THE SALSA CONNECTION -- EXCERPT

THE SALSA CONNECTION

AN INTERNATIONAL ROMANTIC THRILLER

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EXCERPT

 

CHAPTER 1

Present day, St. Petersburg, Russia

“Oh my God, he’s alive,” Sveta gasped, as she failed to contain the words rushing past her trembling lips. Oh papa, is this really from you? In the solitude of her tiny kitchen she quickly felt vulnerable, knowing the torture she’d be subjected to if discovered. She couldn’t believe the invitation she was grasping in her trembling hands. She had prayed for this sign of her Papa being alive ever since he had disappeared twenty-five years ago. Papa, my papa!

With the rush of joy swelling in her chest and presenting her with such newfound hope, she had to stay focused to fight the deep shock attempting to overtake her. As her body quivered, and her eyes filled with the tears of joy, a gripping fear suddenly flooded her thoughts. Had anyone else read the coded message?

 Sveta studied the signs of wear and tear on the tattered envelope from America. The stamps made absolutely no sense at all, but looked official. If the invitation had been tampered with, any intrusion would be hard to prove, but yet she knew how interceptions of mail were so common in Russia. She analyzed every part of the envelope to determine if any clues existed at all. While she imagined many possibilities, she saw nothing conclusive.

The invitation inside the envelope was in much better condition, but still showed the weary signs of battered and wrinkled edges from the long trip. The invitation described how several salsa clubs in New York were sponsoring an international competition to determine the best salsa dancers in the world. She studied the rounds of eliminations extending over several weeks to determine the finalists. Since the long list of rules written in English didn’t make complete sense to her, she would have to translate them better later. Although she had learned English in school since the fourth grade, she still needed help with some documents such as this one.

It was, however, the note scribbled at the bottom of the invitation that made her think her heart would stop beating. The note written in English read, “Come to the competition and enter, my little lady.” Only her papa had ever called her my little lady, and he had disappeared while attending an international ballet competition in New York City years ago.

 She remembered how the Americans had contended that he had been murdered, and also how the Russian government had always insisted that he had defected. In any case, he had never returned. Memories of how a large number of priceless paintings stolen a few weeks before her papa had vanished returned to haunt her. While he had always been accused of being involved, no one had ever presented any solid proof tying him to the crime. As the shock paralyzed Sveta, she waited on her mom, Mariya Panova, to arrive soon. Perhaps she could make more sense of this invitation.

After the door rattled with the sound of keys turning the locks, her mom quickly opened the massive door to their flat.  Sveta, however, didn’t move when her mom entered the room. She could only imagine the many long hours ahead of them trying to understand the meaning of this note. While it would take some time for each of them to recover from the initial shock, she had no doubt in her mind—her papa was alive.

Mariya had been a great mom and her best friend ever since her papa’s disappearance. With tears still falling from her eyes, Sveta watched her mom rush to her to ask, “Sveta, what is it?”

“Mom, I received this invitation in today’s mail. I think it’s from Papa.”

Mariya reached for the letter. “An invitation to what?” She quickly scanned the letter, but looked confused at the English.

“It’s an invitation from America to enter a Latin dance competition, but here, look at the bottom of the invitation. Please, tell me . . . oh god . . . please tell me what you think.”

Much as Sveta had earlier, she watched her mom slide into one of the chairs at the table. Tears quickly flooded her mom’s eyes and ran down her face, as she appeared to recognize the handwriting. “Sveta, either he’s alive, or someone is playing the worst trick on us we can ever, ever imagine.”

Sveta fought back a smile. Could this be true? Is he alive?

“Have you shown this letter to anyone?” Her mom leaned forward as her body trembled. While Sveta watched her mom attempting to stay poised and in control, she realized even the most elegant and proper women of the world would have problems coping with the news she had just received.

“No, I just received the invitation a few hours ago. Here . . . look at the envelope. Do you think anyone has tampered with it?”

Mariya started turning the envelope over, examining it. “For some reason, I don’t think it’s been inspected. If someone had examined the invitation, I don’t think we would have received it, but who knows for sure.”

“Mom, we need to hide it. You know how dangerous it would be if they find this invitation.”

“Don’t worry. I know the perfect place to hide the invitation—in the garden.” She continued to study the invitation by turning it over and over. Sveta knew her mom knew very little English.

An additional wave of excitement swept into Sveta’s voice. “What do you think this means?”

“I think it’s obvious he wants to make contact with you, but why . . . after all these years…I don’t know. I’ve hoped for a long time that he would contact me, just to let me know that he was all right. He was . . . and still is . . . the love of my life. I’ll never forget him.” She leaned over the table, dabbing at her tears.

The idea of going to New York City felt totally impossible to Sveta. Such a trip represented a fairytale that was too great to imagine, and in reality, she had to admit the trip would never happen. Her job as a sales clerk in an art gallery would never pay enough to make such a trip to America. After all, it required everything her mom and she could earn to make ends meet. “There’s no way we can afford an expensive trip like this! Papa has to know we have no money.”

Mariya raised her head. “I know, but I think more information must be coming later. I just don’t know what to think.”

“I understand we’ve discussed his disappearance many times before, but Mom, I need to know if you remember anything else I should be aware of concerning Papa. Can you think of anything at all you haven’t told me? I’m a big girl now.”

“Don’t remind me you’re twenty-eight years old. I still can’t believe you haven’t married, like most of your friends your age. All the good men are already married, and the other men may think you have something wrong with you.”

“Mom—”