In order peacefully to coexist

Let us strike one dimension off our list.

If they are right, those men of principle,

And life in depth is so inimical,

The third dimension is dispensable.

– Hermann Hesse, “The Glass Bead Game,” A Compromise

(translated from German by Richard and Clara Winston)

Cover Design Alexandra Undead

Cover Illustration The Tower of Babel, Anton Joseph von Prenner, After Pieter Bruegel the Elder The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Creative Commons Zero (CC0)

Translator (from Russian) Alexandra Undead

© Stella Fracta, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0067-2763-2

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

1. Fifteen Minutes

[Russia, Moscow, Basmanny District]

When the front door of the apartment suddenly swung open, Alexandra was at the kitchen bar, her mouth full, leaning over a plastic container of Caesar salad. Richard crossed the threshold, stomping noisily with his boots, she, wide-eyed, stared at him – sullen, with a bag and a backpack. Before making a muffled sound of joyful astonishment, she tried to chew her food.

“Mmm!” she managed, throwing the fork into the container, reaching forward.

Rounding the table, she dashed towards him into the entrance hall, from the other side of the enormous kitchen living room combo.

Richard put his bag on the floor and instinctually moved towards her, embraced her. The smell of salad dressing mingled with the sweet scent of perfume, he nuzzled her hair and closed his eyes.

He didn’t warn her – and himself couldn’t believe that everything had turned out like this. He had to come to her, to Moscow, interrupting the mission, only his partner and the chiefs of the Circus – MI6 – were aware of his movements.

The dangerous trick that Richard dared to try was a relationship. In his line of work, it’s impossible to be together when desired, to be genuine and candid, impossible to be oneself thoroughly … He was trying to learn to separate his personal life and his work – but, on occasion, struggled.

They had not seen each other since March, and now it was mid-September … They met a year ago; a year ago, his alchemical path had started, the path of the Poet, the journey to himself – to finally understand who he is – behind all the masks and fictitious identities he had to act out.

Richard and Alexandra – a spy and a writer of detective novels – had already experienced incredible adventures together¹ – the kind that even MI6 agents seldom do. Now another test lay ahead – and Alexandra had no idea what awaited her.

“Pack your things, we’re leaving,” Richard said into the top of her head in English, still pressing her close.

She raised her head, she was looking up at him – her smile sad and ironic.

“Just like that?” she replied, in mock displeasure. “No foreplay?”

Richard sighed, his thin lips folded into a smile.

“Yes.”

She’s not surprised – nothing can surprise her. They deserved each other – each with secrets of their own and aces up the sleeves.

“Okay.”

Alexandra kept holding him around the waist, her hands clasped around and over his leather jacket, on his back, under the backpack. He missed this tight grasp, the way she usually put her hands under his jacket if it was unzipped.

“I missed you,” Richard added.

“Me too. A lot.” She was looking at him closely, so was he. “You’re running hot.”

“Well, I did miss you.”

“I’m serious. Take your backpack off.”

Alexandra took a step back, letting go, she still wasn’t taking her dark eyes off him, Richard let out a disappointed huff – and followed her command, put the things down on the floor.

As he removed his backpack, he frowned.

“And the jacket.”

“No time.”

She raised an eyebrow, and Richard spread his arms.

“You have fifteen minutes to pack your suitcase.”

“Richard!”

He laughed, finally entered the living room, sat down on the corner of the sofa, facing her. Alexandra stood opposite him, her hands on her hips, waiting for him to explain the rush.

Richard remained silent.

“Fifteen minutes?!” she exclaimed, bewildered. “I just came home, I haven’t even had breakfa-lunch-inner yet … You hungry?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s necessary. I’ll explain everything later. Please, do as I say.”

“The fucking Circus!”

“It’s not the Circus,” Richard replied grimly.

“The fucking Bulls!”

“Not the Bulls, either.”

“I’ll kill them all!” Alexandra lamented. “I’ve got just the serial killer in my new book, he eats human hearts² – I’ll feed them to him!”

Richard couldn’t help smiling. He loved it when she cursed – with her low, hoarse voice, grotesquely, she played with intonations and sound accents. He learned to understand her sarcasm, her odd jokes, the loud, threatening, utterly serious declarations didn’t frighten him – because he knew that even though she was capable of murder, she wouldn’t do it.

Alexandra’s books are convincing – because the reality that she makes is indistinguishable from fiction. That’s the craft of a Poet and an alchemist.

“You can take the salad with you.”

“Very funny.”

She headed to the bedroom, stomping noisily on purpose, she rustled in the walk-in closet as she pulled out her mint suitcase – that, for some unknown reason, always turned out to be extremely heavy. Richard listened to the sounds from the adjoining room, sitting still, fatigue threatened to crush him to the ground like a concrete slab.

He’ll rest when they are safe.

“And where are we going?”

Richard startled, Alexandra was peeking out of the bedroom, the things were thrown all around the floor.

“Lofoten,” he said.

Clearly, she had been expecting something else.

“Lofoten?! But it’s like another planet there, it’s cold! I’ll—” she started pacing in a circle, like a tiger in a cage, flailing her hands. “Need to get warm clothing somewhere!”

Richard was giggling, she froze, her gaze burrowing into him.

“Jokes, clownery, Richard North?”

“Yes, I was joking.”

Alexandra kicked the lid of the suitcase, huffing theatrically. She understood that it was his way of explaining his desire to escape – somewhere far away from humans, civilization, intelligence services, and riddles.

“We’re flying to Japan,” Richard said.

“Even worse!”

His cheeks aching from laughter, he covered his face with his hand, it seemed this was the first time in all these months that he relaxed. He missed the way she couldn’t stand surprises – and when something didn’t go according to her plan.

“Fine,” Alexandra mumbled, dragging the open suitcase on the floor, going into the living room. “Japan it is. For long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wonderful, like nobody’s business. Is it because you have the Grand Prix this weekend?”

Richard nodded.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take your jacket off while I’m packing?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Salad?”

“No.”

“Water?”

“No, thank you.”

“Richard, is it really that urgent?”

He remembered her anecdote, oft quoted by press – about how an MI6 agent barged into her apartment and she demanded he take his clothes off – to make sure he’s unarmed … He hadn’t even kissed her yet – but while he’s sitting at a distance, nothing will tempt him.

Alexandra threw careful glances his way occasionally, she was coiling wires, packed the laptop, the tablet, tubes of makeup into her suitcase. The red notebook, the phone, and passport she placed on the table – in plain sight, so she wouldn’t forget.

When Richard put the backpack on, he winced.

The wheels of the mint suitcase noisily ran across the asphalt in the inner courtyard of the apartment block, they were headed to the arch that led to the outside of the building. Richard took the keys out of the pocket, a white off-roader beeped briefly, Alexandra squinted.

He counted seconds until her question.

“If the car’s here, why did you take the backpack and the bag with you up to the apartment?”

Richard opened the trunk.

“I picked them up on the way.”

“On the way – at my building?”

The suitcase and the red notebook followed Richard’s things into the trunk. She’s always perceptive, she’s impossible to fool – but he wasn’t trying to.

“Yes,” he turned and met her eyes. “I stored them in an apartment in the adjacent section, just in case, I hoped I’d never have to use them.”

“Just in case …” Alexandra drawled. “Oh, that mysterious stranger, Richard North.”

When Richard was on a mission of getting to know the writer Alexandra Stern, pen name Stella Fracta, he was playing the part of a little-known British actor Richard North from the theater troupe The Old Vic … The Circus arranged a fictitious biography for him, an apartment in Battersea in London and a spare one to watch the target – in Moscow. Alexandra treated him like a piece of furniture at first – despite all his tricks; he was just supposed to become her lover and infiltrate the Poets’ society, her alchemical circle which MI6 was so interested in. When he finally earned her trust, his world turned upside down.

He was in love before he knew it. Before he knew it, he was an alchemist – and became entangled in mystification, a story of heroism and treason.

Richard slapped down the trunk door and headed for the driver’s seat.

Alexandra sat next to him in front, she put her seatbelt on and turned to look back – at the child safety seat.

“I borrowed this car,” Richard rushed to explain as he started the engine.

“I don’t mind it if you have kids,” she chuckled. “I’m sure they’re as beautiful as you.”

He shook his head and started to drive. Jealousy and Alexandra were like oil and water …

It frightened him to think that he could have children – that he has no idea about.

2. Agent

[Russia, Moscow, Sheremetyevo International Airport]

They rounded the Sheremetyevo Airport complex, stopped at the open parking lot next to Terminal A. The evening sky was gray and dull, the sun, veiled with clouds, hadn’t set yet, but was doing little good. Richard left the car, Alexandra slipped out after him, they stopped in front of the trunk.

“Wait.”

Before Richard could touch the handle of the trunk, Alexandra took his hand and stepped closer, put her hands on Richard’s shoulders. He was like a hot iron to a touch, he tried to seem lively, but for the entire one and a half hour drive the unnatural blush on his pale, stubbled cheeks has been betraying him.

She pulled him closer by the neck, put her cool fingers onto his cheekbones, he leaned down and closed his eyes. The kiss was cautious at first, then he involuntarily opened his mouth, holding her by the head, drinking her in greedily, turning her back towards the trunk, pushing in.

There wasn’t enough air, his lips were boiling, Richard came to his senses and let her go, his breathing heavy.