Bringer Unleashed (Logan Bringer Series Book 2)

by Jaz Primo

  Given the successive years of depressed Russian economy, I had expected more humble surroundings. Instead, the airport was a large and surprisingly modern complex in its own right.

  While the United States had managed to barely keep its head above water during a decade-old worldwide recession, many European nations had suffered greatly. As such, Belarus seemed like a rich prospective location for operations by Continuance Corporation.

  Our journey through customs took a lot longer than I’d anticipated, though Sanders did a great job posing as the consummate girlfriend. That included brief instances of holding my hand, which I had to admit felt surprisingly comfortable.

  As we handed over our passports for review, I felt cautiously optimistic.

  That was, until one official stared at the terminal before him and then back at us with a terse look.

  Fortunately, Strutt immediately proved himself useful by stepping forward to negotiate our processing using native Belarusian, which momentarily seemed to make the customs official more at ease.

  Strutt leaned over to me. “I explained that you’re here on a blend of company business and vacation with your girlfriend.”

  The customs official gestured over to a nearby office door. “If you and your companion would please proceed into that office, we will complete your processing,” he said in clipped English.

  I noticed he retained our passports in his hand and I looked at Strutt, who conversed with the official in Belarusian. The man frowned and shook his head while gesturing for Scott to proceed to a nearby processing station.

  “They’re not going to let me or Scott follow you from here,” Strutt said. “I think they realize now who you are, but I’m not sure that there’s any hostile intentions. However, I’m going to start placing some key calls to influential resources just in case. Try to remain cordial.”

  I nodded and grasped Sanders by the hand to lead the way.

  “I don’t like this, Bring–,” she whispered. “Logan.”

  “You really don’t like my first name, do you?”

  “What? No,” she countered. “It’s just something new for me, okay? It’s takes getting used to.”

  “My first name or having a boyfriend?”

  “Maybe both,” she quietly murmured.

  I curtailed a growing smile.

  A guard opened the office door for us and waited for us to step through before closing it. The lock clicked into place behind us.

  Two middle-aged men in black business suits stood to one side, projecting an air of authority, while a younger man wearing a Belarusian customs uniform moved from behind a desk and gestured to two Spartan-looking chairs before him.

  “I’m Major Uladzimir, local administrator for the Customs Service. Please take a seat, Mr. Bringer and Ms. Sanders,” he said.

  We sat as the official took his seat behind the desk.

  “And your two friends are?” I asked.

  “They represent other Belarusian authorities,” he replied.

  I wasn’t sure that I liked his answer.

  He diverted his attention to a computer screen before him, likely reading our entire life histories, as viewed by Russian intelligence services.

  I opened my mind to listen in on stray thoughts, but was surprised by what I overheard.

  …bad feeling about this.

  The other thoughts were strangely in what sounded like Slavic, though they could have easily been either Russian or Belarusian. As I knew nothing of Balkan languages, I had no way of knowing for certain.

  A major shortcoming of my mindreading ability stunned me; I had to be able to understand the languages used by the subjects I was listening in on.

  Shit.

  “So, you are here on business and pleasure, then?” Uladzimir asked. “I see that you claim to be under the employ of Nuclegene Corporation, Mr. Bringer. While you, Ms. Sanders, appear to be a member of American federal law enforcement?”

  “Yes, the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” she replied.

  “Yes, the FBI, as you say,” he said. “However, you’ll pardon me if I say that it is an interesting pairing when you claim to be the companion to one of the most dangerous men in your country, yes?”

  By then, I was feeling increasingly annoyed.

  “Ah, my reputation precedes me, I see,” I said. “But again, we’re only here as tourists.”

  The major offered a tight-lipped smile, though the two gentlemen standing to the side appeared wholly unamused.

  “It goes without saying, given your recent history, Mr. Bringer, that our security services have you on our watch lists,” said the major, glancing at a computer terminal before him. “I find it surprising that you would suddenly be taking a vacation to our country at such a critical time. You were involved in a well-publicized incident in Seattle, Washington, were you not?”

  “Ah, well, the press blows everything out of proportion nowadays, doesn’t it?” I noted.

  “Perhaps, yet you could also share with us why your government has really sent you to Belarus, hm?”

  I gave the major a level look and then spared another for the two men standing nearby.

  I leaned forward, placing my forearms onto the major’s desk, and felt Sanders’ hand grasp my thigh.

  “Major, I’m going to share something with you and your two associates that’s entirely the truth,” I offered. “First, I’m not here at the behest of my government. I am here to see some interesting sights in your fine country with my companion here, and maybe even forget that my life’s been a bit too hectic recently.

  “Second, I have no interests in causing trouble for you or any of your citizens or government. In fact, in a couple of days, we’ll peacefully board our plane and be on our merry way again,” I said.

  “I see. And where will you go when you leave Belarus, if I may ask?”

  I shrugged. “It’s been recently suggested to me that the beaches in Odessa are really nice,” I said, glancing over at Sanders. “And beaches go hand in hand with romance, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Sanders dug her nails into my thigh.

  The major appeared amused while one of the two guys in suits leered at Sanders.

  One of the men—he had what appeared to be a chemical burn scar on his forehead—leaned down to whisper something in the major’s ear.

  The major nodded. “Mr. Bringer, this is—how might we say?—a delicate situation. You could be telling the truth, in which case, Belarus welcomes your patronage. However, if the alternate were to prove true, it might be dangerous for both you and for Belarus.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “So, the question becomes, what do you plan to do?”

  The major appeared uneasy while the man with the scar intently watched me.

  “We could always take you and your companion into protective custody until we’re comfortable with the matter,” offered the man with a sober expression.

  “I’m sure that would only escalate to an uncomfortable international incident for everyone involved,” Sanders said.

  “I’m certain you would find your circumstances equally uncomfortable, Ms. Sanders,” said the man with the scar.

  I didn’t like the way he said that.

  I nodded. “You know, my girlfriend makes an excellent point. Of course, you probably should consider the additional complications that might arise.”

  All three men frowned.

  “What sort of complications?” asked the man with the scar.

  “For example, attempting to take us into custody on what might be perceived to be false pretense, not to mention threatening my girlfriend, as you just did,” I said.

  “That is hardly a complication for us,” he replied.

  “Perhaps,” I said. “Though if you’ll consider my recent history, you’ll realize what I’m capable of. Suffice to say I handle neither antagonism nor hostility particularly well.”

  I felt Sanders’ grip on my thigh tighten.

  The major and the other two men sta
red at me.

  I stared right back at them. Their game was getting old fast.

  “The time has come to make a choice, and I’ll give you two to select from,” I offered. “Either you admit us into your country, in which case we see some sights, sample some local cuisine, and purchase some souvenirs, or you ask us to leave and we peaceably board our plane and depart.”

  “I challenge that you neglected a number of other choices,” the formerly silent man said. “We are the ones controlling the options here, Mr. Bringer.”

  I focused my attention on him. “Perhaps. Although mine were the only two that end with you arriving home safely after a long day at work.”

  Sanders gave me a hard, sidelong look. “Logan, let’s not be hasty.”

  The tension level in the room ratcheted up after that, but I played it cool and acted as if I wasn’t overly concerned. I had no intention of being bullied, and I was fully prepared to make that known.

  Uladzimir’s desk phone rang, causing both Sanders and him to jolt slightly in their seats.

  He picked up the phone and spoke in Belarusian, then gave me a curious look and handed the phone to the guy with the scar.

  After a few moments, the major took back the proffered handset and briefly conversed with whoever was on the line. Afterward, he took a deep breath and nodded to the man with the scar.

  “Mr. Bringer, it seems that our Ministry of Foreign Affairs favors your visit,” Uladzimir said, handing our passports to us across his desk. “Welcome to Belarus. I hope that you have an enjoyable and peaceable stay. I strongly recommend you conduct yourselves under the best of behaviors.”

  I stood up. “Oh, rest assured, Major; I always dish out my best.”

  * * *

  We made our way through the terminal, trying to locate Strutt, Scott, and our luggage, in no particular order.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a really crappy poker player?” Sanders asked.

  “Actually, you’re the first,” I replied.

  “What would you have done if they had called your bluff? Burn down the airport?”

  “I’m pleased that we won’t have to find out,” I said.

  “What were you thinking back there, Bringer?”

  “That I wasn’t about to let anyone harm you, Meg.”

  She looked up at me with a thoughtful expression. “You know, it sounds strange, you calling me Meg.”

  I reached out to grasp her hand in mine. “Maybe, but I sort of enjoy it.”

  Her eyes widened slightly and she quickly looked away.

  “There’s Strutt by the escalators,” she pointed out.

  “Happy to see you two,” he said.

  “Should I presume that I owe you a debt of thanks for a timely phone call?”

  He nodded. “None needed. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs came through for us.”

  “Do I want to know how you managed that?”

  He shook his head. “Um, not really. At least, I’d rather that Mr. Bernard share that, if he chooses to.”

  “Fair enough, I suppose.”

  “Where’s Scott?” Meg asked.

  “Oh, I sent him down to the luggage retrieval, just in case you appeared there first.”

  “Well, lead on, then,” I suggested.

  As we collected our luggage in the main terminal, I reflected upon our recent office visit with Major Uladzimir.

  I couldn’t help feeling that a phone call wasn’t going to be the end of our intrigue while in Minsk.

  * * *

  It was early evening by the time we pulled up before the upscale Hotel Chagall in our rented sedan. The hotel, conveniently located in downtown Minsk, was supposed to be one of the finest in town; and was namesake of a famous Belarusian painter and composer, or so the information on the airport’s complimentary pamphlet indicated.

  “Just so you know, we’re still being tailed,” Scott warned.

  “Yeah, I half expected as much after our customs interview,” I said.

  “Everyone unload the luggage and head inside while I park our car,” Scott said. “I don’t want to turn it over to anyone while we’re here. I’ll have to sweep our rooms for bugs, too.”

  “You brought some equipment that can?” Meg asked.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. “Strutt sneaked it in with the flight crew’s gear, along with some other handy items.”

  I gave the young man a sidelong glance. “You’re turning out to be pretty handy after all.”

  He inclined his head in silent appreciation.

  Before Strutt went inside, he handed me a credit card.

  “I almost forgot to give you this,” he said. “Mr. Bernard asked to make sure you understood this card is specifically in your name for any expenses you may incur related to company activities.”

  “Like dinner?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Dinner, hotel stays, travel expenses, and most anything you may require in pursuit of your objectives.”

  “Most anything?” I asked.

  “I’d imagine you could even purchase a tank if you needed one,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But just so you know…I am the tank.”

  He grinned. “Actually, that sort of occurred to me after I said it.”

  We proceeded to our hotel rooms, including a grand romantic suite for Meg and me.

  “I’d like to remind you this is just for show,” she insisted as I opened the door for her.

  Meg set down her luggage just inside the suite’s sole bedroom and fell backward onto the king-sized bed with a bounce and a sigh.

  I eyed the living room’s couch with resignation; likely my relegated sleeping accommodation during our stay.

  I made a mental note to procure an extra blanket or two for myself later that evening.

  “Logan?” Meg called. “Are we heading out to the site now?”

  I turned to see her leaning against the bedroom door looking both tired and somewhat cute with stray strands of hair hanging down across her forehead.

  I shook my head. “Daytime is better. Besides, we’re already under scrutiny and I don’t want to raise suspicions so soon after leaving the airport. Let’s be tourists for one night and head out at first light tomorrow.”

  “But what about the CIA? What if they beat us to the site?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t let the spooks get ahead of us. We’ll start extra early. Besides, we’ll need time to evade our inquisitive shadows outside, too.”

  She gave me an appreciative look, which was all the confirmation I needed that she approved of my idea.

  “I’ll let you exercise your super-governmental powers for that,” I added.

  “Sorry, the FBI doesn’t evade other people,” she countered. “They’re usually evading us.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  We freshened up before dinner, and I told both Scott and Strutt to enjoy an evening of diversions. If anything, I mentioned them assessing the area within a few blocks of the hotel, just to get a feel for the landscape.

  Acting on inspiration, I managed to arrange for a cozy table for two at a small restaurant called Oleg’s Kafe around the corner from the hotel. Fortunately, Sanders seemed pleased with my initiative.

  For the first time since I’d met Megan Sanders, the two of us casually enjoyed each other’s company without the fear of bombs, terrorists, or issues of national security. It was just she and I chatting over nothing of consequence…but it was precisely what I needed.

  Honestly, it felt so very refreshing to experience a semblance of normality; or, at least, more normal than I’d felt in a long time. I almost didn’t want the evening to end.

  Then I felt guilty, first for permitting my focus to ebb from our mission at hand, and second for actually feeling happy that I had.

  As we walked back to the hotel later that evening, I felt more at ease than I had in quite some time.

  “That was wonderful,” she said. “I almost forgot—”
/>   “What it was like to relax again?” I interrupted. “Yeah, me too.”

  She smiled and reached out to gently intertwine her fingers in mine. I curled my fingers between hers in return.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied. “Although, I apparently get an expense account, so this one’s on Nuclegene.”

  “Lucky man,” she said.

  “You don’t know how right you are,” I said with appreciation.

  She frowned at me and returned an inquisitive look.

  “Why, Mr. Bringer, are you hitting on me?”

  I shrugged. “Can’t blame a fellow for trying.”

  She appeared reflective. “Hm.”

  As we rounded the corner and approached the hotel, we spotted Scott outside, visiting with two hotel concierges. As soon as he saw us, he disengaged from them and walked toward us.

  “Have a nice dinner?” he asked.

  “Yeah, we did. Any trouble?” I asked.

  “Just scoping out the place,” he said. “We’ve got two groups of surveillance that I’ve located so far.”

  “Two, huh?”

  “Yep, though I don’t have any idea who they’re with.”

  “I’d guess both Belarusian and Russian,” Meg said.

  “That’s my inclination, until I know differently,” he agreed.

  Scott held open a tourist map before us. “Just act like we’re talking about the map.”

  I nodded and absently pointed to a random spot.

  “Where’s Strutt?” I asked.

  “Upstairs making arrangements for a second rental car for in the morning.”

  “Good,” I said. “Now, if we have an idea where our observers both are, we can plan for tomorrow morning. And I’ll need you and Strutt to run interference while Meg and I make our way to the site.”

  “Hey, neither of you speak the language,” he reminded us.

  “True,” I said. “I was hoping that you two could split up, and then we’ll meet up with Strutt somewhere else. While you’re at it, maybe you can act suspicious and keep at least one group occupied.”

  “Sure,” he agreed.