by Alex Ander
Not getting a reply, she glanced at her ‘date.’ “Do I look that bad?” She tugged on the second glove.
Seeing her dark hair in this light, Hardy had a brief image of Special Agent Cruz flash across his mind. For a split-second, he felt homesick. He had never seen Cruz in any other clothing besides her business attire, slacks and a blazer. He imagined she would look every bit as stunning as Natasha was, now. He blinked his eyes a few times to re-focus his mind on the mission. A thin grin formed on his lips. “You look dressed…to kill.”
Natasha returned his smile, while attaching a pair of fake clip-on diamond earrings that dangled more than an inch below her earlobe. “Thanks…You look pretty good, too.”
Claiming a small semi-automatic pistol from her backpack and verifying the gun was loaded, she lifted the hem of her dress well above her thigh. A holster, near the innermost part of her left leg, was tucked inside the lace band of her thigh-high stocking. A garter belt helped support the weight of the pistol. She slid the weapon inside the holster and let the dress fall to her knees. Natasha gave Hardy her pack, which he chucked through the opening, while she adjusted her dress and finished primping.
Hardy moved toward the staircase. “Let’s go.” Natasha followed, her heels clicking on the stone floor.
Chapter 20: Kitchen
Exiting the basement, Natasha led Hardy through the narrow hallway and toward the kitchen. Halfway there, a large man in a brown suit appeared ahead of her. Natasha caught a brief glimpse of a small communication device in his ear. Security. Fortunately, he was more concerned with the food on the serving trays than he was with doing his job.
Natasha whirled around, grabbed the lapels on Hardy’s suit coat and pushed him against the wall. “Put your arms around me and kiss me.” She pressed her lips to his mouth and passionately kissed him.
Hardy tensed. What is she doing? Grabbing her shoulders, he pushed.
She dipped her head toward the guard, her eyes burrowing a hole into Hardy’s brain, while she barked at him under her breath. “Kiss me.”
Hardy glanced left and saw the man; he had spotted them. He wrapped his left arm around Natasha’s waist and jerked her closer. Their bodies slammed together. He cupped the back of her head and leaned into her.
Hardy and Natasha’s lips mashed together. She felt a warm sensation flood her body. Her attention drifted away from the situation. She tasted his lips and felt his strong arms around her. Tugging on the lapels of his suit coat, she kissed him back. Lost in the moment, she nearly forgot about the ruse.
The guard had dropped the food he was holding and was moving toward them. He approached and said, “Chto ty zeds’ delayesh’? — What are you doing here? Eto zapretnaya zona — This is a restricted area.”
The guard’s voice brought Natasha’s focus back to reality. She spun her head toward the guard, pretending he had startled her. She hunched her shoulders. Covering her mouth, she giggled like a teenage girl.
“Nikto nedopuskayetsya za predely kukhni — No one is allowed beyond the kitchen,” said the guard.
Natasha took Hardy’s hand. When they were even with the guard, she smiled seductively and said, “My sozhaleyem — We’re sorry. My prosto khoteli nayti mesto gde my mogli by…pobyt’v odinochestve — We just wanted to find a place where we could…be alone.”
The guard inspected Hardy, who slapped a goofy grin on his face and shrugged. Still giggling, Natasha dragged Hardy away from the guard.
Once they had moved through the kitchen, they entered the reception area, adjacent to the Great Room of the Summer Palace. Hardy looked over his shoulder to make sure the guard was not following. “That was nice back there.”
Natasha licked her lips. The taste of his kiss was still there. She smiled. Yes, it was.
“That was some quick thinking. You got us out of a tight spot.”
Her smile faded and she felt a dull ache in her chest. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
Approaching the archway leading to the Great Room, Hardy held out his arm. “Shall we?”
She glanced at his arm before faking a smile and driving her feelings deeper inside. The mission was all that mattered. She curled her gloved arm under his elbow. Arm in arm with him, she walked into the Great Room, her eyes shifting left and right in search of Rudin.
Chapter 21: Great Room
The Great Room was packed. People were dressed in the finest attire. The men wore black tuxedos with tails and bowties over ruffled shirts. The women displayed everything from conservative evening gowns with low-heeled shoes to risqué mini dresses paired with exotic heels. Really wanting to draw attention, some women had worn high-heeled boots that rose to their thighs. Champagne glasses in hand, people talked along the outside edges of the room, while others slow-danced in the middle.
At the far end of the room, a large stone fireplace captured people’s attention the minute they entered the Great Room. The opening was easily ten feet wide and six feet high. A six-inch thick dark wooden mantle stretched across the opening, extending two feet past each side. Large portraits of the ruling class sat on the mantle. The wall around the fireplace was made of stone. The remaining three walls of the room were made of teak paneling and stained a dark color. The floor was white marble, streaks of black crisscrossed throughout it. Four black marble pillars, rising to the ceiling, seemed to serve as unofficial boundary points for those dancing. The ceiling was high above the floor. Large wooden beams, set at specified intervals, crossed the entire width of the room. Beautiful crystal chandeliers were strategically placed to provide a well-balanced amount of light. Dressed in white suits and white gloves, waiters traversed among the guests, offering drinks and hors d’oeuvre’s and taking empty champagne glasses. The scene seemed to be taken from the pages of a fairy tale.
Hardy lifted two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter before giving one to Natasha.
“Thank you.” She took a sip.
Hardy scanned the room. “The cake will be easy to spot; Rudin, not so much. We need to move around and get a look at this whole place.”
Natasha twisted her left wrist. She had worn a simple, yet elegant, fake diamond watch from the collection of Victor’s sister-in-law. “It’s almost 8:45—let’s split up. We’ll meet back here in ten minutes.”
“You keep an eye out for Rudin and I’ll try to locate the cake.”
She nodded her head and slinked off to the right.
Hardy made his way to the left, casually slipping around and in between groups of people. They were talking in many languages in addition to Russian. He smiled and nodded to them in passing. Standing with two others, a young girl in her late teens smiled at him when he approached them. It was clear from her smile she had not brought a date to the event. She grabbed his forearm, and he almost spilled the glass of champagne in his hand.
“Oops.” The girl put her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
Hardy smiled. “No harm done.”
“You’re American, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” He looked beyond the girl, searching for the cake.
“It’s so good to meet someone else who speaks English.” She put her hand on her chest. “I’m Michelle,” she pointed to the girls to her right, “and this is Ivanka and Sasha.” They smiled at Hardy and gave him a short wave. “They speak very little English.”
He flashed another smile, “Aaron,” before glancing around again.
“My father works at the embassy here. He’s the ambassador. So, naturally he was invited,” said Michelle, trying to impress the handsome stranger.
“It was nice meeting you, but I can’t stay. I’m looking for someone.” Hardy started to walk away, but stopped. “Some birthday party, huh? Where’s the cake? You can’t have a birthday party without cake. Am I right?”
“Oh, there’s cake,” said Michelle. “They wheeled it in about half an hour ago.” She spun around on the three-inch heels of her boots and pointed toward a small room to the left of the
fireplace. “They took it in there. It had vanilla frosting, but I hope it’s chocolate cake. Chocolate is my favorite.” She grinned at Hardy. “Why don’t you stick around and we can share a piece.”
Hardy studied Michelle. She was a young girl acting like a grown woman. She was pretty, but immature. He noticed her plump cheeks and saw two small pimples she had covered with makeup. She’s probably not even eighteen yet. He whipped his head left and right before coming back to her. She shouldn’t be here. If Rudin detonates that bomb… “You said your father was the ambassador. Is he here tonight?”
“No, he couldn’t make it. He gave me his tickets and said I could come.”
Good. Hardy squinted at the young girl. “Listen, Michelle, I need to find someone first, but why don’t you and your friends head outside.” Hardy gestured toward the front doors. “I’ll meet you there in a little while.” He smiled before adding, “I’ll bring cake.”
“All right, it’s a date.” She translated for her friends, while they left and headed toward the front doors.
Hardy walked closer toward the fireplace and glanced at the room where Michelle had said the cake had been taken; he saw it. No one was near it. He thought about checking for explosives, but that would draw too much attention. He made a right turn and continued past the fireplace. The Premier and his top generals were talking. Several of his security guards were nearby, their heads pivoting back and forth, looking for threats. One of them locked eyes with Hardy. If he averted his gaze too quickly, he would draw suspicion. If he stared too long, the guard might assume Hardy was a threat. He maintained eye contact with the guard for two seconds then turned away. Smiling and nodding at people, he headed back to meet Natasha.
Chapter 22: Dancing
Natasha was waiting for Hardy. She saw him coming and met him at the edge of the dance floor. “Any luck?”
He motioned with his head. “The cake’s in the room near the fireplace. And, you?”
She shook her head, no. “What do we do?”
Hardy put his hand on the small of her back. “What everyone else is doing…dance.” He escorted her to the edge of the crowd. Taking her right hand and putting his right arm around her waist, he led Natasha around the floor, both of them swaying to the gentle music. “We can’t make a move on the cake, until we find Rudin. He’s got the detonator and he might trigger the bomb if he sees anyone messing with it.” In perfect harmony, Hardy and Natasha glided over the marble floor as if they had been dance partners for years. “I think Rudin is waiting for the cake to be brought out to the Premier. We’ve got until then to locate him.” Hardy looked into Natasha’s eyes and grinned. “For now, let’s try to blend in.”
Natasha stared back. He had a firm hold of her. She felt his bulging bicep pressing into her side. The dark stubble on his face would have felt course on her cheek. They moved back and forth, keeping in time to the music. Her eyes fell on the long black gloves around his neck and the silky dress she was wearing. She could not remember the last time she had dressed like this and danced with a man. Hardy was a good dancer. He’s a great dancer. Light on his feet, he made her feel as if she was floating above the floor. Over his shoulder, she caught a glimpse of one of the waiters and the moment was shattered.
“Slow down.” She bobbed her head left and right, searching for the man. He was walking toward the kitchen with a serving tray in his hand. She never took her eyes off him. When the waiter went toward the kitchen, she got a quick look at the side of his face and saw his gold, round eyeglasses. He matched the picture from Rudin’s file, perfectly.
Hardy spun her. “What is it?”
“It’s Rudin. He’s heading for the kitchen.” She let go of Hardy and moved past him. A hand latched onto her upper arm, and she was twirled around. “What are you doing? He’s getting away.”
Hardy was staring at the room near the fireplace. “We’ve got another problem. They’re bringing in the cake.”
A man in front of the fireplace clanged a fork against a champagne glass. Everyone stopped dancing and moved closer to the fireplace. The people were standing shoulder to shoulder.
Natasha rotated her head back and forth from the kitchen to the two waiters, pushing the cart with the cake on it. “We can’t be in two places at once.”
“We’ll have to split up.” He still had a hold of her arm. He moved around her toward and guided her toward the guests, who were crowding closer to the fireplace. “You get the cake out of here and I’ll go after Rudin.”
“No, Rudin is mine,” she shot back. “I’m taking him down.”
“There’s no time to argue, Natasha.” He gave her a push. “I don’t speak Russian, so it’s up to you to convince them there’s a bomb in that cake and get it the hell out of here. I’ll deal with Rudin.”
She regarded the partygoers, jammed together, jockeying for a better position. “I’ll never make it through that crowd.”
“Just start pushing,” he trotted backwards, “I’ll clear the way,” before he spun around and sprinted for the kitchen. Stopping at the entrance to the Great Room and drawing his pistol, he fired several rounds into the ceiling before disappearing from sight.
Everyone on the dance floor scattered, giving Natasha a clear path to the cake.
Hardy ran through the kitchen, his pistol in hand. The waiters and kitchen staff ducked under the counter and jumped onto the counters. Coming to the hallway, where he and Natasha had kissed, he stole a quick look. There’s no way for him to escape that way. He gained speed and crashed into the only other door in sight. The door flew open and he glanced over his shoulder. Two security guards were following him, shouting at those in their path.
Chapter 23: Van
Hardy spotted Rudin; he was hurrying toward a delivery van, a cell phone in his hand. He’s going to detonate the bomb. Before the door had closed, Hardy saw the guards were closing the distance. He searched the area and spotted a rectangular trashcan. He dragged the trashcan over to the door and wedged the top part under the doorknob. Lifting his leg, he drove his foot down onto the bottom of the can. Seconds later, the guards slammed into the door, but the trashcan did not move. That should hold them.
Hardy focused his attention on Rudin, whose fingers were tapping on the cell phone’s screen. Hardy raised his pistol and put the front sight on the cell phone. He took a breath, let out some of the air and held the rest. He slowly pressed the trigger, until the pistol recoiled. He missed the cell phone. The bullet skipped off the delivery van. Sparks shot off the van’s side panel.
The report of the gunshot surprised Rudin. The phone slipped out of his hands. Squatting, he drew a weapon of his own and fired at Hardy.
Hardy dove behind a metal dumpster; bullets ricocheted off its side. Instead of peeking out from the same side of the dumpster, Hardy moved to the other side and peered around the edge. He saw Rudin snatch the phone and climb into the van. From Hardy’s angle, he could see all of the van’s tires, except for the right-front tire. He steadied his pistol against the solid steel wall to his left and fired three shots, while the van sped away. Each bullet struck a tire, releasing the air it contained with a ‘boom.’
The van swerved left and right, accelerating toward the main gate. Rudin had both hands on the wheel, trying to keep the vehicle moving straight. He glanced at the passenger’s seat, and the cell phone on it. All Rudin had to do was push the ‘send’ button to complete his mission; however, self-preservation was at the forefront of his mind. The van veered left and Rudin yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. The two tires on the right side lifted off the ground. The hulking vehicle hung in the air for a few seconds before slamming back down.
Rudin navigated his approach to the main gate. Two security guards were holding up their hands, wanting him to stop. When it became evident the van was not going to stop, they drew their pistols and began firing at the van’s windshield. At the last second, they dove out of the vehicle’s path, one to the left and one to the right.
Rudin raised his right hand in front of his face as if his hand was going to stop the bullets coming through the windshield. He pushed his foot—and the accelerator—to the floor. The van lunged forward and rammed into the vertical bars of the gate. The speed and weight of the vehicle was too much. The doors swung open, the right one coming off its hinges and landing on the front lawn, several meters away.
Hand over hand, Rudin cranked the steering wheel to the right. The van lurched in the same direction. Its speed and top-heavy weight were too much to overcome. The van heaved to the left, appearing to be suspended. Rudin wrenched the steering wheel back to the left. For a split-second, it seemed as if the van was going to right itself; however, it keeled over, the box banging against the pavement. The vehicle slid forward several lengths, the metal box scraping across the concrete, creating a trail of sparks. Rudin opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was the cell phone.
Chasing the van, Hardy came up from behind the security guards. They saw the pistol in his hands and shouted at him, pointing their pistols at his head. He dropped his weapon and raised his hands into the air. One guard broke away and approached the van, while the other moved toward Hardy. The guard was issuing commands, while taking turns pointing the muzzle of his weapon at Hardy’s chest and the driveway. Hardy had taken many men captive during his time in the military and he knew what the guard wanted.
Hardy dropped to his knees, before going prone on the hard surface of the driveway. He waited to feel the cold steel of the handcuffs around his wrists. I wonder if they use zip ties, too. A loud explosion came from over his shoulder. His hand shot to protect his head. Cranking his head toward the blast, he saw smoke rising from the palace. Two boots appeared in his line of sight followed by a hand. Hardy tilted his head back. “Victor?”