Spy Thriller: To Russia for Love: An Espionage and Pulp Fiction Political Thriller

by Kenneth Eade

  After they tossed Victor into the back seat, Seth handcuffed his hands behind his back and bound his ankles with a twist tie. Then he gagged Victor and put a dark hood over his head.

  “Keep your head down, Victor,” he commanded.

  Slava drove them to a deserted warehouse. He stopped the car in front of the warehouse, got out quickly, and rolled up the warehouse door. After pulling the car in, Slava secured the door.

  The two shackled Victor to a thick pipe that ran the height of the warehouse from ceiling to floor. Slava ripped off his hood and gag. Victor stared down Seth with contempt.

  “You don’t realize the trouble you are in,” spit Victor.

  “Actually, Victor, I think it’s you who doesn’t realize the trouble you are in,” replied Seth.

  “You think you can fuck with me, an FSB agent, and get away with it?” screamed Victor, furiously.

  “You mean double agent,” said Slava.

  “I’m deep undercover, you idiot!”

  “Then I’m sure your friends at the Kremlin won’t mind that you’ve been taking money from the CIA,” said Seth.

  “What you are talking about?”

  Seth pulled a miniature tape recorder from his pocket and hit the play button and the machine crackled to life.

  “Agreed. We’re wasting our time on this one. We should dispose of her.”

  “No,” said Victor. “She still may be of use to us.”

  “To the Kremlin, maybe.”

  “I’m not talking about Kremlin. Poroshenko and you both need to know what she knows.”

  “Why don’t you tell us what we need to know? We pay you enough money.”

  Victor’s head hung limp from his neck as Seth clicked the device off.

  “What do you intend to do?” he asked.

  “If anything happens to either one of us, a copy of this tape will be sent to the Ambassador and the Kremlin. But, if you cooperate, nobody will never know that you betrayed your own.”

  “What do you expect from me?”

  “You’re going to help us break Natasha out, and get us all to safety in Russia,” said Seth.

  Victor grimaced. “You think I am God? How you expect me to do that?”

  “Whatever it takes. First, you will make a report to the Ambassador that you have located Natasha and identify her captors as CIA. Then, you will lead a task force of agents to free her from the seed plant and bring her safely to the embassy.”

  “That’s impossible. Kremlin will never approve a break-in to Germinat’s seed factory and confrontation with CIA.”

  “Then, you’ll do it with us.”

  “You don’t know who you are dealing with. This people will kill you if your eye blinks.”

  “In the blink of an eye.”

  “Yes, this is dangerous business for somebody with no experience and no training.”

  “I left hope you like cozy spot, Victor,” said Slava.

  “Now, if you excuse us,” said Seth. “We have to go to work.”

  The two of them left, locking the door behind them.

  ***

  Seth’s frayed nerves churned his stomach as his head spun its own version of vertigo. He couldn’t concentrate on anything he was doing, let alone the work at hand, which was work that he abhorred. But, he managed to trudge through the day with the promise that this night would be the night that he and Slava, with the reluctant help of Victor, made their move. Until then, Seth just sat as his desk, going through the motions of pretending to work, which was impossible because of his lack of concentration.

  Victor was the wild card in this hand of sorts. They were holding enough over his head to force him to follow their instructions, but his behavior still held an uneasy degree of unpredictability.

  “John, are you feeling alright today?” asked Brad.

  Seth, not accustomed to his new name, didn’t react to Brad’s question.

  “John?” he asked, a little louder.

  “Oh, um, yes Brad?”

  “I asked if you were feeling alright today. Do you need to take some rest time?”

  “No, no, I’m fine, just fine.”

  “Okay, because if you need to, just let me know.”

  “Thanks Brad, I will.”

  Seth managed to trudge through his day until the daily 5 p.m. exodus. As the others filed out the door, Brad came up to Seth.

  “Staying late tonight?”

  “Yeah, I just wanted to finish correlating this data in peace and quiet, you know, so I can concentrate.”

  “That’s dedication, John. You’re a real company man. Hope you don’t have your sights on my job,” Brad quipped.

  Seth smiled. “No, Brad, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “I wasn’t worried.”

  Brad patted Seth on the back and said, “See you tomorrow.”

  Seth studied the data on the new superweed resistant corn strain and thought how ironic it was that he was, again, working for the company who had forced him to flee the United States two years before

  Now they would wait until the employees vacated the buildings and left the plant with a skeleton crew. Then, Slava would release Victor, who would enter the restricted area with the CIA and set up the subsequent ambush by Seth and Slava. Slava had accessed the main security room, rigged the security cameras to operate on a continuous taped loop for the evening shift, and had disabled the alarms on their alternate escape routes. The security detail on the night shift were generally lazy, and would be sleeping most of the time on the job. Every element of the rescue and escape was carefully planned. Hopefully, Natasha was actually being held in the secured area, or all this organization and the upcoming drama would be for naught.

  “John Darning?”

  The strange sounding voice drew Seth’s attention from his desk, and he looked up to find the three CIA men standing right in front of him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Seth looked up at the three suited men. The one on the left was a young man, in his thirties, with a boyish, innocent face. The middle man was the brown haired spook he had seen before, who had a rough look, like a boxer. The third was a wiry fellow with dark hair and a dark beard, who looked like he was pretending to be older than his age. Perhaps he had something to prove.

  “Yes, how can I help you?” Seth asked, his heart pounding in his chest as if it wanted to break through the ribs.

  “We work for the executive department of the company, Mr. Darning,” said the wiry one. Part of our job is to insure adherence to company policy.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your names, gentlemen.”

  “Our names are not important,” the wiry one continued, while the middle man flashed a grin without teeth.

  “Well, I don’t know about company policy, but I know my work is very important to the company, and I really do need to be getting back to it, so…”

  “We only need a few minutes of your time, Mr. Darning. Do you want to go sit down and have a cup of coffee?”

  “Why don’t we talk here?”

  “Very well.”

  Two of the agents sat down in the plastic chairs adjacent to Seth’s desk, while the wiry agent pulled up an extra chair.

  “It says in your resume that you’re an MIT grad,” asked the wiry, bearded one.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, we’ve checked, Mr. Darning. Nobody at MIT seems to know you.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Still you would expect someone to remember you. I guess you were just one of those guys who just blended into the walls.”

  “I guess I was.”

  The young, boyish one continued. “There’s more than just MIT. Although you have a record at every job listed on this resume, nobody seems to remember you.”

  “I guess I’m not very memorable.”

  “You, Mr. Darning, it seems you’re a ghost,” said the wiry one. “This is a very high security area and we have to be careful.”

  “Want to hav
e a chat with my boss?” asked Seth. “I think he knows who I am.”

  “Not necessary, not necessary, Mr. Darning,” said the wiry one. “This is just routine. We’ll finish up the investigation and get back to you. But if there is something you’re holding back that you think we should know or that we will find out, it would be better if you would just tell us now.”

  “Better for whom? Are you threatening me?”

  “No, no, of course not, Mr. Darning,” said the young one. “We never do that,” said the bearded one, as they all rose from their seats in unison, and the big one smiled.

  “John, you look familiar,” said the Beard. “Have we met before?”

  Seth tried to hide his nervousness, and kept eye contact with him.

  “Nope, don’t think so.”

  ***

  “We have to make our move tonight,” said Seth.

  Slava sipped at his coffee and appeared to be immersed in thought.

  “We are not ready.”

  “They’re onto me. We have to do it now.”

  “What do you mean, they’re onto you?”

  “I had a visit from the three amigos today. They were questioning my background. Said I was a ghost.”

  “You don’t look very scary to me. More like friendly ghost – Casper.”

  “Be serious, Slava. I think one of them recognized me, even with my dark hair, beard and contacts.”

  “Sorry. Spy game is no fun without humor. Okay, I have all the security access. Let’s go over the plan one more time. And Seth…”

  “Yes?”

  “This is our only chance. If we’re wrong and she’s not there, or if we mess anything up and they move her, we may never rescue her.”

  “I know,” said Seth, as he sighed heavily.

  ***

  Seth’s primary emotion had turned from determination to fear. On a basic level, he had seen first-hand how his government used the element of fear to accomplish its objectives; the same element of fear that had been used as an excuse to engage its huge war machine in conflicts for the profits of America’s oligarchy. Seth feared for Natasha’s safety more than anything else. Since Victor Borisov, the very person who was supposed to be seeking her freedom, had turned his back on her, Seth and Slava were her only hope.

  Slava had escorted Victor to his home, where Victor had freshened up and got into a worn, but relatively fresh suit.

  “You’re going to get us both killed,” he said to Slava.

  “Just do what I told you Victor, so I don’t have to kill you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Natasha awoke again from the headache that refused to go away. Her mouth was parched and dry, and she ran her tongue over her chapped lips. She opened her swollen eyes to darkness. She thought of Seth and hoped he was safe, and she wondered if her next visit from the Americans would be her last.

  Slava handed Victor the phone, and put his ear next to it so he could hear what was happening.

  “Alo. It’s Victor.”

  “What do you want, Victor?”

  “I need to see girl, tonight.”

  “What for?”

  “You want to know what she knows, right?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Well, I can get that for you.”

  There was a pause of silence on the phone.

  “Meet us there in one hour.”

  Slava took the phone from Victor’s hand and switched it off.

  “Good job, Victor.”

  “You have given me death sentence.”

  “Victor, you exaggerate.”

  ***

  Seth sat anxiously at his desk, going over the plan in his mind. It was a dangerous plan, but better than none at all. He stared at his computer screen, then looked at his watch.

  A burst of light flooded the corridor, and Seth watched the three CIA officers as they approached the secure door. The wiry, bearded one composed the entry code and they all filed in. Minutes later, Victor appeared, with Slava in tow. Victor pushed the intercom button on the security panel.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Victor.”

  The door opened with a loud buzzing sound and the two of them entered. Seth took his position outside the door. His legs were like rubber and a bead of nervous sweat poured into his left eye.

  “What is he doing here?” asked the bearded one.

  “Security. I couldn’t get into factory without him. He insisted to accompany me,” Victor replied.

  “Well we insist that he leave.”

  “Idi otsyuda!” Victor commanded.

  “Get out!” said the bearded one.

  As Slava pushed on the door, pretending to exit, he turned and pulled his gun, and Seth entered, doing the same. The three officers turned to look at what was going on and found themselves looking down the barrels of Seth and Slava’s weapons. They glanced over their shoulder and saw Victor, also with his handgun trained on them, moving closer to Seth and Slava.

  “Et tu, Victor?” said the bearded one, laughing.

  “Shut up. Just put hands on head. Do it now!”

  The three agents complied, but the bearded one was still smiling.

  “How do you think you’re going to get out of this, Victor? You’ll never leave the plant alive.”

  “Down on knees. I won’t ask again!”

  The agents got down on their knees.

  “Now lie on floor – face down! One move and I kill all three of you.”

  As the agents lie down, Seth handed his revolver to Slava and secured their hands behind their backs and their ankles together with twist-ties. He then frisked the agents, disarming them of their revolvers, and emptying their pockets.

  “Check ankles.”

  Seth found an ankle holster on the bearded one, and deprived him of the small revolver he held there.

  “You’re a traitor,” he said to Seth.

  “And you’re a kidnapper and a murderer.”

  “No talk!” barked Victor. “I ask questions, you answer. Where is girl?”

  “You’re a dead man, Victor,” was the only reply, from the bearded one.

  “Get keys. And tape that idiot’s mouth.”

  Seth gathered the men’s keys and put a generous amount of duct tape around the bearded one’s head, taping his mouth shut, and getting as much of the beard in the sticky tape as possible. He taped the other’s mouths as well, and recovered his gun from Slava.

  “Give me gun, Victor,” demanded Slava.

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “Victor, you make joke!” Slava said, while making a motion with his hand for Victor to hand over the gun.

  “Butt first.”

  Victor reluctantly handed over his firearm to Slava, which Slava took into his left hand, de-cocking it and slipping it into his pocket.

  Seth began frantically searching the walls for signs of an opening.

  “Natasha!” he screamed, as he covered every inch of every wall. He heard a muffled sound behind the east wall, which seemed to be coming from a filing cabinet. Moving the cabinet out of the way, he noticed a hidden door with a singular concealed lock. He tried all the keys, one by one, until one of them unlocked the door. Inside, Natasha hung from chains attached to the far wall.

  “Natasha! Baby!”

  Natasha looked up at Seth and whimpered as the tears poured from her eyes. Seth found the handcuff keys on one of the key rings, unlocked the cuffs and Natasha fell into his arms, gasping and sobbing.

  “No time for kissing,” said Slava. We need to get these three pieces of shit into room and go.”

  Seth placed Natasha in a chair in the ante room, and held a gun on the three as Slava lifted them, one by one, and dragged them into the space that had been Natasha’s prison. As he lifted the bearded one last, the little man righted himself, and slammed his head backward into Slava’s nose with a loud crack, spattering blood all over as Slava lost his hold and his gun clacked to the floor. In seconds, the wiry little assassin snapped his w
rist ties open, grabbed Slava’s gun, and held it against his head, as he got his neck in a headlock, using Slava’s body as a shield. In one strong motion, he ripped the duct tape off his head, waxing a great deal of his beard, with seemingly no pain, and let out a war cry, as if he were a demented demon from a horror film.

  “Amateur hour is over! Now you all die!”

  Seth kept his gun pointed at this crazy man, but it was impossible to take a shot without the risk of fatally injuring Slava. He aimed, as close as he could, to the bearded man’s left eye.

  “Whatever happens, it all ends badly for you,” Seth said.

  “Oh yeah?” said the bearded one, spitting with fury. “Who’s gonna bring me down? Your impotent KGB agent here with no gun or maybe you, lab-boy? Did you do two tours as an expert marksman in Iraq before becoming the top shot at Quantico? I didn’t think so. Now drop your gun and I promise I’ll kill you last.”

  Suddenly, and with lightning speed and precision, Victor withdrew a concealed knife and threw it at the bearded agent, hitting him in the neck. Almost simultaneously, the agent shot back, hitting Victor in the chest and dropping Slava to the floor. Seth took aim and fired three rounds to the bearded man’s head and chest, connecting on all three. As he fell in a spray of blood and brain matter, Slava grabbed his gun and stood back in a defensive position. Seth looked at the carnage and vomited.

  Slava ran to Victor, who was slumped on the floor, but still breathing, while Natasha and Seth comforted each other. He tried to lift Victor, but he cried out in pain.

  “Leave me, Tavarish.”

  “No Victor, you come with us. We take you to hospital.”

  “It’s too late for me,” Victor sputtered. They’re coming for you – you have to go now. They will be here any second, and, if I am still alive, they will save me.”

  A thin line of blood seeped from Victor’s nose as the life slipped out of him and he lost consciousness.

  “He’s right, we have to go!” said Seth, as he draped an arm around Natasha, lifting her up, and the three exited the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE