The Medusa Game

by Cindy Dees

“Nobody you need to worry about,” Isabella replied.

  The bright camera lights turned on the two of them, and she could hear the commentary from the broadcasting booth above. The commentators were still transported by ecstasy from Anya’s skating, describing it in superlative terms. Here’s hoping the judges felt the same way.

  The scores came up, and Anya squealed with delight. Isabella didn’t have the foggiest idea if the numbers were good or bad, but given her charge’s reaction, she probably ought to act pleased. “Way to go!” she congratulated Anya.

  They stepped out of the glare of the stage lights and were waylaid immediately by a smaller, but no less intense, set of lights from a shoulder held TV camera. “May I have an interview, Anya?” a well-known skating journalist called out.

  “Sure!” the girl answered.

  “About twenty feet farther back into the tunnel, you can have it,” Isabella said. It was high time to get her girl out of the line of fire.

  The reporter and her cameraman moved, and Anya was her usual charming self as she described how great it had felt to be out there and how she was just glad she’d done her best. Interview over, they headed back into the waiting area, which was outfitted with monitors showing the action on the ice.

  But instead of watching her competitors, Anya turned on Isabella as soon as they entered the room. “How come Liz hasn’t called me yet?”

  Isabella laughed lightly. “Are you kidding? She’s probably got tubes up her nose and down her throat. You know how hospitals are. How ’bout I make a quick call and get an update for you?”

  “That would be great, mate.”

  Isabella pulled out her new cell phone and dialed in the ops center number. Sleepy McCoy answered the phone. “Hey, it’s Adder. Any word on Anya’s coach yet?”

  “Lemme check.” He came back in a moment. “Still unconscious. They just finished an MRI. There’s some swelling at the base of her brain, and that’s probably what’s keeping her knocked out. They’re going to give her anti-inflammatories and see if that brings her around.” He left unsaid the part about how, if the drugs didn’t work, the Australian woman could be in serious trouble.

  “Good thing it wasn’t your girl who got hit,” McCoy commented. “Nice tackle, by the way. We saw it on tape.”

  “I heard there was a rock in that snowball. What asshole would do that?”

  She had a sneaking feeling she knew exactly which assholes would do something like that. They were called the Red Jihad.

  Chapter 16

  Anya pulled up to fourth place in the overall standings, but to first place in the frenzy of the press pit. Everybody wanted to interview the competition’s Cinderella. An ISU official finally led Anya to a podium and set up an informal press conference where the journalists could take turns asking her questions rather than all screaming at her at once. Isabella knew the podium was bulletproof, so she stood back, out of camera range and watched the crowd for threats.

  Of course, they all asked if Liz was okay. Isabella stepped forward and whispered in Anya’s ear, “Tell them they’ll have to ask the hospital, but you’ve been assured that she’ll be fine.”

  Anya repeated the answer. The reporters asked her the usual questions about her family, her hometown, how she got started in skating. And then they moved on to more difficult issues. “Anya, how do you feel about the fatwa that’s been issued against you?”

  The girl replied, “I find it hard to believe that a single young girl’s pursuit of a dream is the stuff of death sentences. I hope at some point Mufti al Abhoud will reconsider. Perhaps he will watch me skate and feel my love for the beauty and grace of this sport.”

  Not bad for an unrehearsed answer.

  “What about your costumes?” a woman reporter called out.

  “What about them?” Anya replied. “Didn’t Judy Levinson do a spectacular job on such short notice?”

  Nice of her to put in a plug for the seamstress.

  “What do you have to say about the controversy surrounding them?”

  Anya shrugged. “You know, as costumes go, this one is pretty conservative. If any other skater in this competition were wearing it, you wouldn’t be asking that question. So the real question is, why should I be any different than the other skaters? If one woman wants to wear the abeya and veil and another wants to wear a beautiful and tasteful figure skating costume, they should both have the right to do so without having to justify their choice, don’t you think?”

  Ah. Excellent answer. Respectful. To the point. When had she thought that one up? Wasn’t little Anya just showing all sorts of newfound maturity today?

  “How do you respond to statements that what you’re doing is obscene and blasphemous?”

  Anya took a long time before she answered that one. An expectant silence fell over the press core. “I think it is obscene that young people are blowing themselves up to express their frustration with their lives. I think it is obscene that armies are fighting each other around the world. I think it is obscene that airplanes get flown into buildings and children get killed by car bombs and women are forced to live in servitude and fear. These things are obscene. What I do—sharing my love of dance and music and creative expression with other people who enjoy the same—is not obscene. We need more of this in the world.”

  Okay, give the girl an A+ for that one. It was the perfect note on which to end the press conference. Isabella stepped forward and murmured in Anya’s ear, “That’s enough questions. Thank them and let’s get out of here.”

  Anya smiled pleasantly and said, “If you’ll excuse me, it’s undoubtedly time for you to speak to my friend Karis Neidermeier who just stepped into the room. She is the current leader and real story of the competition.”

  The German girl waved at Anya, who smiled and waved back. As the reporters turned around to look at the German girl, Isabella took the opportunity to whisk Anya off the dais and out into the covered loading area. She should have made special arrangements to bring Anya in this way earlier. Liz wouldn’t be lying in a hospital right now if she had. Isabella berated herself. She was tired. Distracted by too many things. It was time for her to focus on her game just like Anya did when she skated.

  She leaned forward to Karen and said, “How about we swing by the hospital?”

  When they got there Liz was showing signs of rousing. The anti-inflammatories were working, but it was taking some time for the swelling to go down. Anya spent a couple minutes with her coach, and then the doctors suggested that the short visit had been enough stimulation for their patient.

  It was time to be unpredictable. To go places the Red Jihad wouldn’t expect Anya to go. To keep the bastards off balance. Instead of parking in the usual lot behind the Olympic village, Isabella had Karen drop them off in front of the facility. It was more exposed this way, but they’d never done it before. Great piles of snow lined the sidewalks from last night’s storm. More snow was falling now, but accumulations were forecast to be no more than an inch. It was just enough to keep everything sparkling white.

  While Anya had a celebratory late dinner with several of her skating friends under Karen’s watchful eye, Isabella headed to the ops center. Vanessa was there, talking with Dex when Isabella walked in.

  “Hey, Viper. Any luck finding the Chechnyans?”

  “Not yet. But Lazlo’s been acting plenty weird. I was just telling Major Thorpe how he bought an armload of women’s clothing this afternoon.”

  He hadn’t been at the rink watching Anya? That was interesting. “Buying gifts for his family?” Isabella suggested.

  Vanessa shrugged. “We’re not talking souvenir clothes here. We’re talking shoes and skirts and panty hose. And wigs.”

  That was weird. Sounded like disguises. If they were for his mother and sisters, why would they need such things?

  “And he rented a van this morning. Had a little trouble doing it because he’s not old enough, but he used the whole, ‘I’m an Olympic athlete. I’m really responsi
ble’ argument and talked the clerk into it.”

  “What sort of van?” Isabella asked.

  “Utility type. Two seats in front and cargo space in the back with no windows.”

  The sort that might come in handy for hauling hundreds of pounds of dangerous chemicals. “Have we tagged it yet?” she asked.

  Dex replied, “The FBI is bringing over a satellite transmitter as we speak. Viper’s here waiting to pick it up so the Medusas can attach it to the van and track it.”

  Lord, just the sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine. It was a struggle, but she managed not to make goo-goo eyes at him in front of Vanessa.

  “Where’s Lazlo now?” she asked.

  Vanessa exhaled hard. That sounded like frustration. “No idea. He parked the van in a lot a couple blocks from here and walked back to the village. He went into the men’s locker room attached to the workout facilities and hasn’t been seen since. We sent in one of Dex’s guys to have a look and he’s not in the locker room anymore.”

  That was damned annoying.

  “We’re staking out the van right now, but that’s all we’ve got.”

  Isabella frowned. “We might have a little more than that. What do you want to bet Anya has his cell phone number?”

  “Think she’d help us?” Vanessa asked.

  Isabella nodded. “If I asked her, she’d do it.”

  A few minutes later, Isabella stood beside the table full of laughing girls. The village was crowded and loose as the Games neared their conclusion since the majority of athletes were done with their events.

  Casually, she said, “Hey, Anya. Why don’t you give Lazlo a ring and see where he is? Maybe he’d like to join the fun.”

  Anya blinked up at her, surprised.

  C’mon, c’mon. Don’t think about it. Just pull out your phone.

  Anya said, “Why, ’Bella. That’s a great idea!”

  Out came the cell phone. Speed dial number seven. She’d get her hands on that phone later and lift Lazlo’s number.

  “Hey. It’s me. I’m fine. Thanks, I’m really excited, too. Not much. Just sitting around with a few friends. We were thinking about catching the concert on the veranda tonight. Some awesome bands are coming in to jam. Where are you? I was wondering if you’d like to come.” A pause. “Oh. That’s too bad. I can’t tomorrow. It’s the night before the finals and Liz will want me to go to bed early. Thanks. You too.”

  Anya disconnected the call.

  “Can’t make it? Where is he?” Isabella asked casually.

  “He’s down in Olympic Square. Said he’s meeting some people there.”

  “Need me to head down there and beat him up for you?” Isabella replied.

  Anya smiled. “He said it’s some guys. No girls.”

  Isabella shrugged. “Well, I’ll leave you ladies to your fun. Enjoy the concert.” She nodded at Karen and wandered off. As soon as she was out of visual range of the girls, she pulled out her cell phone.

  “Viper, it’s Adder. He says he’s at Olympic Square to meet some guys. He may be lying, but it’s worth a try.”

  Isabella met Vanessa at their minivan. They called Kat, Misty and Aleesha, who were watching Lazlo’s mysterious van, now rigged with the satellite tracking device, and told the women to meet them in Olympic Square. The five of them arrived nearly simultaneously and fanned out. The noise was deafening, the party raucous. Isabella adopted relaxed body language, worming her way through the dancing crowd in search of their man. The Medusas worked a standard grid search, each taking a chunk of the square and methodically searching every face within their sector.

  Aleesha piped up over the radios. “Got him. Northwest corner. Almost to the sidewalk by the big barricade that blocks off Main Street. Instructions, Viper?”

  Vanessa replied, “Let’s keep the net loose. Cobra, Sidewinder, the two of you head up Main Street. Get around to his other side. Adder, Mamba and I will box him in from this side. Mamba, take the south position. Adder, you take the east. I’ll take the southeast corner. No rush. Let’s all just slide into position.”

  Isabella made her way to the north side of the square and then eased west, keeping an eye out for their man. “Contact,” she murmured when she finally spotted him. One by one, the others reported contact as well. “He looks about ready to puke.”

  Aleesha commented, “Fear, if I ever saw it. The kid’s no actor.”

  They didn’t have to wait long. About three minutes later, a man in a ski jacket and knit cap emerged from the crowd and stepped up to Lazlo. Where had he come from? “Slick move,” Adder muttered.

  “Isn’t that Lazlo’s father?” Kat asked.

  Vanessa came up. “Anyone else in position to see this guy’s face?”

  “Gimme a sec,” Aleesha replied. “Yup, that’s the father.”

  “Any sign of the rest of the family?” Isabella asked. Silence followed. To save radio clutter, when a question was asked, standard procedure was to indicate a negative answer by saying nothing. Only if someone had seen Lazlo’s mother or sisters would they speak up.

  “They’re on the move,” Aleesha reported. “They’re coming right for you, Cobra.”

  “Got ’em,” Kat replied. She gave a running report on their status for about thirty seconds while Vanessa and Isabella left the square and sprinted down a side street that paralleled Main Street. Isabella heard Kat murmur, “Coming at you, Sidewinder. I’m falling in behind them.”

  “Got ’em,” Misty replied.

  “We’re almost in position,” Vanessa said.

  Isabella cut left with Vanessa. If they’d been fast enough, they would come out ahead of Lazlo and his father on Main Street. They slowed down, split apart, and each emerged onto the crowded street. They both turned right, which would keep them moving ahead of their targets in the same direction.

  Aleesha murmured, “Got you two in sight. You’re about a hundred yards in front of our boys. Pick up the pace a bit.”

  Isabella did as directed.

  Kat said, “They just cut into a building. Gift shop. Local art. I’m going in.”

  “Cutting down an alley about two hundred feet east of the store,” Karen said. “Dunno what’s back here. Will look for a rear exit.”

  Vanessa and Isabella both reversed direction and took off running again. Isabella panted, “I can’t go in. Lazlo knows me.”

  Misty replied, “I’m almost there. I’ll go in.”

  “They’re going up a set of stairs,” Kat reported. “Marked Employees Only. Clerk saw them go. Isn’t following.”

  Isabella stopped in the street and looked up at the building. “Looks private above the shop. Curtains on the third floor but none on the second. Maybe storage on the middle floor and an apartment on the top floor.”

  Misty muttered, “I’ll try to distract the clerk. You head upstairs, Kat.”

  Isabella grinned. Misty was beautiful and built like a comic book sex goddess. The clerk would be distracted, all right.

  Karen reported, “I’m in the alley behind the shop. Definitely living space on the top floor. Can’t tell about the second floor.”

  Silence fell on the radios while Kat no doubt waited for Misty to get the clerk’s undivided attention so she could slip upstairs. Then Kat murmured, “Open storage space on the second floor. No joy.”

  “No joy” meant no contact with the target.

  Another murmur from Kat. “Locked door at the top of the stairs to floor three. Can you get up here with your toys, Adder?”

  As the team’s communications expert, she was the designated keeper of bugs, microphones, and other listening devices. “I don’t have my vest on, so I’ve only got a partial stash. We might be able to place a device on the floor or on a heating duct, though.”

  Vanessa hand signaled Isabella to head into the store. It was a tight space crammed with T-shirts and candles and carved wooden clocks. She moved into the store, pretending to browse. Over there. An unobtrusive opening leading to a sta
ircase.

  Vanessa asked, “Has Misty still got the clerk’s attention?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Isabella breathed. The guy was drooling as Misty chatted him up.

  She eased over to the T-shirt rack by the stairs, thumbed through it until Misty moved left, leaning her elbows on the counter and giving the poor clerk a blatant look down her shirt. Isabella eased into the stairwell and out of sight. “I’m coming up now,” she murmured to warn Kat. It was never a good thing to sneak up on a Medusa. They had a tendency to break people who did.

  The second floor was cluttered, part storeroom and part break room. A desk with an ancient computer and a refrigerator sat in one corner. Kat was in the middle of the room, perched precariously on the very top of a decrepit ladder, her ear pressed against a galvanized aluminum heating duct near the ceiling.

  “Hearing anything?” Isabella asked quietly off mike.

  “No.” Kat climbed down quickly while Isabella steadied the ladder.

  Isabella transmitted, “Any suggestions, Python, as to where we try to listen?”

  “Yeah. Try the southwest corner. Looks like a kitchen window over there.”

  Kat and Isabella moved the ladder to the corner of the room. Quickly, they shifted a few boxes of T-shirts out of the way. Kat climbed the ladder again, but couldn’t reach the ceiling. Isabella, who was several inches taller, tried it, but over here there was only the wood of the ceiling and not the downward protrusion of the ducts. The two women stared at the ceiling.

  Kat murmured, “Were you ever a cheerleader in high school?”

  “My parents wouldn’t let me wear skirts that short. Why?”

  “I think if I sit on your shoulders and then you climb the ladder, I could reach the bottom of the floor.”

  Sounded dicey. But Lord knew, they’d done worse before. Aloud, Isabella said, “It worked on the assault course at Fort Bragg. Let’s give it a try.”

  In short order, Isabella shouldered Kat’s slight weight, and then climbed the ladder, step by careful step. Kat reached up and pressed Isabella’s stethoscope against the ceiling, or rather floor of the space above.