Steve’s Shorts: Part Four of Five…
Russians
Copyright 2016, Steven M. Moore
Part Four of Five
Boris tapped on the VW passenger’s window. Jan rolled it down. “There are two detectives staking out your apartment. They’re so obvious even I could spot them. Here’s what we’re going to do.”
She got out and walked in the direction he had come from. He got in the VW and passed her. As he passed the patrol car, he slowed down and turned off his headlights. As he figured, that attracted the cops’ attention. He sped up and they pursued with siren and flashing lights.
He knew the neighborhood better than they did. He let them follow for about ten blocks, making numerous lefts and rights, and then turned into an alley that had an entrance into a convenience store’s lot, drove through another complex’s lot, and waited in the shadows behind the apartment building for five minutes between two dumpsters. The sound of the siren faded into the distance.
He then took a much straighter route back to Jan’s apartment and picked her up.
“It’s still in my purse,” she said, waving the large bag. “There’s so much stuff in there, including a couple of old lighters, that they’d only find it if it bit them on the nose.”
“Do you smoke?”
“Are you kidding? I used them to light birthday candles for my many cousins. They’ve been in there for a while. Do you smoke? If so, what?”
“Years ago I used to smoke a pipe to look sophisticated,” he said with a smile. “Pipe tobacco, nothing else. Muscovites back then abused alcohol more than drugs, but I think that might be changing. I never wanted to do any damage to my brain. It’s all I have going for me.”
“You have a lot more than brains going for you, Boris.”
He felt the blush creeping up his neck. “Now we need a computer. I suggest the IT center. It’s open 24/7.”
“We might need some time. Do you have a laptop at home? It looks like the cops took all of ours from the apartment.”
“Wait a sec. I have a solution.” He used the car phone to dial a number.
“You’re using my old houseboat as a hideaway, aren’t you,” said a gravelly voice.
“Gerry, I’m innocent of anything you’ve heard from the cops.”
“Figured as much. They never even interviewed me. ‘Course, I was at that boring conference when all that exciting shit went down. I only saw the news on my laptop. Are you having a fucking orgy on my boat with that leggy redhead? You’d better clean up things when you’re done.”
Boris’s original blush, once dimming, now blossomed again. “She’s in the car with me, Gerry, and we’re not doing anything like you’re saying. She’s in trouble, and I’m helping.”
“I bet. I know how that consoling gambit goes. A knight in shining armor to save a damsel in distress? That’s as good as shtick as any to get into a woman’s pants.”
“Will you stop? I need to borrow your laptop. Can we come by tomorrow morning for coffee?”
“Sure. Cindy will be working and the kids will be in school. I don’t have a class until ten, so I might still be in pajamas.”
“We’ll be there at eight.”
“You’re not going to put a virus on my machine, are you?”
“Do you use it for anything besides porn?”
“I don’t do that anymore. With Cindy, I don’t need more stimulation, if you know what I mean. Bring your student along, though, so I can talk to her about the birds and the bees.”
“We won’t be talking about that!” said Jan. “I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
“Wow! OK. Hard to do that in PJs. But lighten up, sweetheart.”
“I know your reputation,” Jan said. “That’s why I’m waiting to take differential equations until next semester when Professor Srivastava is teaching it, not you.”
***
“Gerry’s a lot of talk,” said Boris on the way back to the houseboat, “but he’s a good friend.”
“Yes, I figure he’s a lot of bark and no bite. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have married. Speaking of which, why aren’t you married, Boris?”
“Long story. Young love gone bad. Let’s not discuss it.”
“OK,” she said. “Just in case, I expect you to protect me from Professor Grimes tomorrow morning.”
He spent some restless hours going over what he knew about the case. He decided Fonseca’s theory was gelling. Someone had kept Jan from returning to her apartment. That someone had kidnapped Vlad Levitsky and had returned again to search and torture Mary Sue to discover what she knew. The memory stick fit well into that theory. But what was on it? Who would torture Mary Sue and maybe murder Vlad over a video game? It must be something else.
Sometime near dawn he fell asleep on the old couch. He awoke to the aroma of fresh coffee. Jan was in the shower. He just made toast this time.
They arrived at Gerry’s a bit after eight. He lived farther away from the university in a nice split level. It had lots of room and a huge mortgage, but new wife Cindy was a lawyer who made about three times what Gerry did, even though he was a full professor.
Boris parked next to a playground, and they walked through alleys to Gerry’s backyard. He opened the backdoor for them. He eyed Jan.
“Are you still a minor?” he said to Jan.
“I’m nineteen, Professor Grimes. I’m an adult, and I’m asking for your help.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Let’s go to my sanctum sanctorum where I solve the mathematical mysteries of the Universe.” They followed him into the basement. “I’ll have to go onto the house wi-fi if you want internet connections.”
“We just want to look at what’s on this memory stick,” said Jan, handing it to him.
“Mind if I run it through a virus tester?”
“I did that at the IT center before I printed my report. It’s required. So it’s not necessary here.”
“Let’s look at it then.”
“You see,” said Jan, “just my report.”
“Let’s see what’s in that folder of user goodies,” said Boris.
Gerry opened the folder. “There’s another folder in here with a title that’s just a bunch of random letters and numbers. I’m leery about opening it.”
“The IT center said there’s no virus,” said Boris, “so click away.”
Gerry did just that. “Looks like Excel files—at least, that’s the extension—but the contents are all encrypted. We probably need a key to decrypt them.” Gerry looked up at Jan and Boris, who were looking over his shoulder. “I’m not enough of a techie to do that.”
“Let me try,” said Jan. She exchanged places with Jerry. She pounded keys for a bit. The file she was working on became legible. “Vlad used one of the most common encryption schemes.” She opened one of the now decrypted Excel files. “That looks like the Cyrillic alphabet.”
“It’s Russian,” said Boris. “Names and telephone numbers. The area codes are all U.S. At least, there’s no international prefix.”
“So, what do we have? A list of invitees to a Russian birthday party or wedding?” Gerry looked at Boris. “This is pretty weird.”
“Vlad knew Russian,” said Jan. “He could easily understand these spreadsheets.”
Boris was pacing now. “I hope Vlad’s name isn’t anywhere in these files,” he said. “I recognize one name there on the screen.” He reached over Jan and pointed to the name. “The uncle of the FSB agent who interrogated me in Moscow. That agent bragged about his important connections.”
“You’re kidding,” said Gerry. “That’s too much coincidence. What do we have, a list of Russian agents, then?”
“Yes, in a way. I’m afraid it’s a list of Russian spies. Vlad having this list either means he’s one too, or he came upon this list somehow and the Russians want it back, for obvious reasons.”
“That’s a lot of illogical paranoia,” said Gerry. “I told you awhile back that you should forget all that bad stuff in Moscow. Hell, man, you’re going to apply for citizenship soon.
You’ll never find a woman living in your past like that. Any woman would think you’re a wacko.”
Jan grabbed Boris’s hand and glared at Gerry. “That’s a bit harsh. What Boris said explains everything.”
Boris was now white. “We have to get out of here,” he said.
***
The VW made record time back to the houseboat, but Boris saw red lights reflecting off the marina’s fog and slammed on the brakes. “The cops are at the houseboat. They might be already sending other patrol cars to Gerry’s house.”
“Where can we go?” said Jan.
“This will all go away if we make the spreadsheets public,” said Boris, doing a three-point and heading away from the marina.
“Won’t the thugs be out for revenge in that case?” said Jan. “Plutonium-tipped umbrellas and all that. I’ll have to have every latté I buy chemically analyzed.”
“You have a point. I should rephrase what I said. We need some balance here, and we can achieve it by letting U.S authorities have these spreadsheets. And, for our security, I’d make copies of that stick. Right now, I’m calling Fonseca.” He dialed the detective’s cellphone. “A good morning to you, sergeant.”
“Where are you, professor? You’re in big trouble. I think some of your compatriots are after you.”
“Was the houseboat tossed too?”
“You bet, and that plate number belongs to an SUV owned by the Russian Consulate. Using plates that aren’t diplomatic gives me acid reflux.”
“They’ll deny everything, I’m sure. Meet us at the McDonald’s by the university. Bring your favorite FBI agent.”
“I don’t have any favorite FBI agents,” said Fonseca with a growl.
“Bring one of them who’s with you now then.” Boris corrected his route and headed for the university. “Everything’s on a memory stick we’ll give to the agent.”
After Boris signed off, they rode in high-voltage silence for a moment.
“There’s a strip mall next to the McDonald’s,” Jan said. “Let me off there, and I’ll make some copies. I know the owner of the little computer repair shop.”
“It had better be fast. I’m sure Fonseca and friend are on the way, maybe with every cop and federal agent in the city. Only the saints know where the Russians are.”
“Sounds like Fonseca was doing some sleuthing,” she said with a smile. “You don’t like him, do you?”
“Let’s say I’m prejudiced against authority figures.”
***
There were a few customers at the McDonald’s eating their fast food breakfasts. Boris ordered two coffees, and they found a booth for four. Jan picked up the morning newspaper a previous customer had left on her seat. She looked at the front page, reversed the paper, and shoved it over to Boris.
“We’re famous!”
“’Professor and Student Newest Victims of Campus Violence?’ At least they don’t say we’re criminals.”
“In the first paragraph, it says we’re wanted for questioning about the brutal attack on Mary Sue and the disappearance of Vlad. I bet—hey!”
Two men had joined them. Neither was Fonseca.
“You two will come with us,” said Boris’s seat partner. He felt the muzzle of the gun in his ribs. He glanced at the hot coffee. “Don’t even think about it, professor. You’ll be dead before your hand reaches the cup. You’re a bit too fast with those hands, but I’m not as careless as Igor was.”
“No chance for suing McDonalds over serving coffee that’s too hot either,” said the thug next to Jan with a grin. “We’re going to take a little ride.”
They were ushered out to the black SUV. It now had no plates at all.
“We would have given you the memory stick,” said Boris. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“That’s what we wanted,” said the thug who was driving. “Things are a bit more complicated now. We’re trying to avoid an international incident.”
“There wasn’t that much fallout about those Montclair agents, even though Russia never even denied they were agents.”
“True. This is a little different.”
“Because the number of spies is so large,” said Jan.
“You’re too smart for your own good,” said the other thug. “Your friend was too.”
“Vlad? What have you done to him?”
“Maybe he’s writing code up there,” said the thug, pointing to the SUV’s roof. “Let’s say he didn’t cooperate and paid the price. I’m sure you two will be more cooperative, but that won’t matter. You’re not a popular fellow at FSB, professor.”
“What? I’ve done nothing to Russia since I came to this country. I never did anything there either. The FSB practices guilt by association.”
“Maybe. That’s the Russian way. At least, guilty until proven innocent, which worked for you, so you shouldn’t complain. But it doesn’t look good you’re involved in this now.” He shrugged. “’Course, we’re not FSB nor SVR, so I don’t care much about your past sins.”
“It’s all my fault,” said Jan. “I’m his student.”
“Oh, we know all about you, Ms. Connors, and your beautiful mother.”
“My mother? What does she have to do with anything? Keep her out of this.”
Boris was deep in concentration, his thoughts speeding along at a kilometer per minute. One, it was clear that the stick wouldn’t be their ticket to freedom. Two, it was certain the thugs were going to kill them. And three, his new country needed to know about the vast network of Russian spies in its midst. Of course, after number two, nothing would matter to Jan and him.
***
In libris libertas…
