by L. T. Ryan
It almost felt like he was talking about me. Or Bear. Hell, even Lexi if she was good enough at her job when undercover.
“I love philosophy,” I said. “But I’d prefer you get to the point so I can tell you to fuck off.”
Bear chuckled. Kozlov took a step forward, hand reaching under his shirt and resting on what I presumed was his pistol. Yashkin lifted his free hand and waved his underling off. He said something in Russian which caused the other man to back off. Through it all the unnamed woman didn’t even flinch.
“I’ve got a better idea,” Yashkin said, pacing to the other end of the couch. He continued to the rear corner of the room and stopped in front of a bookcase set next to the bathroom door. One by one, he removed several musty tomes and placed them flat on an empty lower shelf. Then he rose up on his toes and pushed against the back of the case. I heard a pop, then Yashkin’s upper body seemed to disappear into the bookcase.
Bear threw a curious glance my way. I had no idea what Yashkin was doing, so I shrugged and went back to watching the now vacated space in front of the bookcase.
A moment later he returned with a black duffel bag with bright yellow handles and lettering across the side. It was written in Russian. He carried the bag over and dropped it on the far right couch cushion then took a seat in the middle. He grabbed the bottle of vodka and filled each glass one at a time, setting them in a line.
“Drink,” he said. “Then we’ll talk.”
“I didn’t come here to get drunk,” I said. “We need to find this guy so my friend here can clear her name and we can let the authorities deal with him.”
A smirk crossed Yashkin’s face. I couldn’t tell if that meant he knew something I didn’t, or he didn’t care about my plans. He rose, picked up a glass along the way, extended it toward me.
“Drink.”
I took the glass, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time, and threw back the vodka. It burned going down, but I gave no outward sign of it.
Yashkin’s posture slackened, his face relaxed. It seemed that the simple act of drinking had appeased him for the time being, which immediately sent me into wondering if the bottle had been laced. I went through a few seconds of false symptoms attributed to anxiety. My heart raced, my mouth went dry, my limbs tingled. I kept my cool outwardly, steadied my breathing. Meanwhile, I clenched all major muscles for a few seconds, then relaxed them.
The symptoms subsided. Well, all except the warmness in my throat and stomach.
“You like?” he asked, eying the fluid in his own glass. “My family started this distillery. One of the finest vodkas ever produced. You see, I always thought I would take over the family business. My father had a different idea once I entered the military and advanced my career. Serving the state was a black mark in his eye. My sister, on the other hand, the subservient wench that she is, was given the keys to the business. You’ll notice this bottle is not a recent vintage. You know why?”
I shrugged, said nothing.
“Because she has no passion, and the vodka she produces is manure.”
“If you could give it all up,” I said, “this whole life you have now, everything you’ve done to get to this point, to go back forty years and change your path, would you?”
The left side of his mouth turned up in a smile. His eyes had misted slightly. He looked around the room, stopping on the woman and Kozlov, then on the bag at the end of his couch.
“Not a chance.”
“The family history is fascinating,” I said. “I mean that. But it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with what we’re doing here. So let’s get to the point. What do you want me to do?”
“I am aware of your talents, Noble,” Yashkin said.
“Talents? I’m hardheaded and relentless. It gets me into more trouble than it keeps me out of. I can’t count how many times that large fella over there has had to bail me out because I won’t give in to reason.”
“And because of those traits you have a reputation for getting things done.”
I couldn’t argue with him there. Guess that went along with hardheaded and relentless.
I set my glass down on the table and leaned forward so we were eye to eye. “What do you need me to do that your own people can’t figure out?”
He smiled. “Figure out? It’s nothing like that. I don’t have that many people, for one. And it won’t just be you.”
“Of course not,” I said. “I’ve got my friends here.”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately, they won’t be joining you.”
A knot formed in my stomach as I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Kozlov shifted into position behind Bear. Was Yashkin about to give me an ultimatum?
“Christiana,” he said.
The previously unnamed woman approached me.
“Noble, you will be accompanying Christiana to the location we believe Thanos is being held.”
“I’m not doing this without these two,” I said. “You can try to stop us, but as far as I’m concerned it’s three against two. No offense, old man, but you don’t concern me.”
His face darkened, but his smile held firm. He gestured with his chin toward the bank of windows behind me. “Look out there.”
I turned to face the darkness. Saw nothing. “What am I looking for?”
His reflection stood out in the window as he stood. He raised his left arm, hand above his shoulder. Outside a light flicked on and off three times, near where we had parked. Then there was another, maybe ten feet from the first, on the other side of the SUV. Then a third. And a fourth.
“What are those odds again?” Yashkin said. “Think they are still in your favor?”
As I turned, he drew his pistol so fast it didn’t register at first. I knew he was carrying, yet his motion was so smooth, so quick, I hardly picked up on it.
“And do you still not consider me a threat?”
The decision I faced had only one realistic choice. If I refused, we were dead. That was the point he was making, and I couldn’t put it past him to execute all three of us and bury us in the woods. We might take one of them out, but the men outside had us dead to rights. They were hidden in the darkness, but could see us with no problem. They’d likely been instructed to open fire on Yashkin’s signal. Kozlov and Christiana appeared to be well trained operators. I had no doubt the guys outside were as well. Handpicked by Yashkin for whatever his mission was in the US.
“You and Christiana,” he said. “The FBI agent and the large one will remain behind in case anything goes wrong.”
“Such as what?” I said.
“Such as Christiana not returning. Or Thanos getting away somehow. Or the goddamn mailman coming to the door. The longer I wait, the antsier I get. It’s really open to interpretation, Noble. So the sooner you get going and get the information I need, the better for your friends.”
“So help me, if you—”
He turned the pistol toward Lexi. Four red dots danced on the far wall, all drawing together in a cluster just over her head.
“You’ll do what, exactly?”
What had we gotten ourselves into? The trust Lexi put in Kozlov had been clearly misplaced. But how had she not realized it? Was she working for Yashkin as well? Was all this a show? Or had they strung her along, playing her like a pawn, holding her close until she was needed? I needed a couple minutes alone with her to get the story, learn how he’d portrayed himself over the time they’d known each other.
“Me and her.” I pointed at Christiana. “That’s it? Kozlov stays behind? Your men outside, they don’t go with us?”
Yashkin nodded. “Don’t get any ideas. She’s deadlier than you are by a factor of a hundred. One of the best close range assassins I have ever had the pleasure to watch. You try anything and she’ll have you wrapped up so tight you’ll beg her to kill you.”
“Sounds fun.” This was it, I couldn’t stall any longer, and there wasn’t much point in doing so. I glanced at Bear.
He gave me a quick nod and that was all it took.
“OK. I’m in. Let’s roll.”
41
“So, how do you like Wisconsin?” I glanced sideways at the woman Yashkin described as being a hundred times deadlier than me.
She sighed, rolled her eyes, directed her attention to the side window.
“Not a fan, I guess. Me either, really. Can’t stand their sports teams. I mean, the Packers, after what they did to Favre. Whatever, you can have them.”
“Drive,” she said. “And shut up.”
The Taurus wasn’t much to look at. Faded green and rusted in places. It looked like one I drove for a short time in high school until I wrapped it around a tree. An accident that caused me to miss a high school baseball playoff game, which we lost. My father blamed me for both the accident, and the ruined chance at a state championship. Can’t recall ever getting credit for a win.
“What’s your take on all this?”
“Turn left up ahead.” She extended her finger. Her slim hand fed into a thin but muscled forearm.
I scanned the road, didn’t see a turn.
“It’s about half a kilometer away,” she said.
Fifteen seconds later the turn off came into view. I pulled onto a single lane blacktop covered in dead leaves. They kicked up as we drove past, fluttering over the hood and windshield. Another fifty feet and the roadtop cleared. Had someone layered the leaves at the turnoff to make it look as though it was deserted?
“How much further?” I asked.
“Keep driving.”
I wasn’t sure what to expect of our adventure, but the further we went into the woods, the more I grew concerned their plan wasn’t for me to return to the house. What was the point of that, though? As far as I knew, Yashkin had no beef with me. I hadn’t pissed in his corn flakes. Never took a job that affected him directly. Of course, indirectly was another story. I had no way of knowing the organizations he was connected to these days. Every person he knew twenty years ago had gone in their own direction. Any of them could have reeled him into who knows what kind of business dealings.
“This Thanos guy,” I said. “What do you know about him?”
“I’m not paid to know about him,” Christiana said, finally offering a response. “My job is to escort you and for us to gather information from him. I do not care about where he came from, or where he is going. I’d be happy strangling him after we are done with him, but my understanding is that he is to live.”
“Your understanding? You weren’t told beforehand?”
“We are to call in the moment we have what we need, and at that time—”
“What is it we need?”
Her head swiveled toward me. “And at that time we will be told what to do with Mr. Thanos.”
“What is it we are trying to get out of him?”
She looked away without replying.
“Christiana,” I said.
“Do not address me by that name.”
“Then what should I call you?”
“Nothing. Do not address me at all. You do what I say, when I say it. Do you understand this situation? You are not in control, Noble. I am not in control. Yashkin is. Yashkin has given me instructions, and part of those instructions are to tell you what to do. So shut up, and drive.”
I backed off her for a bit and continued on the road. My initial thoughts proved incorrect as we pulled up to a stop sign and Christiana directed me to turn left. We headed due north on an empty two-lane road, passing through Wyocena, Pardeeville, and Belle Fountain. I recognized the area as being close to the Wisconsin Dells. We’d vacationed there when I was a kid, fished the deep fjords in search of catfish the size of Buicks. Mostly caught a bunch of blue gill. These days the small towns had little to draw my attention, but I remained vigilant on the chance someone was waiting for us.
After forty-five minutes, we reached the town of Montello.
“Pull over,” Christiana said.
I eased the car to a stop under the population sign, which indicated the town had swollen to almost fifteen hundred people. I thought about the inhabitants of Montello. How many had grown up here and stayed? Returned in their older age? Where did they work? That one always crossed my mind in places like this. Sure, there were positions for some here, but I figured a good portion had to travel to Madison or Green Bay each day to earn their living.
Christiana unlocked her door, stepped out into the cold. A light snow had started falling a couple minutes prior and already dusted the sidewalk. As she walked away, I wondered how much of what Yashkin had said about her was true. She was medium height, slim but strong, judging by her muscle tone. Her stature would work for her in certain situations, but against some opponents, she would have less of a chance of survival. Was she used as a black widow to draw her target in sexually, and kill them when they had their guard down?
She returned to the car, brushed the flakes off her coat as she sat down.
“Yashkin sending his men?” I asked.
“Why would he do that?” she said.
“I dunno, either way, you tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Why do you need me?”
“What do you mean?”
I was growing weary of questions answering questions. “He’s got plenty of men. He’s got you, and you seem more than capable of handling this alone. If there were more than a couple possible men to deal with at our destination, he’d have sent more than just us. So why me, Christiana? Is there something in store for me wherever we’re going? I just want to know ahead of time.”
“Of course I could do this alone.” Her lips curled. She seemed offended I even mentioned it. “They know the others’ faces, and can link them to Yashkin.”
“They who?”
She ignored my query. “They can’t link you to him. If anything, they’ll recognize who you are. That’ll cause a problem for your government, which is an added bonus. I’m sure there are certain individuals and committees who would love to find out what an agent for a secret intelligence service is doing in Wisconsin.”
“What anyone does, I guess. I’m here for the beer and cheese.”
The joke was lost on her. She shook her head. “Drive.”
We didn’t have far to go. A couple of turns later she focused her attention on a long, corrugated steel warehouse. The sliding doors on the end were large enough for a semi to fit through. Behind the building four silos of varying heights stood out against the snowy sky. Pastureland spread out to the east. Woods to the north and west.
“What’s this place?” I asked.
“Our destination,” she said. “But don’t pull in here. Go past and park on the shoulder when I tell you to.”
I spotted a guy seated near an entry door on the side. He had his arms folded over his chest and appeared to be sleeping. At the very least, the car passing by did little to concern him.
A wide ditch ran alongside the road, leaving little room to park. I pulled a couple feet onto the grassy shoulder, leaving enough room for Christiana to get out without falling into the ditch. The car stuck out in the road. I figured there wasn’t much traffic this time of night, and anyone who happened by the old car would assume it had broken down.
Christiana hopped over the ditch and stepped into the woods. I followed a few seconds behind. We trekked toward the building and remained hidden inside the tree line with the road to our right. She aimed a red tinted flashlight at the ground. It cast enough light for us to see a few feet ahead, yet was dim enough to be invisible from beyond the woods.
“So what is this place?” I said. “Secret KGB headquarters?
She shrugged. “A warehouse I guess you call it in the States?”
“Warehouse, yeah.”
“Doesn’t matter. Thanos is what we are concerned with, and I believe he is in there.”
“How do you know?”
She looked over at me. In the still night, with only a slight trace of moonlight illuminating her
face, she looked soft and attractive. I found it hard to believe I stood next to a killer.
“Let’s just say I coerced the information using a special set of skills I possess.”
“You’re a temptress.”
“Why do we put these names to such things, especially when women are involved?” Her expression changed, and the hardened killer appeared. “We don’t do this for men, do we?”
“Who’s the we you’re talking about? I don’t care how you achieve your goals. You do what it takes. You kill without conscience. I get it.”
“I had a list of suspects, and found one of them. It was easy from there.” She paused a beat. “I don’t exactly enjoy that part of my job. I have a husband, two daughters. You think I want them to know what I do? They think I am a global business strategist, and that is why I travel so much. It hurts to lie to them, even more to leave them behind for weeks at a time. But I know that my actions make life better for a lot of people, and I can lay down next to my husband with a clear conscience because of that.”
For a second, I thought I saw a trace of watering in her eyes, but a thick crop of tree cover blocked the reflection off the snow clouds and cast us into darkness before I could tell. In a group with the others, she was hard as stone. But out here, alone with me, the two of us kindred spirits in this crazy covert world, I was seeing a different side of her. Maybe it was the night and conditions, but somehow a bond existed between us.
She switched the flashlight off and stopped. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “We’re almost there.”
The settling snow mixed with our soft footsteps. We walked along the edge of the woods, traveling east, investigating the perimeter of the building. We started back toward the road again. When we were three-quarters of the way there, Christiana stopped.
“Move quickly and quietly straight ahead until you are up against the building. Do not deviate one foot from my path. Understand?”
I nodded, but she had already taken off. I secured my pistol and sprinted after her.