Little Semyon sighed heavily. Papa was coming tonight. He didn’t want Papa to come. Papa was too much like Stefan and he wouldn’t look at Semyon’s picture either. The little boy wandered into the kitchen and sat down at the small table, watching his mama.  

“Why the long face, maya dorogaya?” Sophia asked, moving from the stove to caress her little boy’s face.  

“Stefan said my picture was stupid,” he said softly. “Papa will too.”  

“Your picture is beautiful, my Semyushka. All your pictures are beautiful.” Sophia smiled warmly and his serious brown eyes lit up. “Someday, you may even become a great painter.”  

Semyon smiled. “And I can fly airplanes too?”  

“Of course!”  

“And be a detective?”  

“Why not?”  

“And have a big black car?”  

Sophia looked at her little son, smiling tenderly. “You may have anything you want when you grow up, and be anything you want to be.”  

Semyon threw his arms around her neck in a tight hug. “I love you, Mama!”  

Sophia hugged him back, and when she released him and set him on the floor, she tapped his backside to get him moving. “Go wash your face and hands please.”  

Semyon did as he was told and stayed on his best behavior, as hard as it was, but Papa never came. The little family ate without him and when the boys went to bed Stefan was in quite a sour mood. Semyon noticed immediately that his teddy bear was not on his bed, and he glared at Stefan’s back, then marched up to him.  

“Where’s my bear?” he demanded, arms cross over his chest and looking quite ferocious for a five year old.  

“Grow up, Semyon,” Stefan snarled.  

“Nyet!” Semyon said for the second time that day.  

Stefan whirled around, the look he gave his brother full of hatred. “I threw it in the trash. He’s on his way to the dump right now.”  

Chocolate brown eyes filled with tears, and Semyon crawled into his bed. He didn’t sleep very well without that bear and Stefan knew it. Maybe he’s lying, the boy tried to comfort himself. But it was little use and he tossed and turned all night.  

***

Frank and Joe stepped into the café, and as instructed took a seat at a table in the back right corner. Frank perused the menu, not really hungry but just wanting to see how much of it he could read. Joe scoped out the café, noting how busy it seemed to be.  

They were joined about ten minutes later by a man who could only be Milov. He dispensed with the pleasantries quickly and went right to the point.  

“Matt Walker is assisting the US and Russian governments in a sting operation. Your client is jeopardizing the entire operation.”  

“A sting?” Joe’s blue eyes had gone wide, partly with shock from the sudden announcement and partly with disbelief.  

“Yes, a sting. Right now, Matthew is in no danger.”  

“May I ask what kind of sting and why Matt?” Frank inquired.  

“Matthew has a Master’s in Russian studies,” Milov said. He was contacted by your government and he volunteered.”  

It did not escape the notice of either young man that Milov ignored the first part of the question. “Is Matt in any sort of danger?” Joe asked, even though the man had already stated he wasn’t, hoping he might elaborate.  

“At the moment, no. But if Congressman Walker does not drop the investigation, he might never see his son again.”  

Frank said nothing, and underneath the table he nudged Joe’s leg with his knee, a signal for Joe to say nothing Something’s not right here, Frank told himself. One quick glance at Joe confirmed he was thinking the same thing.  

Milov said nothing else for several minutes, just stared at the brothers. It was pretty clear to them both that he would not be saying another word. Frank made a snap decision to play along and asked no more questions.  

Milov finally stood and left the café, not even bothering to wait for the tea he had ordered.  

“I don’t trust him, Frank,” Joe said in a low voice. “That sounded rehearsed and doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”  

“I agree. That’s why we’re going to follow him.” Frank tossed a few rubles on the table to pay for Milov’s tea, and then the brothers left the café.  

The man had stopped to light a cigarette, so Frank and Joe easily caught up with him. The mass of people made it easy to stay hidden, but it also made it more difficult to keep their quarry in sight. Milov boarded the Metro, and after a fifteen minute ride he de-barked, the Hardys still on his tail.  

He led them into the warehouse district. They were forced to hang back a little further to keep from being spotted, and decided to follow from the other side of the street. This area of town wasn’t exactly hospitable to tourists, and their clothing screamed “American!”  

Milov walked almost four blocks and stopped in front of a rather worn, run-down brick building. Frank and Joe ducked into an alley on the other side of the street, watching from the shadows it provided. Milov glanced around, then entered the building through the front door.  

“What now?” Joe asked.  

“We’ll come back tomorrow morning,” Frank answered as he jotted down the address in his handheld.  

Joe nodded in agreement. Even though summer evenings in Russia were long, two obviously American tourists in this part of town would quickly attract attention of the unwanted kind. “So how about we get something to eat now?”  

Frank laughed softly as they hurried back to the Metro stop. Leave it to Joe to always be thinking about the next meal, Frank chuckled silently to himself.  

Once back in Moscow proper and within close proximity of their hotel, they picked a small café with a varied menu and sat down to enjoy a leisurely dinner.  

“Are you going to try to get in touch with Callie when we get back?” Joe asked once they’d given their orders.  

Frank shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t blame her for wanting some space. It was a rather large bombshell to drop on her all at one time.” He picked a piece of lint off the tablecloth and sighed, remembering her stunned reaction when he’d told her he was born Russian. “Maybe we just moved too fast and both need some time to look around.”  

“But there’s nothing wrong with committing to one girl, Frank. Not every guy in the world is meant to go through as many girls as I’ve gone through. Sasha is nice and everything, but she doesn’t have “Frank’s soulmate” written all over her in big black letters either.”  

“And Callie does?”  

Joe smiled. “She might. But the two of you have to figure it out for yourself.”  

Frank shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m getting advice on girls from you!”  

“Hey, what better source than the one who’s had so much experience? There’s something different and wonderful about a steady relationship with a special girl. All that bouncing around from girl to girl gets pretty tiring. I wouldn’t trade Vanessa for the world.”  

The waitress delivered their meals and both dug in with gusto.  

“I think you should call her when we get home,” Joe said a few minutes later. “She’s had time away from her parents to get her bearings. Who knows, maybe she’s trying to work up the nerve to call you!”  

Frank smiled. “Alright. I’ll call her!”

 

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.