, which was only a block, away but visible from the spot they stood in at the moment.  After a few moments, they stood at the doorway of the building, which was old and run down from years of neglect.  

If her dog had wandered in, the unknown hazard that lay within would surely take his life.

Inside a room not too far to the entrance, concealed by a door that was ajar slightly, Mikhail sat on an old stool just behind the crack, peering into the building that had seen its better days.  There was evidence of others who had visited the building as a means of shelter from the cold winters that plagued Russia.  Sometimes it would get so bitterly cold that the shelter would provide a barrier to the harsh winds, but the human body could only take so much of the weather and often died, the unpleasant sights often discovered by police and passerby alike.  

“Please, be careful.  This place is scary to me.”  The two women entered the building with caution, scanning for potential dangers that may exist.  However, upon finding none, they were soon at ease and Nastassia began to walk toward the door.  Masha didn’t pay attention to Nastassia, her attention fixated on the graffiti stricken walls that she stood before.  Obscenities and transient art alike were displayed, the very spirit of those who had come all that was left.  The door soon closed and Masha jerked her attention backward to see Mikhail next to Nastassia, their gaze fixated on Masha, who now realized she had made a mistake.

“It’s ok.  If you don’t scream we might let you live.”  Mikhail finished his vodka and hurled the bottle on the wall that was no more than 4 feet from Masha.  The shatter of the bottle showered her with drops of vodka as well as debris from the crash of the bottle.  One of the fragments had ricocheted from the wall and nicked her exposed arm, the impact drawing one small drop of blood.  He approached Masha and the look in his eyes indicated his intentions.  Masha was afraid of this man but remained quiet.

“She’s smarter than the last one.”   Mikhail smiled at this, nodding.  His smile began to widen, revealing the evil that was in his darkened soul.

“Please, don’t do this.  I have money, much money!  I can give it to you if you wish!”

“I’m not interested in your money...currently.  We just want your life.”  The man produced a knife from his right hip pocket and opened it, revealing a sharp point that had killed before, of which Masha was quite certain.

“Please!  Please, don’t!  I have a family, and--”

“A family is nothing when we have to fulfill a plan put onto us by a very wealthy man.”  He turned to Nastassia.  “Did you see if you were followed?”

“No, I was not.”

“This should be perfect, then.”  He lunged toward Masha and, as she attempted to run, was frozen due to fear.  It wasn’t much time later--a split second--that the knife inbedded in her rib cage, the blood gushing forth with undammed force.  Her expression of shock and pain was painted across her face and she fell to the ground, still alive but not for long as Mikhail reached for the knife, pulling it out and licking the blood from the blade, closed his eyes in ecstasy, breathing a sigh of pleasure as he savored the blood of an innocent.

“Finish her.”  The man nodded at the firm command and drove the knife repeatedly into her, an action that was soon interrupted by the police, who wrestled Mikhail to the ground, the knife sailing to the corner, the blood peppering the walls.  Soon, Mikhail was arrested, Natassia was already handcuffed and under the watchful eye of the police officer that had taken her without struggle.  Within 30 seconds or less, the two assailants’ situations had changed from one of freedom to kill to neutralized, no longer a danger to any more that may fall into their trap.

They were escorted from the building and loaded into the truck that would transport them to their new home behind the watchful eye of those who monitored the prisoners, the errors very few to almost nonexistent.  It was quite certain that there would be no small errors that would occur that other facilities in charge of keeping criminals from the general public would commit, resulting in further chaos.

The execution had occurred shortly before Sergey had come to America and there was no doubt that justice had been served, he had only wished it had been by his hand and not the people entrusted to execute those who had done such heinous things.  

A cold winter morning greeted those who were observing the execution and Mikhail was approached first.  He was not given the opportunity to speak final words and was soon shot in the forehead, falling limp.  An additional 5 shots were embedded in his head and the blood ran like a river from his wounds as he lay on the ground, the death far from dignified for a man who was well deserving of the fate.

Nastassia grew nervous, having seen Mikhail’s punishment rendered to him in a mere few moments, when they would assure that he had expired, not leaving the body until he was completely still, the smell of death filling the air.  This pleased the noses of the executioners and those on the outside were cheering as well as he met the appropriate fate.

As they stood in front beside Nastassia, the barrel of the gun was at the back of her head.  With one single command, they fired 6 shots into her head also, killing her almost immediately.  She was alive for a little while when they delivered the final shot from another gun, sentencing her to a life in what they hoped was Hell, for what she had aided.  She was just as guilty and nothing thrilled them any greater than to see her fate match that of her partner’s.

It had been a great day for Sergey’s family and now, with the detective in his presence, he could begin seeking help against the family that had come to America shortly after Mikhail was executed due to being exiled by those in the community, and have the ability to wipe out the bloodline for good.

As he took in the words that the detective spoke, he began to see the weak spots and documented them in the file, knowing they would be of use later.

The session had officially begun.