Rubenstein's Augur

by Henry Hollensbe

  “I’m out,” Cooper said. “I’m not putting my name in a computer to get guns for you guys.”

  Mr. Basu smiled at Dreshchensky. “How about you?”

  Dreshchensky produced a handful of currency. He placed five one hundred dollar bills on the counter. “There is the purchase price.”

  Mr. Basu’s hand lingered near the money.

  “Now, I am going to add one-hundred dollar bills, one at a time, until we reach a price at which you will allow us to take the weapons without involving the government. Do you understand?”

  “Indeed.”

  “But, as usual, there is a possible adverse factor.”

  Mr. Basu’s face clouded.

  “If we reach a number that I find to be excessive, I shall retrieve all of the money, after which we will assault you and take the guns. Is that clear?”

  The expression on Mr. Basu’s face became contemplative.

  Dreshchensky began adding hundred dollar bills.

  At the ninth bill, Dreshchensky paused, his hand hovering over the pile.

  In a motion too swift to follow, Mr. Basu snatched the entire pile away. He smiled. “Will you require a bag?”

  “Yes,” Dreshchensky said. He laid another hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “Shells. Both sizes. Standard loads.”

  Mr. Basu retrieved two boxes of shells and placed the guns and boxes in a double paper bag.

  Dreshchensky took the bag.

  “Please come again.”

  As they approached the SUV, Dreshchensky shifted the bag to his other hand, then punched Cooper on the arm. “I believe that is termed a carrot-andstick.”

  “Yes.”

  “America! I love it.”

  Thirty minutes later Cooper turned the SUV from I-75 onto I-575. Peabody, Georgia, was ninety miles to the northeast. The drive north required an hour and a half, but another hour passed after their arrival in Peabody before Cooper found the necessary information. A cashier at Maryann’s Corner knew about Sheila Rubenstein—the rich lady who had blown the top off Davis Mountain. She provided directions and two reference points on the way, the village of Delaware’s Mill and Parrott’s Grocery. The grocery was part way to the top of the mountain.

  Cooper parked and blew the horn at the grocery’s front door.

  After a few moments and another sounding, Sara Beth appeared at the door. “What else you get for Christmas, sonny. Come in here and state your business or be on your way.”

  Staranov, Dreshchensky, and Romanidze dismounted. Staranov looked back at Cooper. “Come, Mr. Cooper, you are our guide.”

  Cooper looked around the old store. “We’re looking for Sheila Rubenstein.”

  Sara Beth stared at him. “Don’t know her.”

  “We think you do.”

  “Can’t help that.”

  Dreshchensky grabbed the woman by the throat. “Now, old staraya karga.”

  A large, half-breed hound stood, growled, and then—mouth wide—launched himself at Dreshchensky’s arm. The attack knocked him to the floor.

  He recovered his feet, glanced at Staranov, then drew his Browning and shot the dog twice.

  “Luke!” Sara Beth screamed.

  “Oookee!”

  A very tall, very fat man with wispy white hair and clad only in a faded denim overall appeared from a side door. He stared at the newcomers momentarily, his bulbous blue eyes wide, then raised the dog’s body to his chest. “Oookee!” He buried his face in the dog’s neck.

  The giant parted the fur to look at the wounds, then laid the body on the floor. He started toward Dreshchensky.

  “Wilf!” Sara Beth screamed. “Don’t—”

  Dreshchensky shot the giant in the chest, throat, and face. The impact lifted the body off its feet. It crashed into an empty display case.

  Dreshchensky looked at body. “Myortvee.”

  Staranov turned to the weeping Sara Beth. “Now, madam, tell us how to find Doctor Rubenstein.”

  The woman locked her lips between her teeth. Staranov smiled, then loosed a gentle uppercut to her jaw. Blood gushed from her mouth, splattering her dress.

  “My apologies, madam. Your childish display was so tempting.” He stepped back. “Arms behind the back. A little elementary torture.”

  Sara Beth stared at Staranov. “You can’t get nothing from—”

  He cradled the back of the woman’s head with one hand, while he closed her nostrils and mouth with his other.

  Two minutes passed. The woman began nodding her head violently, her eyes bulging.

  Staranov smiled. “You will help us?”

  The woman nodded vigorously, then panted after Staranov released his grip. “Danged furinner!”

  “Correct, madam, but the information, please.”

  She pointed to a thicket beyond the parking lot. “Track begins behind that copse of poplars there. You better hope that buggy of yours has got the fourwheel!”

  Staranov grasped her by her shoulders and threw her on the floor, then pointed at Romanidze. “Nyet svideteli!”

  Romanidze swallowed hard. “Yes. No witnesses.” He took aim at the woman, but hesitated.

  Dreshchensky laughed. “Go ahead, computer genius, you can do it.”

  Romanidze turned the pistol toward his tormentor, but Dreshchensky was gone.

  The shot tore a deep hole in the old wooden floor.

  The old woman screamed.

  Romanidze pulled the trigger again, then ran to the SUV.

  “Sheila,” Sara Beth’s voice was rasping, “I tried to hold out, but they’re headed your way.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  “Four who was here and another one in the car. Some of them was furinners.”

  “When?”

  “Just—now.” The voice was fading.

  “Sara Beth, are you all right?”

  “No. Shot.”

  “Sara Beth! I’ll be right there.”

  “No. You’ll run into them.” She hesitated. “And Luke and Wilf don’t need no help.”

  “Wilf? Luke?”

  “Both—both shot dead.”

  “Are you sure about Wilf?”

  “One eye’s—one eye’s been shot through and part of his throat’s gone.”

  “Sara Beth! I’ll call—”

  “I’ll call the Sheriff. He’ll send someone for me.” She paused. “There’s no help for Wilf. And you got plenty on your plate.”

  Sheila described Sara Beth’s call to Larson and Kostov.

  “Is she in good enough shape to call the sheriff?” Larson asked.

  “She seemed so, but whether she does or not, those people will be here a long time

  before the sheriff can get here.”

  “Then there are two critical questions,” Kostov said. “One, she was sure someone

  had been killed?”

  Sheila shuddered. “Her grandson. Shot through the eye.”

  Larson frowned. “Why critical, Ivan?”

  “We know the extent of the danger we face and the allowable response.” He

  hesitated. “She described them as foreigners?”

  Sheila nodded.

  “Not the New York people, then,” Kostov said. “Maybe the people who called your

  Japanese brokerage.”

  Larson frowned.

  “The call from Moscow.” He paused. “I smell a whiff of borscht.” He described his

  visits by Dreshchensky. He paused again. “And I have a plan to present.” “Please,” Sheila said.

  “I am not without skills in the martial arts. I propose that you meet them alone. This

  will mean—”

  “No!” Larson said. “We can’t allow—”

  Kostov raised his hand. “If I may explain?”

  Sheila touched Larson’s arm. “Let’s hear it.”

  “I intend to incapacitate them—or kill them, if necessary.”

  Sheila gasped.

  “That is why I needed to know about the situation that jus
t occurred.” “Ivan, we can’t—”

  “We cannot what, Sheila? Cannot defend ourselves? Cannot take retribution for the

  grandson? If I can, I shall allow them to live, but I shall not allow any of us to be in

  jeopardy in order to do so.”

  Her eyes were wide. “What about the police?”

  “If I understand the situation, they cannot reach us before the criminals.” “Afterward, then?”

  “Of course, but let us concentrate now on staying alive.” He peered at both of them.

  “Is it agreed?”

  Larson nodded.

  Sheila hesitated. “Yes.”

  “No weapons here, I assume?”

  “Never.”

  “Since we have no weapons, I shall require physical contact. I prefer, of course, to be

  alone with each of them in turn.” He looked at both of them, but there was no response.

  “As I was saying, I propose that Sheila meet them alone and allow them to enter. She

  will inquire as to their identities and business. They will inquire if she is alone. She will

  say that she is.”

  Sheila nodded.

  “Sam and I shall lie hidden on the balcony above, ready to descend either the main

  staircase or the rear staircase.

  “Sheila will stall. After a time, one or more of them may leave the immediate scene.

  I shall meet with any such wanderers.”

  Larson, smiling, nodded.

  “Sheila’s delaying tactics will ultimately fail. When severe measures are about to be

  taken, Sam will appear, drawing attention away from Sheila. His presence will indicate

  the possibility that there are other enemies with whom they must deal.”

  “But Sam will—”

  “Be in danger? Yes, but he will not be armed and he will be much less a threat than

  the unknown they will then face. If no one has yet left the scene, searchers will certainly

  be dispatched at that time. I shall meet these—individually, if possible.” Larson nodded.

  “And perhaps I can retrieve a weapon.”

  “And then?” Sheila said.

  “Ah, then we shall see. This is a counterattack worthy of my officer training days,

  but such plans are famous for going awry. We must hope for the best.” Chapter 33

  The sun was low as the SUV climbed onto the plain. The flat rays across the leveled mountaintop provided a dramatic illumination of the house.

  “Exceptional!” Staranov said.

  Cooper drove to the edge of the closest terrace, the north.

  There was no one in sight.

  Staranov gestured toward the door.

  Dreshchensky knocked, then tried the knob. He shrugged his shoulders.

  “This is an unpretentious entrance for such a house. Come, let us look elsewhere.”

  Sheila opened the south terrace door as they approached.

  Staranov crowded forward. “Doctor Rubenstein?”

  She nodded.

  Staranov stared at her face, then looked back at Cooper. “Congratulations on your

  powers of observation, Mr. Cooper.”

  Sheila frowned.

  “Mr. Cooper has been expounding upon your personal beauty.”

  “What are you doing here, Cooper? How’d you find me? Who are these people?” “I—”

  “Never mind that,” Staranov said. “You are not being polite, Doctor. Are you not

  receiving this afternoon?”

  “I wasn’t expecting any visitors. Certainly not Cooper.”

  “Are you alone, Doctor?”

  Sheila nodded.

  Staranov brushed past her. He walked the perimeter of the room, staring at the

  architecture and furnishings. “An amazing interior, Doctor. Worthy of the exterior and setting. Perhaps three hundred square meters. Beautiful fireplaces. A grand piano—a concert grand, I believe. Books. Artwork.” He pointed at a computer arrangement in the northwest corner. “You both live and work in this room?”

  Sheila said nothing.

  “You are wondering why we are here? We are here for the predictor.” “I beg your pardon?”

  “Ridiculous attitude, Doctor. You may have time to waste, but I do not.” He smiled.

  “Does Mr. Cooper’s appearance in our midst not provide a clue to our reason for being here?”

  “I know I don’t want anything to do with him.”

  “But you must. Do you know how your uncle died?”

  “Heart attack.”

  “Brought on by?”

  “Cold water. A cold water shower he would never have taken.”

  Staranov smiled. “Wrong. The cold water had nothing to do with his death. I forced him to commit suicide. He—”

  She leaped at Staranov, her fingers clawing at his face.

  Dreshchensky pulled her away and pinned her arms behind her back.

  Staranov touched his face. There was blood.

  Naveeva removed a handkerchief from her dress pocket and began dabbing at the scratches.

  Staranov accepted her attention for a moment, then pushed her away. “As I was saying, my gentle ministrations caused him to generate the heart attack that killed him. In any court of law, I would be guilty of murder.”

  Kostov cupped Larson’s ear “They are Galavna-ya Bohl. I suspect the talker is Staranov.” Staranov nodded at Dreshchensky. “Release her.”

  Dreshchensky managed to caress her right breast as he released her.

  She slapped his face.

  He reached for her again, but Staranov raised his hand. “Later, perhaps.” He turned back to Sheila. “Shall I tell you how he died, Doctor?”

  Sheila rubbed her eyes, but didn’t reply.

  “In order that you have a clear understanding of my goals and how you will aid me in

  reaching them, I shall tell you everything about my history with your departed uncle. I am convinced that you will find the information instructive and that your appreciation will speed your compliance with my wishes.” He began his history with Aaron Rubenstein.

  Staranov concluded his performance ten minutes later. “So, do you understand?” “I understand what a beast you are!”

  “Beast? Ridiculous, but have you learned what may happen to you?” She nodded.

  “To continue. When I returned to Moscow our lider abused me for a time, accusing

  me of misspending my intelligence and wasting the time of the personnel assigned to me. As punishment, he allotted some menial extortion tasks to me. His attitude only sharpened my desire to improve my position within Galavna-ya Bohl. It was perhaps quixotic of me, but I wondered if the predictor might appear again. While wasting my skills on cowering shopkeepers, I instituted a search of the internet for the predictor.”

  Sheila frowned.

  “You doubt me, Doctor?”

  Sheila nodded.

  Staranov explained.

  “I took the good news to our master, who agreed to one more attempt and provided

  me with the necessary funds.

  “Now, Doctor, we have gone to a considerable amount of trouble to meet you. It is

  time for you to surrender the secrets of the predictor.”

  Sheila closed her eyes.

  Staranov grasped her upper arm and squeezed. “Do you imagine that you will be

  allowed to remain dumb throughout our visit?”

  Sheila stared at him.

  He increased the pressure.

  Sheila jerked her arm away. “That hurts, you clod!”

  Staranov attempted to grasp her arm again, but Sheila slapped his face. Staranov stepped back. “Prevoshodnyi! A fighter. My favorite kind.” “Oaf!”

  She stepped back, but Dreshchensky caught her.

  “We cannot have this lovely lady wandering about.” He pointed at a wheeled desk

  chair in the computer corner. “Secure her to that chair.”

  Dresh
chensky looked for something to tie her.

  Staranov shook his head. “Your belt, use your belt.”

  “This is—” Sheila said.

  “This is what? An outrage? My dear lady, it is a mere introduction to what you may

  suffer if my visit here is not fruitful.”

  Dreshchensky wrapped his belt below her ribcage, then buckled it behind the chair. “There,” he said. “Comfortable?”

  Sheila didn’t respond.

  He fondled her breast.

  Sheila screamed.

  Dreshchensky laughed. “Not my fault you have so much there.” He fondled the

  other breast. “A matched set. Very nice.”

  Kostov held Larson down.

  Staranov giggled.

  Sheila looked at Staranov. “You appreciate second-hand sex, do you?” Staranov was unperturbed. “Release her. Should I be unsuccessful here today, I

  promise all of you may have her.” He smiled at Naveeva. “And you, too, Vera Davidovna, if you like.”

  The woman smiled and clapped her hands.

  Staranov raised his hands in exultation. “Wait! Sex! A wonderful idea. Not my

  usual technique, but—but given a subject with this face and form—well, let us see if I can alter my program to encompass a bit of sexual anguish and humiliation.” Larson began to rise, but Kostov held him, whispering. “If you attack now, she is dead and so are we. Wait or die.”

  Larson relaxed.

  “Let us proceed. The predictor, mademoiselle. We have your uncle’s computer, the programs, and the paper files. But they afford us nothing. I must learn how to operate the predictor.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “This is not wise, Doctor. Reflect upon your situation. No one knows we are here. And we are utterly ruthless. We —”

  Dreshchensky raised his hand. “A question, Eugen Yakovich?”

  Staranov faced him and frowned. “You should know better than to interrupt me!” “A worthwhile question?”

  “Ask.”

  “I am wondering if your statement concerning our seclusion is accurate.” “How so?”

  “We have left two bodies down below. The store appears to be small and poor,

  perhaps not often visited. Still, I fear —”

  Staranov nodded. “And we seem to be in a cul-desac. Yes. Hmm.” He turned back to Sheila. “How many customers does the store have? How long