by Jack Dayton
“Shipment today at warehouse. All clear process this week.”
“Did you fix the feed on the oil press?”
“Da . . . we had to . . . otkyluchit . . . ”
“Disable?”
Vakha leaned against the door frame. “Da . . . auger sticking but safety closed down machine so we make work without safety.” Vakha’s thickly accented English was laced with Chechen words and phrases. Like all Chechen children, he had been forced to learn Russian during his short tenure in school in Grozny. Learning another language now would be on an ‘as needed’ basis. Just enough to do business.
Kool shook his head. “Someday an inspector will come in and catch you. You can’t do it the Russian way here.”
“Russian?” Vakha spat on the floor to Kool’s disgust. “Not Russian. Never Russian.”
Vakha wasn’t someone who wasted time on minor details like safety precautions. Kulyak chose to ignore Vakha’s display of disdain for all things Russian and changed the subject. “Any problem at the docks? Inspectors are all taken care of?”
“Nyet problems. They are happy.”
“Watch that. That is where we are weakest.”
“So qita.” Vakha answered in Chechen, “I get it.” He crooked his thumb to the kitchen. “What’s his problem? Gristle in the horsemeat?”
They both smirked then. Kulyak sighed “No. He is still mad about Alik. Wants to know why his favorite kid goes on a side gig and gets his throat cut.”
Vakha nodded. “Is good question.” He leveled his gaze at Kulyak. “Why was he there, Anton?”
“Alik was doing me a favor.”
“Why you care if some party in Virginia needs server? Why he need do that for you?”
“Vakha, go to the warehouse.” Kulyak had opened the folder on his desk and was looking down now.
“So I must go now?” Vakha’s jaw tightened before his face turned blank again. He turned to leave when a soup ladle narrowly missed his head and hit the cement block wall in Kulyak’s office.
A string of Chechen curses flew from Vakha at Abukhan who threw another which Vakha had to dodge to avoid. Abukhan returned the curses as Kulyak closed his folder, locked it in the drawer of his desk and got up.
Vakha and Kulyak exchanged looks, Vakha nodding as he moved to the rear door of the restaurant to his task for the day. Abukhan stood in his small kitchen behind a prep table fuming in Chechen about his knives, which needed to be sharpened and no one sharpened them like Alik. Kool picked up the soup ladles, closed the door of his office and began again to formulate the responses that would keep Abukhan happy for one more day. He paused considering whether Vakha was going to cause a problem. The questions he was asking were the ones Kulyak wanted answers to as well. It was past time for the meeting that would get some of those answers.
* * *
“Well, that went splendidly.” Serge Kovak muttered to himself while waiting for the car to stop rocking. Not everyone could slam the door of his Infiniti QX80 so hard it made it shift back and forth. “I guess you made your point,” he said to himself as he watched the figure who had just exited hasten through the maze of cars in the parking garage.
He sat back then wondering when the last time his heart had beaten that rapidly. Was it Paris when the plane first landed? Was it when he watched as his mother begged for him to be evacuated? Was it when the bombs first started falling, far away and then closer and closer until he thought his head would explode from the sound? Or the first time he saw the nightmare of a thermobaric weapon?
All of the above, he finally decided. He smiled ruefully. He thought those days of heart pounding fear were behind him. So much of that fear was founded in not having any control, being a victim waiting for the next terror to strike. He had vowed to never let those circumstances take over his life again and yet, here he was, watching a person he thought he knew disintegrate in rage in front of him. It didn’t seem to matter how much reason he brought, how his appeals for patience were designed to logically calm the overaction and threats. He had no idea if his arguments had made any difference. If the power of the force that rocked the car was any indication, he couldn’t be sure. Maybe he was successful and the slam was an act of frustrated resignation. Or maybe it was the ‘fuck you’ move of someone who would do whatever he thought he needed to do to protect himself.
Kovak pushed the ignition to start the car. He had no more moves. Anything might draw attention now which was the last thing he needed. He just hoped the panic he read didn’t trigger an act that would explode like a suicide vest. “Be cool,” was all he could muster at the end just as the door slammed. That only seemed to enrage him more.
Kovak followed the figure as he walked quickly away. “Oh, no . . . ” he murmured to himself. He was dismayed to see Dacey Dunn walking past his angry friend toward his car. She was wearing those oversized sunglasses that were becoming fashionable so he couldn’t see whether she noticed him or the man he had just finished arguing with. She did tilt her head as he passed her, too caught up in his frustration to even notice her. As one of the resident honeys on VisionNet, that was probably a first for her, he speculated.
She kept coming toward him. She was the last person he wanted to see. He started the ignition and looked back before putting the car in reverse. She was standing next to her BMW M4 coupe then when she spotted Kovak. She was processing now, looking from him to the receding figure. “That’s it, Dacey,” he thought to himself. “Don’t overload that massive, blonde brain of yours.”
He pulled out, hoping to slide past her without the obligatory acknowledgement. No such luck. She moved to the rear of her car and out into the exit lane blocking his escape. He pushed the button on his window down as she moved to the driver side to talk.
“Dacey, how delightful.” He hoped the flat expression in his greeting conveyed his lack of interest in a conversation. “I am in a bit of a rush. You don’t mind, I’m sure.”
She took off the sunglasses now, smiling, her oval face framed by her blond hair. “You are always in a hurry whenever we meet, Dr. Kovak. We still haven’t found an opportunity to discuss the Norwegian defense attache’s party.” Her practiced charm was as obvious as her three-inch stilettos.
“I didn’t think we were ever going to talk about that, as I remember. Something about the investigation and not discussing it with anyone.” Kovak was annoyed at her persistence.
“You might be interested to learn that I heard there were two others killed that night. One was a Marine from Quantico. It might be valuable to see what we could find out about him or the other guy. A Chechen.” She paused then for effect. “At least, that’s what I heard.”
Kovak’s reserve, so steady in his prior conversation, was visibly disturbed. “You know, Dacey, you might want to be careful about tossing around information like that.”
Dacey chuckled. “Why is that, Serge?”
“Because it is a serious story and one that needs a certain level of reportorial professionalism. Not something you would have any interest in.”
Dacey’s face hardened. “Dr. Kovak, this is exactly the kind of story I would have an interest in. I guess if you don’t want to share what you might know with a colleague, that’s fine. I can always find someone else who was at that party who will.”
“Well, then, why don’t you go ahead and do that, Ms. Dunn.” Kovak hit the button to close the window at the same time he pushed on the accelerator. He was breathing heavily now. He glanced up into the rear view mirror and watched her. She shifted as he drove away, replacing her sunglasses, slowly backing up to her car.
He maneuvered his car out of the garage onto L’Enfant Plaza, then to Independence Avenue. He might need help with managing this very real danger if things completely fell apart. He loathed the only option he had left. He would know soon enough if he could get what was needed. He knew that this had to be the last time. He could not go to that well too often.
Chapter 8
Perfect. Perfect
day to climb, thought Vance. He was in his car, cold weather climbing gear, water, chow all stowed. The weather was perfect for a winter climb. Cold, cloudy but sun on the way. He knew the way to Old Rag Mountain and looked forward to seeing its craggy silhouette again. He stepped off at 0430 leaving enough time to get there by 0700 and still stop in Culpepper for a quick pork chop breakfast at Frost Café.
The road was dry and clear and the miles flew, getting him to Culpepper at 0530. The pork chop was as tasty as he remembered, a thick slab of seared meat that melted in his mouth. He sopped up the savory juices and gravy with the home fries and topped his gravied biscuits with a golden dollar of honey for dessert. He sent his plate back to the kitchen clean enough to skip washing. It reminded him of when he was at Parris Island and he would keep his roll for last so that he could mop up every last morsel of food before turning in his tray. He always thought he sent it back to the scullery cleaner than when he had gotten it. An extra cup of coffee and he was ready to go.
His breath shone in big puffs of mist as he walked to his car. This would be interesting. It reminded him of those dark mornings at Mountain Warfare Training Center. Numbing cold coupled with bright clear starry skies, ice melting from a warm sun as it rose in the sky, clumps of wet snow dropping on you from above, some of it from gravity, some of it from whomever was climbing ahead of you. Aksel used to love to go first so Vance could plan on getting a dose of snow at least once as he followed him up. Vance smiled at the memory.
There would be no snow today. It had been a dry winter so far, although a storm was predicted over the next day or two. Today would be an easy climb that offered a beautiful view of the Virginia countryside. It would also be one that would offer the chance to talk to his friend and find out what he knew about what had happened that godawful night two weeks before.
He set out from Culpeper, taking the Madison Road, passing the familiar rolling landscape of the Shenandoah, a section of Virginia that was as beautiful, lush and abundant as it was when Sheridan flew through the valley in a race to cut off the Union from retreating in the face of Jubal Early’s Confederate raid. It was a different time and the turn to vineyards as the agricultural focus was clear. But it was still a beautiful drive.
He enjoyed the austere winter scenery of skeletal trees edging white fenced horse farms and hills gridded by grape vines. He slowed as reached the turn to Weakley Hollow Road for the final miles to the Berry Hollow Parking Lot. He was anxious to be there, eager to see his friend but wanted to take the edge off. He needed to be steady for the climb. He inhaled deeply and chose to focus on where he could expect to find Aksel. He hoped he would find him waiting in the parking lot and they could hike to the climbing point together. If he wasn’t there, it would be like following a trail to the ascent Aksel had decided to take on.
The parking lot was empty except for one vehicle. He drove up and parked next to it. The car, a plain black sedan, was clean, no frost. Its diplomatic plates confirmed Aksel was there. It was almost 0700, the sun’s thin rays just beginning to streak the sky over the looming granite boulders of the Old Rag summit. Okay, so it’s going to be a hunting party.
Vance grabbed his climbing bag and pulled his Marine Corps beanie down over his ears. The 3 mile hike to where he was most likely to find Aksel would be a good warm up.
Their preferred climb was on the part of Old Rag known as Summit Crags. It was the west face of the mountain, the other side of the hiking route that most people used to gain the summit. It was colder and windier. But the brush that usually made it inaccessible in the summer was down. So a strong chance he would be there waiting for him. But which ascent? Beginner’s Crack or Groovy weren’t really that appealing . . . too easy. So it was probably Pure Fun or Best Climb on the Crag.
Vance was warming as the sun continued to color the sky, a light rose that seemed to be pushing the clouds aside. It felt good to be out, the breeze cool and fresh. The walk took him to a spur that led to a passageway between the two huge boulders that stood guard to the scramble that ended at the base of the cliff. Vance watched his footing in the passage, still gleaming with ice. He emerged at the top of a boulder that was ringed by park service barriers. He carefully traversed the edge and took a slight scramble down to the base.
He knew before he got to the ascent for Pure Fun that Aksel wasn’t here. Maybe he was mistaken about the climb. Maybe he was mistaken about everything. His batting average hadn’t been that great lately. He fought off the urge to turn around and leave and moved over the path at the base to the Best Climb. Aksel wasn’t there but a red rope hung from above ending in a short coil at the foot of the ascent. Vance smiled. If that’s the way it has to be, I’m your Marine, he thought to himself.
Vance dropped his bag and grabbed his harness and shoes, and the small backpack with chow and water. After securing his harness, he slipped a handful of different size nuts, some extenders and carabiners onto his harness belt. He looped the rope that was coiled at the base around his waist, tying a snug figure eight and stopper. He realized he was just guessing who might be waiting at the top but nothing could have kept him from taking this climb.
Chapter 9
Vance tugged on the rope and scanned the wall. The summit wasn’t visible, hidden behind an overhang that he’d have to navigate to ascend to the top. For now he found the edge he needed to start the climb, using the crack at the base to wedge his grip and footing up a dihedral wall. He didn’t need the nuts or extensions. His climbing partner who had left the rope had placed an adequate number of pins to guarantee a safe climb. As he climbed he used his nut key to dislodge the nuts that had been placed and clipping them to his harness belt as he gathered them.
At the top of the wall he traversed to the space just below the overhang and stopped to catch his breath. He didn’t waste time looking around now. It was tempting the doubt demons, even at this relatively short distance to the base, to look down. All it would take is one distraction to test the knot he had tied below. There would be plenty of time to enjoy the view at the top.
A series of cracks on the right held the rest of the nuts and he found good ledges and hand holds that took him to a break in the summit head. It was a quick pull up to the top on the sloping ledge and he found himself standing on the edge. His head spun at the sound of clapping coming from behind him. Aksel Dahl emerged from the other side of a rock outcrop showing his appreciation of Vance’s summitting with applause. He was dressed in his Helly Hansen bright blue Norwegian outerwear, eyes hidden behind glacier sunglasses.
Vance was a bit winded but gave a short bow. “I guess I deserve the applause,” he managed to get out in between breaths.
“You deserve more than that, Gunny.” Dahl must have started at least an hour earlier to have been waiting at the top.
“Why didn’t you wait for me down there and we could have come up together?”
“I got here early and wanted to see if I could get up here without any help. Besides, it’s 100 feet . . . not exactly Bridgeport.”
“Well, we knew that when we decided this was our climb,” the Gunny was dropping his gear now. “Besides, I wouldn’t call what I bring to the climb help.”
“You do that all the time. You claim you aren’t good and then you ambush us when we’re looking the other way.”
“Hey, it’s part of my charm.” Vance pulled out his small sack of chow. “Ready for a bite?”
Aksel nodded. “What did you bring?”
“Just a couple of apples, some jerky, . . . a jar of pickled herring. ”
“Wait . . . is this a picnic or a punishment?”
Vance laughed. “Don’t disavow your go-to snack now. You made us suffer through that dragon breath at Faizal.”
“Ha . . . okay, that’s true. I remember washing it down with Jack Daniels from a Listerine bottle . . . or maybe it was Listerine.” Dahl looked at the Gunny sideways. “I could use a shot of Jack Daniels . . . ”
“That could be arranged . . . later,
after we get off this rock.”
The wind was brisk but the sun was up fully now, warming them as they stepped back and found a spot to sit in the sun and enjoy the view.
Aksel was looking out at the expanse of woods and rock that was the Shenandoah while he chewed his jerky. A slow smile emerged. “Hey, Vance, you remember that time in the summer when we bushwhacked to the base and then climbed up here and a bunch of hiker tourists applauded as we came over the top?”
“Oh, like you did just now? Hell, yes, I remember. That remains the highpoint of my climbing career. Why isn’t there somebody taking videos when things like that happen? Viral for sure.”
“You promise me . . . you repeat the climb this summer and have somebody up here to capture the amazement of the crowd.”
“Naww, no way. Will not do it without you.
“That can’t happen, Gunny. Not for a long time.
Vance leveled his eyes at him. “What’s going on, Aksel?”
Dahl dropped his head. “I don’t know how to begin.”
“How about starting with why Guidry and I were invited to the party in the first place?”
Dahl shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know. I was as surprised as anyone to see you there.”
“Aw, come on. You had no idea? I could see there was something going on with you but I wasn’t sure what. You looked like you would have liked to be any place else but there.”
“Ya, I know. I wasn’t expecting it but I was ashamed for you to see me, too. I was in a bad place, Gunny.”
“We could tell something was wrong. What was going on?”
Dahl sighed. “There’s no hiding from it now. I was being sent back to Norway. It was the end of a lot of very bad decisions I made and I knew it was coming. Siggordson really didn’t have any choice but he wanted to make it as easy as possible on me.”
“What are you talking about?” The look on Vance’s face betrayed his confusion. “What could have been so bad?”