Trifecta

by Pam Richter

  He told her that when he had first met her, he felt that she would be lethal to his heart. It was not something an American would phrase that way.

  Eve was positive that she would want to spend her entire life with Ivar. She knew he might become predictable to her, but he would never bore her. If she could anticipate his behavior, that would certainly be a comfort and something she would learn to rely on. She would love him even more because of it. He would be the certainty in her uncertain life.

  Many carnivores mated for life and Eve knew she had throwback tendencies to earlier man. Most people did not get angry as quickly as she did. Or tend to growl when enraged.

  The thing that frightened her about the relationship was that she would not grow old like most people. She was going to stay young for a long, long time if the body didn't malfunction. Eve did not mind the thought of watching Ivar grow older; it would be wonderful seeing him get wiser and even more compassionate and loving. But then there was the dying part. She didn't know if she herself could survive that. Evidently, dying was usually accompanied by pain. She would kill Ivar before she would allow him to suffer, but losing the person most loved in the world must be the worse experience in life. She thought she would rather die herself first.

  Eve repeated aloud the entire tapes by heart, in Japanese, and was satisfied she knew the language. She would be ready for the meeting.

  Then Eve went to the store and bought three steaks. Back home in her apartment she cooked them for a couple of minutes. She blissfully crunched the bones for desert; closing her eyes and seeing the world of her memories. There were giant animals for thrilling hunts, deep caves to live in, beautiful silvery springs to drink from, a horizon with nothing but sky and evenings when the stars were so bright it looked like they were falling from heaven.

  * * * * *

  Ivar Cousin drove downtown at just past one in the morning and parked a few blocks from the federal building. He waited for a few minutes. The janitorial staff should be finished cleaning the offices. He didn't want to run into someone vacuuming the halls while he was sneaking down them. He wore a loose jacket to hide the gun in his belt.

  Since there was no way to tell the women apart, Burgess Whitcomb had decided they would have to pick up both women tomorrow. Which meant that Ivar would have to be effective tonight in destroying the evidence. He was feeling a lot of pressure with the time demand. Tomorrow, both Eve and Sabrina might be in jail.

  Ivar looked around at the street where he had parked. It was empty and very dark because most of the street lights were broken. He locked the car, hoping the hubcaps, and indeed, the engine, would be intact when he retrieved it. This was not an ideal place to take a stroll in the wee hours. He tried to keep away from the shadows which had darker shadows within them, with the creepy knowledge he was being observed. The only person he could actually see was a prostitute hanging onto a corner light pole. As he passed, she reached out and took hold of his jacket sleeve with long red talons.

  Ivar was forced to look into a face that looked nineteen or twenty, but was probably closer to fourteen or fifteen. The slack features and dilated eyes bespoke heavy drug usage. Plus the fact that she was not freezing in the skimpy clothing she was wearing in the cold night air.

  "You hungry?" she asked.

  "Not now." Ivar reached in his wallet and gave her a twenty, knowing he was probably just compensating her pimp. "Go eat something."

  "You fucking police or something?"

  "Something."

  "Mutherfucker."

  Ivar watched her stroll leisurely away on three inch heels and a tight short skirt. He hoped he hadn't blown himself. If they thought he was the police, his car was in real danger.

  Ivar walked to the side door he had wrecked with gum that afternoon and was surprised when it actually eased open. He pulled down the duck bill of his baseball cap and stooped to hide his height. He hoped that the man at the front desk in the building's lobby was not watching the electronic monitor for this door. The security guard could start taping by pressing a button at the front desk. If the guard didn't see him in the next ten seconds, Ivar would have a clean break-in.

  Ivar sidled inside and hurried out of camera range, keeping his head down. He took the stairs because he didn't want the guard noticing blinking elevator lights. The fourteenth floor hallway was empty. Ivar took Burgess Whitcomb's security key card out of his pocket, silently put it in the lock and twisted the knob gently. Ivar pushed open the door a little way, but stopped suddenly. There was shaft of light coming from Burgess's inner office.

  Ivar couldn't stand in the hallway forever and was undecided about what to do. He was reluctant to leave, knowing the consequences. He heard a voice coming from Burgess's office. Ivar slipped inside and closed the door silently behind him. The door to the inner office was partially closed. Ivar stepped closer and listened.

  It was his own KGB operative in Burgess Whitcomb's office! Ivar would have recognized that educated Russian voice anywhere. He crept closer. It was unbelievable and it didn't make any sense at all. Ivar stealthily moved closer to the door and peeped through the crack.

  Wimpy, Willard Modert, with his scant hair combed across his high bald pate, was sitting at Burgess's desk, feet propped on top, speaking in Russian. The sight blew Ivar away. No wonder he was so tired all the time. Modert was behind the whole KGB operation.

  The man was perfect for the job. Ivar had to admire the KGB. No one would ever believe the self effacing little fellow was a double agent like himself.

  Modert was telling someone in Russian that he needed a new operative in California. Ivar felt himself getting very pissed off. His own government, which had placed him in the precarious position of double agent, evidently didn't trust him anymore. The fact that they had passed him up to use someone as stupid and inept as Sergi outraged him.

  Ivar knew now that he had absolutely no future in his home country. The fact that he had already thought so many times in the past didn't prepare him for the wrenching melancholy it suddenly brought to him.

  What he contemplated doing next would really severe any remaining ties to his country, but Ivar didn't care. He had been placed here to do a job, and a very risky one at that. If you took a man's pride in his work away, there was almost nothing left. No one could say that hiding one's heritage, at the very least cost of ending up in some federal prison for life, was not risky. And for such a long, long time at that. He had come to this country, loving his own, and very idealistic about what he could do. Now they had cut him loose.

  Ivar picked up an ashtray off of Willard Modert's desk in the outer office and threw it violently against the wall.

  The crash was very satisfactory.

  As Modert rushed into the outer office, Ivar grabbed the small man from behind. Modert stopped struggling after a few moments, when he felt a gun at his temple.

  Ivar got adhesive tape out of his pocket and, pulling a long piece with his teeth, got it plastered over Modert's mouth. Then he covered each of his eyes.

  "I won't hurt you," Ivar said, because the man was making pitiful, whimpering sounds. "Be still."

  Ivar was angry at Modert too. Modert had sat here, smug and self-righteous, and ordered him to find out about the investigation, trying to intimidate and bully him, when he had access to the CIA's secret files at his fingertips and was probably handing all the information over to the KGB himself.

  Ivar sat Modert down in front of the desk in the outer office, with his back leaning against the desk, facing the door. Ivar spread Modert's arms and legs and taped them to the legs of the desk very securely.

  Then Ivar took the keys out of Modert's pocket and unlocked the files. He sat in Burgess Whitcomb's chair and read all about Eve. When he finished he turned on the shredder and shredded all of the government's plans for the woman with a computer in her brain.

  Ivar also went inside the safe, using Modert's code, which he quickly got from his petrified hostage, and took out the duplicate
files. He shredded documents until there was nothing left of the investigation.

  Ivar shredded all but two of the pictures of Eve and Sabrina. He wanted the pictures now that it was becoming too risky to see Eve. He couldn't tell if he had pictures of Eve or Sabrina. But he wanted to remember her always.

  Before he left the office, Ivar took a piece of plain paper and wrote with a red pen in huge letters, WILLARD MODERT IS A RUSSIAN COMMUNIST SPY WORKING FOR THE KGB.

  Below the bold lettering he left directions to check the telephone records, knowing that if there was a really thorough investigation he had placed himself, as well as Modert, into a trap. It was time for him to get false identity papers.

  As Ivar left the office he admired his handiwork. Modert was tied spread-eagle to his desk, with a bold incriminating note attached to his chest.

  Ivar left the lights on.

  CHAPTER 23

  The law office of Steinbrenner and Steinbrenner was located in Century City, in one of Los Angeles's giant office high-rises. Sabrina and Eve sat down in the plush reception office, decorated with thick carpets and luxurious sofas, all in a pastel motif that blended into an overall effect of muted elegance.

  Sabrina and Eve had dressed identically because there had been a puzzling call from Ivar Cousin. He had given Eve instructions for them to try to look as much alike as possible, hence they wore identical light blue suits.

  Sabrina did not enjoy the type of attention they received when they dressed alike. People craned to look and tended to speculate aloud, as if Eve and Sabrina had lost their hearing ability, with comments like, 'My God, now cute,' or astonishingly, 'They must be identical twins.'

  The meeting was already late and Sabrina thought the Steinbrenners were using the usual tactics of doctors and lawyers, delaying to show how busy, and hence, how important they were. It was a little annoying when all they wanted to do was get the bank account and identity papers for Eve.

  The office door opened and three gigantic men, looking like Sumo wrestlers without the enormous bellies, walked in and looked around suspiciously. Apparently they decided it was safe and went back outside again to report. Then nine Japanese men entered the room. Five of them were very large, the bodyguards Sabrina assumed, and the other four, including Sato Hashimoto, were small.

  Sabrina thought Hashimoto looked like a smiling oriental shark, with his thin face and jaw full of bad teeth, except his teeth were inferior. He shook their hands and Sabrina could see him eyeing them appraisingly. He asked which was which.

  "I'm Sabrina," Eve said, following the plan they had made to switch identities.

  "Ah, so this is Eve!" Taking Sabrina's hand once again, he kissed the back of it. She tried to hide her revulsion and avoided an inclination to wipe the moisture away.

  The three small Japanese men had nestled on a couch, while the giants deferentially continued to stand.

  Alexander appeared in the doorway to the inner office, balanced on his crutches. He asked Sato Hashimoto to come in for a moment. Sato, one small staff member and one bodyguard left.

  They were gone approximately twenty minutes. Sabrina was uncomfortable at the polite but obvious sideways scrutiny of the Japanese men, who occasionally put their hands over their mouths and tittered. The giggles were surprisingly effeminate, high and foolish sounding. They seemed embarrassed. She supposed it was something sexual, having to do with she and Eve, and could hardly wait to ask.

  Eve looked at her and whispered, "They are curious about pubic hair. Whether it is blond like the rest of our hair."

  Sabrina only had time to comment, "I don't believe it," because Alexander had come back. He ushered them down long beige halls. As they walked along, Eve whispered, "Sparse or thick, straight or curly, course or soft."

  So much for where the Japanese male minds were occupied. And those had been the little ones. Sabrina wondered what the Hulks were thinking about. Rape and Pillage?

  The two women were giggling and Alexander gave them a condescending look, as though they should be grateful to be in the august presence of lawyers and foreign gentlemen who handled hundreds of millions of dollars routinely. The look suggested they should behave with proper decorum. Sabrina stifled her immediate hostility.

  They entered a large conference room dominated by an enormous oval table. Stephan was already seated in his wheel chair with piles of documents in front of him.

  It was all very ostentatious. The bodyguards were seated on one end of the table, lined up like giant penguins in their identical black suits. Eve and Sabrina sat next to each other across from Sato Hashimoto and his staff. A receptionist came in and poured coffee or tea and water for everyone. Alexander stood at what could have been termed the head of the table.

  "Mr. Hashimoto and I have come to what could be termed a preliminary agreement concerning the employment of Eve Miller." He looked around the table. "We hope to conclude this meeting with signed contracts."

  He looked at Sato Hashimoto, who nodded in agreement. "First, I think we should introduce everyone."

  "Fine."

  The Japanese names, with many syllables went right through Sabrina's head, but she knew that Eve would remember Hashimoto's controller, computer expert, and the corporate physician.

  Everyone nodded politely when the introductions were finished. Evidently Hashimoto did not feel it was necessary to introduce the bodyguards.

  "Excuse me," Eve said. "Eve and I were led to believe the main reason for the meeting was so that certain documents would be transferred to Eve Miller, at the request of Dr. Ferd Steinbrenner."

  "That is coincidental, and will be conducted privately," Stephan said with a determined frown.

  Eve and Sabrina stood up, picked up their purses, and prepared to leave.

  "What is the nature of the documents," Hashimoto inquired.

  "A private matter," Alexander said quickly, appearing quite annoyed.

  "If Eve Miller is to travel she must have papers of identification," Eve said as they started walking to the door. "There is also the matter of a bank account set up by Stephan Steinbrenner at the bequest of his father."

  Sabrina and Eve were at the door.

  "Ms. Miller seems to have a point. If she cannot travel, she could not possibly work for me. I think that before any further discussion can be made about her employment, the documents should be given to her."

  "The documents will not be necessary to her unless she travels to Japan," Stephan said.

  "It seems you're holding Eve hostage," Eve said. "I'm not sure on a point of law, because we all know that the documentation is illegal."

  "Illegal?" Hashimoto said.

  "Yes. It must be obvious that we are twin sisters, but Eve Miller's birth was not certified. She has no legal identity."

  "Can this be possible?" Hashimoto asked. "Please, won't you two ladies sit down so we can get to the bottom of this matter?"

  Sabrina and Eve walked back to the table.

  "We came here because of promises made by Stephan Steinbrenner," Eve stated.

  "That is not a concern here today, because there do exist documents, and Eve is now on several computers proving her existence," Alexander said.

  "Illegally."

  "I am getting very impatient with this whole discussion," Hashimoto complained. "I heard with great skepticism about a person with a computer within their brain. I would like some proof to the allegations that Ms. Miller indeed has a computer as a component part of her brain, and that she has some special abilities."

  "I think we should first settle the matter of the documentation Dr. Steinbrenner wanted me to have," Sabrina said. She didn't want Hashimoto to make the Steinbrenner brothers so angry that they would refuse to give Eve the papers. They could get angry as they felt inclined to, later.

  "We would like to know if the documents will hold up under close scrutiny, also," Eve said.

  "Good papers," Hashimoto said, nodding and siding with the women. He didn't want to be party to anything ob
viously illegal. "Perhaps my computer expert can look them over."

  The computer expert, blinking rapidly, held out his hand toward the pile of papers in front of Stephan, "May I?"

  Stephan grudgingly handed over a birth certificate, drivers license and several credit cards. "You will see that everything was made up very carefully. We went to a lot of trouble and expense."

  "And the bank account?" Eve asked.

  "Give those papers to my controller," Hashimoto ordered.

  "You're not representing the women in this matter," Alexander protested.

  "No," Hashimoto said. "But my controller is an expert in banking documents. I wish him to see the papers, so that everyone is satisfied. I must say, you are trying my patience."

  Stephan pushed the papers across the desk.

  There was quiet in the room for a few minutes.

  "They look good," The computer expert said. He had thick glasses and also used a round monocle for the inspection.

  Hashimoto reached out his hand as if to take a look, and then he handed the papers, proving Eve to be a citizen of the United States, to Sabrina. She tried to hide her gleeful feeling as she put the papers in her purse, right next to the large gun, but as she took the papers she looked directly into Hashimoto's eyes and felt a flash of fear. The eyes had heavy lids, which made them look alien, but it was the lack of warmth or any human feeling within that caused a shiver of apprehension.

  "Hey," Stephan protested. "You can't do that."

  "You weren't going to keep them?" Hashimoto inquired as though innocently surprised, but he did not look innocent. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  There was silence in the room and then Hashimoto's corporate controller, who had been inspecting the bank documents, broke it, saying, "There's a clause here that says to withdraw funds from the account, Eve Miller must get written consent from Stephan Steinbrenner."