Wolf's Vendetta

by Craig MacIntosh

  “Do you have it with you?”

  Wolf smiled. “It’s in good hands.” He read his watch. “I have four hours before I leave for Tokyo.”

  “Come, I have a quiet place not far from here.”

  “Another amazing hideaway, huh? I suppose a cousin.”

  “A friend. She trusts me. Is just a few blocks on Novokuznetskaya.”

  I must be nuts to be doing this, Wolf thought. There are genuine bad guys out there looking for both of us and I’m acting like a lovesick kid. I am nuts. Why this particular woman? What is it about her?

  Their refuge was an apartment on the second floor of a four-story yellow stone building with windows trimmed in white stone. Narrow-barred ground-floor windows flanked a heavy carved archway, like an entrance to a cave. A skirt of dirty snow hid most of a broken sidewalk lined with the usual black- and-white curbstones. Two sets of streetcar tracks divided the middle of the aging pavement. Naked trees lined the street behind iron fences.

  She led him inside, up a curving staircase to the second floor.

  “I feel like Dr. Zhivago,” said Wolf. “Which means you must be—”

  She unlocked the door. “Lara, the temptress.”

  “Yes, Lara,” he whispered. “Zhivago was a risk-taker, you know.”

  “They come to a sad end, yes? So very Russian, don’t you think?”

  Shedding his parka, he threw his arms around her. “We could write our own ending if we wanted to.”

  They kissed again. She broke away, leading him to a bed covered in quilts and soft pillows. They undressed and slipped beneath the covers.

  Later, Wolf laughed, arms around her. “I’m sure I felt the earth move. How about you?”

  Yana giggled. “It was only a streetcar,” she said, waving at the arched window. Barefooted and wrapped in a quilt, she tiptoed into the tiny kitchen, put a tea kettle on the stove, and crawled back in bed beside him.

  They made love again.

  Tea water boiled, hissing softly. Another streetcar rumbled below.

  “Have you ever dreamed of perhaps coming to America?”

  Yana shook her head. “How could I abandon my mother and sister?”

  “I know.” Stroking her hair, he said, “I understand. I admire you for it.”

  They wrapped quilts around themselves and sat at a small, scarred wooden table next to a curtained window, sipping tea as if they had been lovers forever.

  Breaking the spell, Wolf lowered his voice. “Do the men who killed your uncle know he gave you the book?”

  “No. He would never betray me.”

  “But he would point the finger at Colter and me?”

  Yana locked her blue eyes with his. “He knew you were…how to say this…able to defend yourselves. Please, if you can find it in your hearts, forgive his weakness.”

  Wolf sat back. “Every man has his breaking point, Yana. Neither of us would hold that against your uncle.” He smiled. “Better us than you.”

  Her quilt fell away. She put a hand on his arm. “But you face evil men and the odds are not so good for you, yes?”

  “True. But Colter and I are not Boy Scouts, Yana.”

  “Yes. But you are angels, are you not?”

  “We’ve been called many things, but angels is not one of them.”

  An ancient clock crowning an even older glass-lined cabinet rang the hour. Next to the timepiece, Wolf’s cellphone hummed. He plucked it from the top shelf and glanced at an incoming text from Colter.

  Feeling like Custer. Assistance appreciated whenever.

  “I have to go. Colter needs me.”

  Yana stood, one hand clutching the quilt low on her hips. Letting it fall to the floor, she leaned across the table and kissed him, her blonde hair falling over him, her eyes wet with tears. Wolf groaned, wanting the moment to last forever, but she broke away and began dressing. He did the same.

  They walked along Novokuznetskaya Street to the station. A trolley rattled past. Looking at each other simultaneously, they burst out laughing. At the station, Yana buried her face against his chest, sobbing. She wiped away her tears, kissed Wolf one last time and sent him on his way without looking back.

  Wolf boarded the now familiar red AeroExpress to Domodedovo. Other airport-bound passengers dragging wheeled luggage filled the seats around him. A hostess wearing the line’s scarlet livery came by, offering hot or cold drinks. Wolf declined, his mind on Yana.

  Colter’s words in the club came back to him.

  Is this what it means to feel old?

  The train began to move, picking up speed as it fled through Moscow’s shabby depressing outskirts. The remainder of the trip passed in silence, save for the low murmur of fellow passengers. Wolf thought of Colter. The trackers who had lost him would be on a short leash and foul-tempered once they found him again. These new men would likely not be the bumblers he and Colter had outfoxed in Baikonur. These reinforcements would be angry at being outwitted on their home turf and thus, dangerous.

  If Yana was right about her uncle’s pointing at Colter and him she might be safe. Leaving her behind was among the hardest things he had done. Why? There had been other women. Why should she be any different? In these few short days, Yana had become more than just a lover. Or had she? I hope you know what you’re doing, he told himself. Think. Gotta focus, focus.

  Chapter 18

  Domodedovo Airport

  Wolf found Colter at a small coffee bar in the overseas terminal. The perspiring SEAL was pale and agitated, his back against a pillar giving him a clear view of the foot traffic. “Never thought I’d say I was glad to see your ugly mug.”

  Wolf pulled up a chair. “Likewise, Dawg. How long you been holed up here?”

  “Two hours plus. I stayed with the Italians as long as I could.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have left you out in the open.”

  “No big deal, Wolfman. I was with you in spirit. Hope it was worth it.”

  Smiling, Wolf said, “Appreciate the sentiment. We played chess.”

  “I’ll bet you did.”

  Colter shrugged. “Given our situation I think we can kiss our luggage goodbye. It’s a given these low-lifes have the baggage handlers in their pocket. They’ve probably already sliced and diced it looking for the book. Likely tossed our belongings when they couldn’t find it. No big deal. They’re welcome to my dirty laundry.”

  “How you holding up?”

  “Been better. Been worse. Fucking Tatars. I took one for the team back there but I’m not falling over until we get to the States if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “What’s the pain level?”

  “Manageable.”

  “You have a fever?”

  “Mild one.”

  “Paolo leave you with enough medicine?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Our flight’s not for another hour,” said Wolf. “The crowd is starting to thin. These assholes will probably make a run at us soon.”

  Defiant, Colter shot a scowl at Wolf. “Let ’em try it. I’ve been screwing with these pea-brains ever since you went off to see Cinderella. By the way, how was the lady? Did you get lucky again?”

  Wolf grinned.

  Colter groaned. “I knew it. And you call yourself a gentleman. Shit, I’ll be the one wearing a shirt that reads, ‘Visited Russia and all I got was this scar and a lousy T-shirt.’ You, on the other hand, will have a T-shirt reading—”

  “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it.” Wolf beamed, his eyes closed. “I am in your debt. There’s no way I can make this up to you. Not in a thousand years. I think I’m in love.”

  “You’re sick, Wolfman. Damn. Here I was arranging the chairs at the Alamo while you were off chasing tail. I hope it was worth it.”

  “Hey, you were having tail chase you. What’s to complain about? The way I see it, we’re practically even.”

  “Not by a long shot. You’re right, you owe me big time.”

  Aside from the carry-ons both
had, and the card and three pages sewn in his jacket’s sleeve, Wolf and Colter were clear of the one thing that could prove incriminating: the actual book. But Colter had attracted the full quartet of bloodhounds in the middle of Russia’s busiest airport.

  Wolf nodded at two of the surly thugs on couches screened by plants. “How long they been here?”

  “Two hours at least. They must have bladders of iron.”

  “How about you? We could change your dressing.”

  Colter grimaced. “Paolo took care of that. But if I don’t make a pit stop soon I’m going to end up using one of those potted shrubs. My guess is cops here frown on that kind of behavior.”

  “Okay, there’s a head just around the corner. We could trade off to be safe. You game?”

  “They’ve been waiting for something like this. They’ll take the opportunity. You know they will.”

  Rolling a magazine into a baton, Wolf said, “I’ll cover the door.”

  “They might be carrying, Wolfman.”

  “It’s a risk. If they come after me, I’ll make a scene. Loud.”

  “Okay, sounds like a plan…sort of. Just so you know, in training we never covered how to defend yourself in a head.”

  “Just think of high school. Improvise.”

  “Better yet,” said Wolf, “I’ll round up some airport cops to interfere.”

  “I like that idea. Evens the odds.”

  Fifteen minutes passed before a pair of policemen came strolling their way. Timing was critical. Wolf nodded, sending Colter for the bathroom. Rolled magazine in hand, he played rear guard. On cue, four watchdogs followed. An unfortunate Chinese businessman exited to find himself between the American and the gangsters. Pushing the bewildered Chinese aside, two thugs rushed Wolf, who shouted in Russian.

  “POLITSYE! POLITSYE!”

  One goon threw a wild punch at Wolf. Ducking, Wolf jammed the rolled magazine in the man’s throat, stunning him. He seized the attacker’s wrist, snapping it and sending the gagging man to his knees in pain. The second heavy leaped his disabled mate to lunge at Wolf but missed Colter bolting from the bathroom. The wounded SEAL took a kick in the side from Wolf’s fallen assailant who refused to yield.

  Colter flicked his fingers in the second man’s eyes, blinding him, and followed with a knee to the groin of the attacker, dropping him. Clearly surprised at the resistance they had witnessed, the two backups melted into the background when cops, drawn by the shouting, rushed in.

  Despite the officers’ arrival, Wolf would not release the wrist of his downed assailant until ordered to do so. The second attacker was on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. Another set of blue-shirted police arrived to assist. Gawkers gathered but were shooed away by additional officers summoned to the scene.

  Propped against the wall, his right side slick with blood, Colter babbled in Russian that he and Wolf, thinking they were about to be robbed, had yelled for help. Wolf showed the Tokyo tickets and protested their innocence.

  “They attacked us!” he yelled, pointing at the fallen pair.

  “Amerikanski?” asked the lead cop.

  Wolf and Colter nodded. The officer demanded to see passports. Reluctant to surrender them, the SEALs had no choice given the circumstances. Wolf took one look at Colter’s bloodied shirt and crouched beside him.

  “Oh, shit, Dawg. You opened up again. We gotta get you to a doc.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen, Wolfman. I’m losing it…don’t feel so good. I told them we were defending ourselves, didn’t mean to cause a distraction.”

  “He knows,” said Wolf. “I doubt we can pass for ordinary tourists after what we did to those two. That and your wound.”

  “Tell them…one of the guys had a knife…and tossed it.”

  Wolf applied pressure to Colter’s side and pleaded for a medic.

  Colter drifted. “Take my keys. Check my…computer. Don’t let…”

  A team appeared in minutes with a wheeled stretcher. Colter’s eyes closed as he was rolled away to an elevator commandeered by police. Wolf tried to follow but was held back. A policeman said, “He is going to hospital.”

  After conferring with a newly arrived superior, the policemen called for electric carts. Wolf rode in one, glowering handcuffed thugs in another. It was the last he saw of his attackers. Wolf and three cops rode an elevator to the airport’s lower level where he was hustled into the backseat of a van, a policeman on either side. Wolf resigned himself to the worst when he arrived at a nearby police station. A portly senior policeman processing him only shrugged upon hearing about the airport scuffle. Wolf was left alone in a spartan room furnished with a table and six chairs. If the setting was designed to disorient, it had the effect. Chipped whitewashed concrete walls met scarred beige tile and a single bare bulb dangled overhead.

  Wolf paced, calming himself for whatever was next. To his surprise a silent orderly arrived with a tray containing a pot of coffee, crème, two sugared rolls, and a tumbler of vodka. Wolf opted for the vodka, then nibbled at the rolls. The coffee was strong, hot. He downed it to kill his sudden hunger.

  The door opened and a uniformed, hatchet-faced FSB major joined him. Wolf’s passport in one hand, the carry-on bag in the other, he placed both on the table and removed his military greatcoat.

  Taking a chair opposite Wolf, the Russian said, “Good evening, Commander Wolf. On behalf of my government allow me to extend my sympathies to you and Commander Colter. I can assure you such crimes against visitors are rare here and dealt with accordingly.”

  “I certainly hope so, Major. How is my friend?”

  “In most serious condition at this hour. He apparently suffered a knife wound though both assailants claim they did not attack like that.”

  “The wound speaks for itself.”

  “Ah, yes it does. Our physicians will do their best to restore Commander Colter’s well-being. That said, I have questions. Strictly routine, of course.”

  “Of course.” Wolf put down the cup of coffee and waited.

  For the next ten minutes, Wolf was probed about the incident.

  “Did you know these men who attacked you?”

  “No. We were waiting for our Tokyo flight. I was exiting the toilet facilities when those two attacked me. My friend came to my rescue when he heard me shouting for the police.”

  “You defended yourselves quite admirably, though I regret that your companion was grievously wounded by one of your attackers.”

  “Only the arrival of your police officers saved us.”

  “Do you wish to file charges to your attackers?”

  “Would that require us to remain?”

  Shrugging, the major said, “Sometimes this is necessary to see justice in cases like this. It would take time, yes.”

  “Once my friend is able to travel we would prefer to continue on our way. Is that possible?”

  “Hmm, I believe that is possible, yes. The men who attacked you are of the criminal element that sometimes targets unsuspecting visitors. And perhaps you can appreciate the fact that Westerners, and Americans in particular, are not so popular these days. Such is the way of our world today.”

  “Of course. We were indebted to your officers. They likely saved our lives. Despite our nations’ current differences we will not forget the actions of your police.”

  “Yes, gratitude takes many forms, does it not?”

  Wolf recognized the veiled solicitation. He leaned forward, his eyes meeting the major’s gaze. “I am, of course, most grateful. Perhaps you might use your authority to assign a policeman to accompany me to the hospital where my friend is being cared for, sir. You can understand my concern, yes?”

  The FSB man rubbed his hands together and smiled. “I think this is able to be arranged.”

  A smiling Wolf rose to shake hands with the major while palming a thick wad of dollars and rubles. Pocketing the money, the FSB man picked up his coat.

  Wolf said, “I take it I am free to go, sir.”

>   “Of course. In due time.” The FSB officer donned his coat and left Wolf alone in the depressing interview room.

  Damn, now what? Another shakedown. What’s happening with Colter?

  Despite Wolf’s entreaties, two hours passed with no word.

  Three hours after being delivered to the station, the corpulent duty officer appeared in the door, behind him a serious-looking younger man in a dark suit and trench coat, briefcase in hand. The officer ushered Wolf’s visitor into the room.

  “Ah, one of your countrymen,” said the policeman.

  Wolf, sensing a trap, studied the newcomer who extended a hand.

  “Chase Taylor, American Embassy. Sorry to hear about the altercation, Commander. I’m here to help.”

  Wolf said, “I’ve always been told to watch out when someone says, ‘I’m from the government and I’m here to help you.’”

  A nervous laugh and Taylor glanced at the policeman. “Might I have a moment with my fellow citizen?”

  The Russian turned to Taylor. “Of course. I hope this unfortunate episode does not reflect on our citizens. Perhaps the commander might return someday. I take my leave, gentlemen.”

  The embassy man tossed his coat on an empty chair and smoothed his dark hair. “Officious bastard,” he said, pulling a yellow legal pad and pen from his briefcase. “He’s probably sniffing for rubles.”

  “He’s got mouths to feed,” said Wolf, thinking of the greedy FSB major. “They all do it. They don’t pay their cops enough.”

  “They’ll get nothing from me on my watch.” Flashing an earnest smile, Taylor said, “We’ll get you out of here. I have a few questions, Commander.”

  Wolf interrupted Taylor. “Where’s Dan Colter?”

  “He’s been taken to the hospital. One of our people is with him. We’ll keep an eye on him until he’s well enough to travel.”

  “We were to fly out to Tokyo tonight.”

  “Yes, so I’m told.” Taylor glanced at his watch. “Sorry, that’s a moot point now. Your flight to Japan boarded twenty minutes ago. Not to worry. We’ve rebooked you on an embassy red-eye to Dulles tonight. I’ve been authorized to send two staff with you as a precaution.”

  Up from his chair, Wolf paced, hands in pockets. “Precaution? What do you think is going to happen?”