by L. T. Ryan
He returned to the hall and closed the door behind him. He stopped before opening the next door. Closed his eyes and listened. Nothing going on in the front of the house. Not a sound coming from the back.
He took his time opening the door. He stuck the barrel of his gun through the small crack and then pushed the door open the rest of the way. A bed was pushed against the far wall. A stack of clothes five feet wide and four feet high leaned against another wall. The clothes were not folded and were just strewn about. This room had a distinct smell as well. It smelled like rotten eggs.
Jack checked the closet, using his gun to move hanging clothes side to side. Then he checked under the bed covers and finally under the bed itself. He left the room, closing the door behind him.
He reached the end of the hall and saw Jasmine standing by the window, staring out at the street.
“Any movement?” he asked.
“No. Anything back there?”
“A bathroom, an empty room that smells like pot, and a messy bedroom.”
“Think he lives alone?”
“I’d bet on it. House is missing that feminine touch.”
He joined Jasmine by the window and stared at the empty street.
“When I was a girl, we used to visit my grandparents every week. They lived one block over.” Jasmine nodded toward a side street. “Back then, kids were everywhere. Outside playing. Riding bikes. It was fun to come visit.”
Jack said nothing. He watched Jasmine’s face as she spoke. Her smile slowly faded and her eyes darkened.
“Then things changed. The neighborhood went south. More kids with no respect for their parents or the elders of the community or any kind of authority.” She paused and cleared her throat. Crossed her arms. “My grandparents were murdered in their house.”
“Jesus.”
Jack placed a hand on her shoulder. She lowered her shoulder and turned.
“It happened ten years ago. A year before that my father, who was in New York training for his new job, died.”
“How?”
“He was in the North Tower.”
Jack nodded and said nothing. He had a feeling Jasmine wasn’t through. He also realized that was the reason behind her decision to not become a lawyer.
“Then two years later, a year after my grandparents were murdered, my mother killed herself on the second anniversary of my father’s death.” She crossed the room and leaned against the back wall. “I had already left by then. Was in my last year of law school. I don’t know that I ever really grieved over any of it, Jack. I didn’t have the time. I couldn’t spare the time. And I can’t help thinking that if I had come back home, been there for her, that at least she’d be alive.”
Jack walked up to her and reached for her shoulders. “You couldn’t have known. Even if you were here she still might have done it.”
“I know. I know you’re right. Still—”
“What was that?”
They both rushed to the window and saw the man they believed to be Kenneth Quioness getting out of his beat up blue pick-up truck. He was tall and wide with a full head of bushy, curly brown hair. He moved with a hint of athleticism. Jack realized taking the man down might be a challenge.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Jack said.
They crossed the room and ducked into the kitchen. The front door opened. Kenneth’s heavy steps reverberated throughout the cheap flooring. He came toward the kitchen. Toward them.
Jack gestured for Jasmine to duck behind the island. He stood still, his gun aimed at the narrow opening between the living room and kitchen.
Kenneth walked in with his head down. It took a full three seconds before he noticed Jack standing there.
“Don’t move,” Jack said.
“Who the hell are you?”
Jack failed to place the man’s accent. He said, “I’ll be asking the questions. Have a seat.” Jack gestured with his gun toward the table butted up against the wall.
Kenneth stood there for a moment. Was he going to sit? Or did he have something else in mind? Finally he reached across and pulled out a chair and sat down.
“What were you doing at Lazar Chernov’s house this morning?” Jack said.
“That’s between me and Mr. Chernov,” Kenneth said.
“No, that’s between all of us. What were you doing there?”
“I’m not going to tell you that.”
Jack smiled. He stepped out from behind the island and walked toward the table. He reached out, grabbed a chair and pulled it away from the table. He sat down. The whole time he kept his gun aimed at the large man.
Jack said, “Mr. Chernov is believed to be a terrorist. You spent time with him today. I believe you might be a terrorist. Do you know what we do to terrorists?”
“Blow them?”
Jack cocked a fake half-smile. Then he rushed to his feet. Yanked the table away from the wall and threw it behind him. He kicked Kenneth’s chair out from under the man. Kenneth crashed to the floor.
“What the hell?” Kenneth said as he used the wall to get to his feet. He leaned over and rubbed his right hip and knee. “I could take you out right here man.”
Jack placed his gun on the counter. Kenneth’s eyes locked on the Glock. Jack knew to get anything out of this man he would have to beat him. At this point he knew that Kenneth had no respect for him.
Jack said, “Go for it, man. See if you can get it.”
Kenneth lunged forward. He took two lumbering steps toward the island in the middle of the kitchen.
Jack twisted his body and leapt in the air. He whipped around and drove his elbow into the bridge of the man’s nose. Kenneth grunted and fell to the side, hitting his head on the fridge. He didn’t hit the ground, though. Instead he used the fridge for balance and pulled himself up. He reached over the top of the appliance and turned around. In his hand he held a half a bottle of Jack Daniels. Took a step forward and swung wildly at Jack.
Jack dodged the swing. He leaned in and waited for the big man to try again. He didn’t have to wait long. This time Jack ducked the blow. He popped back up, delivering an uppercut that sent his large foe reeling.
Kenneth fell backward. He dropped the bottle on the way down. His back missed the fridge and he hit the ground hard. His head crashed into the floor with a thump.
Jack grabbed his gun off the counter and stuck it in its holster. He grabbed Kenneth by his feet and pulled him back to the middle of the kitchen.
“Get some rope, Jasmine.”
Jack lifted the unconscious man off the floor and onto a chair. Jasmine returned with rope and they bound Kenneth’s hands and feet. They secured his torso and legs to the chair.
After a few minutes Kenneth came to. He said, “Jesus, man. What the hell is all this?”
“I told you,” Jack said. “All I wanted to know was what you were doing at Chernov’s house this morning.”
Kenneth looked at Jack and then at Jasmine. “Who’s the piece?”
Jasmine stepped forward and smiled. Then she kicked Kenneth in the chest. His head snapped back and then fell forward. His face twisted in a painful howl, but no noise escaped his mouth. He fought for breath. His cheeks turned bright red. Finally, he filled his lungs and let out a loud groan.
“To hell with you people,” he said.
“Is it worth dying for?” Jack asked.
Jasmine pulled her gun and walked around to the back of Kenneth. She placed the barrel against the man’s head.
He shook his head in quick bursts. “OK, OK. I’ll tell you. Get her away from me first.”
Jack nodded and Jasmine backed away. She circled the island and stood next to Jack.
“I had access to something he wanted,” said Kenneth.
“Be more specific,” Jack said.
“Materials. I was able to get my hands on them and some other things that Chernov wanted. I never had any real dealings with him prior. Well, just some sales, but that’s it.”
“What kind
of sales?” Jasmine asked.
“Weed,” Jack said.
Kenneth nodded. “Yeah, weed. But we got to talking and it turned out I could help him and he offered to pay me a lot of money. Enough money I could get out of here, you know. So I did it.”
“What the hell did you get him and what was he going to do with it?” Jack said.
Kenneth said nothing. His breaths quickened and it looked like was going to pass out.
Jack pulled his gun. He jammed it into the side of Kenneth’s face, under his cheekbone.
“What the hell did you sell him?”
“He wants to make a bomb, OK?”
Jack eased off the man. Looked up at Jasmine. Their eyes locked and both shared the same look of concern mixed with adrenaline.
“Who else we got down here?” Jack asked.
“I’ll call Frank,” Jasmine said.
11
Akim navigated the vehicle down the gravel driveway. The car dipped and bounced as it rolled through the narrow opening between the line of trees that wrapped around the property. They pulled into a clearing. An expanse of lush green lawn enveloped a sprawling house.
“Home,” Akim said.
Clarissa smiled and said nothing. She figured her time outside would be limited and she began taking a mental inventory of the property. She noted the best place to hide. The best route to take to escape.
Akim pulled into the square courtyard that served as a parking lot. He parked between two luxury sedans and cut the vehicle’s engine.
Clarissa reached for her door handle. She stopped when she felt Akim’s hand on her left thigh.
“Wait,” he said.
She kept her shoulders facing the door. Turned her head. Said, “What are you doing?”
He smiled at her, revealing a pair of chipped and yellow stained front teeth.
“I thought you and I could establish some ground rules now. When we get in there, Boris might—”
“I’ll give you a ground rule. Remove your hand from my leg or I’ll chop it off while you sleep.”
Akim straightened up and pulled back. His smile remained. He held out his hands and said, “I like a tough woman.”
Clarissa shifted in her seat. Blinked slowly. Smiled. She struck fast and hard, driving her right palm into Akim’s diaphragm.
He bowed forward, striking the steering wheel with his forehead. A guttural exhale escaped his mouth. He clutched at his seat and the dashboard while trying to refill his lungs. His mouth opened and closed and his eyes bugged out. He looked like a fish who just found himself inside an SUV.
“That tough enough?” Clarissa opened her door and stepped out of the car. “Don’t forget my things.”
Three guards approached and met her in the middle of the courtyard. One of them held out his hand and yelled in Russian for her to stop. She took note of his appearance as the group approached. He stood out from the other two. His hair was gray, thin, and cut close to his head. He wore silver rimmed mirrored sunglasses that were too small for his broad face. He had on sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt, quite a contrast compared to the youth of the other two men and the tailored suits they wore.
“We’ve been expecting you Anastasiya,” he said.
She smiled and dropped her hands to her side.
“What’s Akim doing?” he asked.
Clarissa looked back over her shoulder. Akim still appeared to be hunched over in the front seat.
“He said he needed a moment to catch his breath. He’ll be out in a minute. Said he’d get my bags.”
“Right. Let’s go inside. Boris is looking forward to meeting you.”
Clarissa nodded in acknowledgment and followed the older man through the courtyard. The other two guards waited for her to pass. She knew they were following her by the echo of their footsteps.
She scanned the front of the house. Windows lined the exterior. There was barely a stretch of more than eight feet without one. She knew that if it came down to an assault on the house, she would want to be far away from the exterior walls. Bullets would tear through at every angle. Her gaze lifted toward the roof line. She spotted three guards. One positioned at either end of the house, and one in the middle. She assumed there were at least three more taking similar positions at the rear, if the rear was the same shape as the front. She made a mental note to investigate that.
They took the sidewalk to the entrance, passing by hedges and carefully manicured flower beds. Two more guards dressed in dark suits and wielding semi-automatic weapons greeted them with slight head nods when the group rounded the corner and stepped through an opening and onto the front patio. A heavy cast iron gate had been opened in advance of their arrival.
“Stop here,” the older man said. He looked past Clarissa and continued. “Go see what is taking Akim so long. We’ll wait for you here.”
“Quite a place,” Clarissa said.
The man nodded and said nothing.
She asked, “What’s your name?”
He lowered his sunglasses and stared at her for a moment before responding. “That is not of consequence.”
She shrugged and then turned around at the sound of the two guards returning with Akim, who narrowed his eyes and glared at Clarissa.
“Take her bags,” the older man said to one of his men. “Let’s go in.”
One of the men positioned next to the door opened it and gestured the group through.
Clarissa crossed the threshold into the foyer. She quickly dismissed most items she saw as ornamental. She did however take note of the complicated alarm panel. She figured that somewhere else in the house was a matching panel, or one that was even more complicated.
The older man pointed at Clarissa and his men. “Wait here.” He took three steps and looked back at the group. “Akim, you come with me.”
Akim dropped Clarissa’s bags on the floor. He drove his shoulder into her upper back as he passed. The impact knocked her forward a few steps. She refrained from retaliating. Something she was better at these days.
“That’s enough of that, Akim,” the older man said. “Apologize to Anastasiya.”
Akim turned his head enough so that one eye made contact with Clarissa. “Sorry.”
Akim and the older man turned down a hallway and disappeared from sight.
Clarissa started to take a step. A hand on her shoulder instructed her to remain in the foyer. She heard a child’s voice and caught site of the back of a young girl. Blond hair passed by in a blur. Boris’s daughter, she figured. Although the voice sounded somewhat familiar. Clarissa dismissed it and soaked in every inch of the house available to her.
Footsteps approached and a man appeared. She identified him as Boris based on the pictures she had seen on the flight.
He smiled and held his arms out wide. “Anastasiya, it is so nice to meet you.”
Clarissa smiled and stepped forward. She leaned into his embrace and turned her face side to side so he could kiss her cheeks.
“Likewise, Boris.”
“Can I get you anything? A drink, some food?”
“Not at the moment. I’d like to see my room.”
“Of course.” Boris snapped his fingers at one of the men and instructed him to take Clarissa to her room, then bring her to his office. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Clarissa followed the guard down an unlit hallway and into her room. She dropped her bags on the bed and then stepped into the attached bathroom and washed her hands and face.
A few minutes later she was escorted into Boris’s office.
“Please, sit,” he said as he waved her escort out of the room.
She sat opposite him at his desk.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to have you here,” he said.
“Yes, I imagine looking at all these men all the time gets old,” she said.
Boris laughed and leaned back in his chair. He clapped his hands together. His smile lingered as he spoke. “I’ve heard that about you. Very funny.”
She lifted her shoulders and held out her hands. If he only knew.
“There’s a lot I would like to ask you, about things back home,” he said. “But I think it’s best we get into what we are doing here.”
“I agree.”
He nodded. “Good.” He opened a desk drawer and leaned over it.
Clarissa took it as an opportunity to look over the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. Row upon row of books. At least a thousand of them, maybe more. She wanted to get a better look out the window and the view it provided. She found it odd that there was no way out of the room except for the way she entered.
Boris straightened up and placed a set of files on the desktop. “Wait till you see what we’ve got here.”
Boris rifled through the papers, placing them on the desk in organized stacks. He explained the targets and the opportunities and the best dates to strike. Clarissa nodded and smiled and asked simple questions.
“Now,” he said, “for your role in all this.”
“Please, do tell.”
“I’ll oversee the overall operation. But I need people, strong people, to be leaders in certain strategic areas. Three to be exact. One in the east. One in the west. And one in the middle. My three captains, so to speak.”
“I’ve read Machiavelli,” she said. “The best way to instill fear in an organization is to lop off the head of one of your captains. Is that in your plans?”
Boris cocked his head and leaned back. His smile returned. His eyes, however, narrowed. Clarissa had the feeling he was wondering if he had misjudged her.
“Only if said captain gives me a reason to lop off his, or her, head,” he said.
“Then this captain will make certain that she does everything in her power to make you happy with her work.”
Boris nodded and didn’t say anything. He didn’t take his eyes off of her. Didn’t even blink.
“Where do you want to place me?” she said.
Boris stood and stepped away from the desk. He paced the room for a few moments and stopped in front of the window. Clarissa thought to join him, to get a look outside. Decided against it.
He turned his head and made eye contact. “In seven days you will travel to the west coast.”
