The Siberian Wind

All through the weekend I tried to dismiss the phone call as a prank. We had received all kinds of strange phone calls and mail in response to stories we ran. One man used to call, threatening to send us a letter, "containing a brown powder that will eventually kill you all..." These were idle threats by unstable people. But we also had some real threats at Viewzone, and that's what was so unsettling about this call.

A few months earlier we witnessed a bearded man, dressed in somewhat odd black attire, enter our office in great distress. He was a priest from a Russian Orthodox Church in the South of Connecticut. He too asked to be heard, and asked us to help. His voice had the same sense of urgency - fear - that I recognized in my recent caller, and his problem was quite real.

When the Soviet Union finally dissolved, the Russian Mafia created an entity in Moscow called, aptly enough, Moscow Realty. The Russian mob also formally recognized the establishment of religion, allowing the Russian citizens to belong to the recently established, ersatz "Orthodox Church of Russia."

Back in the days of Stalin, the old Russian Orthodox Church was outlawed and its clergy were massacred. Most of the Russian emigrants here in America came here to escape this repression and established thousands of little Russian Orthodox churches where they were married, had their children baptized and were eventually buried. These tiny churches grew over many generations and some were now sitting in the middle of large metropolitan areas and on land that was now worth millions of dollars.

Moscow Real Estate wanted this land, or rather the money. Systematically, and with the blind eye of the American government, they were entering these parish offices, evicting the current priest and his family, and taking control of the property to demolish the churches and sell the land. They did this by claiming to represent the "true" Orthodox Church of Russia, many of whose "clergy" were former KGB and communist atheists.

Our black clothed visitor was in this predicament. He had already been threatened with his life, and that of his family, if he did not leave the church by the end of the month. We listened to his story in disbelief. "Surely if the American government knows about this they will help!"

When he left the office it was decided that I would write the story. I did some research on the web and was shocked to learn that this was true. The usual routine began with a threat. If this was not heeded, they would drive a school bus full of comrades to the rectory, force the door open and literally displace the priest and his family by dozens of bodies that occupied his space. His personal items, furniture and religious items were thrown out of windows or put on the street, the door was locked, and the property was ultimately sold, with proceeds going to the mob's Moscow Realty.

The threats were also, periodically, carried out. Two high ranking bishops in Canada were found with bullets in their heart - a traditional KGB signature - and there was little hope for this small parish priest. Nevertheless, I wrote the story and we published it, and it did get noticed.

One evening while I was again working late, the phone rang. A man on the other end had a thick accent but I could tell that he was angry and kept saying that he was going to cut my throat and that I was going to need a surgeon. "You will not make a difference," he said. After we traded some rather descriptive insults, I hung up on him. I did not think much about the call until the Orthodox priest came again to visit, to thank me for writing the story. I told him about the call and mentioned that the caller had a rather unusual name - "Metropolitan something or other..." His face went white.

"Oh, I am so sorry for ever coming here and getting you involved in this. Please just let it stop and forget everything!"

I later learned that I had been speaking with the mob's equivalent to the Pope in America. For the next few days I was shadowed by a white Mercedes and the same car totally destroyed the car of one of our employees before fleeing the scene.

The little priest eventually left with his family and started another small church in a pre-fabricated log cabin somewhere in the Berkshires. His church was destroyed, the cemetery bull-dozed, and an apartment complex now collects rent for Moscow Realty. The mob Pope was right, I didn't make a difference.

So I recognized real fear when I heard it. But what was in Alaska? Did they have Orthodox churches there? Was this another poor priest?

"Hey, Dan, you have to sign for this." A uniformed FedEx man handed me an envelope from Fairbanks, Alaska. I would soon learn the truest meaning of fear.