“Yes, ma’am. I’m with you until you lock down in your hotel tonight. Just tell me what time and Sergeant Warren will be waiting for you in the morning. Please do not leave your room unless he is there.”
“Fine. Yes. I don’t care. Let’s get out of here.” She pulled on a brilliantly blue parka but didn’t bother zipping it against the DC cold—but he definitely felt a Ukrainian icy chill as she breezed by him and out the door. Carlton’s sneer before he departed said that Alex had totally lost that round. Who knew what garbage Carlton would unload about him during his shift. If Alex found out that there was a single word against Valentin though, he’d—
“Da.” Ambassador Tomas Khomenko came up beside him.
Alex didn’t even recall moving to the window. He watched her exit the embassy and walk down the street with her parka still open. Valentin had placed his front paws on the windowsill so that he too could watch her.
“You are going to be having troubles with that one,” the ambassador continued.
“Lieutenant Tibbets is the head of the detail,” he answered carefully.
“That is not of whom I was talking.”
Heart of a Russian Bear Dog: Chapter 4
Tatyana breathed in the cool air. It was so much fresher here. Only February and the taste of spring was already on the air. Kyiv would still be wrapped in winter into April. DC also didn’t have the heavy air pollution of Ukraine’s capital. Instead, here the air tasted as if winter had never quite happened and crocuses were already nodding bright flowers above green grass.
Her choice to walk into DC’s core, despite the embassy lying over two miles out, bothered Lieutenant Tibbets—he tried three times to direct her to one of the pair of black SUVs parked at the curb. She didn’t care. Besides, his dog appeared to enjoy it as he took the lead, sniffing right and left as he went. Between the dog’s aggressive attitude and the Belgian FN P90 submachine gun dangling across Carlton’s chest, they cleared a hole down the sidewalk that she didn’t have to think about walking through.
“You don’t like your partner.”
“What’s to like?” Carlton seemed much more reasonable off by himself.
Good. Maybe she could rub him in Alex Warren’s face for saying she was anything like her fictional namesake.
He continued, “He’s from the West Coast, not DC. It may not sound like much, but they’re slackers out there. We’d never have selected a Caucasian shepherd for a DC patrol.”
“Yet both the Russian and Ukrainian armies have selected them as patrol dogs.” Which made it even more surprising that her ploy had worked with Valentin.
Carlton nodded rather than arguing. “Yes, hyper-aggressive and hyper-loyal. However, that’s not what makes a good ERT—Emergency Response Team—canine. We need high-speed, agility, and hair-trigger responses.”
“Uh-huh.” She wasn’t really paying attention as they were passing the Nike store. She hadn’t realized it was so close to the embassy. She definitely needed to get some cool runners before she returned to Ukraine. Maybe there was even a marathon to run here before she returned to Kyiv. Probably not in February. Americans were always so bothered by little inconveniences like cold.
“Do you run, Lieutenant Tibbets?”
“For sport? As little as possible. Do enough of it at work. My dog loves to run though, don’t you, boy?” He said the last in a high cheery dog voice that made her think better of him.
His dog twisted to look at him in confusion.
“Sorry boy, I forgot you were working. Such!” He repeated the Seek command in German for his dog.
“Why doesn’t he speak Dutch? Or even French?”
“Why would he do that?”
Tanya sighed. “Because he’s a Belgian shepherd. Not a German shepherd. Very few Belgians speak German even as a second language.”
“Oh,” Carlton seemed to think she was serious. No sense of humor at all.
She did turn in at a Kate Spade store. She didn’t mean to, but there was a satchel of a perfect spring green with matching leather handles hanging in the window that was utterly irresistible—so she didn’t.
Carlton was tapping his foot impatiently by the time she came back out of the store, even though she’d been quick. Well, she’d taken a little time to choose between the tropical floral scarf and the blue dahlia one presently knotted around her ponytail.
They’d walked another block as she fussed with the new satchel. It was foolish to spend three hundred American dollars on a satchel she didn’t really need, but she couldn’t help smiling at it.
She was just considering if she should double back to the Nike store to challenge Carlton, when there was a sharp bark that made Carlton jump.
Heart of a Russian Bear Dog: Chapter 5
“Look at them jump! Well done. Horosho! Horosho!” Alex told Valentin. Good! Good!
He had hung back to get a briefing from the Ukrainian ambassador, since it was clear Carlton wasn’t going to even show him the report that he’d been provided. Asshole!
Ambassador Tomas Khomenko had been more than obliging, offering succinct advice built on years of knowing Tanya Larina. It was clear that she was a headstrong woman used to having her own way—and not above baiting people. She’d already proven that with her summoning Valentin.
And it was impossible not to respect the man. Tomas’ last days in the battlefield had been over thirty years before, but they’d included the Soviet-Afghan War. He was also very protective of Tanya on far more than a merely professional level. It meant Tomas liked her a great deal, which spoke to the woman and not just her governmental position.
Later, as he and Valentin had been driving back into DC, he’d spotted Tanya coming out of Kate Spade. Already impossible to miss, she had added a new green purse that stood out brighter than a Formula 1 car race start flag. He liked that flamboyance. The woman certainly had flair.
But, while Alex had waited and watched at a red light, he didn’t like that Carlton had let Ms. Larina lag behind him as they moved down the street.
When he pulled even with them after the green light, he’d rolled down the passenger-side window so that Valentin could stick his big head out.
“Govorit!”
And Valentin had Spoken. Not a growl, which would be Golos or Voice, but a Russian bear dog-sized bark.
How Ripper didn’t snap his own spine with how fast he turned was a testament to the flexibility of a Malinois. Carlton on the other hand had jumped beautifully…and had his FN P90 submachine gun more than half-raised before he’d stopped himself.
“Hey, buddy,” he squeaked happily for Valentin’s sake. “Remember to ignore me in the future when I tell you to surprise an armed Secret Service officer? Okay? Especially one who happens to be my new boss.”
Valentin wagged his tail in answer with great thumps against Alex’s shoulder as he kept his head outside. By protocol, Valentin was supposed to ride in back behind the cage screen, but where was the fun in that?
Alex twisted enough to glance through the tinted rear windows. Tanya looked as if she was laughing hard enough to split a gut. Carlton looked ready to kill a bear…or at least a Russian bear dog’s handler.
Good on one front, but bad on another. He really had to learn to think first.
Past 30th Street, they were almost to the Georgetown Veterinary Hospital. Back in college, he could always spot a library long before anyone else when he passed through a town. And he knew the location of every used bookstore within a hundred miles of San Francisco that had even the tiniest Russian language collection.
Now, he could pick out every veterinarian emergency clinic long before anyone else. Thank God Valentin had never needed one, but he’d memorized all the big ones and most of the smaller ones in DC during the drive east just in case there was ever a need.
Close before the hospital, outside a coffee shop, were an unlikely pair of men.
Alex wasn’t sure why they were unlikely, but they were and he’d been trained to trust
that instinct.
He looked again, but they hadn’t spotted him—despite the massive dog head sticking out the passenger window of a black, government-issued SUV.
No.
Their attention was locked down the block to the west. Except they were being careful not to show it. Quick glances, then turning away.
There was no line waiting to get into the coffee shop, yet neither man held a to-go cup. Instead their hands were jammed into their jacket pockets.
They might just be cold—the day hadn’t warmed much past freezing since this morning’s workout at JJRTC—and waiting for a friend. Or they might be clutching weapons.
A spot opened half a block up, and he pulled in as normally as he could, while not looking wholly away from the two men.
At his signal, Valentin followed him out the driver’s side. They stayed to the street side of the parked cars. Here M Street was a busy four-lane plus packed parking on either side. Narrow shops in old two-story brick. They were bare brick or painted white, yellow, or gray. About every fourth building had a three-sided bay window jutting out into the sidewalk, including the vet hospital.
He was starting to draw ire from the drivers, so he quickly cut in between a Mercedes and a rusting Pontiac sedan—the only kind left—crossed the sidewalk, and got the veterinarian’s bay window between him and the possible targets.
Through the bay, where someone was clutching a schnauzer as they sat in one of the waiting room chairs, he could see the backs of the two men. They still hadn’t turned in his direction.
Down the block, Carlton and Tanya had started to cross the street to begin the coffee shop’s block. Ripper was still scanning side to side, but Carlton had gone slack. It wasn’t a big change in a Secret Service officer, but Alex knew the feeling. Too long on patrol. How pissed he was at the new guy from the West Coast. Or even just the momentary thought about how good a fresh cup of coffee would taste…or about the remarkably beautiful woman striding alongside him.
Whatever it was, neither he nor his dog had yet twigged that they might be walking into a trap set half a block ahead.
Alex circled the bay window, signaling Valentin to heel closely, and came up behind the pair.
Having no leash to carry opened up his options. He casually rested his hand on the FN P90 across his chest as if steadying it. He also placed his other hand on the weapon he was most likely to use on a crowded city street: the butt of his taser.
At the last second, he had a crazy idea.
From a safe four paces back he called out in easygoing Russian, “Beautiful day, isn’t it, guys?”
“Da.” One replied before turning to look at him. “Der’mo!”
Shit! indeed, dude. Caught ya.
His buddy turned, took one glance at the USSS emblazoned across Alex’s vest, or perhaps it was the submachine gun, and echoed his buddy’s curse.
Before Alex could take the next action, a pair of hipsters came out of the coffee shop clutching their afternoon lattes.
The two perps took advantage of the situation and dove into the coffee shop, slamming the door behind them.
The moment the hipsters were clear, he called out “Aport!” Fetch!
Valentin ran into the door—and bounced off the thick Lexan security glass, though Alex could hear the old wooden frame cracking.
His dog reared back to throw his shoulder into it.
Alex managed to reach over and twist the doorknob just before Valentin struck. The door slammed open with a loud crash, but didn’t shatter. Cries of surprise sounded inside.
He could see by the flurry that the two perps had bolted for the back.
He and Valentin were hot on their heels. Bolting under the flip-top counter, Valentin barely had to duck—he himself flipped up the countertop—past the three baristas that Valentin had brushed aside, and into the small rear prep area.
A manager was peeking out of a cubby office and just pointed in the direction the two men had run.
Alex had trained Valentin to hit the crash bar on metal doors, and it too slammed aside.
There were several cars double-parked in the small space off the alley. Cheap and old enough that they were probably the baristas’ vehicles.
A hard squeal of tires, and he saw a white rental take off. He memorized the plate, but doubted if it would lead anywhere useful.
Ripper, closely followed by Carlton, raced into the near end of the alley just as the white rental shot out the far one. He was glad to see that Carlton had a hand firmly clenched around Tanya’s arm, not leaving her behind to be someone else’s target.
“Saw you go for them,” Carlton puffed out as the three of them met under the alley’s lone tree. The two dogs sniffed around, but the scent trail ended at the sharp black marks of the spinning tires.
“Two guys, watching your approach. Must be a third as a driver.” Alex pulled out a radio and called in to the command center to mobilize District of Columbia police, search traffic cams, and start an immediate trace on the plate.
They promised him a call back quickly.
He turned to Tanya. “You okay, Ms. Larina?”
Heart of a Russian Bear Dog: Chapter 6
Was she okay?
Tanya rubbed her arm where Carlton’s hard grip had dragged her into a run.
Was she okay?
“Someone has just tried to kidnap me—”
She saw the glance between the two agents.
“—or worse. No, I’m not okay. Ya rozlyuchenyy!”
“What did she just say?” Carlton was looking at Alex.
“Not sure. It was Ukrainian, which only kinda carries over to Russian. Is rozluychenyy like yarostnyy or more like…”
“I’m pissed!” Tanya shouted in English.
“She’s pissed,” he told Carlton as if discussing the damned weather, then signaled his dog to return to his side.
The manager peered out the back door and Carlton went over to reassure him.
“There’s something you should know,” Alex said to her softly. “They spoke, and cursed, in Russian.”
Tanya knew what that meant. “Der’mo.”
“That’s exactly what they said,” he nodded after the car. “Like your new scarf, by the way. Really catches the blue of your eyes.”
“Timoshenko’s portrait had dark eyes.” Though she had no idea why she was turning him back to that topic.
“True. But Liv Tyler in the movie has blue eyes. Your hair matches hers and the portrait’s.”
“The movie. I didn’t even think of the movie.” She groaned. But being compared to a movie actress who had modeled for Givenchy for over a decade made being upset difficult.
His phone rang.
“Ohranyai!” Alex told his dog as he pointed at her, then walked over to Carlton as he answered the phone.
Valentin sifted to full Guard mode, standing between her and the route the attackers had escaped by. He stayed on his feet and scanned the area. Ripper had returned to his master.
She rubbed Valentin’s head for comfort. He sighed happily, but was no less vigilant.
Damn Father for being right. He’d said it was unsafe for her to come to Washington, DC a full week before the treaty signing. But she was not going to be some gilded bird in a cage!
Any alliance of Ukraine with the Americans was going to be bad for the Russians. Even worse for them, it was a trade alliance with the Turks as well. It was only a first step. If Ukraine could slowly work with the Turks, at first through the Americans before starting a more direct relationship, they could slowly tighten passage of the Bosporus Strait through Istanbul. If they did, it just might be possible to eventually have the Turks cut off the Russian’s access from the Black Sea to the entire Mediterranean. Once that was achieved, then maybe the Russians would lose interest in the Crimea and it could once more be their own homeland. Then the Russians could be made to choke on the Don River and be restricted to their long, icy path to the Baltic.
It was just the first step i
n a very long endgame. But it was one she was glad to play. She would make them pay for the loss of so many of her comrades in the 95th Air Assault, of her hearing, and of the Crimea…pretty much in that order.
She must have worried the Russians more than she’d expected.
Good!
Worried enough to try and kill her?
Maybe not so good. It was something Russians tended to be very good at.
Carlton had clearly thought this was going to be some routine guard duty. Luckily for her, Alex had not.
But she’d be damned if she’d turn into some tremulous country maid afraid of her own shadow.
In all honesty, they didn’t have reason to be that afraid of her. The chances of this actually working were very slim even if she had to try.
And how had the Russians known she’d chosen to walk? Because she often did, even in Kyiv winters…or because someone had told them.
A lookout on the street?
A Russian sympathizer at the embassy? She’d alert Tomas and he’d get to the bottom of it, if that was the problem.
Carlton had been with her.
But why had Alex been so far behind them?
She’d taken over half an hour with her walking and window shopping to come this single kilometer from the embassy. Her goal today had been to get the lay of the land and see the American capital. She’d go to work tomorrow.
Had Alex perhaps taken time to call in a couple of his buddies to lurk and then be chased off? Some arrogant male showoff trick to put his partner down? Did their escape from a Russian bear dog seem that likely? They’d only been a few steps away from Alex when they dashed into the storefront. Carlton had dragged her around the corner before she could see how quickly—or slowly—Alex followed.
Maybe Carlton was right and Sergeant Alex Warren lived to a different standard.
When he and Carlton returned from their phone call, she ignored Alex.
“Well? What did they learn?”
Carlton answered. “The car went missing from the Embassy of New Zealand this morning. They dumped it six blocks from here and disappeared. These guys were pros and knew right where the traffic cams were. All we ever got were the backs of their heads. One went into Trader Joe’s, a grocery store, another strolled into the Westin hotel lobby and disappeared, the last one may have taken the subway.”
Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology Page 42
