Grigor and Kaylee going off separately could be explained generically or personally and it would be about the same. Grigor saw himself as strong, manly, and adventurous. The function of his skiführer was to be an adventure guide, go off-piste, find stashes of untouched snow. Kaylee, by contrast, expected her instructor to teach her. She was actually the better skier of the two or was at least becoming so. Grigor was sure he was God and not to be improved upon. He constantly assumed he was much better than his actual skills. Or that skills didn’t really enter into it. Gusto, bluster, and daring would get him through anything and everything. Those were the qualities that had served him well through the peaks and cliffs, crevasses and rifts, of those rich and treacherous ranges where Russian capitalism mixed with Russian politics and Russian organized crime. Charge ahead like you’re the best there is and if you’re still standing at the end, then yes, you were.

Kaylee was quite different. By nature. She was to measure up in all things to the high standard set by her own physical beauty, a very cool, plastic, Nicole Kidman sort of thing. She took ski instruction like one of the good girls in ballet class. She followed orders. She practiced the exercises. She never ventured beyond the range of her established competence. Something might happen out there that would make her appear less than perfect.

—

I made sure that my path crossed Grigor’s on the slopes, at a restaurant in the mountains, and walking through town, each time with a nod and a casual American “hiya.” I got no response. Except from Boris One. He was about 6 foot 3, with shoulders wide enough for 1.7 normal people and quite capable of making up for his lack of refined skiing skills with muscle and athleticism. The area over his left eye was thick from scarring and his nose had a lumpy look to it. Boxing or some other kind of battering. His eyeballs ran up and down me like they had a built-in scanning device for evaluating threat levels. I calculated that a pushier approach would be counterproductive.

Boris Two had a more pleasant and less pugilistic demeanor. He was Leo’s keeper. He either liked kids or felt it was his duty to act as if he did. Leo usually only skied half a day. If he did more, he would sometimes fall asleep on the chairlift or even standing on skis, not when he was in motion, just if he had to be still for some reason. If I’d been close with the family, I would have recommended he go into a group with other kids. Kittens like to play with kittens, puppies with puppies, and kids with kids. But I was not close and it was none of my business.