by Robert Berke
The two men walked up to "Steve" who directed them to a separate elevator. He got on the elevator with them and inserted a security card into a slot on the elevator's button panel. The elevator ascended to the seventh floor. Steve said, "this is your floor" and pointed them towards a large double door at the end of the hallway.
On the other side of the doorway, a young receptionist escorted them back to Smith's makeshift office. As they walked in, they immediately recognized Dr. Bayron and Hermelinda. They recognized Takahashi from his CIP. The receptionist asked them if they wanted any coffee or water and both men requested coffee. She then pointed them to seats at the conference table.
Shortly after they settled into their seats, Sharky and Myra entered the office and took their own seats at the conference table. Everyone in the room could see that Sharky was still in a nightmare. After everyone was seated, Smith spoke, displaying the oscilliscopic representation of his voice on the large monitor.
"Folks," he said in a very serious tone which only made the mechanical aspects of his voice sound more pronounced, "we have a problem." Everyone made noises acknowledging the obvious truth in his statement.
"First and foremost, we know that Sharky's mother is being held hostage even as we speak. The reason she is being held hostage is because there are some Russian fellows who wanted a notebook that Sharky had. They still have their hostage, but they don't have their notebook. I have never been in the intelligence game like our new friends here," Smith continued, "but I am considered quite adept at strategies. They had the advantage of us not being aware of them until they struck. They no longer have that advantage. It doesn't strike me as being strategically wise for them to sacrifice their bird-in-hand with the expectation of getting another bargaining chip now.
"Furthermore, of all the people to kidnap, Sharky's mother just doesn't make sense. They were after the notebook and couldn't find it. Now that we know that Alice was working for them, we have a pretty good guess as to how they connected the notebook to Sharky. No more inside man.
"Finally, they know that the notebook never made it back to them and they must suspect that our CIA friends have it and aren't going to give it back for all the Sharky's mother's in the world. That means that the only way they can get the information that they want is to get to Dr. Bayron personally and, no offense old friend, but I know that you don't have a photographic memory and would have to reconstruct the formulas in that book from scratch."
Gonzales was the next to speak and he posed a simple question, "Is that true Mr. Smith?"
"No its not. I actually have the information they want. I don't know why and I don't know how...perhaps it is one of the mysteries of the subconscious, but I have Mr. Ashkot's memories including the launch code.
"Now that you have the notebook, all you have to do is kill me and those launch codes would be gone forever, but in all likelihood, that will result in Sharky's mother dying."
"It is a small cost." Gonzales said.
Sharky jumped to his feet and lunged at Gonzales, "You son of a bitch!" he shouted. Cruz got in between the two men and wordlessly made it clear that order would prevail. Sharky sat back down and stewed.
"Now for the benefit of our two new friends, killing me won't be so easy. There are four persons who hold the keys required to shut me down and destroy all the data I have generated wheresoever it may be stored. At least two of those people have to agree that shutting me down is the right thing to do. I am one of those four people and I will be honest. I am not afraid to die. I have already died once, and frankly, it wasn't so bad. My vote is not based on a fear of death. My vote is based on a lesson I learned as a child: that to save one life is to save the entire world."
Sharky was struck by the fact that the only other person he had ever heard utter those words was his own mother.
"I will not vote to shut me down while Sharky's mother can still be saved," Smith asserted.
He let the silence linger for a moment and then turned to Hermelinda, "Hermelinda?"
"No, if there is any possibility of saving that poor woman, we have to try," she said.
"Sharky?" Smith asked.
"It's my mother," he answered snarkily, "what do you think?"
"That's three," Smith said. "Doc, I guess you're off the hook."
"These pills make me terribly sleepy, Hermelinda. Can I go home now?" Dr. Bayron asked, as if he had not been listening to the conversation at all.
Hermelinda noticed that he was staring at his feet, it was clear to her that he was completely disconnected from what was going on around him--a terrible setback she would have to report to Dr. Beedle.
"Gentlemen," Hermelinda said, "you have our answers.
Smith spoke again. "So, here's where we stand: everybody who has the information they're after is here in this room. Everyone who could be used as leverage to get that information is also here. This building is as secure a location as any. They cannot come to us and we cannot go to them. That's a real pickle. Mr. Cruz and Mr. Gonzales, understandably will sacrifice Mrs. Ohangangian in a heartbeat but they cannot consider their mission over until they have destroyed one small black notebook, one very large computer array, and, unless we can convince them otherwise, one very talented doctor. They can easily burn the notebook and shoot the good doctor right now, but as we have just demonstrated, they cannot kill me.
"I am a man of my word and there is no one in this room who would say otherwise be it behind my back or to my face. I am offering my life in exchange for that of Sharky's mother and the life of Dr. Bayron. I caused this mess and I will take responsibility for it.
"Bring her back alive, gentlemen and you will be able to accomplish your mission. Otherwise, those launch codes live forever, somewhere in the vast Internet cloud.
"Do we have an understanding?"
Gonzales spoke again, "I am not in the business of making deals, Mr. Smith and I do not like being backed into a corner. Do not for one moment think that I couldn't order an air strike on this building and have it reduced to rubble in the next 20 minutes. And you are trying my patience."
"Sharky, why don't you take a moment to explain how your security system works so they can free themselves from the delusion that destroying this building would destroy the data they so eagerly seek to eradicate. I have other business to attend to. Oh, and Sharky, try to make it quick, the clock is ticking."
Sharky explained in enough detail as to how the leash system worked to bring back and destroy any data that emanated from Smith's brain at the SmithCorp Building.
It was obvious to both Gonzales and Cruz that Sharky was completely oblivious to the fact that there could have been a complete copy of Smith's brain residing elsewhere. K.O. Data Systems, perhaps. They both knew to hold this information close.
"Something is wrong, Bobby," Vakhrusheva said responding to his instincts. "We'll go now." They had been waiting in the safe house for Alice's confirmation that she had dropped the notebook off at the hotel. Sarkis' mother was bound, blindfolded, gagged and sealed in a box in the basement.
"That wasn't the plan, Micky. You just have to cool it." Bobby said calmly.
"I don't ‘cool it'. I know when something is wrong. He dialed the toll free number for Amtrak and spoke to the phone operator. "Hi, this is Sarkis Ohangangian, I am supposed to go from Rhinebeck to Schenectady, but I lost my ticket and I can't remember what time my train is."
"Ohangangian. Shows you bought a ticket for the 7:50 train. It also shows that ticket was used. Someone must have picked it up. I'm going to have to ask you..."
Vakhrusheva did not wait for the operator to complete her thought before hanging up the phone. "We go now." He said simply.
"Should I take the old lady?" Bobby asked.
"No. I have no interest in killing her yet. Just bring one finger. That will be enough."
Bobby went to the basement and found a pair of tin snips that would easily cut a finger of his captive and some thin wire which looked like it would make
an excellent tourniquet. He took off his shirt so that he wouldn't get it blood-stained, opened the box, and grabbed one of the helpless woman's fingers. He wrapped the wire around the thickest part of her finger below her second knuckle and then used the tin snips to cut off her finger just above the knuckle. The tourniquet was doing a good job of staving off the bleeding. She wouldn't bleed to death from this impromptu surgery. He found a shop rag and pressed it into the wound he had just made as an extra precaution and shut the lid to the box. Mrs. Ohangangian's screams were muffled by the duct tape that was sealing her mouth.
Bobby went back up the stairs to the kitchen and found a small plastic container in a kitchen drawer which he filled with crushed ice from the refrigerator. "I can't stand the smell." He said matter-of-factly to Vakhrusheva as he placed the finger in the ice.
Vakhrusheva walked toward the car. Bobby put the plastic container in his coat pocket and followed Vakhrusheva out the door.
Arriving at the Hampton Inn, both Bobby and Vakhrusheva noticed that Alice's car was in the lot. Clearly she had made it back. Why hadn't she called? they both wondered.
They rode the elevator to the seventh floor and knocked on the door. The door swung wide open without resistance in the doorframe that Cruz's shoulder had decimated earlier in the day. Both men quickly drew their guns. Other than the broken doorframe nothing in the room seemed out of place. There were no signs of a fight or a struggle, no signs of Alice, and no sign of the black notebook. Vakhrusheva's face turned bright red with anger and his glare burned into Bobby.
"Call his house." Vakhrusheva instructed Bobby in a seething voice. Bobby did as he was instructed.
"No answer." Bobby said.
"This was not our little Sharky who did this," Vakhrusheva said pointing to the door. "This was not law enforcement either. Law enforcement would not have left this room unattended and with the door unsecured."
"Look here," Bobby said calling Vakhrusheva's attention to a nick in the plasterboard near the bed.
Vakhrusheva walked over and stuck his pinky finger into the nick and scraped some plaster out of the hole with his fingernail. He saw a tiny metal fragment in the plaster he had drawn out. He then dropped to his hands and knees and examined the carpet. There were more fragments. Metal and bone. Who ever had cleaned up had not vacuumed.
"They covered their tracks in a hurry," Vakhrusheva concluded. "Whoever did this is operating outside of the law... or above it. No police means no one heard anything." He pondered for a moment and then reported to Bobby, "Alice is dead and we are at war against the legendary FOU."
"How can you be sure?" Bobby asked, hoping against hope that Alice was still alive. She was an excellent agent and they had worked together for many years. Her death saddened him, but would in no way interfere with his assignment. He was, after all, a professional.
"One single, silenced shot. CIA is two shots, two bullets in case the first one doesn't kill. FOU the first shot always kills. The fact that it's the FOU means that they know exactly what we are after. The game, as they say, is afoot." Vakhrusheva smiled and the smile put Bobby off for a moment. Vakhrusheva appeared to be looking forward to what he had just called a game. He seemed to be inspired and energized by the fact that his adversary would prove to be the most effective clandestine agency ever.
But there was more to Vakhrusheva's smile. He knew that in all likelihood he and Bobby would not be returning to their homes.
"We have no time to waste. We have to get to SmithCorp. That's where the source is. If FOU gets there first they will destroy it." Vakhrusheva said.
Bobby pulled out his car keys and started walking.
"No you idiot. If they were here, we have to assume that we've been spotted and that your car is made. We pack what we can carry, check out of this hotel and call a cab." As they left the room they carefully jogged the door back into the broken frame and placed the do not disturb sign on it.
Bobby was no longer the field agent Vakhrusheva thought he was. He clearly did not think clearly under pressure-- a trait that would have gotten him killed or caught a thousand times over at the height of the cold war.
In the lobby, Bobby's phone rang. Vakhrusheva ignored it, and went to the front desk to check out. Bobby was still on the phone when the cab approached. Bobby held up his index finger to let Vakhrusheva know the call was important. "I understand." Was all Vakhrusheva heard Bobby say before the call was disconnected.
Vakhrusheva waited for Bobby to explain which Bobby did without hesitation.
"That was one odd call, Mickey. I answered because it came in from Alice's number. Whoever they are, FOU or whatever, they want to meet to make a deal for the old lady's life." Bobby said.
"They have not played wisely, then. They have told us that the old lady is still valuable. It is good that we did not kill her. We have no reason to go to them. If they want to save the old lady, they'll have to come to us." Vakhrusheva replied. "There is no reason now to go to SmithCorp. Driver, take us to Albany. I want some chicken wings. Bobby, I hope you have a whole lot of clean cars. Because we are on the radar now."
"I have as many cars as we need." Bobby replied.
The cab dropped them off in front of the Scooter's Beer and Wings on Clinton Street and it was very crowded. "We eat at the bar and leave separately. I will meet you at the safe house and we prepare to move the old lady." Vakhrusheva said.
Vakhrusheva intentionally chose a seat next to the drunkest person in the bar and ordered a Smirnoff and plate of hot wings. Vakhrusheva mostly ignored Bobby while they ate but was telling jokes and stories with the drunk next to him. When he was done with his wings. He got up and left the Bar. Twenty minutes later he was still not back. Bobby went to look for him in the bathroom and he was not there. When he got back to the bar, the drunk who had been sitting next to Vakhrusheva looked very agitated. "Shit, man," the drunk said, "I lost my fucking keys. Hey brother," he said to Bobby, "have you seen my car keys anywhere? Shit."
"I'm sure they'll turn up," Bobby answered rapidly realizing what Vakhrusheva had done and trying to suppress a smirk. "You should take a cab home tonight anyway. If I find them, I'll give them to the bartender, okay."
"Thanks, buddy," the drunk said to Bobby slapping him on the shoulder, "you're a true friend. Let me buy you a beer."
"I'd like that, stranger, but I have got to go. Long day tomorrow." Bobby decided that the least detectible way for him to get to the safehouse would be to take the intercity bus and that would be a long, long ride.
In fact, it was shortly after midnight when Bobby got off the bus and walked the remainder of the way to the safehouse. When he got there he was treated to a remarkable sight. Vakhrusheva and the old lady were sitting in the kitchen. The old lady was eating chicken wings that Vakhrusheva had apparently taken out from Scooters. There was a bottle of Imperia Vodka open on the table and it was far from full.
Bobby looked at her hand and saw that the hand with the missing finger had been cleaned and carefully bandaged. They were speaking in Russian.
Vakhrusheva looked up at Bobby with a big smile, and said, "Let me introduce you to our new friend, Adele." Bobby could see the duplicity in Vakhrusheva's smile, but he was certain that no one else could have. "Adele's late husband attended university in St. Petersburg. We were practically neighbors."
The old woman smiled weakly at Bobby. She was pale and weak, probably from the blood loss. She must have been grateful for having been untied and let out of the box in which she had spent nearly 24 hours, the last few of which were spent bleeding from her untreated wound. There was still terror in her eyes and that concerned him. Bobby felt no empathy for her. His capacity for empathy had been sacrificed as part of his training with the ISI. Rather he was concerned because of the fundamental truth that scared people are irrational and irrational people are dangerous.
Bobby was extremely apprehensive regarding the manner in which events were unfolding and he began to internally question Vakhrusheva's tact
ic. He understood well enough that Sharky's mother had value only as long as she lived, but not carrying through on the threat to kill her undermined their bargaining power too. On the other hand, physically weakened by blood loss, endorphins flying around in her brain from the pain, her sense of reason overcome by her fear, and that whole mix now basting in strong Russian vodka, Mrs. Ohangangian's brain was as malleable as a mind could ever be. She was ripe to be turned.
"It seems, Bobby, that we made a terrible mistake," Vakhrusheva said, "as I was just explaining to my new friend. It seems that Elijah Smith himself wants the information in that notebook too."
Because Bobby knew that the FOU actually already had not only the book and in all likelihood the information that Vakhrusheva was after, he quickly surmised that he had told Adele a completely false story. He played along. "No kidding," Bobby said, also lying. "How do you know?"
"Well, Bobby, I told Adele that we had been looking for her son and that we couldn't find him anywhere. I asked her where he might be. Of course she wouldn't tell me. She did tell me that he had quit working for SmithCorp over some mysterious project he was working on that he could never talk about.
"So we know that the young man has the notebook hidden somewhere very well and that he took that notebook from his employer. Now we can't find him anywhere. It stands to reason that Elijah Smith wouldn't just let valuable information like that go. And clearly he would have brought us the notebook to save his mother's life had he been able to. The only obvious conclusion is that Sarkis has been kidnaped by SmithCorp and is in very, very grave danger. But how can we rescue him, Bobby?"
"Yes, of course. It stands to reason," Bobby said agreeing with the lie. "Why else wouldn't he have brought us the notebook. Unless, perhaps, he does not love his mother as much as we thought."
At this Adele became agitated and raised her voice. "You don't speak of Sako like that. Sako would not do that."
"Then he must have been Kidnaped," Vakhrusheva said calming her down. "So, we are not on different teams here. We both want to rescue ‘Sako' from SmithCorp."