stall, wiped himself with a big bath towel and got dressed.
He had his breakfast quickly but savoring his meal. While he was eating, he listened to his home radio station in Sheffield.
After the breakfast, he put on his black suit and a white shirt and slipped a tie around his neck. He looked in the mirror. A thirty-year-old man with green eyes and light brown hair was looking at him. He smiled, and the young man in the reflection smiled back.
Andrew Thomas, General Manager of the Arkaim Hotel, was ready to face the new day.
Andy went out of his penthouse apartment, which was on the fifteenth floor of the hotel and walked into the elevator. Bruce Springsteen’s song “Worlds Apart” started playing there. The elevator technician had replaced the Cher album that had played in the elevator last week. Andy smiled. He liked it when the things ran smoothly. Even such a small detail as having the staff change the elevator music in time brought him a smile.
He pushed a button on the panel, and the elevator started descending to the first floor.
Andy had ambitious plans. He wanted to build an empire of his own and expand it from the east to the west, though an ordinary Western businessman would have done it just the other way around – from the west to the east. But the market in Western Europe had been saturated. And Russia was full of opportunities. Though the economy was shaken during the 2008 crisis, when he opened his hotel, Andy managed to pull through. Part of the success was due to Andy’s excellent team, which he had handpicked and built personally. One of the requirements for his staff was to have a good command of English. The people working at the hotel were mostly Russian, and though Andy had learned the Russian language quite handsomely, the working language among the hotel staff was English. He did not think the English courses were a waste of time, and he encouraged his employees to practice English constantly. The most capable ones were regularly sent to attend hotel management courses in the UK, Austria, and Switzerland. And all this brought added value to the quality of service in his hotel and raised its standards. His father, Henry Thomas, a guru in the world of hotel management, was proud of him. Andy felt frustrated he could not call him today. Last night, the Internet and phone connections went down almost simultaneously.
Andy looked at the display, humming to the music.
At some point, it was difficult to conduct business in Russia. Kickbacks, bribes, and all such things were an inseparable part of it. In many respects, Russia was an Asian country. Cronyism was a usual thing here. But nevertheless, he tried to risk it. He decided to start his business in the industrial city of Chelyabinsk. The city was big, over a million of residents in the metro area, more than fifty thousand tourists visiting the city every year. The city also boasted world sports events and attracted business people from all over the world. An ideal place to start a chain of hotels in Eastern Europe. On Valentine’s Day, they celebrated the fifth anniversary since the official opening of his hotel, and business seemed to be looking swell. Until recently …
His face darkened as the memories of the past thirty hours flashed in his mind. But he ought to focus and stop worrying. He pressed his hand to his forehead and tried to calm down.
For every problem there is a solution, he reminded himself. Always.
The display showed the number “5”.
He snatched a gun out of his shoulder holster and held it in front of him.
The second floor. Safety off. Andy was ready to face the new day.
On the first floor, the elevator clinked, flashing number 1 on the display, and the doors opened before him.
A large poster on the wall said, “Welcome to the Arkaim Hotel – your home away from home.”
He stepped out of the elevator and walked past the front desk. The reception clerk was not to be seen anywhere. Not good. The face of the company, as they say. One of the key figures in his business.
Andy walked past a fountain. The flowing red carpet led him to the lobby where the security guards were doing their routine. Andy nodded at them and concealed the gun in the holster.
A man was standing at the second set of entrance doors, which had been barricaded with couches, coffee tables, and vending machines, and looking at something through the gap in the door glass. Andy felt the cold air coming in from outside.
“Good morning, Goran,” Andy said.
The man turned around. He was in his early forties. Good-looking. Raven black hair and brown expressive eyes. Goran Pavic was the best executive chef he had ever met.
“Hi, Andy,” Goran said in English in his Serbian accent.
Andy came close to the heap of furniture, which was blocking the entryway. He could see that the front door was ajar.
“Is it getting any better?” Andy asked.
He almost jumped up as a hand smashed against the glass panel. A female looked at them through the glass, her right eye hanging on bloody tendrils and resting on her cheek. Half a dozen other anthropomorphic entities stared at them through the glass covered with cracks. They snarled and tried to break through.
Andy made a step back. “Bloody hell! I guess not.”
“I hoped it was all a bad dream when I woke up today,” Goran said. “I came down here and saw it was not a nightmare.” He looked at Andy. “We’re not sleeping.”
“This is all crazy,” Andy said. “But no, Goran. You’re not sleeping. You’re not Alice, and this is not Wonderland.”
An obese man in his late forties walked up to them. He was wearing a black suit with a name tag, which said, “Igor Sorokin, Security Manager.”
“Dobroye utro, Mr. Thomas,” Sorokin said. There was a portable radio set in his hands. “Your walkie-talkie. The mobile connection is still down.”
Andy could smell whiskey on the man’s breath, but said nothing about it. He took the device from him. “Spasibo, Igor. How’s the perimeter?”
“The front door is secure,” Igor tapped on the door glass, and a male monster snarled at him behind the glass. “The space in the lobby is too tight for these customers here, so they don’t get enough leverage to break in. They’re packed like sardines.”
“Still, one cannot be too careful,” Andy said. “Reinforce the barricade.”
“We’re on it,” Sorokin said.
“And we’d better clear the yard and close the gate,” Goran said. “Knowing that these sorry sickos walk around and can break in any minute just gives me the creeps.”
Sorokin nodded. “Yes, but we’re short of firepower.”
“What else?” Andy asked.
“The underground parking lot is gone,” Sorokin said and rubbed his eyes wearily. He seemed to be in desperate need of sleep. “And we need to have the parking lot door welded to make it more stable. But it’s holding. So, we’re golden here so far. Like we put it in Russia, we’re under Christ’s armpit.”
“That’s good to hear,”
