Steve’s shorts: Russians, Part Five of Five…
Russians
Copyright 2016, Steven M. Moore
Part Five of Five
Fonseca watched another black SUV pull in behind the VW. He left the McDonald’s and approached the car.
“Sergeant Fonseca,” he said, offering his hand.
The man behind the wheel shook it. “Special Agent Morales. Anita called us from the houseboat. Don’t tell me we’re too late.”
“The professor’s car is still here. They’re not. Waitress said they left with two thugs. Her word, not mine. She thought that our two on the run didn’t want to go with them. Said they left in an SUV. Probably the one we’ve been looking for.” He patted the agent’s vehicle. “Hard to tell the bad guys from the good when you use the same kind of car.”
“Have you searched the VW?” said the woman sitting next to Morales.
“And you are?”
“Never mind. Just search the damn car.”
“I’d rather wait for my CSU colleague. He gets mad when I muck up a crime scene.”
“There’s no time for that, detective. Help him, Eddie.”
“She sure has a broom handle up her ass,” said Fonseca when they were inside the VW. He’d taken the rear of the car, Morales the front.
The FBI agent made no comment. “These might be significant,” the agent said, holding up two memory sticks a few seconds later. “Keep searching. We have a laptop aboard. I’ll see what’s on these.”
“Gee, aren’t we high tech.” But Fonseca remained in the VW. He already had the backseat up.
A bit later, the woman’s voice called to him.
“This is what we need, so let’s go after the Russians.”
That’s confirmed. The Russians are the bad guys. And that doesn’t include the professor. “How do we do that? Travel back in time to when they were kidnapping the professor and the girl?”
“I’ll consider that a feeble attempt at humor. Our helicopter has already spotted their SUV. We only have to drive there. Can you call for backup? I’d much rather keep a low profile here.”
“Yes, ma’am. Your wish is my command.”
***
“Our home away from home,” said one thug, pushing Jan and Boris into the motel room. “It’s a bit tacky and we have to listen to people humping at all hours of the day and night—the walls are thin—but the price is right, and the cops don’t come here except to do the same thing.”
Jan picked herself up from the floor. “I don’t see Vlad.”
“You won’t. Never again.” He held out his hand. “The USB stick, please.”
She gave him the stick. “It’s all in Russian. We don’t know what’s on it.”
“Maybe you don’t, but the professor does, and I’m sure you also have the general idea.”
“Kind of sloppy of you,” said Boris, “to let a kid hack into your computers.”
“Not as sloppy as that kid trying to blackmail us,” said the other thug.
“What?” said Jan. “Why would Vlad do that?”
“He had a gambling problem. He was an online gambling addict and was deep in debt. He saw his chance and took it. I’d probably do the same if I thought I could get away with it. But he didn’t, and here we are.” He tossed the stick into the air and then caught it. “Now you’re going to tell us where the copies are.”
“We didn’t make any copies,” said Boris.
“We’ll confirm that. Let’s start with Ms. Connors.” He went to Jan and ran his finger along a cheek. “We’re good at this. Call it S&M, if you like. Does that turn you on?” She spit in his face and the thug slapped her. “Oh, you’re a feisty one. Sexy and smart. I’m sure you’ll enjoy watching this, professor. It will be your turn next, of course.”
“And I’ll handle that,” said the other thug. “We’ll confirm whether you made more copies soon enough.”
“Hypothetically, let’s suppose we did,” said Boris. “Suppose we told you where they were. What then?”
The thug shrugged. “You’d just die sooner. Less painful for you, no fun for us. Maybe you want a piece of this little ass?” He jerked a thumb toward Jan. “We can all have a turn if you do.”
The second thug laughed. He had removed his belt and was whipping the buckle end around. Jan was following the buckle, almost mesmerized.
When the man stopped and began to lower his pants, Boris grabbed for the nearest thug’s gun. At the same time, he kicked at a knee. He couldn’t control the gun, though.
Jan had reacted too. Taking advantage of her assailant’s distraction, she pushed him. He tripped over the pants that were now at his ankles.
Boris’s opponent recovered and parried with a sharp jab. Boris blocked the blow with his arm but felt intense pain and then numbness. The thug followed with a cross to the chin. Boris went down, the thug recovered his gun, and waved it between Jan and Boris.
“Forget the sex games, Anton! We need to resolve this.” He went to Jan and put the muzzle of his gun at her temple. “I’ll blow her brains all over this room unless you tell us where the copies are.”
“Go ahead and try it,” said Boris, holding up the gun’s clip. “Sure you have a bullet in the chamber?”
The thug examined the gun to check. In that moment, the motel room’s front window shattered, two shots were heard, and blood and brains were sprayed all over Jan. She sank to her knees.
“Jan!” Boris rushed to her and was relieved to see her sobbing. She wasn’t dead. The two Russian thugs were. But her injured shoulder was bleeding again.
The motel room’s door turned into splinters. Fonseca walked in, gun ready.
“Didn’t take long for that agent to read the sticks in your VW’s glove compartment, Boris,” he said with a smile. He holstered his gun. “How’s it feel to be an American hero?”
Boris tossed him the clip from the gun. “I was pretty sure there wasn’t a chambered bullet, but not 100% certain, so don’t ever tell me. Or Jan. Thanks for joining the party.”
“I heard part of the discussion. Would you have told him where the other sticks were?”
“Of course. To save her, at least temporarily. It was a game of poker where I didn’t even know what cards I held. We also didn’t know how else to get the copies of the sticks to you. Whether we died or not, we wanted the authorities to have them.”
“I’m glad they kicked you out of Russia, Boris.”
“I left on my own accord, but it took only one FSB interrogation over a chess game to decide to do that.”
***
“My mother is a bit intense,” Jan said as Boris parked in front of her mother’s house. “So are her friends.”
“She didn’t seem to be too popular with those two Russian thugs. What’s that about?”
“Darned if I know. She worked in the State Department after Dad died. Maybe something happened overseas? She was stationed in Moscow once.”
“Were you with her at her diplomatic posts?”
“Yes, until she retired. There are Army brats and so forth who grow up on military bases. I grew up in various countries as a diplomatic brat, going to private schools with other diplomats’ kids. I didn’t see much of my mother, although she was into quality time with me when we were together. I probably have seen more parks and things to entertain kids in more countries than just about anyone my age.” She hooked her good arm in his. “You might be considered the guest of honor in this crowd. Shall we?”
Jan pushed the doorbell and a woman who was an older version of Jan opened the door. “Professor Vashchenko, meet my Mom, Caitlin Connors. Mom, my vector calculus professor.”
“I’m afraid we’ll both have to repeat the course,” said Boris. “We took the rest of the semester off.”
“Welcome to our home,” said Mrs. Connors in Russian. “Follow me and I will introduce you to the other guests.”
Later, Boris dragged Jan away from a literary discussion. One of Jan’s uncles barbecued burgers under the supervision of the Spanish and Italian consuls who already had a bit too much of the excellent French wine and were discussing irony in Rabelais and Voltaire’s works.
“This is a strange crowd. Diplomats, the head of the NYC FBI office, the ex-Homeland Security Secretary—what gives?”
She shrugged. “Just some old friends she’s acquired over a lifetime of diplomatic service. They’re her friends, not mine. Have you had to tell our story multiple times?”
“Not once. We’ve chatted about pop culture—the Spanish consul doesn’t like Bob Dylan, for example—the stock market, soccer. You name it. But not about Russian spies.”
She winked. “They might know more about it than we do. I wish Fonseca were here.”
“I thanked him profusely. He might be a slob, but he’s a pro at what he does. You seem to be looking for him. Did you expect him?”
“No. I was expecting Brian. He said he’d be down this weekend, so I invited him.”
“A romantic interest?” said Boris, with a wink.
“I wish. He’s good-looking but gay. And he owes me fifty bucks. He borrowed it for a Mets ticket. I’m going to ask Mom to talk to his parents. I want to take you to a nice dinner when we get back.”
“There’s no need to do that. Take Mary Sue. She’ll be out of the hospital soon and deserves it.”
Jan laughed. “Maybe a double date, then. She could set me up.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I seem to only fall for older men.”
“I think I qualify as much older,” he said with a smile.
“Come on, let’s go shoot some pool in the basement. I can manage without this sling long enough to get in a few games.”
Boris had to learn the rules and a bit of the technique. After starting the second game, Caitlin Connors joined them.
“You two are probably bored.” She handed Boris a Corona. “Why don’t you go bring down a plate of those empanadas, Jan? I need to discuss something with Boris.”
Jan looked from Boris to her mother. “Sure. With chimichurri?”
“But of course.”
***
Boris took a seat next to Jan’s mother.
“You have a very intelligent daughter, Mrs. Connors.”
“Not many men consider her brains her most positive attribute. She’s had some problems in the romance department. Men still want trophy wives. Women’s lib has its ups and downs. We seem to be in a down period. Besides the trophy-wife syndrome, men also feel insecure around smart women. Of course, you had the opposite experience.”
“What do you mean?” Boris was becoming a bit nervous.
Caitlin Connors put her hand on Boris’s. “Relax, Boris. First, I want to thank you for taking care of my little girl. Second, I know all about your experience with Natasha. Betrayal is an ugly thing.”
“I shouldn’t talk about that.”
“I don’t expect you too.” She smiled. “Some women have secrets. Some women have agendas. Some women have peculiar loyalties they call patriotism. And powerful men can encourage women to do many things that ruin others’ lives…and their own.”
“I don’t know what happened to Natasha to make her change.”
“She could have been a legitimate member of the opposition, and someone turned her. The irony is that she thought you were too, so she used you. All past history now.” She paused a moment. “I understand you’re going for tenure. Are you happy here in our country, Boris?”
“As much as can be expected. There are a few things missing. At my age, it’s difficult to find someone to share my life with.”
“I hope you don’t think Jan is that person.”
“I never said she was. And, if she thinks differently, it’s news to me. She’s just a very smart student who makes the teaching part of my job seem worthwhile.”
She thought a bit. “That’s comforting.” She patted his hand. “I’ll always love my Daniel, but I’m looking for someone too. He’d want that, but frankly I didn’t have the time until now. Same problem as Jan, too.” She removed her hand and reached into her cleavage. Pulling out a business card, she handed it to him and smiled. “Call me if you’re ever in Washington. Anytime. And I make many trips back here too. May I call you?”
He nodded. “Just what do you do, Mrs. Connors? I thought you were retired.”
“Call me Caitlin. That’s the only name on the card, along with my cellphone number. And I can’t tell you exactly what I do, but no, I’m not retired. Call me a part-time government consultant.”
***
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