by Cap Daniels
As Boy Scout Ray White lurched to help the waitress, Captain Burinkova slipped the saltshaker from the table and onto her lap and then quickly spun off the top. She filled the palm of her right hand with a tablespoon of salt, and as the commotion came to an end, she slid the shaker back into place and reached for Ray’s plate and mug that had been displaced when he lunged for the falling waitress. With a sleight of hand any magician would envy, she emptied the contents of her palm into his coffee and repositioned the plate and mug.
Anya offered the smile she’d been taught that could melt the coldest of hearts. “Was nice of you to try to help lady. You are gentleman, even if sometimes cruel.”
He set his jaw. “Anya, I’m sorry for the things I’m forced to say to you, but—”
“Are you sorry only for lies, or also for truth?”
“I’ve never lied to you,” he insisted. “It’s true that I’ve skirted around the truth, but I have a job to do, and that job is to make sure you are at the top of your game and that you stay in the operation until the end.”
“When is end of operation, Special Agent White?”
He let his eyes fall closed and exhaled a long breath. “I don’t know.”
“But is your operation. You are in command. Is your responsibility to know when operation will come to end.”
He shook his head. “No, that’s not how it works at Justice.”
Anya raised a finger. “This word, justice. I think it does not mean what you think.”
Ray smiled in spite of the gut-punch Anya delivered. “Have you ever seen the movie The Princess Bride?”
“I do not watch movies.”
Ray chuckled. “There’s a line in the movie. One of the characters, Inigo, a Spanish swordsman, says . . .” Ray paused. “Never mind. Maybe we’ll watch it together sometime.”
The waitress returned and slid a second mug onto the table.
Ray looked up. “Are you okay? That fall looked like it hurt.”
She nodded, and the excess skin of her chin continued to move after the rest of her head had stopped. “Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t know what I tripped over. Enjoy your pie.”
Anya ignored the woman and forked a bite of apple pie into her mouth. “Mmm. Is good, but not like coulibiac.”
Ray scowled. “I can’t wrap my head around the idea of a fish pie.”
“Maybe when we watch together Princess Bride movie, I will make for you coulibiac.”
Ray couldn’t hold back the coming smile, so he tried to mask it behind the mug as he sipped his second drink of steaming coffee. Instantly, he spat the liquid back into the mug and stared into the black abyss of his cup.
“What is wrong, Gentleman Ray White? Did you not see Captain Burinkova slip poison into drink while you were saving damsel in distress? Is maybe you who is slipping, no?”
“Okay, you made your point, but I’m not the one who fell for it while on an undercover op.”
“No, that was me,” she said. “You were not on undercover operation. This was me because your Justice Department says I am better for this operation.”
He pushed his salty coffee away and lifted Anya’s mug to his lips. A battle of wits at one a.m. against Anya was a terrible choice, so he said, “If you’ll stay with me for another field assignment, you can call your friends and tell them you are all right.”
“They are looking for me, no? And you are afraid they will find me, yes? This is why you give to me token gift of calling them. I will do this for you, but not because of meager gift. And I have demand.”
Ray pushed up his sleeves. “You don’t get to make demands. That’s not how this works.”
Anya pressed her wrists together and held them toward him. “Okay, in this case, you will arrest me, and I will tell judge about deal you made with me and how I did everything you wanted.”
Ray sighed and pushed her hands away. “What’s your demand?”
Anya made a show of separating her wrists. “You will give to me Special Agent Guinevere Davis for assignment so I can continue her training.”
“That’s your demand? You want Gwynn to come with you? That’s it?”
Anya lifted the salted coffee to her lips and pretended to enjoy the taste. “Yes, this is my demand because, like me, she will soon be immune to poison.”
Ray shuddered at the thought of swallowing the rancid coffee. “Fine, you can have Gwynn, but don’t you want to know what the assignment is?”
3
LUCHSHIY DRUG DEVUSHKI
(A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND)
With the pie plates empty but only one empty coffee cup, Anya stood from the table and extended her hand. “Is now time for me to make decision of where we go.”
Ray wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin and slid from his chair. He stepped around the Russian to put her on his left side, where he carried his shoulder holster and Glock 17. From that side, it would be more difficult for most people to draw his weapon from him. Anya could likely still pull off the feat, but it would require her leaving herself vulnerable with her arms crossed. Ray had no illusions that he was faster or craftier than the woman who was more than a decade his junior and who had thousands more hours of intensive training than the U.S. government would ever provide for an officer of the Justice Department.
“So, where are we going now that it’s two a.m.?”
With her right hand laced through his left arm, she smiled up at him. “I was hoping you would maybe take me someplace having great tea and is quiet enough for mission brief.”
He didn’t want to smile, but suppressing it wouldn’t be easy. “I think I know just the place.”
“Then, this is place I wish to go.”
He thumbed the key fob, unlocking his government-issue Suburban, and opened the passenger-side door. Anya climbed inside and eyed the M4 rifle wedged between the driver’s seat and center console. The stack of radios mounted beneath the dash looked like enough commo gear to launch a spaceship. A PR-24 baton rested neatly in its friction lock cradle. And finally, a Mossberg riot gun stood in a locking rack to the right of the radios.
When Ray slid into the driver’s seat, Anya said, “Did you think you would need all of this to capture me again? If yes, I am flattered.” She let her fingertips lightly trace the barrel of the shotgun. “Are you afraid of me, Special Agent White?”
He slid his key into the ignition. “I didn’t need any of my toys to catch you tonight, but a few of these things might have come in handy if you’d caused a scene.”
“But I did not cause scene . . . Well, maybe salt into coffee was a small scene, but no need for striking stick or shotgun.”
“That reminds me,” he said. “Open the glove compartment and hand me my cuffs.”
She pressed the button, and the compartment door opened as the light illuminated the interior. Two pairs of Smith & Wesson stainless steel handcuffs rested beside a snub-nosed .38 revolver. “Was wise of you to leave behind handcuffs. I think you could not put them on my wrists without being badly hurt.”
He eyed the Russian. “Maybe we’ll have to try that. My money’s on the cop with superior size and weight.”
“Perhaps we will, but being fat is not benefit when handcuffing someone like me.”
“I know you didn’t just call me fat.”
Anya pressed the tip of her index finger into the flesh of his stomach. “You are too old to have pie in middle of night. You are soft in middle.”
He groaned. “I’ll have you know I can still do two miles in twelve minutes and a hundred sit-ups in two.”
She ignored him and pulled the .38 revolver from its holster, then emptied the shells into her palm. “Last time I saw revolver like this one, I made it to blow up in a bad man’s hand while he was trying to kill me in strip club in Key West Island.”
Ray rolled his eyes and yanked the gun from her hand. “It’s just called Key West—not Key West Island. And what were you doing in a strip club?”
“I was there to find man
who was holding friend of mine and kill him. This is what friendship means to me.”
He licked his lips, as his mouth suddenly felt like sandpaper. “Did you do it?”
She stroked the barrel of the riot gun only inches beside her. “Did I do what? Kill him? Or get back friend?”
“Both.”
“I did not kill him, but he died later in night. And yes, my friend is alive and safe.”
“This friend of yours . . . Would her name happen to be Elizabeth Woodley?”
Anya stared at the shotgun as her fingers glided across the forearm, and she shook her head.
Ray lowered his chin. “Now I think you’re lying. I think her name is Elizabeth Woodley, but you call her Skipper.”
Anya tried to hide the surprise. “You will now tell me something about you that others do not know.”
“I can’t,” he said. “It’s against the rules.”
Anya laughed. “You are now lying. I do not believe there are rules about what you are to tell Russian assassin in front seat of car with weapons everywhere. I will make with you bet. I believe you cannot put handcuffs on me. If yes, I will do for you all missions your Department of Justice wishes. If no, you will tell to me something about you. This is bet, no?”
Ray slid the revolver across the center console. “Put this back where you found it.”
She took the weapon from his palm, reloaded it, and returned it to its place in the glove compartment. “Is not wise to let me have loaded gun. I could—”
Ray held up a hand. “We’ve covered this already. You could, but you won’t.”
They pulled up in front of his brownstone, locked the Suburban, and climbed the stairs.
Anya gazed into the darkened sky. “Yes, this is place with very good tea.”
Ray held open the door. “You said ‘great tea’ back at the diner.’”
“So, I did,” she said. “I like when you listen closely to me.”
He closed and locked the door and headed for the kitchen.
Anya watched him move through the room with the confidence of a man who is comfortable and unafraid. “You did not answer my question.”
“What question?”
The whistling kettle halted conversation, and Ray produced a pair of mugs with the Justice Department seal emblazoned on them. He pulled a jar from the cupboard. “I seem to remember you like honey in your tea.”
She took the jar from him and covered the bottom of her cup with the golden honey, then on tiptoes, she replaced it and closed the cupboard.
He poured the steaming water over teabags in each mug and motioned toward the living room. “Shall we?”
Without a word, Anya led the way into the next room and nestled onto the sofa.
Ray chose his recliner and lifted the mug to his lips. He blew across the steaming surface and took a tentative sip. “You were right. This place does have great tea.”
Anya sipped hers and nodded a silent agreement. After several swallows, she looked up. “You are now stalling. I want to hear of next mission.”
“I wasn’t stalling. I was just going through the briefing in my head to make sure I don’t leave out anything important.”
“So, you are now ready to give briefing. I will keep questions until end.”
“Articles,” he said.
She frowned. “What articles?”
“The, a, and an. We had this talk in Miami, and you said you would start using English articles.”
She looked away. “Is not easy for me, but I will try.”
She repositioned to face him. “I am ready for the briefing.”
He nodded his approval. “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” Anya’s blank stare made him pause, and finally, he said, “That’s an old advertising slogan, I think.”
Her expression didn’t change.
He held up his thumb and index finger, indicating a small object. “You know . . . diamonds, precious gems.”
“Yes, I know what is diamond, but I do not think they are girl’s best friend.”
He waved both hands in surrender. “Okay, forget the best friend thing. We’re talking about diamonds. Hundreds of millions, maybe billions of dollars’ worth of diamonds. You have been to New York City, right?”
She nodded. “I have been to city once, but only to Queens and Belmont Park.”
“That’s about to change very soon. You’re going to Manhattan. More specifically, Forty-Seventh Street between Fifth and Sixth. That’s known as the Diamond District.” He paused, expecting some reaction, but she didn’t flinch. “You do know what the Diamond District is, right?”
“Yes, I have heard of this. Is place with many jewelry shops and diamond brokers.”
He took another sip of his cooling tea. “What do you know about diamonds?”
She shook her head. “I am not typical girl. I have never had diamond—a diamond—but I have seen them, and they are beautiful.”
He placed his mug on the table beside the recliner. “You’ve never had a diamond? Really?”
She appeared to find the question ridiculous. “I told you this. I would not lie about having diamond.”
“I wasn’t accusing you of lying. It’s just surprising that a thirty-two-year-old woman has never had a diamond.”
“I have never needed diamond. Does Gwynn have one?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen her wear one, but I would think she at least has some earrings or a tennis bracelet.”
Anya pinched her eyebrows together. “I did not know she plays tennis.”
Ray shook his head. “We’re getting off track. We’ll get back to Gwynn later. There’s a guy in the city. His name is Viktor Volkov, but he’s known as Yuvelir.”
Anya’s eyes widened. “This means the jeweler.”
Ray sighed. “Pomnit'? YA tozhe govoryu po Russki.”
“Yes, I remember you speak Russian, but do you know this word volkov?”
Ray nodded, an ominous look on his face. “Yes, it means hawk.”
Anya returned the look. “Yes, it sometimes means this, but also any bird of prey is volkov. It is bird that kills to stay alive. Is this also true of Viktor Volkov?”
Ray stared into his empty cup. “Probably, but that’s not why we want him. We don’t know how, but Viktor has devised a way to plant diamonds grown in a laboratory into the inventories of legitimate diamond dealers.”
Anya’s expression said she was trying to hold her question, but Ray needed to know what she was thinking.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I am sorry. I said to you I would save questions for end, but this is not possible.”
“What’s not possible?”
“It is not possible for . . . ah, I do not know word, but it is person who studies diamonds and other stones.”
Ray leaned in. “Gemologist.”
“Yes, gemologist. It is not possible Viktor Volkov can put into jewelry store fake diamonds and this person, the gemologist, will not know.”
“That’s the kicker on this one. The diamonds you call fake are real diamonds, chemically identical to a natural diamond that took millions of years to form.”
“I have heard word. I think is cubic zirconia. This looks like diamond but is not.”
“So, you do know something about diamonds.”
“I know very little, but this does not sound possible to me. You have wrong information.”
Ray steepled his fingers. “That’s what I thought, too, but I was wrong. These stones are not cubic zirconia. Even the best gemologists can’t look at the diamonds and tell the difference between a natural stone and one of Viktor’s that was grown in a lab.”
“I must know more of this fake diamond creation, but what is mission? If you want Viktor Volkov killed, I can do this, no problem.”
Ray let out the breath he’d been holding. “That’s not what we want, Anya. We want to know how he’s doing it . . . all of it. From the creation of the stones to the mechanism he’s usi
ng to get them into inventory.”
“This is what you want me to do, and this is all? I am not to kill him?”
“Yes, all we want is information. You’ll gather it for us, and we’ll take it from there. There will be no arrests while you’re undercover. You’ll be long gone before we make any moves on Viktor. It’s that simple. Implant yourself into Viktor’s circle, gain his trust, learn his process, and report back to me. That’s it.”
“Why?”
Ray scowled. “Because you don’t want to go to prison for the rest of your life.”
Anya shook her head. “No. Why is Viktor doing this thing?”
“Oh, that why,” Ray said. “There are only four motivations for criminal behavior: money, power, revenge, or sex. It’s always one of these or a combination. We assume it’s for the money, but we can’t figure out how he’s monetizing the operation. He doesn’t appear to be selling the stones to the dealers. They’re simply showing up in shops.”
“You said I can have Gwynn, yes?”
“Yes, but why is it so important for you to have her with you?”
Anya leaned back against the cushions. “Because she is girl’s real best friend.”
Ray stood, dangling his empty mug by a pinky finger. He reached for Anya’s mug, and she took the last swallow of tea before holding up the cup for him to return to the kitchen. As she added her mug to his, he allowed them both to slip from his hand. With catlike reflexes, Anya shot both hands forward, and when the ceramic cups hit her palms, Ray lowered his handcuffs with blinding speed, clasping a cuff on each of Anya’s wrists.
He lifted the cups from her palms. “I believe that makes me the winner of our bet. Goodnight, Anya.”
4
VOSSOYEDINENIYE
(REUNION)
The next morning, Anya stretched and slid her legs from beneath the cover. The digital clock on the bedside table read 8:24. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and enjoyed the first good shower in over a week. As she stepped from the shower and pulled a towel around her shoulders, she saw a T-shirt, sweatshirt, underclothes, socks, and jeans lying on the counter beside the sink. She towel-dried her hair and pulled it into a ponytail. The clothes fit perfectly, and she smiled, knowing why.