I began to cry, “You monsters! How could you?” Sanger stooped over, picked up her knife and darted towards me. However, the old guy sprinted towards her, intercepted her, and said, “Look here lady, I am a busy man and I don’t have time for games. Your toy here is not going anywhere, so be patient!” Sanger looked at me with an angry, vengeful face but relented. The two then sat down, right there by my feet, and discussed Adlan’s operation, seemingly oblivious to my hanging there like some sort of bleeding Christmas ornament!
Then, after about fifteen minutes, they stood up and the man thanked Sanger for all her assistance and promised her a huge reward in return. He looked at me, smiled, but even when I looked at him in desperation, and begged in a soft, innocent voice, “Please?” he just shook his head and asked Sanger, “Don’t suppose I can watch you do your work on this gal, can I?” Sanger laughed as she bent down to pick up the pliers and said, “Be my guest.” The man grasped my chin with his hand and commented, “The front ones are easy but once you get to the molars you really have to pull hard.” He let go and stepped back. At that I gave up. It was time to face death and I closed my eyes and began to say a desperate prayer – ironically, not one for my own needs, but that God would watch over my family in my absence. I began to cry and tried to allow my body to relax – maybe then the pain would not be so severe.
Then an unexpected explosion…a gun went off so close my ears went numb and all I could hear was a ringing sensation. My eyes were still closed, and I could feel warm liquid drops rolling down my chest. I closed my mouth and took a deep breath but felt something squishy between my tongue and cheek. I still could not feel any pain but, in those several seconds of suspended reality, I accepted that I had been shot, and for some reason did not feel it yet – maybe I was already dead.
I could taste blood in my mouth, but instead of spitting out, I swallowed it and the chunk of whatever else that was there. I then cautiously opened my eyes but…to my total surprise all I saw was the man, rubbing blood off his blue shirt! He looked at me and smiled, “So, still with us Mrs. Melanie Lindberg – wife, mother, Sunday school teacher, legislator and lesbian stripper?” I for some reason did not fear him, so I nodded. At that point I looked down and saw Sanger on the ground. Her body was all contorted and the skull had been exploded…leaving only a hollow shell tangled with hair. It was then I knew that it was her blood I could feel and taste in my mouth, as well as what was most likely had been some of her brain material. Yet rather than get sick, I felt hopeful that maybe I might survive after all.
The man said, “Let me introduce myself, my name is Shane – like in that old western movie. And you are Melanie – nice to see you again.” I asked, “So, uh…are you going to let me down or leave me here?” He laughed, “Well Melanie that is going to depend on your answers to two questions. I am very impressed with you and your work, and I’ll say it again you have a stunning body, but I am more than willing to leave you hanging there permanently if you give me the wrong answer. So shall I begin?”
I gritted my teeth, trying to shut out the pain from my wound, and said, “Go for it! Hurry before I bleed to death, okay?” He laughed, “I was in the CIA long enough to have taken part in numerous intense interrogations. Believe me young lady; you could hang there another seven or eight hours before passing out, and another hour or two before finally dying. So shall I leave or…” I interrupted, “Please continue!” He sighed, “Alright I will. First, can you promise me that you can keep any secret I ask you to keep?” I nodded and said, “Absolutely!” He laughed, “Good, I can keep your secret impaling fetish to myself as well. Now, here’s the million-dollar question, will you be loyal to me when you win the election to the US Congress next November?”
I stopped for a second, so surprised at his question that I momentarily lost any perception of the pain and asked, “What are you talking about?” He stepped closer. His eyes were fixated momentarily on my breasts until he looked up and reached out to brush the hair back from my face and ears and repeated his question. I answered, “I am not running for congress.” At that he said, “Wrong answer…well, I had hoped to be able to let you go, but I suppose…” I interrupted, “Wait, I just…I will do anything you say, but please release me!” At that he looked down at Sanger’s corpse, stooped over it, and began to search through her pockets until he found the keys. He stood and said, “Melanie, here in my hand is your salvation. So you will do me proud and win the election next year?” At that I nodded my head. Upon my affirmative answer he cut the ropes around my legs and then unlocked the handcuffs. I was about to collapse, but he caught me and helped me walk over to the back porch steps.
I began to feel I could trust the mysterious stranger – especially when he ripped off a piece of his shirt and instructed me to hold it over my wound. I then began to cry. He asked me what was wrong and I responded, “Why did you find it necessary to kill my friend? She was no danger to you.” He laughed and shook his head, “Oh come on Mrs. Lindberg, she was the reason we were here in the first place, not you. Saving you was a bonus.” I looked at him in bewilderment as he elaborated, “I am sure Katarina is perfectly okay. My friend is one of the best field doctors in the world. Ironic though, we spent the early days of the war in Afghanistan helping tribal leaders kill Russians, and now he is saving one.” I asked, “So she is okay then?” He smiled, “If otherwise Isaiah would have let me know.”
I was elated to hear that Katja was safe. I stood up to go get my clothing but he cleared his throat in that obnoxious attempt to get attention. I turned to look and he shook his head. I sat back down and he said, “Look Melanie, I have seen what you are capable of and I think I would feel safer if you remain undressed. Besides, I have become accustomed to that outfit, so if it’s okay you can indulge this old man for a while longer, can’t you?” I did not mind, but I had to ask something more important – how he knew my name. He explained, “Remember that night you were dancing for us, and I had you spit that gum out? Isaiah went to the US. Military’s DNA database and we found out who you were. Most people don’t realize that after 9-11 the government has been storing genetic information on every newborn baby.” I was taken back and asked, “Yeah, but I was born before 2001…how…?” He laughed, “Melanie, for someone so smart you can be pretty naïve. When we ran the blood sample we found a whole lot of babies had similar DNA markers. Yes… your four children and, surprisingly, fifteen others. That confused us at first until Isaiah concluded that four children in one family probably meant you were the original genetic mother of all these kids, and the ones scattered all around were the results of donation – especially since tax records showed you had been paid quite a lot of money by a Seattle fertility clinic a few years ago.”
I was impressed, as well as a bit violated. I remembered some of the literature Vincent had given me about conspiracies and this certainly seemed invasive – a giant DNA database! Shane continued, “Let me explain why we are here and why you are not dead right now. Katarina has an uncle in Russian intelligence. Back in the Reagan days, back when Russia opened up, and before subsequent morons in the US came to power and ruined that potential bond, I and Nicholas, her uncle, became good friends. When Katja went on her crusade to find out what happened to her sister Nicholas begged me to shadow her and keep her safe. That is why you two have hardly taken a step without us being there. I know more about you than you could possibly imagine.”
I looked at him puzzled, and again, with a sense of violation as he explained, “That DNA database sure gave some interesting information. I cross-checked your kids with others and found they happen to share the same DNA with another woman in Portland – one who is currently on a trip to England with your husband. And here I thought our church said polygamy was not allowed anymore.” I asked, “Our?” to which he replied, “Yep, I am a member too.” I replied sarcastically, “Oh great…It figures.”
Shane went on, “You should be happy Isaiah and myself are your guardian angels so to speak. The Zag
rievs were connected to a Chechen terrorist organization. And it seems the police that are lying all over the yard right now were their insurance policy to operate. These people are very dangerous – and I should know…the US government helped establish their criminal networks in the first place.”
I asked, “If you were there all the time, why did you wait until we were almost killed to step in?” He seemed defensive and avoided the question as he stared me in the eye and said, “Look, we knew we had a critical situation when we saw you two drag those bodies into the car last night. If it were not for those GPS trackers on your legs you would be dead right now. Thank goodness you did not destroy the map panel.” Shane explained that they went over the club with another “associate” and found and destroyed two secret cameras I had missed and the recordings, as well as removing the blood stained carpet and spraying some liquid all over the club that made any DNA sampling impossible. He continued, “Melanie, I will have to use my connections but I can assure you that nobody will investigate what happened here or at that bar. I can make sure that it looks as if the Chechens and these dirty cops took off to Honduras to escape detection. It is not hard to falsify such records. The club will simply close and the Portland Police will downplay this as much as possible.”
I inquired, “Are you and your friend rogue agents?” He picked a stick off the ground and began to peel off the bark, “You know the term ‘rogue’ is always associated with being a bad guy. I have twenty grandkids and I want them to enjoy the freedoms enshrined in the US Constitution. Maybe sometimes the rogue agents are the good guys.” I detected sincerity in his voice but I asked, “You don’t seem bothered that you killed Sanger, and threatened to kill me if I did not cooperate, you must understand that I am curious.” He looked at me the way a grandparent might look at an inquisitive grandchild and said, “You know, I would never have left you to die. I just needed your attention.” I laughed, “Well, you certainly had it without asking me to run for congress!” He sighed and continued, “I suppose you are right. As for my being able to reconcile taking life and being a patriot as well as a good Mormon father and grandfather, I hope you understand…sometimes one must violate one cherished ideal to maintain the greater good.” I asked, “So breaking one rule is okay if it is for a good cause?” He nodded and asked, “That’s a rhetorical question, isn’t it? You live by that philosophy…I can tell.” I asked, “How can you know that?” and he took my hand, “My dear, you love your husband, right? Yet if I said I would make sure that I could make that charge he is facing from Homeland Security disappear, on the condition you would sleep with me, you would do it, wouldn’t you?” I looked him in the eye and asked, “You would be able to make the charge go away if I agree to that? Is that a promise?” He let go of my hand and said, “See, we aren’t all that different, are we?”
He looked my body over before springing up and saying, “Look, you don’t have to do anything for me but run for office. I happen to know that the particular guy in that agency who can erase your husband’s case has a thing for teenage boys. No, they are not children, but his wife would not appreciate the news, nor would his associates. So don’t worry, I assure you the case will be dropped before the end of the week. So now you owe me for that as well as saving your life.” His ability to exercise power, and his generosity to me, not only took my mind off the pain in my side but stirred more amorous desires. I sighed and asked, in a flirtatious voice, “You sure you wouldn’t be into sleeping with me?” He looked up, as if to scan the treetops and replied, “It would be fun, but I will not ever, under any circumstances, cheat on my wife. She has stuck by me for almost forty years.” I looked up at him admiringly, “I am impressed!” I was somewhat disappointed though.
I then asked, “How can I run for congress? The state chairman hates my guts. The party already has someone chosen, it is a liberal district and I could never raise that kind of money.” He asked, “Shall we continue this conversation inside?” I asked, “Can I get dressed?” to which he replied, “No, I am still not sure I can trust you.” As I stood up I joked, “Or you just like the view, right?” to which he smiled, and opened the door, motioning me to go sit at the kitchen table.
“Look Mrs. Lindberg, I want you in congress because I build networks. I have several other representatives that owe me big time and I want you on my list. I can make sure you have money – in fact, a hacker friend of mine already transferred all the money from the Zagriev’s account. Believe me, it would be enough to get you started. I have additional resources as well as contacts and can insure that you have a well-financed campaign.” I was intrigued, the idea of running for congress was exciting, yet being tired as I was, and having just survived a nightmarish ordeal, I asked, “Are you sure nobody will find out about any of this?” He smiled and assured me that everything was fine and that making things disappear was a specialty of his, except he suddenly held up a disc and said, “By the way, here is a present for your husband if you want to get his blood flowing some evening. It features you and some dark-haired girl going at it on stage.” I took the disc and inquired, “You have more of these, don’t you?” He nodded his head and commented, “Like I said, I have to be sure I can trust you. Personally I prefer the disc with you and the red head.” I took the one he offered me and sighed, “I have your word none of these go onto the internet?” He nodded, “Why would I want to destroy the reputation of Oregon’s soon-to-be US congresswoman?”
I hardly felt the wound in my side anymore; in fact the chip on my tooth was what irritated me the most about what Sanger had done to me. Shane stood up and asked, “You probably want Isaiah to check that cut out right? That means we have to go in the car you two drove since he took Katarina to the house of a doctor in Portland – sort of a ‘safe house’ place. You should get dressed now. And once there I will take that thing off your ankle.” I asked flirtatiously, “Are you sure? I mean, I thought I was going to be your pet or something.” He looked at my leg and asked me to put my foot on the table. He seemed distracted a moment as he scanned my leg before finally focusing on the GPS and said, “State of the art technology. But I can get it off, don’t worry. And no, if I brought you home my wife would never understand. Oh, by the way, how are you going to explain Katarina to your husband?” I said, “Trust me, I will think of something.” as I left to retrieve my dress.
We went to the BMW, but before starting the engine Shane called someone. He gave the address, directions to all three bodies, and then I heard him mention the word crematorium. When he got off the phone he said, “By tomorrow there will be no evidence of what happened here today – and all that will remain of those three cops will be a few cups of ash.” As we drove off he smiled, “My youngest son is getting home from his mission in a couple of weeks. I think this car will be the perfect homecoming gift.” At that I turned and asked, “The money from the club…is there enough to get me started and also provide a little something for Meyer’s two little boys?” Shane pulled over and looked at me with a grin, “You actually have a conscience after all?” I smiled and he assured me he could divert a substantial amount of money to the children and make it look as if it were sent by their father as a going away present.
We talked about how I would set up a campaign for congress on the way to a little house on the outskirts of Portland. When the car stopped Shane opened the trunk and looked inside. He took the Zagriev’s wallets and then demanded, “Your things and Katja’s… make sure to take it now because you will never see this car again.” I quickly retrieved our belongings and the money from the safe before Shane closed the trunk and motioned for me to follow him to the house. When we entered, Isaiah and another older guy welcomed us in. Isaiah smiled, “Katja asked for you so if you like we can give you two some privacy.” I walked up to him and gave him an embrace and said, “Thank you for saving her life.” to which he patted me on the back and then pointed to a door down the hall.
When I went in I noticed Katja was hooked up to an IV. She seeme
d drowsy as she looked in my direction, smiled and reached her hand out to me. I asked how she was doing and she said the pain killers worked great. We talked a while and even played with the fantasy of getting a little cottage of our own. However, I asked, “How would you like an apartment with me in Washington, D.C.?” She perked up and I explained the idea of running for congress. She was excited and promised that she could be the best campaign manager ever! For some reason, I sensed she really would be.
The doctor came in and asked to see my wound as well and if I would be willing to sleep on a spare mattress in his study. I said I would be very grateful. He disinfected the cut and stitched it up nicely. Once he gave me some pain killers I passed out until early the next morning.
As I lay there on the mattress, trying to wake up completely, I decided it was time to have a heart to heart talk with Katja. I then became aware that the bracelet on my leg was gone. I was momentarily relieved, but my mind quickly returned to the worry that Katja might decide to call off our romance once I revealed what joining me in my lifestyle would entail. I had to tell her though. I marveled at the weird prospect of having the same discussion with Tiffanie in the near future as well.
When I entered Katja’s room the morning sun was beaming in, illuminating her like an angel. She greeted me as I took her hand and began the agonizing process of explaining my family dynamics. She listened intently, asking questions here and there, sometimes giggling, but generally just really attentive. When I finished I asked, “So you want to be part of my life still?” She sighed in an exacerbated sort of way, “I thought Russians liked to create complicated love lives.” There was silence and she asked, “You have a picture of this Nicole girl?” I rushed to my purse and brought it back. She looked at her and said, “Beautiful black hair – I suppose I can meet her but…” I leaned back asking, “But?” She rolled her eyes, “As long as I don’t have to share your husband. Don’t get me wrong, he sounds like a wonderful man, but the day I ever, and I mean ever, even so much as touch a man I will run through the streets of Portland naked – understand?” I caught the humor of her using that term, but then asked, “You want children, don’t you at some point?” She rolled her eyes again and squeezed my hand, “Melanie I sometimes wonder about you. First you ask me not to have kids and now you want me to? What do you propose, steal some sperm from your husband and bring it to me?” I laughed, “I’ve done it before…twice!” She shook her head, “What have I entered into? You really are weird, but I love you for it. Promise to never change.”
Descent Into Darkness Page 33