Critical Play (Michael Cailen Book 3)

by Mel LeBrun

“What are you doing right now? Would you like to share a drink?”

  “Would love to, Kristen. Lead the way.”

  She grinned and walked into the next train with Michael right behind her. Their journey finished in what appeared to be her apartment. She shut and locked the door behind them. Cozy would be the polite way to describe it. The rooms were very small and separated by narrow hallways. With hardly any windows, it seemed more like a prison cell than an apartment. Still it was uncluttered and decorated with a woman's touch so it wasn't entirely off putting.

  “Follow me,” she said in English as she walked through the living room and down a hall. She entered one of the bedrooms that was set up as an office. “Do you have the drive?” she asked as she sat in front of her computer.

  “Yeah.” He pulled it from his pocket and held it out to her.

  She took it from him and connected it to her laptop.

  “What are you doing?” Michael asked.

  “Sending it securely to our analysis team.”

  “What have you been told?”

  “That this is very important.” She looked up at him. “And you're in some hot water with Mossad.”

  Michael frowned and looked around the room.

  “Don't worry. You can stay here until your ID comes in,” she offered.

  “Why do I need ID?”

  “So you can return state-side,” she replied as if he should have already known that.

  “Whose idea is that?”

  She paused to look at him. “The director,” she answered seeming bewildered by his ignorance.

  “Hmm. He left that part out.”

  She returned to what she was doing on her computer. “Well, with Mossad after you, I can't imagine you'd want to stick around.”

  “I have unfinished business here,” he answered.

  “If you're dead or captured it will stay unfinished, won't it?” She paused again for his reaction.

  He took a deep breath and continued to look around the room. “What do you do?”

  “You know I can't discuss that.”

  “You're cover,” Michael specified. “What do you do for a cover?”

  “Oh. I'm a tutor.”

  “For politicians' children, no doubt,” Michael surmised out loud.

  She smirked but didn't reply. She pulled the flash drive from her computer and handed it back to him. “I'm finished. You can do what you want with this.”

  “Is the data still on it?” he asked.

  “Yes. I left it as it was.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just doing my job. Are you hungry, thirsty, tired?”

  “All of the above. Plus a hot shower if that's possible.”

  “Yes, that's quite possible.”

  She led him down the hall to the bathroom. “I'll fix you something to eat while you shower if you like.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He gave her a warm appreciative smile.

  She gave him a grin back. “Don't get used to it.”

  “You wouldn't happen to have a razor I could use and maybe a toothbrush?”

  “In the closet, you'll find the towels and washcloths. There's a package of razors. Help yourself. There might be a new toothbrush in there. I can't remember.”

  “Yes, you do,” Michael said, knowing there was no way as a CIA operative she wouldn't carry a complete mental inventory of her house.

  “Hmm. Can't get anything by you can I?”

  “I've been around enough of you to know what you're like,” Michael explained.

  “So it would seem.” She appeared slightly bashful at getting caught. “Yes there is a toothbrush in there. It's behind the package of razors.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You're welcome.”

  She gave him a rather large smile and Michael began to hope her friendliness had limits. He shut the door to the bathroom and started the shower before stripping off his clothes. The water was not just hot, it was very hot. Michael kept the water temperature as high as he could endure. The intense heat helped to ease the tension that had been building over the past few weeks. The bathroom resembled more of a steam room by the time Michael stepped from the shower.

  After drying off, he wiped the steam from the mirror and took one last look at his beard. He smirked thinking of what Jessica would say about it. She hated most facial hair. She didn't mind so much if he went a few days without shaving. A little scruffy was good, but a full beard was not. A few times while on vacation he had tried to see how far she would let him go before she started complaining. Five days was the max. What he was sporting now was well beyond five days' growth.

  Kristen heard the water stop as she was warming some stew on the stove. She took that as her cue to pull a loaf of bread from the freezer and place it in the oven to warm. When Michael finally emerged, she almost didn't recognize him. Though she had thought he was ruggedly handsome when she first saw him, seeing him cleaned up reinforced that belief. She felt quite flustered when he entered the room; she hoped he wouldn't notice.

  “Wow, that smells great,” Michael remarked.

  “It's not much, but it's warm.”

  “I'll tell you right now that looks like it will be the best meal I've had in more than a week.”

  She gave him a timid smile as she poured some stew into a bowl for him. She set it on the table and then opened the oven to retrieve the bread. Michael had devoured the entire bowl before she even finished slicing the bread. She turned and was surprised to see his bowl empty.

  “Would you like some more?” she asked.

  “I can get it,” he offered.

  She took the bowl from his hands. “Sit, relax.”

  She passed him some bread before refilling his bowl. Michael ate like someone who had been starved. Truth was, in addition to the difficulty of eating correctly while conducting covert ops and surveillance, he hadn't had much of an appetite while not knowing what happened to Jessica and Tatiana. Now that he knew they were safe and being cared for by Gatti and Corvo, Michael felt like he hadn't eaten in months. The fact that Mossad wanted to question him now didn't even faze him.

  When Michael finished eating, Kristen showed him to the guest room. Michael was grateful to have a bed again instead of just a cot. It was now early morning and he was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep and pretend none of this was happening. Even if it was only for a few hours.

  Chapter 32

  A little after one in the morning Dmitri and Timur stopped their cars on a desolate road about forty minutes outside of Toronto. They pulled the cops from their car and tied them to a tree just out of sight from the road.

  “Are you going to kill us?” one of the men asked.

  “No,” Dmitri answered flatly. “Is there anything you want removed from the car before we set it on fire?”

  The men sat dumbfounded.

  “It's a simple question,” Dmitri said. “Is there anything in the car that you don't want destroyed forever?”

  “There is a picture of my son,” one finally answered. “It's in the visor on the passenger's side.”

  Dmitri looked at the other man who simply shook his head. Dmitri instructed Timur to retrieve the picture and prepare to light the car on fire. Then he turned his attention back to the officers.

  “I know that what I'm about to ask of you may seem absurd but I am compelled to ask anyway.” Dmitri took a deep breath and tried to run through in his head one last time if it was a good idea or not. “You saw the woman and little girl with us,” he continued. “It would be better for them if you told no one that they were traveling with us.”

  “Why would it be better for them?” one of the officers asked.

  “If it becomes known that they are with us, their lives will be in considerable jeopardy.”

  “If staying with you is putting them in harm's way, then leave them here with us,” the officer suggested.

  Dmitri shook his head. “If I thought that would keep them safe I would do it in a heartbe
at. There are things going on here that you simply cannot understand. I cannot tell you more without endangering your lives as well. I know you have no reason to believe me. I cannot offer you any proof. I have no reason to expect that you will do what I am asking but my sincere hope is that you will. That young woman and her daughter are counting on it.”

  “Who are you?” the men asked, perplexed by the mystery surrounding everything Dmitri was saying.

  “You'll learn soon enough. If they tell you, that is. If not, it's probably better. Just think about what I said. You can tell them anything you want about me and the two men with me. But please, if you care about what happens to that woman and her daughter, don't mention they were with us.”

  Timur came back with the photo and gave it to Dmitri who then put it in the pocket of the officer who asked for it.

  Curiosity finally overtook one of the men and he asked what they both were thinking. “If you don't believe we will lie for you, how come you're letting us live?”

  Dmitri looked him right in the eyes. “Because I don't believe in killing innocent people. Even if it is to protect other innocent people.”

  With that, Dmitri left the men to rejoin Timur by the police car that was a safe distance away. A gunshot went off as he approached. He found Timur with a coffee cup collecting gas from the tank he just shot a hole through. When the cup was full he tossed its contents into the front seat then went back to collecting more. He repeated that step with the backseat. He collected another cup of fuel and dumped it on the dashboard. Once the car was sufficiently doused with gasoline, they stood at a distance and tossed a lighter into the open window. The car was engulfed with flames in less than a minute. Satisfied that there wouldn't be anything left of the car to recover, they climbed into the truck and drove away.

  CORVO GAVE Dmitri directions to the hotel where he had reserved a room and was waiting for them. Though it was almost two in the morning, he was wired. His heart hadn't stopped pounding like a bass drum since hearing from Jessica. He felt out of control and hardly knew what to do with himself. A small voice in the back of his mind kept telling him he was making a mistake. It reminded him that she was Michael's wife. The voice, however, grew ever fainter with each passing minute. Drowned out, perhaps, by the sound of his beating heart. The lingering thought that perhaps seeing her now wasn't the wisest course of action was quickly thrust aside after they called to let him know they had arrived. His hands shook and he felt like he had a flock of hummingbirds in his stomach as he paced the room.

  He practically leaped for the door when there was finally a soft knock. Dmitri stood holding Tatiana while Jessica was just behind him, looking sick and frazzled. Corvo could barely contain himself as he held the door for them. To his dismay, Jessica headed straight for the bathroom without even greeting him. She promptly threw up. A nod and grunt was all he got from Dmitri. Tatiana seemed to be the only one excited to see him.

  “Uncle Lance!” she cried out and extended her arms.

  Dmitri passed her to Corvo and he held her tight while telling her he was happy to see her.

  “Can we go home now?” she asked.

  “Not just yet, Ana. Hopefully soon.” Corvo turned to Dmitri. “Where are Ivan and Timur?”

  “They're coming. Ivan was shot in the leg so he moves a little slower.”

  Jessica stepped from the bathroom just then still looking ill. She looked up at Corvo and tried to smile. Corvo felt like his heart had stopped. He put Tatiana down and went to Jessica. A hug was a perfectly natural thing to do in a situation like this, he reasoned.

  A familiar face and good friend, Jessica welcomed his embrace not even suspecting there was anything more to it. He was holding her when Timur and Ivan arrived at the room. Seeing them, Timur gave Dmitri a look which he simply ignored.

  Timur helped Ivan to the bed where he slumped down, grateful to be able to rest his leg. Corvo reluctantly pulled himself from Jessica's arms, not even acknowledging that Timur and Ivan were there.

  “We were so worried about you,” Corvo said.

  “I know. I'm sorry.”

  Corvo gently rubbed her arms and then finally pried his hands away from her. He knew he needed to cool it, but was having a hard time following through.

  “It's OK, Jess. How are you doing?”

  “Happy to be out of the car. Would be happier if I could keep something down.”

  “Do you want me to get you some food?” Corvo asked.

  She shook her head. “I'll just throw it up. I'm so sick of throwing up.”

  “You need to try,” Dmitri spoke up. He looked at Corvo. “You and me, we'll go get something for her.”

  “It's probably better if you stay in the room,” Corvo said.

  “We need to empty the truck and get rid of it,” Dmitri responded.

  “Oh. Right. I guess we should do that.”

  Dmitri turned to Timur. “Help us with the bags?”

  Timur nodded and left with Corvo and Dmitri to help empty out the truck. Dmitri handed a couple bags to Corvo.

  “Looks like you have competition,” Timur remarked once Corvo was out of earshot.

  “For the last time,” Dmitri growled. “She is my friend's wife. I care about her. I'm not in love with her.”

  “OK, OK,” Timur laughed. “I'm just messing with you. You're so touchy about it, it's funny.”

  Dmitri glowered at him. “Ivan will share the bed with Jessica and Ana. The rest of us will sleep in shifts on the other one.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Once the truck was empty and wiped down, Corvo and Dmitri left to ditch the truck and buy some food for everyone. They abandoned the truck in a busy parking lot. They would be long gone before it would be noticed. Dmitri joined Corvo in his truck and they set out for a supermarket.

  “So you and Michael have become quite close since Venezuela,” Dmitri commented.

  His words were like lemon juice on Corvo's wounded conscience. Michael had risked his life and suffered considerable harm in order to save him and yet now he was borderline wishing Michael dead so he could have his wife.

  “Yeah,” Corvo agreed, trying not to expose the rottenness of his inner thoughts.

  “He really loves Jessica,” Dmitri said.

  Corvo silently nodded in agreement as he began to feel like the lowest scum on earth. As badly as he wanted her, he knew it was wrong. His conscience was on the verge of collapse but he lacked the willpower to stop it. He had allowed his desire for Jessica to blur the lines of friendship with her and with Michael.

  “How do you get along with her?” Dmitri then asked.

  “Jessica?” The question took Corvo off guard. “What do you mean?”

  “How do you feel about her? Are you two close?”

  Corvo's heart raced as he tried to think of how to answer that question without raising suspicion.

  “Yeah, I guess. She's become like a sister to me,” Corvo replied.

  Dmitri had no follow up questions much to Corvo's relief. Bullet dodged. A few minutes of silence passed before Dmitri spoke again.

  “So I'm trying to figure out when you began wanting to have sex with your sister,” Dmitri blurted.

  “Excuse me!” Corvo responded, trying to appear indignant instead of terrified that Dmitri was on to him.

  “You say she's like your sister but clearly you have romantic feelings that go beyond that.”

  “I don't know where you're getting that from, but you're way off, Dmitri,” Corvo huffed.

  “When I saw you at Michael's house before, you didn't seem to carry those feelings for her,” Dmitri continued. “So I'm wondering if you were hiding them then but if not, just when in the last few weeks did you decide you wanted her?”

  “I really don't know what's given you this idea but I am not in love with Jessica.” Corvo flat out denied the accusation even though saying those words felt more like a betrayal of himself.

  “You are not a stupid man, Lance. So let me ask you, do yo
u think I believe you?”

  Realizing Dmitri knew and wasn't going to let it go, Corvo felt panicked and lightheaded. He pulled the truck off the road and put it in park. He looked like he might be sick. There was nothing he could say. He wondered what Dmitri would do with the information. His biggest fear was that he would tell Michael. His second biggest was that he would tell Jessica.

  Corvo covered his mouth and stared out the window, terrified that his once secret desire was now out in the open.

  “When did it happen?” Dmitri asked.

  Corvo shook his head. “I don't know.”

  “You can do better than that.”

  Corvo closed his eyes feeling sick. Talking openly about it made him feel even more ashamed of himself.

  “Was it since Michael has been gone?” Dmitri asked.

  Corvo nodded.

  “What happened?”

  Corvo just wanted to crawl under a rock and die but he knew Dmitri would keep pushing for answers. “When she called me for help,” he finally replied. He stared at his lap unable to look at Dmitri. “There were two men from your unit watching the house when I arrived. They would have known I was FBI. We needed to throw them off,” Corvo explained.

  “What did you do?”

  Corvo fidgeted in his seat, reluctant to answer.

  “I'll get it from you or I'll get it from her,” Dmitri threatened. “Either way I will find out.”

  Sighing heavily Corvo answered, “I kissed her. On the doorstep, so they could see.”

  “Would I be correct in assuming it wasn't her cheek?”

  “We needed them to think we were having an affair so they wouldn't suspect the real reason I was there.” Corvo covered his eyes feeling ill.

  “So after you acted out this scene on her doorstep you decided you loved her and are willing to destroy her life and every friendship you have to try and be with her?”

  “You wouldn't understand.”

  “I see. Perhaps you are secretly hoping Michael doesn't return so you can have your chance and not risk losing everything?”

  Up to this point Corvo hadn't even glanced in Dmitri's direction but with that last comment he looked directly at him. The remark had clearly struck a chord. Confronted with the truth he had been denying, even to himself, Corvo suppressed a flash of anger.