Blog Novel

 Chapter 5.

 

The approach to the megacity of Omsk was extended a bit by a holding pattern.

This gave Greg the opportunity to take a closer look at the big city, which until perestroika and glasnost had been a closed city and off-limits to foreigners. Dissidents had been exiled here. The poet Fyodor Dostoyevsky had spent several years doing forced labor, before settling in St. Petersburg.

Gregory's grandmother had loved Dostoevsky's books. Especially, 'Crime and Punishment' and 'The Brothers Karamazov.' Greg had never read a line of them.

Today, the city was a huge, vibrant industrial metropolis at the confluence of the Irtysh and Om rivers. The Trans-Siberian Railway was and remained an important umbilical cord reaching up to Berlin, 4500 km away. The route of the railroad was clearly visible from above. To the north, one could see the huge industrial area with the massive refinery, one of the largest in the world. And the end, or rather the beginning, of the pipeline that Gregory and his two colleagues were now responsible for maintaining.

 

This week would probably be considerably less fun than the flight here was.

The numbers didn't add up. The amounts of oil leaving the refinery through the pipeline in Omsk did not match the amount measured in Irkutsk, at all.

Every pipe in the world has deviations. Up to 10% was normal, and even because of 15%, surely no one would have demanded that Igor, Gregory, and Sergei come to PETROL SIBERIK headquarters for a whole week to look for the missing oil.

Not in the literal sense, of course, but it wasn't fun.

With rising prices for crude oil and its derivatives, the immense investment in a permanent maintenance force was also expected to pay off by permanently minimizing these losses. Of course, there was almost certainly environmental damage from the leaking crude oil, but that played only a minor role in this investigation.

Gregory Burton had been brought from Alaska for this very reason. Now he could show whether he was worth the money. Greg had an inkling of where the problems lay, but it was not at all easy to address this issue without hurting the Russians' pride in the achievements of their industry. Here, quality management and troubleshooting were handled differently than in Alaska. There, mistakes were seen as a common challenge. Here, more as a failure of a single person or a work group. In this case, their group.

Gregory, of course, saw this quite differently and he had his thoughts on how best to present his approach to solving the problem without smashing china.

Sergei saw primarily the goals they had already achieved in such a short time. The company management probably focused more on the losses that had not yet diminished significantly.

Igor Tomaczinsky was the general manager responsible for materials, vehicles, and personnel. Greg was pretty sure that Igor would manage to put together two more teams for the revisions. Whereas the biggest difficulty was to find people who would really look mercilessly and thoroughly for every single leak, no matter how small. The training for this work was extensive and demanding. The testing procedures, using ultrasound and other metrological techniques, were like the final inspections when a pipeline was completed, except that it was now full of oil and the flow was not usually interrupted unless there were major leaks. Then there was the possibility of draining individual sections between two pumping and intermediate storage stations to replace individual pipe sections. 'Dirty work' in the literal sense. Experienced experts were able to detect oil leaks from the helicopter from the air and then direct the ground teams to the site. Small oil spills were usually easier to spot from a higher vantage point. Greg knew this too, but so far, they had not discussed the use of helicopters. For a moment he thought of Douglas Hames, but the pain that had always accompanied thoughts of him until now was absent this time.

Doug was not flying for revision but transporting cargo. And he had clearly chosen his family. There was, however, someone Gregory could request. He would discuss this with Sergey and then possibly contact Martin Brooks. Their biggest challenge, however, was the time of year: they had only a few weeks of summer left to examine the pipeline once in its entire length, completely and without sentimentality for the value work of Russian workers, for leaks at the pipe joints, for fatigue cracks and corrosion from the inside. There were certainly not a few large loss points but rather many small ones that needed to be found as quickly as possible. The pipeline was already several years old. Winters in Siberia were famous and notorious for their cold and length.

If anyone at all was to blame for the problems, it was ‘Father Frost’, who every winter again ensured that damage to the material could occur with freezing temperatures and meter-high blankets of snow.

It would be different if the pipeline were in the ground, but just like at Greg's home country, that was not possible because of the permafrost.

Greg very much hoped that this explanation could be accepted and that they would continue to have the full support of the company management for their work.

Gregory knew that it was an endless Sisyphean task to find the cracks that kept appearing. The Trans-Alaska-Pipeline was more than one thousand kilometres shorter than the pipe between Omsk and Irkutsk, and yet even there were years with losses greater than 15%.

Not very often though and Gregory was proud of that.

He loved his homeland dearly and wanted to avoid polluting the sensitive Arctic ecosystem with crude oil at all costs.

On Wednesday evening, they returned late to their hotel after an endless meeting. After all, the hotel 'Mayak' was beautifully located between the rivers Om and Irtysh in the historic city centre and offered not only a lot of comfort, but also excellent and above all rich food. Sergei never got tired to point out that the tiny portions in the Moscow luxury hotel were actually not the usual Russian standard at all. Especially in Siberia, guests would generally be served considerably more generously. "In Moscow, I'm sure only starving movie stars and photo models like that frequent!"

It was true. The breakfast buffet at 'Mayak' was stunning and the menu in the restaurant left nothing to be desired in the evening.

Greg, however, felt this at his waistband after only two days.

 

Tonight, however, Sergei was stressed to the max from the last meeting. He felt personally attacked and was frustrated to the core.

Igor had also had enough of the endless theoretical discussions and immediately retreated to his room. Greg would have liked to do the same, but he felt sorry for Sergei. He didn't want his colleague to console himself with too much vodka and suggested a walk through the old town instead. "Come on, Sergei! I wanted to ask you something anyway, and the fresh air will clear the head."

"Well, good. What did you want to ask me?"

The evening was cool, and a thin veil of mist stood over the river like a mysterious harbinger of autumn, which always made a very brief guest appearance here. They walked side by side on the boardwalk and Greg asked Sergei, "Tell me, could you work with a woman, or do you have a problem with that?"

Sergei grinned. "I don't have problems with women at all, but at work, I don't know. What do you have in mind?"

"I could ask Martin if he can spare Elena Ramirez for a few weeks. She's the toughest controller under the sun and could instruct our men and you, too. Of course, she doesn't speak Russian, so you'd have to translate. She can find any hole, no matter how small, and is a nightmare for any welder. Therefore, very effective and feared. I wanted to discuss the proposal with you first. After all, you're the one who's going to have to deal with it."

Sergei didn't quite understand him, "How do I have to imagine that?"

"You will go on a trip along the tube with Elena Ramirez, along with the men you will have to train. I'll list the reports you make, rank them by urgency, and tackle the worst cases right away. I can do the work out there, but you still must learn what it takes. We need to split up or we won't get enough done in the last few weeks without snow."

Greg could almost see the wheels working in Sergei's head.

"You want me to go down the pipeline with one woman and four, five men? How do you envision that?"

"Not like we did a few weeks ago, with the tent and stuff. You’ll need to go with off-road RVs. You'll need the hiking boots, of course. She can also show you what you can see from the helicopter and what to look out for."

Sergei was silent for a few minutes. His thoughts were obviously rushing in his ears. At some point he asked, "Elena Ramirez, what's she like?"

"Oh, like you."

"Excuse me?"

"Tall, well built, solid, black hair, fiery eyes, her father was Mexican. Big breasts and an ass to make men kneel if you're into that. However, she is picky and can get her way. I know enough men who have gotten turned down and never tried with her again. She always worked with guys. Her dad took her when she was only nine or ten years old. Her mother died young. Little Elena always had oil workers as friends and that's what she stuck with. Her husband ran away from her a few years ago for a petite blonde and her two sons are studying in Anchorage. Elena is a tough woman. I think you guys would get along great."

Sergei thought for a moment and then replied, "Fine. We'll discuss it with the others tomorrow. You can ask Martin about it without any obligation."

He shook his head and laughed softly to himself. "Holy shit! First an Amerikanski as a consultant and then a Mexican Chicca roughing up our men! You're making my life hell, Greg Burton, you know that?"

Gregory put his arm heavily on Sergei's shoulder and whispered, "I could see you possibly liking her and that would make the job a lot nicer, wouldn't it?"

He laughed, too, and they set off in search of a bar for their nightcap.

 

Way too early the next morning, his cell phone made beeping noises on the nightstand. It took Greg a minute to be awake enough to realize it was a text message from Alexei that had woken him up. Then, however, he was wide awake! Alexei had said he was going to check in. Greg had taken it to mean that he hadn't called or sent a text of his own accord, but he had thought of Alex often.

 

<Are you okay? When will you be back? A.<

 

Gregory wondered for only a moment about the early hour Alex had chosen to send his message. He must have been on his way to or from work. Greg replied promptly.

 

<I'm okay. How about you? Friday 5:00pm, finally, weekend! Greg.

 

Greg lay in bed, his heart racing. He really wanted to see Alex again, but he had been afraid that the cop would change his mind. He obviously hadn't! It looked like Alexei wanted to see him, too! That sent hot shivers of anticipation through Greg's body! The phone in his hand beeped again:

<Can we see each other on Friday night? <

Greg replied:

<Clearly, I'd love to! What would you like to do? <

The answer came immediately:

<Sports! I'll pick you up. Looking forward to see you! A.<

 

Alexei's fist closed around his cell phone. He grinned from ear to ear. The young woman sitting across from him on the bus was obviously feeling it and beamed at him. He hadn't been able to stand waiting for Friday.

Even as he had already typed the first message, he was unsure if it was a good idea. But Gregory seemed to have been just waiting for a sign from him!

This time Alexei would not chicken out. Not this time! He wanted to finally feel, sense and experience all that he could only see on the Internet. Sure, he knew what he liked, but it was all in theory. Another bland Thursday and a surely endless Friday shift, but then he would see again the blond man with the intense blue eyes and the incredibly beautiful thighs, who smelled so good and who made his heart ring when he sent just a tiny text on his cell phone.

He ran the last kilometre home at his usual easy trot, singing at the top of his lungs in a deep, melodious voice, the way soldiers sing when they run to not to get out of step:

 

"You are so nice; I think of you!

Never saw eyes that are so blue!

Want to kiss and hold you tight!

Dance with you all through the night!”

 

 

"Hey, Urbanokow! Good morning!"

"Morning!"

The owner of the kiosk was displaying his newspapers.

It was still early, but the sun was already warming a little, promising another beautiful day.

 

 

In the apartment it stank of vodka, cold smoke, and piss.

Alexei opened the kitchen window and looked around. The empty bottle was still on the table. The full ashtray next to it. His father had urinated in the cleaning bucket.

Alexei heard him snoring through the closed bedroom door.

He walked across the hall with the bucket and emptied it in the toilet. It was disgusting, but still better than mopping up urine from the floor. When his father had money for booze, he drank. Mostly until the middle of the month. Alexei had long since stopped discussing it with him and he had stopped putting money in his father's hand.

He paid the rent, the electricity, the food. But he did not give Ivan Urbanokov money for vodka. After all, Ivan was quiet and peaceful when he was drunk. There were other men in their house who beat their wives and children or were always starting loud arguments with the neighbours.

Alexei resignedly went to bed, pulled the covers over his head, and drifted into a dream about Gregory Burton and Friday night.

 

 

***

 

 

"Sports" wasn't quite what Greg had expected as an answer, but it was good. He desperately needed exercise after that week at conference tables.

Alexei was already more the physical type. He seemed to Greg like someone who ran a lot and moved plenty of iron in the gym. Surely, he had to be fit for his job with the police. Probably did martial arts, too. No different than police officers in other countries.

Greg was a mountain climber. In winter he went with touring skis and, to be honest, sometimes with a rifle, to be protected from the bears and occasionally for dinner.

Or he went to the gym in Valdez. In the work camps, they usually didn't have room for a real gym, just some dumbbells and an ergometer. When men squatted too close to each other and there were few opportunities for balance to work, camp fever quickly set in. A little strength training did the trick.

Of course, some preferred to play with the console, others read, and some slept in their free time.

Greg had looked at the Internet sites of the gyms in Irkutsk, but he had not yet been to one to sign up. The weather was still beautiful and the gorgeous Lake Baikal, was far too tempting. There were quite a few developed hiking trails, and in the villages along the shore one could rent boats and buy day passes for fishing.

Irkutsk was a big city, but already a few kilometres away one hardly felt its presence.

Thursday was exhausting but successful for the three men. They got all the funding approved for the rest of the projects and Martin Brooks reported from Alaska late that afternoon. Elena Ramirez would support them for four weeks. Her work visa was valid for that long. How company management had arranged it so quickly remained a mystery.

 

"Where are we going to put the lady up for the time?" Igor wondered seriously.

Greg laughed. "For a few nights in a hotel room and then in a motor home with Sergei. It should have two sleeping cabins, though."

Igor looked like he had something sour in his mouth. "Have you ever slept next to Sergei? You can't!"

The person addressed defended himself. "Well, listen! What's that supposed to mean! No one has complained yet!"

He grinned broadly as he said it, and the anticipation was clear on his face.

Gregory intervened. "She'll be here on Tuesday. I guess we'll figure it out by then. Igor, you'll be fine."

 

After breakfast on Friday morning, a cab took them to the airport and by noon they were back at their workplace in Irkutsk. The files they had taken with them were cleaned up and phone calls were listened to. But then Gregory was in quite a hurry.

"All right, I'll see you on Monday. We'll discuss the rest then. Have a great weekend!"

Greg rushed off and Igor asked, "Why was he in such a hurry now?"

Sergei shrugged his shoulders. "Probably he's just fed up with the whole week and wants his rest. See you on Monday, Igor."

Igor Tomaczinsky was in no hurry to get into the weekend. He searched the site of Greg's Alaska company for a picture of Elena Ramirez, and what he found made him very much look forward to Tuesday. If she was half as beautiful in real life as she was in the photo, Igor was very envious of Sergei getting to work so closely with the lady.

Igor would pick out a beautiful hotel room for her and rent a very comfortable motor home, and he would personally show her the sights of the city. With these pleasant thoughts he closed the office and went to his car.

 

Yes, Gregory was in a hurry to get home. He didn't know exactly when Alex would be at his door.

Before that, he stopped at one of the huge supermarkets and bought everything that would be needed for a pleasant, exciting weekend for two. There certainly wasn't much in the fridge after he hadn't been home all week. Alcohol he had not needed so far and about condoms and lubricant he had never thought in this country anyway. Until now.

It was all no problem. The butcher at the meat counter was pleased to sell him two beautiful, large rib eye steaks and some pork chops, fruits and vegetables were in great supply and of the best quality. He bought beer and a bottle of bourbon, also bread and cheese, yogurt and a wonderful salami, eggs, and bacon, and of course condoms and gel.

At home, he hurried to pack away the purchases, change the bedsheets and unpack his suitcase.

While he was shaving, he laughed at himself in the mirror. "Burton! You're acting like a teenager before his first date!"

Well, if he was honest, it did kind of feel like a date. He wondered if Alexei felt the same way.

The doorbell rang just as he was spitting the foam from his toothpaste into the sink. There was no time to get dressed, so he opened the door for the second time, bare-chested, but this time at least with long sports shorts on his narrow hips.

Alexei stood a little uncertainly in the hallway. In jeans and sweatshirt, without a jacket, the sports bag over his shoulder and with jogging shoes on his feet. There were little beads of sweat on his forehead because, of course, he had run all the way.

"Hi, officer! I'm glad to see you!"

Greg let his visitor enter and tried to figure out whether a hug or even a kiss would be allowed, or rather not?

He decided on a brief, brotherly hug.

The smile and the sight of the half-naked man made Alexei sweat even more, the brief physical contact let all the wires in his stomach glow. Gregory seemed genuinely happy to see him. Alexei smiled a little uncertainly and then said, "I'm glad to see you too. Feel free to leave the officer out of it. I'm glad to have the day off."

"Okay. You were serious about sports, I, see?"

Greg looked at the bag Alex was carrying. The boy was so shy, there was probably not a weekend's worth of clothes in the bag. At least not today, but what was not yet, could perhaps still become.

Alexei put the bag down next to the apartment door, followed Greg into the kitchen, and plopped down on a chair. "I always go to the gym when I'm off, and I figured the way you look, you'd be pumping, too."

"What do I do?"

"Pumping, dumbbells."

The gesture for bicep curls with the dumbbell accompanied the explanation.

"Oh, I see. Yes, I work out, but I haven't found a gym here yet. Where are you going? Gold's?"

Alexei shook his head vigorously. "No. Too expensive, way too fancy, and besides, chicks!"

He said this with so much disgust in his voice that Greg laughingly inquired, "Do you seriously have something against women?"

"Oh, nonsense. I couldn't care less about women. But I don't like them clucking like chickens in the studio, parading the latest fashion instead of using the equipment. I go to Popov. It doesn't have an internet site and is much simpler than Gold's.  But the trainers are better, and the sauna is always really hot."

Greg poured Alexei a glass of water, set it in front of him. "Can I go as a visitor, or do I have to become a member?"

"You can check it out first. I'll introduce you, then we'll work out, and if we want, we'll go to the sauna. Or don't you like that?"

Alexei just wanted to get clean after the work week and with the limited hygiene conditions at home.

Greg, of course, didn't know that and speculated with a grin, "Admit it, you first want to see if it's worth it?"

Alex blushed heavily and frantically took a sip of water.

Greg regretted the cheeky remark and took it upon himself to be a little more sensitive. Alexei was outwardly tall, strong, and confident, but there still seemed to be a soft and shy side. The rough tone of the oil workers and the direct language of openly gay men were not appropriate here.

"I'm sorry. I was just kidding. I've spent all week at conference tables and I'm really glad when we work out, but I warn you, I'm totally out of shape."

Alexei smiled at him. "Don't worry about that. It doesn't matter."

The way he said it sounded like: We'll fix that!

Gregory grabbed his gym bag and put on a T-shirt.

They walked down three flights of stairs to the underground parking garage. Alex was amazed by the Mercedes GLK.

Greg immediately waved it off. "That's not mine! The company gave it to me for my time here."

Alexei gently stroked the paint on the door as he got in and said, "Awesome, I think I got the wrong job."

Greg smiled at him and replied, "All I have at home is an ancient Land Rover, but as long as it's still running, I'm keeping it."

"Your visa goes until June, as I saw. Can you stand it that long, here? Surely you live very differently back home?"

Greg threaded his way into the weekend traffic. Alex unobtrusively told him the directions.

"You mean if I’m out at home?"

"Yeah?"

"I am. But not here, of course."

"Do your family and friends know? How are they handling it?"

"Everyone who needs to know knows. It was hard at first, but it's okay now. However, by now I don't care either. Anyone who doesn't like me the way I am, I can't help them either. Can I ask you something too Alex?"

"Yeah, sure. Sounds good the way you say my name."

"Why do you want to go to your gym with me. We're going to meet your friends, aren't we? Aren't you scared?"

Alex thought for a small moment. His right hand gently stroked the soft leather of the armrest.

"I've been thinking all week about what we could do, and believe me, I have a lot of imagination."

His cheeks coloured, but Greg had to look ahead and didn't notice. "You know, I was thinking if you and I go somewhere for dinner or a movie or whatever, there's always a chance we'll run into someone who knows me but not you. Then stupid questions get asked. If I take you to the gym and introduce you to my friends as a friend, no one is surprised, and even then, if we are later seen together somewhere else. Then you are my American friend who is shown Irkutsk. Everybody knows that by then and it is normal that we do things together. Druschba means friendship and that is very important for us. We don't have that much money for fancy cars and stuff, but we have a lot of friends we can always count on."

Gregory knew he had to engage in the game of hide and seek, which he detested, but he liked Alexei and he had the hots for him. Thoughts of visiting a gay sauna in Seattle crossed his mind, but he resisted the temptation to tell Alex about it. There would be time for dirty talk later.

 

tbc. 

 

"Thank you for following the story of Greg and Alexei! Never miss a new chapter. Follow my blog or follow me on Twitter!" Reg Dixon