Spy Thriller: An Involuntary Spy: An espionage thriller

by Kenneth Eade

  The only variable was Julia. For that he needed to study the patterns of her daily comings and goings. Seth would have to call in sick for about a week so he could spend at least a few days of surveillance before the break-in. It would be nice to get a good look at the door to the apartment so he could determine how to pick the lock. There were some kids playing in the play yard, so he walked over to the play yard and hung around until he saw them moving toward the door to go in.

  Seth slipped in behind the children, who disappeared up the stairs into another apartment. He cautiously walked up the stairs to the second apartment, which was the one of four that was facing the staircase. If Julia should open the door, he could turn around and run down the one short flight of stairs and out the door without being recognized. His fur hat and bulky coat would disguise him enough to look like any other Russian man. Of course, that theory didn’t work if he was nose to nose with her door lock at the time. The door, at first glance, looked like a cheap Chinese made door that could be easily picked. He approached the door closer, and with each step, he could feel his heart beating faster and faster.

  Seth’s examination of the door was not as fruitful as his initial observation. The door was a Chinese door, but it had been outfitted with a formidable looking lock. The lock appeared to fit a very thick key. It was definitely not bumpable. This would be tough to crack. Seth wrote down the brand of the lock; ABLOY PROTEC. He would have to look up the lock on the Internet to see the prescribed way to open it without the key.

  Seth escaped from the apartment, only to see Julia walking toward him about 100 meters away, with two bags of groceries. He quickly turned his back to her and walked away, hoping that he had not been seen as he headed off in the other direction.

  34

  The Abloy Protec lock was a high security lock, with over 1 billion possible combinations and, as luck would have it, was pick proof and bump proof. The manufacturer advertised them as superior mechanical locks, suitable for hospitals, universities and large industrial and government complexes. A lock hack site recommended “impressioning” as the only way to open them.

  Impressioning was a method of taking a mold of a key in clay or silicone, and then pouring epoxy, silicone or low melting point metal into the mold, thus making a new key. For that he would have to figure out a way to obtain Dave’s key long enough to make the mold. In anticipation, Seth bought some clay and a box he could put the clay in to make the mold. The next step was getting the keys away from Dave to make the impression, and putting them back before he noticed.

  Dave was a trained FBI agent and Seth didn’t think he was going to be easily tricked into giving up his keys. There had to be a way to do it so as not to arise suspicion.

  Day after day, Seth observed Dave and his habits and, in his free time, he staked out Dave and Julia’s apartment to observe Julia’s coming and goings. But calling in sick to perform intense surveillance was useless until he had the key for the impression. He kept his impression box in his jacket pocket at all times, in case he would have the opportunity. Unfortunately, that opportunity never came.

  Time was moving forward and Seth had not made any progress toward his goal of finding out why Dave was there and what it had to do with him. Finally, he decided that the best way was to get Dave back to the club, where he seemed to be in his element, and slip some GHB – gamma-hydroxybutyric acid into his drink. GHB was often referred to as the “date rape drug.” Once given to a subject, it knocked them out almost immediately and was virtually undetectable 8 to 12 hours later. Seth would challenge Dave to a “drinking contest,” then, when Dave was not looking, slip the GHB into his drink. When Dave passed out, Seth would call for an ambulance and, while Dave was at the hospital being pronounced drunk, Seth would make the impression of his key.

  Seth had to bribe a local pharmacist with 10,000 rubles to obtain the GHB. Now he could proceed with his plan to make the duplicate key.

  Seth knew that Dave, unlike most of his colleagues who used public transportation, had a car, so he hung out in the parking lot every day after work. One day, Seth ran into Dave after class, as he was getting into his car. Most foreigners didn’t have cars in Khabarovsk, but Dave had a very nice Lexus SUV, which must have set the government back a few bucks, because premium cars in Russia cost about double what they did in Europe.

  “Hey Dave.”

  “Oh, hey George, can I give you a ride?”

  “Sure, great.”

  Seth hopped into the SUV, and was immediately greeted by that “new car smell.” He wondered why the bureau had allowed Dave to pick such an expensive car for himself. It had four wheel drive and all the luxuries, like a kick-ass sound system, beautiful leather seats and trim, radar equipped bumpers and a rear view camera. If he didn’t know any better, Seth would think that this was one of the cars of the Germinat group.

  “Dave, I was wondering if you wanted to do another club night? This time, um, without the girls.”

  “George, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “It’s okay, I mean, with your wife?”

  “What? Oh, yeah, fine, okay. When were you thinking of?”

  “Friday night?”

  Dave dropped Seth off at his apartment building. He had no intention of telling Yuri of his covert operation because he would never tolerate it. Seth was on his own. He had a copy of the spyware he had used on Bill’s computer. He planned to get into the apartment, open up Dave’s computer, get whatever he could in a period of half an hour, and then load the spyware for later remote access. He would have to work quickly because he had no idea when Julia would come home.

  35

  Friday night is a universally wild night. All the tensions of the work week are bottled up all week long and tightly corked. The pressure builds each day until, toward Friday afternoon, everyone feels lazy, impatient, and constantly keeps their eyes on the clock. Finally there is an explosion of freedom. But for Seth it was just another work day. Teacher work, then spy work. Spy work was more exciting but also the most nerve wracking, and the pay was not too alluring either.

  At about midnight, the Chic night club started to come alive. Beautiful scantily clad women who had worked for hours fixing their hair, makeup, and selecting just the right outfit would soon engage in a massive competition. Their prize was a snappily dressed and well groomed young man who was in the process of transforming himself into a horny drunk by the night’s end. Into this overplayed scene walked Dave and Seth. Dave, of course, was expertly dressed and ready for an evening of prowling.

  Dave had popped the cork on Friday and was ready for an early start. He ordered a bottle of vodka for the table and invited every girl who walked by to sit down. Some did, politely, and for a few minutes, but it would take just a little more alcohol consumption to complete Dave’s plan.

  Dave spilled the vodka bottle over two shot glasses, filling them to the brim with the dexterity of a skilled bartender. Lifting his glass, he said, “Nosdaroviya, George.”

  They clicked glasses and began to imitate the Russian male game of slamming vodka, which was kind of like chain smoking, with the violent death assured to come much sooner.

  “I’m glad we could get away tonight,” said Seth.

  “Me too. George, why don’t you grab yourself a girl?”

  Dave motioned with his nose at a tall strawberry blonde in a sequined mini skirt.

  “Grab one?”

  “Yeah, grab her.”

  “I can’t grab her.”

  “Okay, then I will.”

  Dave promptly got up, went over to the girl, and took her by the arm, smiling, to our table.

  “What’s your name, honey?”

  “I don’t speak English, sorry.”

  Whereupon Dave went into perfect Russian, weaving a thick web of charm that she had no hope to escape from. He flagged down a waiter and ordered a bottle of champagne.

  “George, this is Svetlana. Now you go get one for yourself.”

  “Oh
no, I….”

  “Who’s the science teacher, you or me? I thought I was supposed to be the nerd.”

  “You’re the farthest thing from a nerd, Dave.”

  “Okay then, I’ll get you one.”

  The thought of that was disastrous to Seth. If there was someone at the table watching his every move, there was no way he could drop the GHB into Dave’s drink.

  “No, no, Dave, just take Svetlana to dance and by the time you come back, I’ll have one.”

  This must have sounded good to Dave, who took his girl onto the dance floor and disappeared into the riotous mist that was the center of the club.

  Seth had to work fast. He filled each shot glass to the top, leaving enough room to slip the GHB into Dave’s glass, looked around to see if anyone was watching him, and dropped the contents of the GHB vial into Dave’s drink. Since Svetlana was drinking champagne, there was no danger of confusing glasses. Next Seth had to complete his promise to Dave. He looked around the room, figuring that the sluttiest looking girl would probably be the easiest one to bring to the table. The problem was there were no available sluts. All the sluts had already taken their positions at other tables. Low lying fruit. Seth’s task would be a real challenge. Not only did he not care about getting a female companion, as he had a perfectly good one already, this fact would show in his body language and mannerisms and make it less likely he would be successful in picking up another one.

  Seth slammed a shot of vodka for courage, refilled his glass, and stood up, walking straight to the first girl he saw who was not hanging around any friends. She was of average height, brunette, dressed well, but not too revealing, in a pretty black cocktail dress. Taking her gently by the arm, he said, “Darling, you are by far the most beautiful girl in this room, so I must take you back to my table for a closer look, or I will always regret it.”

  The girl was charmed, smiled, and gave up resistance to Seth’s grip. As they approached the table, Dave was returning with Svetlana, and they were both laughing. They all sat, and Seth’s girl introduced herself as Masha.

  “That’s my boy!” said Dave. “What are you drinking, sweetheart?” Dave asked Masha.

  “Vodka.” Wrong answer. She was supposed to drink champagne like Svetlana.

  “Here,” said Dave, shoving his fully loaded date rape shot glass toward her. “Take mine.”

  Just as Masha attempted to grip the glass, Seth slid it back to Dave saying “It’s okay, I’ll get her a clean one,” when the unthinkable happened. The glass spilled all over the table.

  As the evening wore on, out of necessity, Seth created a system for drinking without getting drunk. As the men slammed their vodka (Masha sipped) Seth took the entire load of vodka in his mouth, then went for a sip of grapefruit juice, spitting the vodka into the juice glass while he pretended to drink it to wash down the vodka. That way he could stay sober, keep his wits about him, and not miss the next opportunity to slip Dave a mickey.

  As the night turned into morning, Dave was doing a pretty good job at drugging himself into unconsciousness without any help. Seth began to worry about combining the GHB with so much alcohol. In the beginning, after a few drinks, it was pretty safe, but now Dave had consumed over half a liter of vodka and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Seth would have to abort, unless Dave got sauced to the point he couldn’t see straight. Then he would simply turn over his keys to Seth voluntarily with no suspicion.

  Dave wallowed in a drunken stupor for the next two hours, getting up to stumble to the bathroom from time to time. On the way back from the bathroom the last time, he practically fell onto the table and almost missed his seat. “This place sucks, let’s go somewhere more qui…quiet, quieter.” Dave’s words rumbled and rolled around in his mouth and flapped through his lips in the same random drunken manner as he walked. It’s amazing how ridiculous a drunk man looks and has no clue how stupid he appears to others who are sober.

  “Well, what do you say guys? Let’s get out of here,” said Dave.

  Dave slurred a few misguided phrases that Seth supposed were meant to be romantic to Svetlana in Russian. Seth was sure that she would have nothing to do with him, but to his surprise, she accepted his invitation. Dave waved his arms in the air for the waiter like he was doing aerobics or guiding a 747 into the gate.

  “Can you come with us?” Seth asked Masha. “I promise I won’t try anything. I just don’t want to leave my friend alone. It will be a couple of hours at the most.”

  Graciously, she accepted, and the four left in search of the nearest motel. There wasn’t long to wander. The Hollywood Palace Hotel, right across the street, was owned by the same proprietor as Chic. The music from Chic was so loud it could be felt in the lobby while they were checking in. They booked two rooms next to each other and ordered some fruit and more champagne to Dave’s room. Astonishingly enough, Dave also bought another bottle of vodka.

  The groans of drunk men and women faking orgasms from the other rooms permeated the paper thin walls of Dave’s room, where they began to socialize as a precursor to more intimate activities. His room was a deluxe “suite,” with gaudy chartreuse wallpaper, a cheap velour couch and two armchairs. The center of the room had a huge king size bed that could fit at least three women and one man, and probably often did.

  The girls cut fruit while Dave slammed a few nightcaps. As Masha and Seth munched on slices of orange and apple, Dave, whose charm machine was definitely out of order, began pawing at Svetlana’s boobs, and slurring what he must have thought were Russian sweet nothings in her ear. Seth could only imagine the promises that must have been made to cap the night off with the discovery of whether Dave could actually finish this elaborate performance. As he wrapped his arm around Svetlana and leaned into her face, practically falling into her lap, he motioned with his free hand for Seth and Masha to leave, as if he was swatting at a fly.

  Seth and Masha left with a bottle of champagne and some fruit, to the room next door. Masha was pleasant and nice. She had pretty brown eyes which could not hide her embarrassment. They made small talk as they tried not to pay attention to the headboard in Dave’s room thumping against the wall, and the phony screams of ecstasy of Svetlana mixed with the guttural groans of Dave until, finally, everything went silent.

  After a while, they heard a knock on the door. It was Svetlana. Dave had passed out cold in the bed. Seth arranged for a taxi for both girls, and promised to see Dave home safely, taking his room key from Svetlana. It was a lucky break he had not expected.

  Once inside Dave’s room, Seth could hear Dave snoring like a bear as he rifled through his pockets. There was his fake Canadian passport, his Russian registration which conveniently had his address on it, which would defer any suspicion as to how Dave got home that night, and finally, his keys. The multi-faceted three dimensional Abloy key stood out from all the others. Seth took the keys into the bathroom, withdrew his clay box, lubricated Dave’s key and made an impression of both sides of it. The hard part was done.

  As dawn was breaking, Seth showed up on Julia’s doorstep with Dave slung over his shoulder like a golf bag. Surprisingly, Julia had absolutely no reaction at Dave’s behavior, like she either didn’t care or it was normal.

  “How did you find the apartment?” she asked.

  “I just looked at his registration.”

  “George, I’m really sorry about this.”

  “No worries. He’ll sleep it off.”

  36

  Seth was making love to Natasha in his bed and all was very pleasant until he heard a faint knocking. Was that the front door? He continued making love to her, but the knocking gained in intensity until it turned to pounding and Seth opened his pasty, sleepy eyes, rubbing them and looking around the room to discover he was alone in the bed.

  “I’m coming,” he yelled to the pounder.

  Seth stumbled into the living room and corridor of his apartment, putting on his pants while shuffling to the front door and peering into the peep
hole, only to be startled by the vision of a large fist continuing to pound.

  “Hold on, who is it?”

  As the fist drew back and stopped pounding, he saw Yuri’s distorted face in the peep hole.

  “Great,” said Seth and opened the door.

  “You look like shit,” said Yuri. “Where you were all last night?”

  “Out with Natasha,” said Seth, figuring that this lie would be easier than modifying a version of the truth.

  “That’s breaking rules. Did you fuck her at least?”

  “No, only in my dream, and, unfortunately, you messed up the best part of that for me.”

  “Where did you go, night club?”

  “Yes.”

  “Next time don’t go anywhere without telling me, okay?”

  Seth was purposely unhospitable to Yuri. All he wanted was to go back to bed, catch up on his sleep, and then to work on making his impression key.

  “Okay, what time is it?”

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “I’m going back to bed, could you?” Seth made a sweeping motion toward the door.

  “Oh… sure, but next time you have to let me know or there will be more restrictions.”

  “Yes, father.”

  “And next time – fuck her. If you don’t fuck her you will always just be friends.”

  Seth shut the door after Yuri and his simple but retarded advice. He was perfectly happy with the way things were going with Natasha and felt no need to push things artificially, nor did he have any desire to be with anyone but her. He dragged himself back to the bed, falling into it like a piece of cut timber, and was out in less than five minutes.