by Mel LeBrun
Michael cocked his head when he heard the man swear in Russian. He wasn't expecting it.
“Don't come any closer or I'll kill her,” the man said with a thick Russian accent.
Michael showed no emotion. He replied to the man in near-perfect Russian. “Go ahead and kill her. I have what I need from her. If you want to live though, I'd start thinking of other options.”
“What do you want?” They continued to speak in Russian.
“Well, I'd like to talk to you but you're making me a little uncomfortable with that knife. So you have two options. I can stop wasting time and shoot you in the head. I'll live with not talking to you. Or you can drop the knife and we can talk.”
Colt didn't have much choice. Reluctantly, he pulled the knife from Brook's throat and released his hold on her. She quickly scooted as far away as she could over to a corner of her cabinets. She didn't know what shocked her more, the fact that she was being assaulted in her home or the fact that Michael was there, had just shot one of the intruders dead and was speaking to the other in a foreign language.
“Toss the knife away,” Michael ordered, still speaking in Russian.
Colt did as instructed and Michael promptly shot him in the leg. Clutching it, Colt screamed in pain while Michael calmly picked up the knife. Brook started screaming and crying again. Colt gave him a look that said he would kill him if given the chance. Michael used a cell phone charger from the counter to tie Colt's hands behind his back. Colt struggled a little at first until Michael stepped on his wounded leg.
With Colt restrained, Michael pulled the towel from Brook's mouth, instructing her to remain quiet. She tried her hardest to do as he said. She was shaking fiercely, still crying and in shock. He didn't free her hands because he needed to keep her close and somewhat subdued.
Michael shoved the towel in Colt's mouth like he had done to Brook. “It's not very comfortable, is it?” He knelt and continued speaking in Russian. He tapped Colt's wounded leg just hard enough to draw attention to the bullet hole. Colt screamed in agony into the towel. “I shot you so you'll know I'm not playing around. You'll look like Swiss cheese by the time I'm done with you unless you tell me exactly what I want to know. Every time you lie to me, I will shoot you. And trust me, they won't be lethal shots.” He grabbed Colt by the hair and lifted his head. “Are we clear?”
Colt closed his eyes and nodded. Michael pulled the towel from his mouth.
“Why are you here?”
“We came looking for her brother.”
“Why do you want her brother?”
“I don't know. They just told us to find out where he is.”
Michael pressed the muzzle of his gun into Colt's calf. “Look, since you're new at this. I'll give you one more chance. Why do you want her brother?”
“Okay, okay. We're cleaning up loose ends. He knows something he shouldn't, and we were sent to kill him.”
“What does he know?”
“I don't know, it has to do with something that happened years ago.”
“Why look for him now if it happened years ago?”
Colt went on to explain what he knew, which was that someone high up in the Russian Mafia had ordered an investigation into a man named Ronald Sanders, who had been killed a few years ago. They were given orders to eliminate anyone that he might have confided in. When they did some digging and learned that Dominic Fosters had been like a brother to him. they set their sights on him but could only find his sister.
“Who gave the order?” Michael asked.
Colt just shook his head.
Michael fired a shot, just missing his arm. “Who gave the order?!”
“Vlad Milovich!” the man cried.
Michael felt confident that was all he knew. To show his gratitude, he pistol whipped Colt, knocking him unconscious. He stood over him, looking down. “I'm guessing the feds will be happy to see you.”
BROOK WAS curled up in a ball sobbing in the corner. Michael knelt down next to her, using Colt's knife to free her hands. She crossed her arms over her chest and returned to the fetal position.
“I think it's obvious now that I'm not who you think I am,” he said softly.
She slowly looked up at him, still shaking like a leaf. “Who are you?”
“That's not important. What is important is that your life is in jeopardy if you stay here.”
“Did you know those men?” She slowly looked around at the bodies and blood on the floor.
“No.”
“How did you know? What did they want with my brother? What language was that?” A thousand questions ran through her mind.
“That was Russian. The break-in last night wasn't a robbery, they were looking for something. And I had a feeling it wasn't a detective that wanted to meet you here. The timing was strange. They were looking for your brother because they think he knows something.”
Everything was so surreal, she thought it couldn't be happening.
“Why don't we get you a shirt.” He stood and held out his hand to her.
She didn't readily take it. She had just watched him kill one man and torture another without batting an eye. She looked up at him searching for any hint of emotion. There was none.
He tilted his head to the side with his hand still stretched out to her. “If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have done it by now?”
She hesitantly reached up and took his hand. He pulled her to her feet and led her out of the kitchen, past the intruders' bodies and into her bedroom. She stood there trembling and looking around at the mess. He picked a shirt up off the floor that had been thrown from her dresser and handed it to her.
Michael inspected the cut on her neck. She wasn't cut badly and it looked liked it had almost stopped bleeding. She was in a daze, in shock. He led her to the bathroom where he wet a washcloth and started cleaning the blood off her neck.
“We need to call the police.” Her words were barely audible.
“The police can't protect you.” He finished wiping the last of the blood off her neck. “I'm taking you to your brother. Once we're there, you're his problem.”
“I haven't heard from Nicky in months. How do you know where he is?” She looked surprised.
“Doesn't matter.”
“What's this all about? How are you involved in this?”
“I need to speak with your brother. I think he knows something that could help me. That's all I'm going to tell you. The less you know, the better anyway.”
“So this whole time you've just been using me to try and get to my brother?”
“Pretty much,” he admitted.
“Is Jake even your real name?”
“No.”
“What is your name?”
“Jake.”
“Uh, huh.” He obviously wasn't going to tell her.
“Look, are we done? Pack a few of your things. We should go before more show up.”
“What do you mean more?” she said, alarmed.
“You don't think these two guys were it, do you?”
She quickly grabbed a bag from her closet and filled it.
JESSICA PACED, waiting for Michael's call. The plan was, if he succeeded in rescuing Brook, he would head straight for her brother's place. He'd talk to him, warn him to move, and leave Brook in his care. He said he would call once he was on the highway to let them know he was all right. He also left Josh with instructions to call Kevin around two o'clock to let him know he would have to catch up with him tomorrow because he was chasing down a lead.
Jessica's phone rang. She answered, breathing a sigh of relief at the sound of Michael's voice. “Were you hurt?”
“No, not at all.”
“I was so worried.”
“I know,” he grinned. “Can you hand the phone to Kyle for a minute?” Michael didn't want to use Josh's real name, and he didn't want to use Justin since Brook had met him as Justin.
“Uhh.. Yeah.” She gave Josh a funny look and handed him the phone fig
uring that's who he meant.
“Hey, bro,” Josh greeted him.
“Get rid of the phones. I don't want to risk them being traced. We'll get new ones when I get back. I'm leaving you in charge, so if anything comes up, you handle it how you see fit... Oh and I'm sorry.”
“What for?”
“For how Miss Emotional is going to react when she realizes she won't be able to call me.” He was referring, of course, to Jessica.
Josh chuckled. “Thanks, man.”
Michael smiled and hung up the phone. After removing the battery from his phone, he threw it out the window.
“Can I use your phone?” Michael then asked Brook.
She looked at him like he was crazy but reached into her bag and gave him her phone. He chucked it out the window.
“What are you doing?!” She yelled and clutched at him in vain to save her phone.
“They can track it.” He rolled his window up.
She sat back in her chair and pressed her hand to her forehead. She couldn't believe all of this was happening..
JOSH HUNG up the phone and put it in his pocket. Jessica was all over him.
“Why did you hang up? I want to talk to him. Give me the phone.” She tried to reach in his pocket and take the phone back.
He grabbed her hand. “Jessica. We have to ditch the phones. They can track them.”
“I want to talk to Michael,” she demanded.
“He said to tell you he'll see you tomorrow.”
“Give me the phone, Josh.” She was starting to get very upset.
She saw a tinge of pity in his expression. “Jessica, he's already tossed his phone. You won't reach him.”
Her eyes welled and she looked like she was about to cry. He tried to give her a hug, but she just pushed him away and secluded herself in the bedroom. He took the batteries out of the phones then left to dispose of them.
Chapter 36
Rick stood at Morgan's door with a file in his hands. He took a deep breath, straightened his tie then knocked.
“Come in.”
He stepped in, closing the door behind him.
“We have a hit.”
Morgan looked up from the paper he was reading.
“What do you mean?”
“Cailen's prints turned up in an investigation into a home invasion. They were all over the house.”
Morgan leaned back in his chair. He didn't smile, he seemed to be deep in thought.
Because of Michael's classified status, when the police ran his prints all they got was a military contact and an ID number. When the investigating detective called the contact to inquire about the ID, it set off alarms. Not only had Morgan been trying to find Michael but the military was also looking for him. Shaun disappeared in China and Michael vanished after returning from China. Their superiors wanted to know what happened to their star soldiers. They were working closely with the CIA to find them.
The military contact the detective called didn't give him any information on Michael, but did alert the CIA to the police investigation. The detective was told to pursue other suspects in his case and ignore Michael's prints, much to his dismay. He had feared they would stonewall him and they did.
“Is that the report?” Morgan asked.
“Yes.” Rick passed him the file.
“You can leave now.”
As Rick left, Morgan picked up his phone and dialed while he looked over the report.
“It's me. I need you to check out a house and see what you can turn up. Cailen was there. See if you can find me something useful.” Morgan gave the caller Brook's address. “I need this done quickly. I'll send payment today, but I need you to go now. The clock is ticking on this one.” He hung up the phone and took a deep breath. He looked down at the report in his hands. Why was Michael there? He picked up his phone again and dialed an extension.
“Rick, I need you to dig up anything you can find on Brook Fosters. Check for any unusual banking activity or phone calls, travel, friends, anything that might explain why he was there.”
He hung the phone up and rubbed his face. He pulled a bottle of antacids from his desk drawer and popped a few.
Chapter 37
A plain white Ford pickup truck pulled in front of Brook's house. A man dressed in blue coveralls stepped out, wearing a matching baseball cap and dark sunglasses. Leather work gloves covered his hands. He checked his surroundings before retrieving a small tool bag off the passenger's seat. He knocked on Brook's door, and when there was no answer pulled a lock pick from his pocket, quickly gaining entry. He removed his sunglasses, revealing hardened green eyes. It was Evan.
He pulled off his leather gloves only to reveal the latex gloves he was wearing underneath. He placed the leather gloves and sunglasses in the tool bag. Something in the kitchen caught his eye. Shoes, attached to legs, and what he assumed was a dead body. He unzipped his coveralls and pulled a gun from his shoulder holster. He walked slowly toward the legs.
He reached the wall separating the living room from the kitchen and the whole bloody scene came into view. The man attached to the legs got off easy with a bullet to the head. A second man was slumped over unconscious. The bullet wound in his leg and the fact that his hands were tied suggested torture. Evan kicked his leg, startling him awake. He looked up at Evan with a touch of fear, uncertain of his intentions. Evan just looked down at him and grinned.
Chapter 38
Rick finished filing the paperwork required to gain access to Brook's phone records. All he had to do now was wait for them to come in. It was 12:30 p.m. and he decided to head home for lunch. He thought he could relax and have a fresh view of the records when he got back.
Stepping into his small, but very clean apartment, he breathed a sigh of relief. The front door opened into the kitchen with the living room just beyond it. The difference in flooring was the only distinction between the rooms. A small table with chairs sat in the kitchen. The living room was furnished with a couch, a leather armchair, and an entertainment center.
Rick had just put his keys on the table and his bag on the floor when there was a knock on his door. He figured it was his neighbor across the hall. She was in her mid-seventies and loved to cook, always giving him food.
He smiled as he walked to his door.
“What is it this time, Ingrid?” he asked as he opened his door.
His jaw dropped at the sight of the man in his doorway. His height and muscular form alone would have intimidated Rick, but it was the gruesome scars on his face and the look in his steely gray eyes that truly terrified him. Nicely dressed in a silver suit, the bulge under his jacket suggested he was also wearing a shoulder holster. Rick tensed in fear as the large man grabbed him, shoving him back in the apartment. The giant brute breezed inside without a word, followed by a much smaller man that Rick recognized from photos he'd seen at work.
The large man pushed Rick onto his couch and stood over him while the smaller man took a seat in the leather armchair.
“Do you know who I am?” the small man asked with a thick Russian accent.
Rick nodded nervously.
“Vla... Vlad Milovich,” he stuttered.
Milovich smiled warmly. It didn't ease the fear Rick was feeling. He knew all about Milovich and knew this visit was only going to be bad. Behind that smile hid a vicious and violent man.
“Good,” Milovich replied, still smiling. “Rick, I need your help.”
Rick gulped hard. “What do you need from me?”
“From now on Rick, you will work for me,” he stated.
“What do you mean?”
“You don't report to our friend Morgan any more. You will report to me now. Do you understand?”
“What am I supposed to tell Morgan?”
“Nothing.” His smile vanished. “When you find something, you come to me. You do not tell Morgan.”
“I don't know if I can do that,” Rick said trembling and shaking.
Milovich pulled a large envel
ope from his jacket and set it down on the coffee table. “Well, I am sure you will find a way,” he smiled.
Without another word, Milovich stood and walked out of Rick's apartment followed by his formidable bodyguard. Rick stared at the envelope on the coffee table, forcing one of his shaking hands to pick it up. He pulled out the contents and felt a rush of adrenaline. There were pictures of a little girl playing on a playground, walking into a grocery store with her mother and being buckled up in her car seat. They appeared to span a couple days since her clothes were different in each picture.
He didn't think it was possible, but his hands started to shake more violently than before and soon he felt his whole body trembling. He cried as he stared at the pictures of his daughter knowing full well what they meant. On one of the pictures, a phone number was written in large print with a black marker.
AFTER TEN minutes on his couch, trying to think of what to do, Rick returned to his office. Brook's phone records were waiting when he arrived. Ruling out friends and relatives, he then came across a series of calls from prepaid cell phones. Rick was intrigued. He ordered records for all the prepaid phones, including text transcripts.
Soon Rick was armed with text transcripts and more phone records. The texts were what you would expect from two people romantically involved. On the first prepaid phone, there were only calls to Brook's cell up until the final days it was used. There were a couple calls to another cell. The owner of that phone was a Joshua Lavene. The name seemed familiar, but he couldn't think of where he'd heard it before. He moved on to the other two phones. The second phone had calls to Joshua Lavene and Brook Fosters. The last phone had only calls to Brook Fosters and two other prepaid cell phones.
After requesting records for the final two mystery phones, Rick ran a check on Joshua Lavene. As he looked over the file, it finally dawned on him where he'd seen the name. Josh had worked with Michael.
Rick looked back at the text transcripts. Brook used the name Jake a few times in her texts to the prepaid cells. Rick's eyes lit up as he remembered that Jake had been Michael's cover name when he went undercover. Michael was using the prepaid cell.