by Slaton Smith
The computer then culled through the thirty-five different cell phone numbers that Waters could possibly be using. Only one was active. Sal then plugged it into a GPS program that pinpointed the address as the Willard. He picked up the phone and dialed Claude Kruger.
“Claude?”
“What do you have for me?”
“He’s at the Willard. Room 619. I will forward a link to a program that will allow you to track him via his cell. However, I suggest you move fast. I am surprised he has not dumped the phone yet.”
“Well done.”
“And in less than one hour. You know where to send the funds.”
“Of course.”
They both hung up. Sal sat back down on the sofa and pushed an empty pizza box onto the littered floor while reaching for the remote. He hit play and said aloud, “Let’s see what kind of trouble you’re into now Major Nelson.”
On his end, Claude had already packed two large duffels, containing everything he needed to outfit his team and take down Waters. He tossed the bags into the cargo area of a black Infinity SUV. The car’s windows were also tinted black. It was a mean looking truck, but not much different than what three in ten housewives were driving to pick up the kids up from soccer practice. He was first picking up his team outside of Baltimore and then heading straight for the Willard. He took a look at his phone and could see that Waters had not moved, or at least the phone had not. He knew his guys would be ready, even with such short notice - they loved money and killing as much as he did - maybe not in that exact order.
VIII
New Threads & True Love
Nashville
Monday Morning
Sean woke up to Sandy looking out the floor length window of the room. The sun was pouring in, silhouetting her nearly naked body.
“What are you looking at?” Sean asked, sitting up in the bed, with the bed sheet wrapped around his waist.
“Nothing really. . . . Looking at the Parthenon. Watching the people hustle to work,” she responded, turning towards him and crawling onto the bed and giving him a kiss. She rolled onto her side and then onto her feet.
Sean just watched her.
“I’m going to change and head out. There’s an outdoor equipment store next to the hotel. We need a couple things,” she said, as she shut the bathroom door. She came out a few minutes later, wearing the clothes she worn the day before.
“I would ask if you knew my size, but I know you do.”
“I’ll be right back.” She walked over and kissed him again and then left the room carrying the backpack.
Sean immediately got up and did one hundred push-ups and one hundred crunches. He brushed his teeth and pulled on his clothes from the day before. He was starving. He took one of the room keys off of the dresser and went downstairs. The hotel had a generous buffet – all you can eat. Not a lot of variety, but plenty of eggs, sausage and bacon. Sean filled his plate. He was always hungry. He made a second trip to the bar and filled his plate with just eggs, drown them in hot sauce and went back to his seat. He looked around at the people sitting nearby. Clearly some were there to visit the college. Parents and what looked like high school age kids sitting nearby, on their phones of course, while the parents were talking to each other. Both groups looked excited. Excited, but also a little sad about a new chapter in their lives. Kids off to college. The second group eating there were people like Sean. Maybe not exactly like Sean, but professional travelers taking advantage of the free meal before hitting the road.
Sean looked across the room and saw a stack of newspapers. He picked one up, returned to his seat, and flipped through it. He was expecting to see headlines regarding the shootout at UPMC or the chopper landing on a soccer field at WVU. Nothing. Not a word. He put the paper down. Did it really happen? It all was moving so fast. It was like he was on an enormous roller coaster that had reached the top and was now barreling down the other side - a roller coaster that was going too fast to jump off of and with no end in sight. He could see he was a pawn, a piece to be sacrificed. It made him sick.
He took another bite of his eggs. What Sandy said seemed to make sense. The drugs. The side effects of the experiments. He never had eaten or exercised like this in his life. He looked at his arm holding the fork. A dozen or more veins covered his muscular forearm. He liked the way he looked now, but he did not like how he got there. How long would it last? Could this be his last meal? He had no way of knowing.
He took a long drink of orange juice and looked around again at the people in the room. Do they really have a clue as to what is going on? Of course they didn’t. He didn’t. Everything that had happened was coming crashing down on him like a tsunami of confusion. Could he trust Sandy? It was unlike him, but he did not feel good about rolling around in bed with her all night. She was stunning, but he felt like she was pushing him along. Of course, she could have killed him at anytime, but she didn’t. Could she be waiting? She also seemed to be on the psycho girlfriend end of the spectrum. She said she was in love with him. That was slightly disturbing. He now knew she had been with him, following him for nearly eighteen months. Yet, he barely remembered her. She said he would, but when? He had no idea when he would regain those memories, or if he even wanted to.
On top of that, Sandy said she is pregnant. He did not want to believe it, but he seemed to remember when it happened. She said everything in such a convincing way. Part of him wanted to believe everything that came out of her beautiful mouth.
She had drawn him in. She did not totally control him, but he was following her around like a puppy - for the time being . . . .
He tried to run through the facts in his head. It was obvious that his job was a sham. He flew that chopper. Those people he gunned down were definitely there to kill him, Sandy and would more than likely have mowed down Otis. The call with Waters was eye-opening and the more he thought about it, the more it made him angry, but at the same time terrified. Would he have killed Sandy and then turned the gun on himself?
Part of him wanted to just put the fork full of eggs down and bolt. Run. The only problem was where? He shivered slightly.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that she really needed him. He already felt responsible for her. Plus, she now was carrying his child. Oh, yes. There’s that. He could not just run. He decided that he needed to finish this and he needed to remove the threat to Sandy’s safety and to his own. When this was done, he could sort out the mess he was in. Did he have feelings for her? She certainly was easy to like. What about the baby? Was it a girl? A boy? Where would they live? What would he do? He thought he could go back and try to get a job with an agency. Could he still live in Pittsburgh after what happened? Then again, he might now be a fugitive. Who knows?
Suddenly, he realized he was staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. A girl at the table next to him was waving at him.
“Hey! Wake up over there!” she yelled to him. Her mother told her to stop it.
Sean smiled at her looked at his eggs. He took a bite and thought to himself, “This is all Bill Voxx’s fault. Bastard. If I had not been fired, I would not been in this mess.” He finished eating and went back to his room.
Sandy left the hotel, made a left and walked a block up West End Avenue to a hiking store. Kind of a min-REI. It carried bikes, boots and other outdoor gear. As she entered the store, she picked up a small basket. She knew exactly what she needed. She went right over to the men’s section and picked up a pack of t-shirts and a pack of boxers as well as a khaki colored pair of pants. She finished it off with a pair of rag wool socks, a white button down shirt and a navy pullover. Sandy picked up set of undergarments, a black skirt that fell just above her knees, a red V-neck shirt and a pair of new shoes. What the hell she thought, “It’s not my money.” She selected a new black backpack. She took a little time looking for it. It had to be just right. She was looking for at least one hidden pocket. Lastly, she bought a cheap t-shirt that was in a wicker basket near the register.
She checked out. The tab was over $300, but again, who cares?
Sandy left the store and stood on the sidewalk in the sun. She put on her sunglasses. She reached into her bag and pulled out her cell, dialed a number she knew by heart. It rang four times before someone picked it up. She did not recognize the voice and knew something was wrong.
“Who is this?” she asked, a little concerned. She could hear many voices in the background.
“Who is this?” the voice replied. Sandy thought he sounded like a cop.
“I am looking for Brian. I am Sean’s girlfriend.” She started walking towards the hotel. She could hear the guy talking to someone and a voice in the background screaming “I’m fine!”
“Where is Sean?” Brian demanded as he tried to juggle the phone. He knew it was the woman from the hospital.
“He’s fine. What’s going on? Where are you?” Sandy asked.
“Screw you! You don’t get to ask that. Where is Sean?”
“He’s fine. Brian, I am calling to tell you to stop looking into this. I know you are.”
“Well, your fucking warning is a couple hours too late. One of you psychos just showed up and tried to kill me.”
“What? When?”
“Two hours ago. Bailey was killed saving my life! I need to talk to Sean!”
Sandy dropped the bag on the sidewalk and stopped walking His friend and Bailey. His dog – she felt her heart breaking. She knew this would send him over the edge.
“Brian. This is going to stop. The men who did this will be dead by the end of the week.”
She hung up and put both of her hands against her face and took a deep breath. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw her father, Sergei Molotov, standing behind her. She turned and hugged him.
“Papa! I am so exhausted. It has gotten so much worse.”
Her father sat her down on a bus bench.
“We are nearly done. You can come home. You can get your life back.”
“I know. I know. But, I don’t know if I can do it.”
“You can. I know you can. Will he follow through?”
“Yes and stop asking me that.” She started crying. “I just called his friend.”
“The policeman?”
“Yes. Waters sent a man to kill him. Sean’s dog died saving his friend.”
“But the policeman is alive?”
“Yes. But, Sean will go berserk,” Sandy said, sobbing.
“All the more reason for Waters and those involved to be hunted down.”
“You will need to watch him. I know you do not think he is much, but he is capable of incredible violence.” She looked up at him.
“I know. No need to worry.” He was hoping to harness Sean to accomplish his plan. He believed what she had told him and knew she would not exaggerate but he still wanted to see for himself. Could a man be as fast as she said?
Sergei Molotov helped his daughter to her feet. He had not seen her in tears in years and it ripped his heart in two. He wiped the tears from her cheeks and handed her the bags.
“Ana, I love you. Let’s finish this,” he said and kissed her on the cheek.
“I love you.” She turned towards the hotel, but when she turned around to wave to him, he was gone. She knew he was watching.
She went straight to the hotel, up to the front desk and asked for a Fed-Ex package and a blank sheet of paper. The clerk handed her both and she sat down in the middle of the lobby. She scanned the room quickly. She reached into the shopping bag and pulled out the t-shirt she had just bought and laid it flat on the couch. Next, she took out $50,000 in Euros and $30,000 in cash, placed them on the shirt, then added a cell phone, three of Sean’s passports, the corresponding driver’s licenses and credit cards, folded them up and stuffed everything down in the Fed-Ex pack. She wrote a quick note on the paper and placed it in the package, sealed it and filled out the address label. She looked over at the clerk, who smiled at her and came over to get the package.
“Excuse me, would you happen to have a sewing kit?” Sandy asked, before he turned to go back to his post behind the desk.
“I sure do.” The clerk jogged back to the desk and fumbled around in a drawer and produced a small sewing kit that he handed to Sandy.
“Thank you.”
Sandy took out the new backpack she had bought for Sean, held it up and looked at it trying to find the right spot for the patch. Finding it, she took the filthy 1% patch Otis had given him out of her backpack and went to work sewing it on the new bag. It took several minutes and it wasn’t a perfect job, but it was not coming off anytime soon. Satisfied, she put the backpack back into the shopping bag and left the lobby.
She looked into the restaurant to see if Sean was still eating. He wasn’t. She kept her fingers crossed that he did not go running off. She took the elevator to her floor and went down the hall to the room. Entering, she found Sean where she had left him - sleeping on the bed. She dropped the bags and sat next to him.
“Hey. Hey,” she said, shaking him gently.
He opened his eyes and looked at her.
“We need to get going.”
He reached up, pulled her down and kissed her.
“OK. That’s enough. We need to talk.” She pulled away.
Sean sat up in the bed and leaned against the headboard.
“You didn’t tell your father did you?” he asked in a panic.
“Lord no! We don’t need that hassle right now.”
“Good! Good! I don’t think that’s a good idea. Let’s put it off.”
Sandy smiled at him and dumped the shopping bag on the bed. She tossed him his new clothes.
“Thank you. My own personal shopper.”
“You’re welcome.” she answered, laying out her clothes. She took out the new backpack and backed Sean’s things into it. Sandy had Sean under her spell – he didn’t notice anything that she was doing, other than making him want her even more. . . .
“I have one more surprise, “ she said, swinging around the new backpack. She turned it so he could see the patch.
“Now that is bad ass!” he exclaimed with a smile, snapping out of her spell and reaching out to look at the bag.
“I thought you would like it. Not the best sewing job, but it will work.”
“Thank you. That’s really nice. And don’t worry, you’re good at other things,” he said, winking at her.
“Well, that’s high praise indeed.” She picked up the new backpack, turned and stuffed $5,000 and the Mason identity in the hidden pocket of Sean’s new bag. He was oblivious.
Sean had been thinking, wondering and questioning everything that had happened over the last thirty-six or so hours. He wanted at least a little texture. A few answers. He didn’t know if he was going to get the truth, but at least he was going to ask.
“How long has your father been in the U.S.?” he said, looking at her.
“Hmmmm. I am twenty-seven. So, twenty-nine years. Roughly 1983. He left to be with my mother. She was a grad student at Stanford visiting the museums in Leningrad or what used to be Saint Petersburg. It was a big deal for her to be able to go,” she answered, turning around and leaning on the dresser.
“I would think it was. Especially given what was going on then.”
“My father was back from Afghanistan. He was not happy. He loved being Spetsnaz and was one of the first men recruited to the Alfa team in 1974, but he disagreed with what was going on and how the teams were being used. He was wandering his favorite museum, the Hermitage, to just get away for a few hours, when he bumped into my mother and immediately fell in love with her. They ended up spending the day together at the museum and he saw her nearly everyday that she was in Leningrad, but eventually she needed to go back to California.”
Sandy told a good story and Sean was hanging on her every word. Sandy sat down next to him.
“Before she left, she was at the U.S. consulate and mentioned to someone how much she was going to miss this man she met
in Leningrad. The person she met asked who he was and my mother told him that he was a soldier. My mother left and headed back to California. The man from the consulate found my father and offered him an interesting proposal.”