Bad Company

by P A Duncan

  “I told him I would email him where to pick up money order.”

  “I can wire the money to a drop box we use in Virginia. When?”

  “When I get job. I did not know about probation then.”

  Lewis’ studied him through narrowed eyes, and Alexei gave him his best stone-cold soldier expression.

  “Tomorrow morning,” Lewis said, “you may send the email, and I will wire the money. No matter. Cutter will donate it back to us.”

  “What is this place?” Alexei asked.

  “You will rest, Sergei. Tomorrow I will give you an orientation.”

  Lewis picked up the receiver of his phone and punched in a few numbers. “Yes. Come get him and take him to the guest house,” he said, and hung up.

  Lewis stood and motioned Alexei to do so. Alexei pocketed his wallet and picked up his duffel.

  “Sergei, in the guest house you will find a Walther P88 with three clips and plenty of ammunition. Wear the gun from now on. After tomorrow’s orientation, you will receive clothing appropriate for an instructor. I will answer any questions you may have then. Charlene is waiting for you outside the door.”

  “I thought this is Christian place.”

  “It is. We do Yahweh’s work here.”

  “Why give me woman?”

  “Women are on earth to serve us and be the vessels of our seed, if they are worthy, to breed an army of Aryan warriors. It is up to you for now. Sleep with her or sleep alone. If you are hired, you will have a woman.”

  I won’t be here that long, Alexei thought.

  When Alexei emerged from Lewis’ office, Charlene waited for him in a hallway. She said nothing and looked away as she took his arm.

  “Well, honey, you must have done just fine,” she said. “I’m taking you to a cozy little guest house nearby. You’ll get a good night’s sleep. I can help you with that.”

  Her voice was flat, no intonation.

  They walked through the good-sized house and exited to the rear via French doors. In the moonlight, Alexei made out a small cottage about twenty yards away.

  At the cottage’s door, Charlene took a key from her jeans and unlocked the door. She went in first and turned on the lights. Eyes alert for anything, Alexei entered.

  The cottage was one large room encompassing a kitchenette and a living room with a fireplace and an oversized sofa. Off the living room was a good-sized bathroom, which he spotted through its open door.

  “It’ll do for tonight,” Charlene said. “The sofa opens up into a bed, and the fireplace is nice.” She went to the fireplace and pressed the igniter. Flames sprang up, giving the stark room some coziness. Charlene came up to Alexei and rubbed his arms. “I need to welcome you properly,” she said. “I know you said you had this war wound, but there are lots of ways to make love.”

  Boizhe moi, he thought, does she believe this crap.

  Her arms circled his neck and pulled his face down to hers. When he felt the tip of her tongue try to part his lips, he broke the kiss. He took her hands from his neck but held onto them. “I lie about war wound,” he said.

  Her smile trembled. “Well. Good.”

  “You must understand. It is my wife.”

  “You’re married?”

  “Not now. She was army nurse captured by Mujahideen. Things they did to her. Unspeakable things. She… She died in my arms.”

  Tears pooled and fell from Charlene’s eyes, and he didn’t care if they were sincere if it put her off this seduction scene.

  “You must think I’m a harlot,” she said.

  “No, no, it is… I hold her memory sacred.”

  “And you don’t want to be unfaithful to her memory.”

  “Yes, is truth.” That was lame enough she might buy it.

  “That is so beautiful. I respect you so much for that.”

  He imagined Mai’s hoot of laughter when he would tell her about this. “I am sorry to disappoint,” he said.

  “No problem, honey. I won’t dishonor anything so beautiful.”

  Something passed over her eyes. Relief? It was so fleeting, he couldn’t read it for certain.

  “You get some rest,” she said. “Tomorrow’s a big day.”

  “Spaceba. Thank you.”

  “Check out what’s on the counter. I’ll be back in the morning to wake you up. Good night.”

  She left him alone, and in some haste.

  A box on the counter contained the promised gun, extra magazines, and boxes of ammo. Alexei loaded a magazine and shoved it into the gun. He chambered a round and went to the sofa. He lay down in his clothes, gun cradled in the crook of one arm. He stared into the fire until he slept.

  He dreamed of Stalingrad.

  Charlene closed and locked the door to the guest house, leaning her forehead against the door. Part of her was glad the man didn’t want her, but she’d have to explain to Lewis why she wasn’t fucking the guy. She took a deep breath and went back to the main house. Her hand faltered before she knocked on Lewis’ door.

  “Come!” she heard. She opened the door and stood on the threshold, eyes on the floor.

  “Woman, what are you doing here?”

  “He still didn’t want to have sex,” she murmured.

  “What was the excuse this time?”

  “A dead wife. Killed by the Mujahideen.”

  “You have never had this issue with anyone else.”

  Charlene pressed her knees together to keep her legs from shaking. “Yes, sir. I know. I’m sorry for my ineptitude.”

  “No, it is not your fault. Russians are never anything but extreme. Either they are rutting pigs or prudes. There is no concern for now. He is still assigned to you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Men usually want sex in the morning. Get there before he wakes up, cook breakfast for him. Show him you are willing. Get out of here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Charlene shut the door and went to her barracks.

  22

  True Love

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Duval’s parents and the Kirks left after dinner, taking Ashley with them to put her to bed. Carroll and Mai stayed at the table with Duval and Sharon, both of whom were close to blind drunk. Carroll had had no more than three beers. Fueled by alcohol, the conversation soon turned to the government and Killeen.

  “And what’s the fucking Congress doing?” Duval asked, slurring. “Fucking nothing.”

  “Except cover up,” Carroll said.

  “Yeah. No one’s gonna do nuthin’ to them killers, dude.”

  “They won’t risk their reelection caring about people the FBI said were nut cases.”

  “But we’re gonna show ‘em. Right, buddy?”

  “Easy, Lamar.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry, man.”

  Damn, Mai thought when Carroll shut his friend up.

  “What time do we have to be at the chapel tomorrow?” Carroll asked.

  “Wedding’s at four, so three,” Sharon replied.

  “Some guys from Kingman are comin’. A few buds from Fort Riley, too,” Duval said.

  That, at least was promising, the possibility of seeing Carroll interact with others who might have a beef about the government. Mai’s headache, which had started with the heat, hadn’t abated as the evening cooled.

  Mai turned to Jay. “For those of us on east coast time, it’s pretty late. I think I’ll head to my room,” she said.

  “Oh, wow, it’s like 0300 to you. I’ll walk you back.” He stood and looked at Lamar and Sharon. “Fifteen hundred tomorrow,” he said.

  “Don’t be late,” Sharon said.

  “May I use your restroom before I go?” Mai asked Sharon.

  “Sure. I’ll show you.”

  Sharon stood on wobbly legs and staggered her way up to the sidewalk toward the hotel room. The two men followed and stayed outside to talk when Mai and Sharon went inside.

  To Mai’s delight the window in the bathroom was open a bit, enough to allow he
r to overhear Carroll and Duval.

  “This one’s sticking around,” Duval said.

  “You mean Siobhan?”

  “Yeah, man. Must be a record for you. You fucking her?”

  “If I am, it’s none of your business.”

  “She’s, like, older than you.”

  “So what?”

  “Whatever floats your boat, dude.”

  Mai finished up and rejoined Sharon in the kitchen, as she put away the dishes Mai and Carroll had washed after the meal.

  “All set?” Sharon asked.

  “Jay left something in the cabinet there.” Mai pointed to where he’d stowed the guns.

  “Oh, yeah, Jay always puts his gun up high when he’s around Ashley. He’s so careful with her. Makes me feel better about having guns around knowing he’d never leave his lying around. Not like…”

  She broke off with a scowl and looked toward where her husband-to-be stood.

  Sharon opened the cabinet and reached up, taking down Mai’s ankle rig and Carroll’s shoulder holster.

  “Christ. He’s carrying two now? Lamar told me about this house Jay rented when they were stationed in Kansas. He hid guns all over the house, so he’d always have one handy. These guys and their stupid guns.”

  Mai took the weapons from her. “Don’t be worrying about Jay. One of them’s mine.” She knelt and secured the small Beretta at her right ankle.

  “Oh my God,” Sharon said, but put a hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh. “Looks like Jay’s found true love.”

  Mai straightened and picked up Carroll’s discarded shirt. She wrapped his gun and shoulder holster in it. “Thank you again for the invitation,” she said to Sharon, and headed for the door.

  “Hey, Siobhan,” the woman said, making it sound more like Shee-vun. “Uh, Jay’s an okay guy. A little intense but okay. I mean, he usually strikes out with girls. I think he likes you.”

  “I like him, too.”

  “You do? Well, okay, that’s great. Okay, then. Good night.”

  Mai exited and walked to where Carroll and Duval talked in low tones. She handed Jay the bundle. “Wouldn’t want to forget that, would you?”

  “Definitely not,” he said, smiling. He fake-punched Duval’s arm and said, “Tomorrow, man.”

  Duval toasted him with a beer before Carroll and Mai walked away.

  “I didn’t realize it was so late,” Carroll said. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.”

  “Did you have an okay time?”

  “Yes, I did. That spaghetti sauce of yours is wicked good.”

  “Wicked good?”

  “It’s too long in Boston I’ve been. Means it’s great.”

  “Thanks. I’ll make it for you again some time. Tomorrow I’ll come by your room around 1430. The wedding chapel is only about fifteen minutes away.”

  She didn’t want to be dependent on him for a ride, but that’s the way a date worked. “I’ll be ready,” she said. They reached her room, and Mai unlocked the door, holding it ajar.

  “Can I come in?” Carroll asked.

  “Lad, I’m really tired, and remember what I said earlier?”

  “Just to talk. Having you here to talk to is better to get to know each other than phone calls or letters.”

  “That it is, but I’d fall asleep on you; and that would be rude. Why don’t we meet at the diner across the street for breakfast?”

  He brightened, his face split by his big grin. “That would be great! Call my room when you’re ready, okay?”

  “I will. Good night, lad.”

  “Good night, Siobhan.”

  He moved toward her, hesitated, and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. Mai slipped inside, closing the door and putting on all the locks.

  Though the rust-stained shower wasn’t particularly attractive, Mai stood beneath the hot spray until her headache eased. The shower revived rather than relaxed her, but she crawled into bed and shut off the light. Despite the independence working alone brought, she didn’t sleep well without Alexei. She wanted his insight on the bits she’d learned about Carroll tonight. There was also the incredible sex, but no need to dwell on that when Alexei was 2,000 miles away. She could call, but no need to disturb the whole house with her sentimentality.

  She turned on her side and saw the blinking message light on the phone. Mai put the light back on and followed the instructions on the phone for retrieving a voice message.

  “This is Lubova. I have note from Bukharin,” came the playback. “It says he must go away for work and you need to read personal email. Also, Little One is upset you did not call. Good night.”

  Succinct Olga, as always. Mai got up and took her laptop from its hiding place and connected to the data port on the phone. She had two emails, one from Alexei to her and another a blind copy from Alexei to someone with the user name of cutter234. She read Alexei’s email to her first and felt the constricting bands of the headache retighten.

  “I found PC,” was the first line.

  PC? He’s found political correctness? She almost disconnected to call the house, but it clicked. When Alexei made notes on research documents, he used cryptic abbreviations. PC, she recalled, stood for Patriot City. Okay, he’d found Patriot City.

  And done what?

  Olga’s message said he’d gone away for work.

  “Bloody hell,” she muttered.

  The second line of the message was, “Nelson will explain.”

  She read the message bcc’ed to her. It was from an email account Alexei used when he impersonated Sergei Nevansky. The message to cutter234 read, “Have interview. Will contact later about money. Sergei.”

  Mai forwarded both messages to Nelson with her own cryptic message: “Needless to say, I will want an explanation, and it better be a good one.”

  She turned the computer and the light off, trying to slow her racing thoughts long enough to fall asleep. Her plane was at the airport, her pilots nearby. No. She couldn’t leave and break the trust she’d built with Carroll. Nelson’s explanation would have to wait until after this bloody wedding.

  What did “have interview” mean?

  And damn Alexei for doing what he disliked her doing.

  She tossed and turned for almost an hour before a restless sleep overtook her.

  II

  One Bomb Too Many

  23

  In a Strange Land

  Patriot City

  The smell of coffee woke him. He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar place. A sound from behind him brought him to his feet, gun raised.

  The woman named… Carlene? Marlene? Charlene. She stood behind the kitchen counter and didn’t seem phased by a man holding a gun on her. He lowered the weapon.

  “Not good idea to surprise me,” Alexei said, and checked his watch. He’d slept but six hours. Either Charlene was good at stealth or he’d been more tired than he realized.

  “Sorry, honey,” she said, in that near monotone. “I’m fixing your breakfast.”

  Whatever she cooked made him realize he hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before. He pointed to the bathroom and shut himself in there. Though he had a toiletry kit with him, everything he needed lay on the bathroom counter. After relieving his bladder, he stripped to the waist and shaved. He took a quick wash as well and dried himself on some pricey towels.

  He went bare-chested back into the living room to take a clean shirt from his duffel, aware of the woman’s eyes on him. He donned his shirt and pulled on the shoulder holster, set up for a lefthand draw. How had they known he was left-handed? Ah, Charlene was more observant than he’d suspected. The harness was new and stiff and didn’t fit as well as his custom one, but he holstered the gun and felt more secure with the weight of it at his side.

  Alexei sat on one of the stools at the counter and accepted the cup of hot coffee Charlene handed him. He took a swallow, and his stomach growled when the liquid hit it. Charlene smiled and handed him a full plate and some utensils. A heap of scramb
led eggs and home fries. Not his usual fare, but he was hungry.

  “You join me?” he asked.

  “Oh, no, honey. I have to watch my figure. Eat up.”

  Alexei cleaned his plate, and Charlene offered seconds. He refused, making a joke about his figure. That seemed to break her reticence, and she laughed.

  A woman’s laughter made him realize he hadn’t been away from Mai for more than a day since that summer in Yugoslavia, coming up on two years ago. He pushed that thought away and went back to the bathroom to brush his teeth while Charlene cleaned the kitchen.

  When he reached for a windbreaker in his duffel, she said, “You won’t need that jacket. It’s too hot for that. If you’re worried about the gun, you’re on private property. You can wear it out in the open, like the Constitution allows. Let’s not keep Lewis waiting.”

  The bright morning sun in the cloudless sky hinted at how hot the day might get. Alexei took his sunglasses from his pants pocket and donned them, looking around. Low, rounded mountains, rolling hills. He estimated they’d driven three and a half hours last night. He could be anywhere in four states.

  The house where he’d been interviewed the night before was a two-story farm house, though new. He saw clusters of houses and cottages in the fields and on the nearby hills. There were pastures of cattle and corn fields. They were in a small valley, and he wondered how much of it belonged to Patriot City.

  Men in groups of ten, dressed in woodland camouflage marched about, and there were several buildings, not barns, whose purpose wasn’t clear.

  Echoing in the valley, some gunfire.

  Charlene opened the rear door to the house. “First door on the right,” she said. She met his eyes and looked away before she walked off.

  Alexei went inside the house, already grateful for the coolness and knocked on the closed door.

  “Come!”

  When Alexei entered, Lewis looked up from some paperwork on his desk. “Sergei, dobri ootra. Did you sleep well?”