by L. Todd Wood
Chapter Fourteen
Natasha longed to go outside. She was in New York again for goodness’ sake, the city she loved! But she couldn’t enjoy herself. How she wanted to go sit in a cafe and drink coffee, go to a museum, dress up nicely in high heels and walk down Fifth Avenue in the spring air and go shopping. Perhaps she would be able to convince her security detail that they could protect her. So far, she had no luck in that regard. So she was confined to the flat. This is the price I paid, she thought to herself. The price to be free from him, the price to be with Connor. The price to be in America.
She had received asylum in the United States after being rescued by her handlers several years ago in New York City, while her “boyfriend” was speaking to the United Nations. As the president of Russia, he had given the keynote speech at the United Nations regarding the removal of the U.S. Dollar as the global trade and reserve currency. She had been in hiding ever since. Natasha shivered as she thought of the dangers she faced then, how close a call her escape was. She felt safe now. That was more important than anything. Although she was sure the Russians were still searching for her, she felt secure. To a Russian woman, security was everything. Although she had to admit to herself, she did miss the shopping. She also missed the money and the world travel. Everything has its price.
She had enjoyed such a wonderful time since meeting Connor. They literally were soul mates. She loved waking up in his arms, making coffee and breakfast, overlooking the desert in New Mexico at their home. They could talk for hours and hours into the night. How she loved her flower bed in the yard made of small gravel, the exotic plants thriving for her everywhere. She loved drinking a glass of wine as the sun went down behind the mountains in the dry, warm desert air. But she missed the city. And now she was here but could not enjoy it. Maybe someday. Enough feeling sorry for myself. Connor said today we would go to a show, with security of course.
Connor lay sleeping as she sipped her coffee and looked out towards the east side of Manhattan. It was a quiet morning. She could see the Brooklyn Bridge towering in the distance from her high perch on the fortieth floor. It was a beautiful day and New York thrived all around her. I should be happy. I am safe and I have Connor, she thought. And I am not a slave to the tsar.
Connor was recovering from their physical activity the night before and would probably sleep for a few more hours. Natasha walked into the bedroom and looked at him sleeping. His face was peaceful. She smiled to herself as she thought of him trying his best to please her. She loved him and was worried about him and his illness. They had a special bond, both physical and emotional.
Natasha was startled as her cell phone rang, which was alarming since only a few people had the number.
“Da,” she answered into the phone.
A Russian male was on the phone and spoke in Russian. “We know where you are, Natalya.”
Connor awoke and stared at the ceiling. He felt better; his body had dealt with the poisons, and he was beginning to return to normal, at least until the next treatment. He just felt worn down and considered more sleep but decided against it. He had a PET scan scheduled soon, and he hoped the cancer would be gone. Let’s keep our fingers crossed. Maybe I won’t need the last few treatments. He looked at the window and could see the sun was beginning to set.
“We should get out somewhere for dinner,” he said aloud to Natasha. There was no response. “Natalichka?” She didn’t answer. In Russian, the name used for a person changed depending on how well you knew them. There were various forms of a name depending on familiarity. Her formal name was Natalya, which was derived from the word natal day in Latin, or birthday of Jesus.
Connor lazily got out of bed and made his way into the main area of the flat then poured himself a glass of orange juice. He wanted to put his arms around her. He had missed her as he slept. He smiled as he thought of playing around in other ways with her. His energy was coming back.
She was nowhere to be found. He felt a pang of apprehension. This was not normal.
He walked into the bathroom, looked at the mirror, and his heart froze. He was stunned. “No!” he said aloud.
The capital letter B was written on the mirror in lipstick. This was their code for their plan B if something went wrong. The plan was to split up and rendezvous at one of several prearranged alternate locations in the future. She had left. His Natasha was gone.
Connor was disoriented. He didn’t know what to do. Where did she go? The real question however was, why did she go? They had put together the plan B several years before and discussed it occasionally. What forced her to flee? And why didn’t she wake him? Would he slow her down? Was she worried about his illness and his treatments? There was no way he could leave as well. She was obviously in danger. The problem was Connor had no idea why. He erased and cleaned the mirror. He did not want to be questioned regarding the message. That was between Natasha and him.
They always traveled with alternate identification. They always traveled with money. They had money stashed at banks around the world that only the two of them knew about. Connor was quite confident Natasha could take care of herself, but he was worried about her all the same.
Get it together!
He hastily decided to speak to the security detail. He got dressed quickly and made his way to the room down the hall where the team leader was positioned.
They had not seen her leave. They were not aware of her absence and were quite unhappy. They would have to explain this to their superiors. She had just simply disappeared.
Connor suddenly felt terribly alone. He realized he had been dependent on Natasha emotionally. They had a very close connection. He started to panic. Is she okay? He forced himself to calm down.
Think, Connor, think!
I need to talk to someone.
The only person he could think of was Peter. He picked up the phone.
Connor stepped out of the cab at Forty-first and Fifth. He would walk the rest of the way; he felt up to it. The adrenaline was still coursing through his body. The sun was still low in the sky but rising, and the air was becoming warm. He picked a location that was loud and full of people so it would be hard for any to overhear their conversation. He also believed they would be safer in public.
Bryant Park in Manhattan spread behind the New York Library main building on Fifth Avenue. The Park was named after the famous abolitionist William Cullen Bryant. The area had gone through much iteration as a public space over the centuries. After being reopened in the early nineties following decades of neglect, the park was hailed as a public masterpiece and example of public-private cooperation. Presently the park was marked by a large, green lawn in the center, the largest outside of Central Park in Manhattan. During the winter, the space was transformed into an ice rink, free to the public. An avenue of chess tables and outdoor reading areas adorned the north end and normally was teeming with artists and readers alike. A string of temporary shops lined the perimeter selling all kinds of tourist and artistic items.
Peter was waiting for him. Connor had made sure he was not followed, and he was sure Peter had done the same. He had just walked out and hailed a cab on the fly. Years earlier while employed on Wall Street, they had met at this park frequently on the weekends to play chess and stare at the women. Connor had just said to Peter, “Meet me at the table, usual time.”
Connor walked up to the chess table and sat. He made sure he didn’t touch any of the public furniture and kept his hands in his pockets with the hand sanitizer.
“She’s gone,” he said.
“Who?”
“Natasha.”
“Who’s Natasha?”
Connor explained his situation at length. He went into how he had met Natasha, their relationship, the secrecy, and the danger. He didn’t mention the details of Plan B, as he didn’t want anyone to get the information out of Peter under duress.
“Wow,” Peter said. “Quite the story. You said you were okay? But are you now?”
�
��No not really.”
“It’s because of me,” stated Peter.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s because we met, they saw you. Somehow they got to your girl.”
“What’s going on that I should know about?” asked Connor.
“I didn’t tell you everything,” added Peter.
“Well I think you should now, don’t you?”
Peter hesitated then he began to speak slowly and quietly.
“I’ve been working on some research into a company based out of Texas. They are called Catenation Energy. The name refers to the ability of hydrocarbons to bond to themselves and create massive strings of the same compound. Well this company has developed something extremely special, I think. They have developed a process that allows the extraction of shale oil through hydraulic fracturing, that is the injection of liquids into rock to force out the oil that otherwise was unreachable before. I’m sure you know all about this; it’s been a subject of debate for years now. Well, what’s special about this company is that they have developed a way to extract the oil without the possible contamination issues that many have been vocally worried about. A lot of people have made much progress in the past few years painting fracking technology as dangerous to the environment. They have been pushing legislation prohibiting the process until it’s further studied. This changes all of that. In other words, they can extract the oil with absolutely no side effects to the environment.
“The landmass of the United States currently contains more oil than any other discovered field in the world, more than Russia, more than the Middle East, more than anywhere. We have enough discovered oil to power our country for more than three hundred years—”
Connor interrupted, “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Somebody doesn’t like it. Someone has been trying to stop me from publishing this research. Someone doesn’t want Wall Street finding capital for Catenation Energy. They don’t want the technology to get funding. Which means they don’t want the United States accessing the oil. I believe these are the people I spoke to you about the other night in the pub,” continued Peter.
“But what does that have to do with me? With Natasha?”
“I have no idea. My only thought is that somehow they have associated you with me. So now you are someone to stop as well. I have no idea how they got to your Natasha.”
“Well I had hoped you would answer my questions, but now I think I only have more.”
Peter handed him a card. “Here’s the business card of the COO of Catenation Energy. We’ve become good friends. He’s had issues just like I have, only worse. You may want to start with him. Maybe he can answer more of your questions, or lead you in the right direction. And, Connor, these people mean business. I’m scared.”
Connor sat staring at the girls sunning themselves as the sun rose high in the sky. It was getting quite warm. The sun on his face felt good. I wish all my problems would go away. Would like to be back in Santa Fe with Natasha.
He needed to disappear, but he had another treatment in a couple weeks, and a PET scan to check his progress fighting the disease. I guess I will deal with that later, he thought. Right now he had to get himself safe.
There was one email connection he would check in a few days to see if she was able to contact him. They had set up procedures to access the account from a public location. If she was on the run, she would dare not contact him there yet however. She would be going to ground. No one would be able to find her. They had run through this procedure hundreds of times.
He wondered why she left. What had happened? He couldn’t figure it out. But Peter was right. It had to be connected to him.
A sinister thought crossed his mind and he immediately blocked it out entirely. Perhaps she was not who she said she was?
No! That was not the case, he thought. I’m not going there. I love her and she loves me.
He needed more information. He needed to dig into what was going on, no matter the risks. Connor decided to contact Peter’s colleague at Catenation Energy. Maybe all of this would start to make sense.
He couldn’t go back to the flat. There was nothing for him there. He didn’t know whom he could trust. What if there was a mole in the security group? Is that why Natasha fled? He had everything he needed on him, documents, money, everything. Connor got in a cab. He had made his decision.
“JFK,” he told the driver.
Natasha was scared, really scared. She knew what these people were capable of when they captured a traitor to Mother Russia, even one that meant well and had altruistic intentions like her. No, that wouldn’t matter to them at all. She had left without waking Connor, as she didn’t want him involved with these animals. Plus he was sick, very sick. He had to finish his treatments, and there was no way he could deal with being on the run in his weakened state.
She loved him dearly, enough to leave him alone. She was strong. She was trained. She would deal with the situation. She had disguised herself and snuck out of the flat right under the security detail’s noses. Surely, her Russian friends would be looking for her as well. But she was a clever girl. Natasha had left the building lying on top of a UPS truck as it departed the loading dock. As with Connor, she had documents and money. She left everything else behind. Now she was on her way to Canada. From there she would execute plan B. She hoped to see Connor again in the not too distant future. The one positive of the whole episode was that she was now free! She reveled in the feeling as she drove the rented car towards the Canadian border. The empty highway exhilarated her. She felt as if she were now living on the edge; her life could take a fateful turn at any moment. But she was alive! She would try to keep this feeling as long as she could.
The fake credit cards and passport had been set up a long time ago. Even Connor didn’t know her new identity. They had both kept it that way. The Vermont road went on forever as she drove.
Chapter Fifteen
Connor landed in Shreveport, Louisiana late the next morning to a typical southern rainstorm pounding the windows and roof of the plane as they taxied to the gate. He had changed flights in Atlanta and gained an hour time wise. The day before, after arriving at JFK, Connor had promptly checked into the airport hotel. He was exhausted and the humming had started, so he passed out and slept for twelve hours, waking refreshed and ready to travel.
Arriving at his destination, he was happy to get off the airplane and away from the crowd of people. The airplane had really scared him. All of those people confined to one space; he was sure the cabin was teeming with bacteria of all types. He broke down and wore the surgical mask the doctor had given him. Who cares what people think. He had to survive and not get sick. He washed his hands thoroughly in the airport. I do have cancer for goodness’ sake.
Connor didn’t like being on the run. He didn’t like the feeling of being watched, especially when he didn’t know who was watching or their agenda. The constant anxiety and apprehension was taking its toll on his state of mind. It was an extra stress his body didn’t need right now in its weakened state. He could feel the energy draining away faster than normal. It was like watching the battery drain on a phone. When it was gone, it was gone.
There was a different smell in the air as Connor left the airport terminal. He had not been in the South in a long time. It was a warm, moist smell with a hint of magnolias. The humidity was oppressive. His shirt clung to his skin and his jeans felt heavy. It felt as if the proverbial wet blanket was covering him.
Shreveport was founded in the early nineteenth century as a town at the juncture of the Texas Trail and the Red River. It was named after Henry Miller Shreve of the Army Corp of Engineers who cleared a 180-mile, natural logjam to allow navigation on the river. Louisiana was also the northernmost sugar-producing state in the Union. The Red River Valley fed into the delta near the ocean and provided adequate warmth for the growth of cane. However, hardy cane varieties had been brought in from overseas to combat occasional freezing temperatur
es and disease. Sugar production had been an integral part of the state’s economy for two hundred years.
Connor briskly walked to the rental car lot using an umbrella purchased at the airport gift shop and constantly looked to see if he was being followed. He saw no one. The umbrella didn’t help much. Once in the vehicle, he pulled out the map he had been given by the attendant and carefully made his way out of the parking area. The visibility was poor as he headed towards the drill site. The windshield wipers strained against the violent onslaught of sideways rain.
The contact Peter had given him, Alan Dodson, Chief Operating Officer of Catenation Energy, was in Shreveport overlooking the start of drilling operations from leases on a local landowner property Catenation had acquired. The windfall the local population received due to the discovery of shale oil and gas in the Haynesville Shale fields in Louisiana was astounding. People who owned a few acres in the middle of nowhere became instant recipients of over twenty-five thousand dollars an acre. It was something straight out of Beverly Hillbillies. With a knock on the door from the oil company, suddenly they were offered small fortunes for the right to drill on their land. This changed the area from a sleepy, southern, backwoods city to an overnight boomtown. Only in America, thought Connor.
The rain poured down in buckets as he drove the rented SUV towards the address Alan’s assistant had given him. He sucked on some sour candy he had picked up in the airport. It was a habit he had formed; it helped with the second phase of his treatment recovery, the hunger. It was as if he were pregnant. He ate everything in sight. What he was really missing right now were the frozen waffles he had in the freezer at the apartment. It was a craving. Connor made a mental note to find the local supermarket when this meeting was finished. For now, the candy would have to suffice. He took an additional steroid pill, since he would need extra stamina today.