by D. L. Line
“Okay. Help me what?”
Tasha crossed her arms over her ample breasts and stared in a way Shelby believed meant she might have thought Shelby was nuts.
“You are Shelby Hutchinson, correct?”
“Yes, I am Shelby Hutchinson.”
“And you work for United States CIA. You are a courier, no?”
“No…I mean, yes. Wait, I’m not…well, maybe. Sorry, I’m not sure.” Shelby shrugged, attempting to piece together a response that made any sense at all.
“You do not know if you are courier?”
“Well, I suppose I am.” Shelby swallowed her fear. “What does it mean if I am?”
Tasha continued to stare at Shelby, looking her up and down in a way that made Shelby more than a little nervous. “If you are a courier, it means you are a lousy courier that can’t shoot a gun and it means also what you have in the bag is for me to help you with.”
“What, this bag?” Shelby asked as she pulled the shoulder strap for the duffel over her head and set the bag on the floor. “It’s just my luggage.”
“Just your luggage.” Tasha laughed a little, but Shelby had no idea why. “Are you certain of that?”
“Well, no. I just assumed…”
“Ah, be careful what you assume, Shelby Hutchinson.” Tasha reached down to unzip Shelby’s duffel bag, then pulled out T-shirts, socks, and underpants and tossed them aside.
Shelby gasped and stepped back, trying to get as far away from the contents of her luggage as she could manage. She had no idea what she was looking at, but she was sure it wasn’t tampons and shampoo. It looked more like two to three feet of black PVC pipe broken down into small, manageable sections with some mysterious buttons, dials, a scope, and a trigger.
“What the fuck is that?” she asked.
“That, Shelby Hutchinson, is a prototype grenade launcher, and I am to help you deliver it to operatives in the Soviet Union.”
“Oh, shit.” Shelby ran the fingers of both hands nervously through her hair.
“Oh, shit is right, and I think you need my help very much.” Tasha hesitated, looking deeply into Shelby’s eyes. “Especially if you want to stay alive.”
“Alive?” Shelby stared wide-eyed as Tasha knelt to examine the duffel bag on the floor. She was fine, really, until Tasha poked one finger through a hole in the black canvas, showing Shelby two very neat little bullet holes, one in and one out of the fabric. Shelby offered one last “oh, shit” as everything got fuzzy. Darkness closed in as her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.
Chapter Three
Shelby awoke, unsure of her surroundings and more than a little confused. The last thing she remembered was it was just beginning to get dark outside, and then there was the thing with the… Oh shit, there was a grenade launcher in the duffel bag. Oh, yeah. And two bullet holes as well. Ooh, that was bad, but it was all coming back to her slowly. She knew it was late April, so the light streaming in the windows of the apartment looked to her like the bright rays of midmorning, but since she didn’t have a clock next to the bed, she had no idea of the exact time. “Wait a minute. I’m in bed and I’m…” Shelby sat up and yanked on the sheets to look under the covers. Since she had absolutely no idea of how she wound up in bed, she prayed she hadn’t been up and talking to anyone wearing nothing but a white tank top, pink socks, and red and white candy-striped panties. That would have been bad.
She heard a key in the lock of the door and yelped, pulling the covers up around her neck. Tasha was back, and she was bearing breakfast. Shelby hoped it was breakfast anyway, as her stomach rumbled unhappily.
“Ah, Shelby Hutchinson, you are finally awake. I thought you would sleep until Great October Socialist Revolution Day. You had big day yesterday, no?” Tasha began pulling baked goods from a white paper sack. “I assume you are hungry.”
Shelby patted her tummy. “Yeah, I didn’t get dinner, so I’m starving. What’s for breakfast?”
“Since you are a big tough American courier, I brought for you coffee and brötchen.” Shelby had to laugh at Tasha’s attempt at sarcasm as Tasha handed her a Styrofoam cup. “You must eat.”
Shelby wasn’t about to argue with that as she peeled off the plastic top from her coffee and took a long sniff of the sludgy dark brew. “Mmm…coffee.” She wrapped her hands around the cup and blew across the top. “What exactly is brötchen?”
“Brötchen is what you eat for breakfast in Berlin. It’s bread that’s like a hand grenade, how you say, chewy.”
“Sounds yummy. Why don’t you pass me one of those yeast-raised hand grenades there, Tasha?” Shelby scrunched up her nose as she set her coffee on the nightstand and accepted a chunk of bread. “I hope it was you that undressed me and put me to bed.”
Tasha smiled again as she defended her honor with an open palm held to her own chest. “Da, but I was a perfect gentleman. You fainted, so I took your clothes off you and put you in bed.” Tasha pointed across the room, drawing Shelby’s gaze to her jeans and sweatshirt, neatly folded in a stack on top of the dresser. “You are feeling better now, yes?”
“Yes, thank you, I am. Oh, and my fractured honor thanks you too.”
Shelby reached for her coffee on the nightstand. She sipped tentatively at the steaming brew in an attempt to try to wash down a particularly chewy piece of brötchen, and allowed a small pang of regret. It was a shame she had been stripped darn near naked, carried to bed, and tucked in by a gorgeous Russian babe wearing a leather jacket and shoulder holster, and she was completely unaware of the whole thing. When Shelby finally looked up, she noticed the smile had faded from Tasha’s face.
“As for honor, Shelby Hutchinson, it’s time for truth. You are most definitely not a courier for the CIA. Certainly not like one ever seen by me.” Tasha was serious now. Shelby could hear the change in the tone of her voice.
“Well, yeah, about that…” Shelby hesitated long enough to drink a little more coffee before she continued. “It’s a long story, and I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you. But you said you were here to help me. Will you still help me?”
Tasha nodded, a move that served to alleviate much of Shelby’s anxiety about the task at hand. “Da, I will help you, but first I must know some things.”
Shelby arched her eyebrows over her coffee cup, silently encouraging Tasha to begin the quiz.
“Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
Shelby quickly shook her head and stared into her coffee.
“Okay, then, can you fight?”
Shelby looked up and shrugged. She could easily see from Tasha’s furrowed brow that she was getting frustrated.
“Can you drive a car?”
“Yes,” Shelby blurted out, happy to finally be able to answer something positively. “I learned to drive a car when I was sixteen. Of course, I’ve lived in downtown Chicago for six years, and I only take the train or walk, and I never leave the city, so it has been a while. I don’t even own a car.”
“Oh, Shelby Hutchinson, I don’t think I believe you. The Politburo tells Soviet comrades all Americans have two cars in their driveway.”
“Well, I don’t have a car or a driveway, so I think your Politburo is full of beans.”
Tasha looked confused. “Beans? What do beans have to do with cars?”
“No, no…not real beans. It’s just an expression that means I think your Politburo is incorrect.”
“Oh, like when a person is full with shit,” Tasha said.
“Full of shit.”
“Ah, full of shit,” Tasha repeated. “I understand. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Shelby smiled nervously. “So will you please help me?”
“Da, I will help you.” Tasha set her tea on the nightstand next to Shelby’s coffee and put her palms on her thighs as she stood and turned to face the bed. “But that means there is much to show you today since we must leave tomorrow for the Soviet Union. Eat your brötchen, put on
your clothes, then we go and I’ll teach you to shoot a gun and fight.”
Shelby smiled as she tossed the covers aside and got up to get dressed. This was going to be fun.
Twenty minutes later, despite Shelby’s eager preparations to get out the door, she was getting more and more frustrated. While she had managed to get her shoes tied and the Velcro straps tightened around her ankles, she was still wrestling with the buttons on her way-too-tight jeans. “How the fuck?”
“You must lie down on the bed and hold your breath. That is the only way.” Tasha lightly pushed Shelby back toward the mattress. “You cannot learn to fight in tight American Levi jeans. We must get you something else.”
“Ooh, I have money and a credit card. We can go shopping.” She lay back on the bed, held her breath, and managed to get the buttons done up on her jeans.
“It’s a good idea, Shelby Hutchinson. We must leave soon, yes?”
“Yes, I’m ready, but what about…you know…” Shelby didn’t even want to mention what was sitting in her duffel bag, so she opted to stop talking and point, hoping Tasha would understand.
“Ah, the prototype grenade launcher. It’s okay here. We can lock the door and I have the only key.” Tasha slid the duffel under the bed with her boot-clad foot. “It’s safe.”
“Well, that’s just dandy. Then I think we should be going.”
Shelby felt great as she pounded down three flights of stairs and pushed her way out the door and into the street. It was a sunny, glorious morning, and everything was working out even better than she had hoped. She had wanted to find excitement, a break from her mundane every day, and now she was right in the middle of it with a hot babe in tow to boot. The sound of the door closing behind her made Shelby turn around and watch Tasha as she pulled on her helmet. Shelby was happy to have an ally who seemed to know exactly what do. That was a nice thing to have.
A short time later, Shelby found herself leaving a sporting goods store loaded down with sweatpants, an open-necked sweatshirt, legwarmers, and an aqua headband, of all things. She liked the scrunchy socks that matched the headband, though. They were going to look cute peeking out of her high-tops. At least that’s what the salesgirl had said. Shelby also made a quick mental note to look up what the heck the word “flashdance” meant when she returned home. She followed Tasha back toward the motorcycle, enjoying the sunshine of a warm April day and thanking Jake for talking her into this whole Head Trip vacation thing when her attention was captured by something in a shop window. “Hey, Tasha. What do you think? Can I pull off the leather jacket thing?”
“Ah, Shelby Hutchinson, I think you are capable of anything you want.” Tasha offered Shelby a gentle smile. “You should go inside to look, maybe even put it on to see.”
Shelby wasn’t sold yet. “I’m not sure. It’s kind of…oh, I don’t know.”
“If you do not have a jacket, you should get one. It’s still cold at night.” Shelby wrinkled her brow. “Go in, Shelby Hutchinson. Put on the jacket. It’ll make you look like an American tough guy.”
This gal was good. Shelby bit her lip, finally convinced to go in and look at the black leather bomber.
Ten minutes later, after a substantial hit to her Visa card, Shelby stepped back out into the noontime sunshine. She stopped to show off her purchase, more than a little puffed up about her new look. Tasha smiled, so Shelby smiled too as Tasha pulled at the front of the new jacket, straightening it.
“See, you do look tough. Like a badass courier in a spy movie. I like it,” Tasha said with a waggle of her eyebrows.
“Really?” Shelby squeaked in response. She could have sworn Tasha was flirting with her. Well, even if she wasn’t, Shelby was feeling decidedly good about herself right about now.
“Da, really, Shelby Hutchinson. I’ll teach you to fight and then I’ll be afraid of you too.” Tasha pulled her closer to whisper, “Also, last night, when you were asleep, I talked to an old comrade and got you a gun. The jacket will be good for cover.”
“No kidding? Where is it? Let me see…” Shelby was practically bouncing on the sidewalk in her white aerobic high-tops.
“Ah, not yet. This is not a good place. You must have patience.”
Shelby tried to conceal her disappointment. Patience had never been one of her virtues, but she also didn’t want to push too hard. “Okay, I’ll be patient. Can we go now? I think I’m finally ready to try and kick some butt.”
Tasha pulled Shelby along, back toward the motorcycle. Once Shelby’s purchases were secure, Tasha cranked up the bike while Shelby climbed on the back. She held on as Tasha gunned the engine and released the clutch, pulling into the light flow of midday traffic.
Shelby hoped it wouldn’t take long to get wherever they were going. She still had no idea exactly where she was, and now she knew Tasha had found her a gun, and she hoped a nifty shoulder holster too. Then she would look like Tasha’s “badass courier.” While she had a promise of assistance from her, Shelby was beginning to wonder where this was all leading. She knew the grenade launcher had to go to somewhere in the Soviet Union, but still had no idea who she was giving it to, or worse, what they would do with it once they had it. And there were still the goons from the train station. Would there be more? She had to assume so, especially considering Tasha’s warning about needing some skills to stay alive. Maybe after she learned to fight and shoot she could risk asking Tasha some questions.
As Tasha drove, Shelby held on tightly. This trip was less action packed than yesterday’s high velocity flight down the autobahn, but Shelby held on tight anyway. She was quickly coming to realize the woman who was now helping her was also filling her head with a series of images that were playing havoc with Shelby’s own overactive imagination. Tasha’s toned, flat belly felt nice under her hands, even through the T-shirt she was wearing, and Shelby found that she wondered how the rest of Tasha’s body might feel. She imagined wrestling around on the floor as Tasha taught her how to defend herself. The fantasy continued as Shelby thought about what it would feel like to be pinned to the floor by this amazingly attractive woman. How it would feel as she straddled Shelby’s prone form, and how Tasha just wouldn’t be able to help herself as she held Shelby’s hands over her head and leaned down to kiss her. All fun things to think about, but Shelby decided to stow it away for now as Tasha brought the bike to a stop in front of another building down yet another back street.
Shelby looked up and down the front of the building. She couldn’t read the German printing on the sign, but she did recognize the odd characters below the German words as Korean text. “What is this place?”
Tasha opened the compartment under the seat of the bike and pulled out a small black nylon bag. “Ah, it’s a school for self-defense and belongs to an old comrade. He said we may use it for today.”
Shelby thought about the gun and the martial arts school. “Wow, you have some interesting comrades, don’t you?”
“Da, Shelby Hutchinson, I know many people here. Come, we have much to do.”
Shelby followed like a puppy, eager to find out what Tasha had in store for her. Once inside, Tasha found the light switch and pointed Shelby toward the changing rooms. Shelby dug through her bags, found a pair of sweatpants for Tasha, tossed them toward her, and headed off to change. It struck Shelby as a little odd when Tasha didn’t follow her into the changing room, but she understood why as soon as she returned to the large room with the mats on the floor. She could see through the large glass window separating the office from the training room that Tasha was on the telephone and she didn’t seem happy. The details of the conversation were unavailable to Shelby since she didn’t speak Russian, but Tasha was definitely agitated. After one last particularly angry-sounding flurry of Russian, Shelby flinched as Tasha slammed the phone down, took a long breath, and turned to leave the office.
Since Shelby didn’t want to appear as if she had been eavesdropping, she flopped down on the floor and began stretching her legs. As Ta
sha approached, shrugging out of her jacket on the way, Shelby looked up and asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Da, Shelby Hutchinson, all is okay.” Shelby continued to stretch as she watched Tasha cross her toned arms over her chest and clench her jaw. “Comrade Boris is being, how do you say, a large asshole.” Shelby spit out a laugh and quickly slapped one hand over her own mouth. “What is so funny?”
Shelby couldn’t seem to stop the giggles despite her best attempts. “Sorry. You just said something about Boris, and all I could think about was Boris and Natasha, these two characters from an old cartoon I used to watch on DVDs at my grandma’s house, and it made me want to say something about moose and squirrel.” Shelby was laughing even harder now.
“Moose and squirrel?” Once Shelby heard the words in Tasha’s Russian accent, there was no hope her hysterics would subside anytime soon. Shelby wrapped her arms around her midsection and fell over backward on the mat, howling with laughter.
“Please, Tasha, say it again.”
“What? Moose and squirrel?”
Shelby was a goner. She had nothing left but to pull her knees up and roll on the floor, crippled by paroxysms of laughter. While tears flowed freely down her face, Shelby struggled to breathe and try to regain some semblance of control. She was fine until she looked up at Tasha, an action that served to start the whole cycle over again.
Tasha wasn’t laughing. She just stood there, arms crossed. “Shelby Hutchinson, you are a crazy person. What is so funny and what is DVD?”
As she finally began to calm down, Shelby wiped at her eyes and tried to piece together an answer to both questions. “Okay, there was this cartoon about a moose named Bullwinkle and his buddy was a squirrel named Rocky. There were these two Russian spies named Boris and Natasha who were always chasing after moose and squirrel. I just thought it was funny. And DVD is just something my grandma used to call the videos she had.” Shelby lied, but just a little since she realized DVDs hadn’t been invented yet.
Tasha seemed mollified, at least for the moment. “Okay, but I still think you are a crazy person.”