Wrapping his arms around her, he washed her back. She lifted her arms toward the ceiling and reversed her position, now facing away from Robert. As he kissed her creamy shoulders and long, delicate neck, she let her hands fall onto his head and twisted her fingers around in his hair. Then he started caressing her chest with soft smooth strokes and well placed pinches as he rhythmically pulled her body closer to his.
Robert continued to hold her tighter as he moved his right hand lower and lower, until he reached her sweet spot. Tenderly, he slid his fingers inside of her and set off a chain reaction of sighs and moans. After allowing her a few minutes to enjoy his caring touch, he decided to turn it up a notch.
He pinned her against the wall and gyrated against her as he continued to manually explore her. The feel of the cold slate against her body gave her goose bumps, while the hot, wet steam of the water warmed her inner core, heightening her pleasure. Each time she squeezed his hand, he nudged her closer and closer to the back of the shower. When he finally got her where he wanted her, he helped her assume a bent over position using that well placed shelf feature. Decorative and functional. With his left hand sliding smoothly up her back, from the crack of her ass up to the nape of her neck, he removed his fingers and replaced them with his member, completely joining the two of them as one.
It was what she was waiting for. The whole day she had fanaticized about this. It was one of their favorite positions. He surrounded her hips with his hands and pulled her in tighter, against his lower body. She took him in all the way. He made her so freakin’ hot! They continued until they both reached their peak of excitement, culminating in an explosion of their genitals.
After a moment of recuperation, he withdrew and she turned to face him. They held each other and she kissed his chest while he smoothed his hands over her back. They let the water rush over them as if caught under a waterfall in the far-off jungle rain forest. After a couple minutes, he kissed her and motioned to leave the shower.
“You go ahead, Robert. I’m going to stay in a little longer.”
“Okay.”
Paige left the shower and dried himself off. He dropped the towel onto the floor toward the corner of the room and walked over to the toilet. Not thinking to close the door to the separate water closet, he relieved himself, then continued on to the bedroom.
A couple hours later Paige awoke to find Sveta snuggled up to him with her hand resting on his chest. He tried to get up without disturbing her, but she was a light sleeper and opened her eyes the moment he slid to the edge of the bed.
Paige got dressed and Sveta put on a black and red embroidered silk robe she received as a gift from a friend who travelled to China. After finishing another helping of iced tea, Sveta walked Paige to the door. He kissed her softly, turned and walked down the hallway. He headed toward the elevator, not forgetting about the camera across from Sveta’s. He wanted to remove it, but would have to wait until Sveta closed her door. She thought he had a nice butt and enjoyed watching him walk away. After ten or so paces, he heard the click of her lock.
He turned around, walked back and quietly removed the camera. He put it in his pocket and walked toward the elevator. After he pushed the button and waited for the elevator to arrive, he took the camera out of his pocket, removed the chip, placed the camera on the floor and stepped on it. He could hear it go crunch. He picked it up and tossed it into the waste container by the elevator.
He suspected Mossad had planted it and wondered why they were still interested in him. Since it was Saturday, he would have to wait until Monday to pay a visit to Wellington’s office.
As he walked through the lobby he took out his cell phone and called Wellington to schedule an appointment. Milla sat at the front desk, chatting on the phone, too busy to notice him. He thought she looked cute that day. Her smile revealed a slight gap between her two front teeth. She was always smiling. That’s one of the things he liked about her.
“Hello, John? This is Bob Paige.”
“Hi Bob. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call? Did you get tired of reading financial statements?”
“Yeah, I had to take a break, and since talking to you is only slightly less exciting than reading financial statements, I thought I’d give you a call.”
“Ouch! That hurt, Bob. I thought I was one of your favorite students.”
“You were, but now you’re just another former C student.”
“Ouch again! You’re really on a roll. What can I do for you?”
“I need to stop by and see you on Monday. Where will you be?”
“I’ll be at the downtown office. It sounds serious.”
“Well, maybe it is and maybe it isn’t. We can decide that on Monday.”
“OK, but let’s not meet in the office. Call me on my cell phone when you arrive and we’ll meet in the lobby. Any time after nine-thirty will be fine.”
“OK, I’ll call around nine-thirty.”
“OK, I’ll see you then.”
Paige closed his phone and tried to put the matter out of mind, but in the back of his head he wondered whether postponing the meeting until Monday was a mistake.
67
Sunday
The rest of the weekend was uneventful. Paige and Sveta had breakfast at Denny’s on Sunday morning. Sveta went to visit her sister. Paige worked on a manuscript he was under contract to submit to a book publisher. He thought about the camera a few times and what it might mean. He decided its presence meant Mossad hadn’t finished with him and that he should be more alert whenever he went out of the building. Did they still have a tail on him? Why did they still have an interest in him? It probably had something to do with Steinman, since that was the only company project he was involved in at the moment.
The fact that Mossad still had an interest in him led to a few spin-off ideas. Was the extent of their interest limited to a few cameras or were they also tapping his telephone and monitoring his emails? Did they plant a tracking device on his car? Was Wellington going to whack Steinman in spite of his denials, and if so, was Mossad prepared to stop the hit on Steinman, and if so, what were they willing to do to prevent it? Who else might they be tracking? Was Mossad also tracking Wellington and Steinman? They were bigger potatoes than he was. It would make sense that if they were watching him, they would also be watching Wellington and Steinman. How deeply was Rachel Karshenboym involved? Was she just spying on Steinman’s meetings, or was she assigned to do more than that?
***
Monday
Monday morning. Paige looked at his watch. Nearly eight-thirty. If he left his condo now it would take about an hour, more or less, to get to Wellington’s downtown office. Lots of traffic flowed in that direction at rush hour. He decided to wait fifteen minutes to give traffic some time to thin out. He used the time to check his email and reply to a few of the more urgent messages. Actually, he seldom received urgent messages, but he liked to reply to student emails as soon as he could. One of the questions on the evaluations that students filled out at the end of the semester asked if the professor responded quickly to student emails. He wanted to make sure he got positive evaluations.
After fifteen minutes he left the condo, got on the elevator and took it to the parking garage. He got into his twelve-year-old Nissan Sentra and headed out. He bought the Sentra shortly after arriving in Miami ten years before, after completing an assignment for the company in Bosnia.
The first few cars he owned were Chevys and Fords. They always gave him trouble. He had to keep taking them in for repairs. After a few years he got tired of the hassle and has been buying Japanese and Korean cars ever since. Technically, the Nissan was an American car, since it was made by non-union workers in Tennessee, but it was made to Japanese specs, so it was the best of both worlds.
He first became acquainted with the auto union shortly after completing his undergraduate degree. He had moved to Warren, Ohio and the General Motors assembly plant was just down the road in Lordstown. He used to drin
k beer on weekends with some of their workers, who bragged about how they put beer cans in the door jambs to see if they’d pass inspection, which they always did. The doors wouldn’t start rattling until the car reached a speed of five miles per hour and the cars were driven off the assembly line at three miles per hour. No one noticed any rattles until some customer bought the car or took it for a test drive.
Waiting the extra fifteen minutes paid off. The traffic on I-95 was still heavy but it moved fairly quickly until about a half a mile from the downtown exit. Paige parked in the parking garage down the street from Wellington’s Commerce Department office shortly after nine-thirty. He called Wellington as soon as he got out of the car to give him some time to get down to the lobby. Wellington was waiting for him when he arrived. The glasses, gray suit, dark blonde hair and tall, slender figure always reminded Paige of what an Indiana prep school graduate might look like 20 years after graduation.
“Hi Bob, let’s go outside.” The short walk from the quiet, air conditioned lobby to the hot, noisy streets of Miami was a contrast in decibels, smells and textures. Even though it was not yet ten o’clock, the concrete started to heat up. The smell of auto exhaust fumes mixed with those of churros and doughnuts from the shop down the street provided a certain atmosphere, similar to that found in some New York City neighborhoods and a number of Latin American cities.
After exiting the building, Wellington turned left and Paige followed. When they came to the alley, they turned left and walked for about 50 feet into the alley before stopping. “You sounded concerned about something on the phone. What is it that’s important enough to come down here?”
“When I went to Sveta’s on Saturday, I noticed there was a camera over the door of the neighbor across the hall. It pointed at Sveta’s apartment. It’s the same type of camera you guys removed from my neighbor’s door. After I left I took it down.” He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and gave it to Wellington. “Here’s the chip I pulled out of it.”
Wellington had a puzzled look on his face. “Hmmm. Sergei told me they would lay off. I guess he changed his mind.”
“Or maybe he was just lying to you. People in your profession aren’t exactly known for telling the truth when it doesn’t suit them.”
Wellington looked annoyed by the comment but let it pass.
Paige continued, “If they’re expending resources to monitor my activities, they must be monitoring Steinman as well … and maybe you, too, since you’re a bigger fish than me.”
Wellington looked concerned. “I’ll have to confront Sergei about this, but I doubt he’ll tell me the truth. It’ll be interesting to watch him squirm. Maybe I can learn something from his body language and eye movements. I doubt the bastard will look me in the eye when I confront him. I’ll have someone look at the chip to see if there’s anything interesting on it. Thanks for bringing this to my attention.”
With that, Wellington gave Paige a slight pat on the shoulder, turned and started walking back to his office. As he left, Paige wondered if Wellington knew more than he was letting on.
68
Wellington pulled out his cell phone as soon as he walked into the lobby and called Jim Bennett. He figured the FBI had the equipment and the expertise to see what was on the chip. No one in his Commerce Department office had the skills or the equipment, and even if there were someone on staff, he wouldn’t use staff resources for this assignment.
“Jim, this is John. Could you stop by sometime today? I want to give you something.”
“It sounds important. You know I’m a big shot FBI guy who doesn’t have time to spend on trivial matters.”
“Yes, I know, that’s why I’m going right to the top.” They both chuckled.
“How about three? I have to be downtown for a meeting anyway. I assume you’re at the downtown office today?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“OK. I’ll call you when I arrive.”
“See you then.”
***
Traffic in the downtown area was a little heavier than usual that afternoon, and there wasn’t much of a breeze on the side streets, which meant the ocean breeze couldn’t blow away all of the exhaust fumes. The smell of the churros from the street vendors had to compete with exhaust fumes and street noises. The side streets were a little dirtier than usual, too.
Bennett arrived on time, which was a little unusual. Miami was on Latin American time, which means three could also mean three-thirty. As he walked into the lobby, Wellington was there waiting for him. After shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, Wellington got right to the point. He related the conversation he had with Paige and handed over the envelope.
“I can probably have something for you tomorrow morning. I’ll give it to one of my guys and tell him it’s important.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Neither of them expected to find anything of importance, just Sveta coming and going. What they found surprised them.
69
Bennett had the results the next morning. He put them in a flash drive and called Wellington.
“John, this is your favorite FBI guy. I have something for you. Where can I drop it off?”
“I’m at the Rickenbacker Causeway office today. Is that convenient for you?”
“No, it isn’t. Why is it you Commerce Department fucks get all the nice offices overlooking Biscayne Bay while real Americans like me have offices overlooking a parking lot?”
“Funny, Jim. I’ll tell J. Edgar Hoover the next time I see him.”
“You do that. I really can’t get away before four. I can send it with a messenger, but not one of our guys.”
“OK, that’ll be fine. Thanks.”
The messenger arrived around three with the envelope. Short. Hispanic. Probably in his early forties. Tattoos on both arms. Apparently he forgot to put on deodorant that day. From his appearance and smell, he would fit right in with one of those police lineups they show on television. Maybe he wasn’t a poster boy for the American free enterprise system, but he served a valuable function. Wellington’s secretary signed for the envelope. She noticed the odor and his dirty fingernails.
“Mr. Wellington, a package just arrived for you.”
“Thank you.” He opened it and looked inside after she left. The envelope contained a flash drive and a note on plain white paper with just one word – Jim. The return address on the outer envelope was completely phony.
He plugged the flash drive into his laptop. The first few seconds recorded the installation and a brief shot of the face of the person who did the installation – Rachel Karshenboym. It was all the evidence he needed to confront Sergei. He printed a copy of the frame with her face in the camera and put it in an envelope. Then he took out his cell phone and called Sergei.
“Hello, Sergei? This is your favorite Commerce Department official. How’s commerce in your neck of the woods?”
“Hi John, the Miami real estate industry’s a little slow these days. I only sold two properties this week, but the week’s still young. Maybe things will pick up.” He took a sip of his mojito. He was ensconced at an outside café on Lincoln Road, the walking street on South Beach, people watching. He had just finished a meeting with some of his Mossad colleagues.
“I’ll be at my downtown office tomorrow. Let’s get together for a little chat.”
“I like our little chats, John. They’re always nice and short, and after them I always have more work to do.”
“This one won’t be any different. Same place? Around five-fifteen?”
“OK.”
“See you then.”
As Sergei put the cell phone back in his pocket he noticed two young, scantily-clad women walk by his table. One white, one black. The black one had long, slender legs, tight shorts and platform high heels. The white one had sandals and a cut-off shirt that revealed a silver piece of jewelry in her belly button.
After they passed, he motioned to the waiter for the check. He wondered what t
he meeting could be all about. He thought the Steinman thing had been settled. He took out his cell phone, called his boss, Aaron Gelman and filled him in.
“Sergei, I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not good. The Steinman thing’s behind us as far as Wellington knows. The fact that he’s scheduled a meeting isn’t a good sign.”
“I know. I’ll keep you posted.”
“You do that.”
He hung up and went back to his people watching while he waited for the check. He watched some people more than others. He specialized in people in high heels and/or short shorts or skirts. Usually they were women but some of the people who wore high heels and short shorts in South Beach were of another persuasion. He liked to watch them, too, but only out of curiosity. They didn’t have anything like that in Moscow, at least not on public display.
***
They met at the appointed time, at Bayfront Park by the Anton Cermak plaque. Sergei arrived first.
Wellington extended his hand. “Hi Sergei, always nice to see you.”
“Same here, John.”
Actually, they were both just being cordial. Whenever they met, it always made more work for both of them. They really didn’t like seeing each other.
“I have a photo I’d like to show you.”
“Oh, John, you didn’t catch me with those Mexican midget twin sisters, did you? I can explain. It’s not what it looks like.”
“No, Sergei, I have those photos in my personal archive. I’m saving them for a rainy day.”
“Whew! I’m relieved.”
Wellington opened the envelope and took out the photo. “This photo came from a camera that someone installed across the hall from Bob Paige’s girlfriend’s apartment.” Wellington checked Sergei’s reaction as he showed it to him. He looked genuinely surprised.
“You recognize her, of course? She’s the little mole you planted …”
Justifiable Homicide: A Political Thriller (Robert Paige Thrillers Book 1) Page 22
