For those who have read Playground:Cyprus here is a spoiler for the sequel Playground:Ukraine. If you haven’t read the first book, we highly recommend reading it to follow the characters and events in the sequel.
PLAYGROUND: UKRAINE
A sequel to PLAYGROUND: CYPRUS
Chapter 1
February 19, 2022
In the subdued heart of February, Kyiv found itself in the embrace of an unusually mild winter. The city, with its historic monuments and grand churches, stood under a heavy sky, low and thick with clouds that promised snow but seldom delivered. The Dnipro River, often a frozen spectacle by this time of year, flowed unfettered, its banks flanked by the bare outlines of trees awaiting spring.
Winter’s chilly grasp was loosening, heralding the arrival of early spring with its earthy fragrances felt in the air. February held the city in a gentle pause, with the earth starting to stir from its rest, hinting at the eventual explosion of life and color yet to come. It was a period of transformation, where winter began its gradual retreat, making way for the first signs of green to tentatively break through. The city’s beautiful right-bank hills, a mix of still bare trees, winding trails, and golden domes of Pecherska Lavra, were poised on the cusp of bursting into life. They pledged to awaken fully in just a few weeks.
Maidan, the city’s vibrant soul, usually a canvas of snow this season, remained untouched by winter’s white mantle. Instead, it was covered in a cloak of dreariness, the grey pavements and solemn statues reflecting the gloomy skies above. Despite the gloom that enveloped the surroundings, the air was alive with the spirit of resilience, reverberating with tales of valor and an unwavering pursuit of freedom that once ignited this very square in the flames of revolution. It was a place where the past’s echoes of struggle and triumph mingled with the present’s whispers of hope, a sacred symbol of unity and courage in the face of adversity.
Despite the veil of a grey winter, life in Kyiv throbbed with a steady, colorful rhythm. The city streets bustled with the energy of its residents. Cafes, those cozy refuges from the chill, buzzed with activity; their warmth a haven for conversations over coffee, the steam rising like breaths into the cool air. The city lived its normal life, waiting for winter to finally surrender.
Dmitri Orlov, one of the most adept operatives of the Russian secret service, found himself on all too familiar ground. His mission, one of utmost importance, had brought him to Kyiv. Sent by his FSB patrons, Dmitri was to orchestrate an operation that danced on the edge of danger, its outcome potentially altering the geopolitical landscape. The assignment was clear yet fraught with peril, once again placing Dmitri in a world where the lines between right and wrong blurred into obscurity. As he navigated his car along the Dnipro River, heading towards the city’s northeastern district – Obolon for a secret meeting, he couldn’t help but feel the shadow of impending doom surround him. It felt like everything was on the edge of a big change that would soon shake the city’s peaceful existence. Yet, this shift wasn’t spring knocking on the door. The feeling of normalcy on one side and the understanding of what was coming on the other weighed on Dmitri, reminding him of how quickly things could change and how fast the line between life and death could disappear.
With each mile in slow Kyiv traffic, his mind wandered to another Ukrainian city, Kherson, where his daughter, Sophia, and her mother, Inna, lived, oblivious to his existence. A heavy burden weighed on Dmitri’s heart, knowing his superiors’ dangerous games could soon threaten his most cherished.
Dmitri’s thoughts unfolded, journeying back a decade to Budapest, bisected by its grand river, much like Kyiv. It was there, amidst a covert operation entwining the FSB with the CIA and MI6 against a looming terrorist threat in Europe, that Dmitri found himself for nine long months. Those days still echoed a time when alliances were forged to combat a common enemy. Between the clandestine meetings and shared intelligence gatherings, a quaint café in Budapest became the setting for a fateful encounter. Inna, a luminous presence from Ukraine, had just concluded her local university studies. She lingered in the city through the summer, serving café patrons to gather her savings before returning back home to Kherson. Her vibrant spirit was undeniable, igniting a romance that swept Dmitri into a whirlwind of emotions he had never known.
Despite the demands of his mission, Dmitri found peace in stolen moments with Inna—nighttime walks through amazing parks, kisses shared on secluded benches, and dawn crossings over the Danube, bathed in the nascent light of day. Happiness, a stranger till then, enveloped him in its warm embrace. She was the antithesis of everything he embodied—their contrasting worlds colliding in a beautiful paradox. Her radiant joy and boundless energy filled the voids he had long accepted as immutable.
Yet, as their bond deepened, duty called Dmitri away to the dangerous terrains of Africa, leaving his promise of return hanging in the balance. When fate led him back to her fourteen months later, Dmitri, from a distance, first laid eyes on Inna and the infant cradled in her arms, a sight that pierced the veil of months and miles that had separated them. There, before him, was the example of what could have been—a family, a future, a life far removed from the dangers that trailed his every step.
As he watched from the shadows, the weight of his decision bore down on him. The very act of revealing himself, stepping into the light and acknowledging his presence, carried a peril too great to impose on the unsuspecting pair. His heart ached, longing to reclaim the lost time, introduce himself to the child he had never known, and rekindle the love that had once set his soul ablaze.
Yet, in the silence of that moment, Dmitri made the excruciating choice to retreat into the anonymity from which he had come. He vanished into the dusk, leaving Inna to the peaceful life she had built, untouched by the dangers of his world. In doing so, he consigned himself to a ghost of her past, whose fate would remain a mystery. She would be forever oblivious to his silent return and the unspoken goodbye that lingered between them.
His life, a mix of missions and dangers, posed a significant risk to both of them. The thought of enemies leveraging his most profound bonds against him was a gamble too dangerous to entertain.
Months later, Dmitri orchestrated a labyrinth of companies and fronts to provide for Inna and their daughter, Sophia, from afar. A software development company hired Inna online as a web designer and offered her a spectacular salary. Even though the money issue was settled, Dmitri’s heart still ached at the thought of another man stepping into the role meant for him. Yet year after year, Inna remained alone. It was a bittersweet solace.
Known by many names, bearing passports as varied as the languages he spoke, Dmitri was a grand master of the clandestine; his existence was always covered with secrecy and silence. Even those who commanded his loyalty were oblivious to his pilgrimages to Kherson. Three, sometimes four times a year, he would ghost through the city, a silent protector watching from afar. Through his camera lens, he captured the milestones of Sophia’s life — her first tentative steps in the park, the joyful abandonment of games with neighborhood children, and the proud march into school on her first day. These stolen moments, frozen in time, were treasures hidden in a digital online vault, a secret gallery of love’s quiet testament.
As he navigated the streets of Kyiv, Dmitri felt the weight of looming events, a prelude to chaos that tugged at his focus. For the first time, the man who had been the personification of precision and detachment found his thoughts adrift, trapped by the ties of his heart to Sophia and Inna.
Dmitri Orlov’s turmoil began long before the streets of Kyiv beckoned with the shadow of an FSB mission. The seeds were sown in the office of his superior, Leonid Varushev, where Orlov, fresh from Cyprus, was briefed on his next assignment. It was there, in the sterile confines of Varushev’s office, that he was informed that his next destination was Kyiv—a city on the brink of monumental change. Dmitri understood all too well the ominous undertone of his boss’s words; he was acutely aware of the nefarious plans his country harbored.
What troubled Dmitri most deeply was the safety of his daughter. The impending war threatened to engulf everything in its path, including the life of his child, whose existence remained a secret to the world. The realization that his daughter’s well-being hung in the balance only served to intensify his internal conflict. Deep down, he recognized the impossibility of fulfilling both of his obligations – the service to his country and the need to shield his daughter from harm. In his internal battle, Dmitri was caught between duty and desire, a man at war with his own heart.
***
Nestled within the busy neighborhood of Obolon stood an apartment complex, a blend of contemporary elegance and understated charm. Orlov eased his vehicle into a spot nearby and checked his inside pockets, ensuring his driver’s license and passport — the identity of Pavel Lukovich from Brest, Belarus, was safely zipped within his parka. With his phone and tablet in hand, he locked his car, stepping into the role of a businessman poised to venture beyond Belarusian borders with aspirations of a software empire in Ukraine. Beneath this veneer, however, lay his true mission: leading a group of FSB operatives into the most daring of plots.
Entering the apartment, Dmitri found his team assembled, the air thick with anticipation. Casting aside his parka with a practiced nonchalance, he settled into the heart of their makeshift command center. “Let’s go over it again,” he commanded, his gaze sharp. “On the day X, our window will open with a signal — a mere couple of hours’ notice. In the coming chaos, our moment strikes. Our inside man at the SBU will set the stage, orchestrating a meeting enveloped in the promise of crucial intelligence. Here is how: a call from the Belarusian Secret Service to SBU will set things in motion approximately three to four hours after the main operation begins. The call will request a face-to-face between the Ukrainian president and a special messenger bearing a super-secret message from the Belarus president himself. The fact that the message comes through unofficial channels makes it easy to believe for Ukrainians, knowing Belarus’ president is totally controlled by Russia but secretly wants to help. The messenger is going to be me. That’s the setup.”
Dmitri unfurled a detailed map of Kyiv, its streets and buildings were a chessboard awaiting their next move. “Anatoly and I will get into the presidential office here while you, Sergei,” — a pencil tapped decisively — “and Oleg secure our retreat here.” Acknowledgment was swift, the plan a living entity among them.
“The device,” Orlov inquired, the room holding its breath.
Anatoly presented an iPhone, its sheen concealing a lethal purpose. “Prepared. But the challenge remains: how do we bring it past security?”
“We don’t. Devices are to be surrendered,” Dmitri elucidated, a strategist foreseeing every move. “But in the heat of negotiation, with towering stakes and frayed nerves, protocols will fall to the wayside. Desperation for what we ‘offer’ will blind them to caution. I will ask for my phone to be brought in later to show the proof of the message. Given the circumstances and enormous level of stress, their judgement will be clouded and security will not be an issue at that moment.” He paused, the gravity of their task a tangible force. “I will put the phone in front of them on the table. The screen with the message will trigger the device, and in four seconds it will go boom. So, Anatoly, once the message is displayed on the screen, you count to three and dive for cover as far to the side as possible. After that, we’ll have to deal with whoever comes running. It’ll be quick and dangerous, but we’ve planned for this. In case the iPhone plan fails for any reason, there is a plan B where, for Anatoly and I, this mission is going to become a one-way ticket. You know what to do in that case, Tolya.” Anatoly quietly nodded; his heart heavy with the prospect of dying so soon. His eyes briefly lingered on Orlov’s right hand, where a thick golden ring encircled his finger. While it might appear as an ordinary piece of jewelry to an outsider, Anatoly knew better. This ring, with its deceptive simplicity, harbored a lethal secret. Constructed with precision, it contained a tiny needle, invisible to the unsuspecting eye but as sharp as the finest syringe. A simultaneous press on both sides of the ring could spring the needle into action. With just a mere handshake, a fatal dose could be delivered, its venom seeping into the bloodstream upon the needle’s subtle penetration of the skin. Anatoly was aware that Orlov required only a moment’s proximity to the president to execute his mission. He knew what was at stake, including the very real possibility of not making it out alive.
Within this gathering of whispers and darkness, Dmitri Orlov and his team wove their plot, the threads of which were an explosive mix of daring and danger. They were ready to alter the course of history.
***