Minsk is nice this time of year - for others...

The last two weeks here have been difficult Nikita - You enrage me, yet I cannot bring myself to close my heart off to you. Damn your overly analytical female mind. I didn't approach you or speak to you or otherwise "hit on" you at the bar. It was you who was making gestures toward me, and although I was flattered, I didn't do anything - I was waiting for the one I love to appear in the doorway of the bar, to slowly make her way over to me and without saying a word, make me feel more complete and comforted than I have known before. How could my demeanor be so horribly misconstrued? Are you so afraid to love that you have to push me away like that? And to use Grigori to hurt me? You inflict such pain with no weapon at all....The coldness with which you wrote in  your last contact has left me in a funk. The Scotch numbs my hurt to a point, but I have to stay alert enough to continue building my contact base and back story to gain access to the players here. 

I do owe you a debt of gratitude for sending the baker. Marco's men weren't going to kill me, but I would have suffered many painful internal injuries at their hands. Thank you.  As for celtox 37, it seems there are two facilities here capable of creating large enough quantities to sell on the black market. Both facilities are known to have dealings with the organization and selling weapons grade germs to the highest bidder, so I have once again found myself at the center rather than the fringes of the action... It's easy enough to pass myself off as an industrial chemicals salesman but I'm having a hard time with the "lobbying for business" part of the job - It distracts me from you to be out on the town with these crazy Minskan men, with their taste for fine vodka and food, but when they want to visit the red district, it's hard to make up excuses as to why I insult them by not sharing their women with them - if they knew the truth, they could use that against me. If I don't play along, I may not be able to gain the access I need to their labs. So far, my germophobic OCD excuse is working, but Konrad the crazy head chemist is still suspect of my motives.   Perhaps I'll tell them I'm in love with a dancer. That always gets a laugh...

S