Cyprus
They’re back in New Jersey. Among familiar things.
Say what you want about Europe – for all its charms, it opens your eyes about you’re from. The USA vibe is different than anywhere else. It’s complex. Belligerent and direct. Nuanced. You only understand America if you’re born here. Everybody else just pantomimes or mimics. And the State you’re born in punches your ticket – it determines your ambition, your drive, your testosterone levels, Bullshit tolerance and opinions about guns and sex. If you’re born American, you’re painfully aware that you don’t fit in anywhere else. Especially when you’re travelling. You’re not an “Ugly American” – you’re just not particularly welcome or interesting to anybody. Nobody cares. Yankee Dollars make everybody smile – but that’s about it.
Contrast it with Russia.
The Russian vibe is indominable. It’s a quiet, dark – brooding – spirituality. Russians are as strong as Winter – and just as unforgiving. They’re a cohesive, serious culture that’s as old as the tundra. Expressive, artistic and creative. Intellectual. Russian women are gorgeous. The Russian mindset is like steel. Everything about Russia says, “Don’t Fuck with me”. Russians don’t need anybody – and they command respect.
“American Culture” has become an oxymoron. We’re one big “diverse” stew of chaos – contradictions, opposites, incorrigibility, outright hatred of authority and neanderthal “right or wrong” Manichean zeitgeists. The venerated “Minutemen” who stood shoulder-to- shoulder in 1776 have grown fat, dumb and politically unsophisticated. Today they’re scared sheep with maxed-out credit cards and tattooed women craving bread and circuses – like F16 flyovers at NASCAR races and football games. Scan “X” or TikTok and the word “Luddite” comes to mind. It fairly sums up what you’re looking at. To somebody like Heinlein, it’s heartbreaking. Is the USA drowning in mediocrity? Unravelling? Has the E Pluribus Unum experiment failed? Like the tongue-in-cheek song says, “Little Pink Houses for You an’ Me…”
The sign somebody recently put up on the New Jersey Turnpike (which State Police soon removed) said “American Culture” best: “Welcome to New Jersey. Now Leave.”
That’s America in a nutshell. If you don’t like us – Fuck Off.
But after a sound night’s sleep at the Simon Magus compound in Paulus Hook, Jersey City – there’s no place else Heinlein would rather be chillin’. Boats in the distance are scattered all over the Hudson – ferries, luxury yachts – Cruise Liners full of overweight, low-rent people getting loaded and gorging themselves on cheap food. The skyscrapers, the lights, the sounds. It’s American life. Dirty and in-your face. A big pot-luck game where thousands are going to survive and thousands more are going to fall flat on their face – or worse. Winner-winner-chicken dinner.
The phone rings – Extension 610 is calling. It’s Brother Dimitrios.
“Ahhhhhhh”, Heinlein says softly – Leeds is still sleeping. “Brother Dimitrios, the bringer of breakfast and my all-knowing Valet”.
Heinlein requests multiple carafes of rich, artisanal coffee from Honduras, cream by the jugs-full, scones, butter, jelly, double portions of bacon, eggs and hash-browns for him and Leeds to share. Life is good.
Brother Dimitrios advises that The Master requests their presence at dinner – 7:00PM sharp and casual business dress, please. Dimitrios, Longinus, Brother Silas – the Greek Orthodox Novitiate from the “Great Lavra” Monastery on Mount Athos in Greece that they met earlier – will attend. And a “Guest of Honor” is to be presented: an eminent Russian Virologist and Medical Doctor. Apparently, Simon Magus wishes to hold a conference afterwards – and he also has a mysterious “Announcement” to make.
There’s also a bit of gossip: Katya is in a secure medical dispensary on level two – her condition is stable, but seriously diminished. Heinlein surmises that an expert has been flown in from Russia to tend to their young ailing charge.
Heinlein agrees to meet Brother Dimitrios for mid-afternoon prayers in the Chapel. Leeds keeps her religious views private – and Heinlein respects her choice. She won’t mind him slipping away for some private time of spiritual repose. Their relationship is close and affectionate – but she doesn’t smother him. Leeds isn’t needy – and that’s a quality Heinlein really digs.
Dimitrios arrives with the grub in about twenty minutes. Leeds wakes as if on cue – it’s the bacon aroma that does it every time. They dig in immediately. It’s a great way to start what will prove to be an eventful day.
Heinlein and Leeds emerge from the elevator to the main dining area precisely at seven. The sun has already set over Manhattan, but the twelfth-floor view of New York City’s lights is mesmerizing. Leeds is rockin’ a navy-blue classic pants-suit and white silk blouse with blood-red Jimmy Choo pumps. Heinlein has opted for a perfectly tailored blue blazer, open collar white dress shirt and sharply pressed authentic English khakis. His shoes are bespoke – custom made in England – and they feel wonderful. His bunions have never felt this quiescent.
The smells are overpowering. Heinlein’s mouth immediately starts watering – as if on command – like he’s some Pavlovian Dog. Chef Lacas is outdoing himself again. They make their way to the large table.
Simon Magus, as usual, is seated at the table head with Longinus to his right. They’re intently leaning close to each other, whispering – sharing some secret or another. Heinlein and Leeds take chairs in-between Brother Dimitrios and Brother Silas. They all shake hands and exchange warm dinner greetings.
Suddenly, The Master rises and gestures for everyone to join him. From a side door emerges a tall, thin serious looking blonde woman wearing a white coat. Draped around her shoulders is a stethoscope. She smiles at Simon Magus – they’re obviously friends – and walks towards the unoccupied chair next to Longinus. Simon Magus raises his glass of deep red wine as if he’s making a toast.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have the Honor to present to you Doctor Marina Vorshilovka, Phd and Medical Doctor – on temporary leave from the restricted Russian Science Facility Kapustin Yar, where she is Chief Medical Virologist. She will be attending Katya – whom, you will be glad to know, is in critical but stable condition.”
Doctor Vorshilovka stands behind her place-setting and raises a glass of wine, smiling. She has a kind, agreeable face that clearly welcomes the warmth of the greeting she is getting.
“Everyone at the Russian Science Facility Kapustin Yar calls me Doctor Vee – I invite you to do the same. It is indeed a pleasure to join all of you at table and share the kind hospitality of Master Simon Magus – and my good friend Longinus. At this time I would ask Brother Dimitrios to say a brief prayer to our Lord, Jesus Christ.”
True to the Rules of Simon Magus’ table – no business matters are discussed during the meal. Breaking bread and sharing food is a mystical experience to him, a time for conviviality and indulgence, drinking wine and laughter. In The Master’s philosophy, joyous meals enhance our humanity and bring us closer to our Creator.
Chef Lacas brings out tureens with help from his young assistant, Petros. The main course is slow-braised beef roast and shanks, marinated in red wine, roasted herb-potatoes (sans garlic, of course – The Master “detests” it), roasted Brussel-sprouts and Asparagus. Large serving bowls of green salad bathed in Lacas’ sublime vinaigrette are strategically placed at each corner of the table as are numerous carafes of red and white wine. Freshly baked whole-wheat bread loaves cover wood cutting boards next to each guest and nearby are individualized tubs of whipped butter. Bottles of spring water are plentiful. The feast is a masterclass in food preparation and presentation – another testament to the culinary genius of Chef Lacas.
Light dinner conversation and laughing consume most of sumptuous repast. By the time the oversized pots of artisanal Honduran coffee are drained – and their lava cakes with vanilla ice cream desserts are consumed – everyone has exhausted their respective repertoires of small talk and are becoming quiet.
Simon Magus gently taps the side of his wine glass with a spoon and stands to address his guests.
“It is fitting that we should all enjoy each other’s company on this night and share our good affections for one another. I include Doctor Vee in my sentiments as we have been comrades through thick and thin on many a journey…
This will be the last time we convene at Paulus Hook. At ten o’clock tomorrow morning, the title to this property shall pass to the Greek Orthodox Church Archdiocesan District of New Jersey under Metropolitan Kurus. It is to be used as a training center and school for gifted students who have demonstrated advanced aptitude for math, science, physics, metaphysics, extraordinary psychic and para-normal abilities.
Longinus, Lacas, Doctor Vee, Brother Dimitrios, Brother Silas, Katya and I will be relocating to my compound on the Island of Cyprus. I have been delaying this decision for some time – but events have forced my hand. I will discuss these details with our friends Heinlein and Leeds before the night’s end. I, of course, wish to include them in my plans – but surmise that they must first consider carefully their options and lives here in America. They are tethered to this land. We are not.
I thank you all for coming tonight and wish you all the eternal Blessings of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
JERSEY CITY POLICE 911 EMERGENCY DISPATCH – EXCHANGE PLAZA STATION, 10:13pm
“THIS IS JERSEY CITY EMERGENCY 911. HOW MAY I ASSIST YOU?”
“MY NAME IS MARCO OBREGON, I LIVE ON FLOOR 51 OF MONTGOMERY EXCHANGE PLAZA. THERE’S BEEN AN EXPLOSION ON THE FLOOR BELOW ME. FIRE IS RAGING DIRECTLY BELOW MY BALCONY. I’VE PULLED THE FIRE ALARM OUTSIDE MY DOOR IN THE HALLWAY – I THINK IT WAS A GAS LEAK. FIRE LIGHTS AND WARNINGS ARE ACTIVATED. PLEASE SEND HELP. THERE ARE PEOPLE LIVING BELOW ME AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING.”
Paulus Hook
Precisely at 9:45PM Simon Magus stands up from behind his chair, signaling that dinner is over. He gestures to Heinlein and Leeds to remain seated. Once the room has cleared, he starts talking.
“I’ve grown quite attached to both of you. I believe that our lives were destined to become entwined – that it’s somehow part of God’s plan.
You both are always welcome in my home – wherever that home is. If you decide Cyprus appeals to you – then by all means, come. My complex there is much more expansive and modern than this one. You will find comfort and repose near an azure-blue Mediterranean Sea. Come and go as you please. You will want for nothing. This is my invitation: come work for me. Can either of you find a better Boss? Of course, if you prefer to remain, I understand. We are comrades – and always will it be so.
On Cyprus I have a full complement of BratvaVarang Special Ops and the very latest Russian tech support. Early warning and missile defense systems are now operational. We have private jets and helicopters at the ready and subterranean sea access for submarine contacts. I will miss you both – but having lived as long as I have, I’ve adjusted many times to the bitterness of saying goodbye to friends.”
Simon Magus pauses and looks at his Patek Philippe wristwatch. He holds up his finger as if pointing at the ceiling. Heinlein has just enough time to catch a sideways glance at Leeds when they hear a thunderous detonation from somewhere up the block. A bomb inside one of the exclusive High Rises has obviously exploded – somewhere up on Exchange Place.
Within seconds, they hear Fire Engine Sirens and Police “Whoop Whoop” claxons racing up the streets.
Simon Magus looks at them both and quietly says, “Follow me, please.”
They head down the elevator to floor six – then walk thru a long hallway to a series of locked doors. In front of the last one stands Longinus – intrepid and menacing, his scarred face fixed in determination. He looks for all the world like the Colossus of Rhodes.
Simon Magus runs his key card thru the door lock pad and looks at Heinlein and Leeds.
“Say nothing, except when you take your leave”.
They enter the room. It’s dark and musty – and smells of pungent armpit sweat. Two steel chairs are situated in the center – each of which has a man wearing only boxer shorts zip tied to its frame. Their skin is white. They have sacks over their heads. There is no indication of blood on the men or floors. They have not been tortured.
From out of the shadows in the rear of the room emerges BratvaVarang Major Stjepan Markovic in full Spetsnaz garb.
“Hetman.…all is as you ordered”, he says. He formally salutes Simon Magus.
The Master returns his salute and gestures to Heinlein and Leeds to come closer.
In a sudden motion he pulls off the head sack on one of the men. The prisoner – or whatever he is – blinks his eyes to adjust to the light and shakes his head to clear his focus. When he finally looks at Heinlein, his jaw drops.
“YOU!” He screams. “YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!”
Major Markovic pulls the head sack off the other man. He also blinks and stares, mouth open in confusion and fear.
Simon Magus speaks. His voice is unperturbed; his words are clipped and decisive.
“Detective Heinlein, I believe you have already met US National Security Agency Regional Director Jack Tenerife. Next to him there is his majordomo, NSA Senior Agent William Crocker.
Mr. Tenerife – by now I will have already destroyed your NSA Substation on Exchange Place in the Tower Building – Floor 50. None of your people are killed. They were all safely evacuated before the blast. The old “Gas Leak” ruse.
Why did I destroy it? I tire of your excessive attention to my comings and goings. I suggest that you report to your Superiors that I am now a credentialed Diplomatic Envoy of the Russian Federation. I’m not to be harassed or otherwise bothered during my infrequent future visits to the United States. I have at this time nothing to say to the NSA or your Government.
Detective Heinlein and Sargeant Leeds are personal friends of mine. They enjoy my protection and continued support. I trust your organization will forbear taking any rash actions against them going forward. They will be watched by my people. Think twice before making their lives difficult. Touch one hair on either of their heads and your life is forfeit. Your continued existence depends upon them living their lives unmolested.
After Detective Heinlein and Sargeant Leeds bid you their fond adieu, you and Crocker will be taken to a location in New York City and released five hours from now. By that time, I will be far distant from the shores of these United States.
I trust I’ve made myself clear. Goodbye, Gentlemen.”
Copyright, 2026 Jon Croft
www.bogironslav.com
Email: vlchek1@gmail.com
