The Life We Lead: Ascending

by George Nagle

  Walking away, James noticed a vendor watching him, a man in his early twenties. He had a variety of objects on his table, but wasn’t pushing them like the other vendors. James walked over, curious as to why this man had locked eyes with him, and pretended to look at the watches, pens, and handmade objects on the table. Once or twice, he asked for a price.

  The vendor answered curtly, but had lost interest in James and was now watching the crowd, his eyes sweeping back and forth. Finally, James selected a small pin and paid the man, who spoke to him in English.

  “Thank you for your purchase. But you should know not to get involved in our business. It is lucky for you that you did not stop what you saw with the girls.”

  “Why is that?” James waited for his change.

  “Because our ways are not yours, and you would have had to pay a lot more than she did,” he said, his eyes coming to rest on James.

  James knew at that moment that this man was the real boss. He controlled what happened here, and the girl was just his enforcer. Despite his youth, he had a hard look about him.

  “I see. Thank you for the advice,” James replied in a measured voice. “Please, keep the change as a sign of gratitude for your help.” He turned to walk away, but the vendor grabbed his wrist.

  “You should show more respect, American.”

  James quickly twisted out of the grab and locked onto the vendor’s wrist and elbow, exposing the under part of his arm, which was covered in tattoos. They stared at each other for a moment before James released him.

  Smiling, James said, “Thanks again,” and walked toward the exit.

  As he climbed the steps, he realized he was being followed. He thought to himself, These guys are a bit unhinged.

  He let the boy, just a kid, follow him for a short while and was surprised at the skill he had. He’d been followed by CIA agents that this kid could teach a few lessons to, but James had things to do, so he decided enough was enough. The boy obviously was to report where James had gone.

  James led the boy back to the shabby hotel. When the boy followed him in, James made a split-second decision and decided to go to the room directly below his.

  Since his room was on the second floor, he simply walked across the lobby and down the hall. Stopping at what he hoped was the right door, James pretended to make a long search for the key, giving the child plenty of time to see which room he was attempting to enter.

  This way, the boy succeeded and didn’t get hurt, while James retained control of the situation.

  Noticing the boy disappear through the revolving door, James walked to the front desk. “Hello, Natalia, how is your day?”

  The receptionist was an older woman who loved to converse in English whenever she could.

  “Mr. Lewis, I am good. You are good, too?” she asked.

  “I am very good, yes, thank you. Can you tell me if room nine is open to rent?”

  With a frown on her face, the woman answered, “Your room is bad? Everything wrong? I fix.”

  “No, no. The room is fine. I just want an extra room. Bryan snores very loudly,” James assured her.

  “What is snorts?” she asked, her head slightly to the side.

  James figured it was easier just to demonstrate, which made Natalia laugh.

  “Very funny,” she said. “Yes, that room is open. You would like, da?”

  “Da,” answered James. He handed her enough money to cover the room fees for the next few days and collected the keys.

  ***

  “Daen, how you feeling, buddy?” James asked in a semi-soft voice as he entered their room a minute later.

  A low “uggggghhh,” was all the reply he got.

  “We’re supposed to meet Petior in about ninety minutes. Since you were so gung-ho on going out tonight, you’d better shape up so we can go.”

  James sat down on his bed as Daen stirred in the other one. “I have some things to prep,” he told his groggy friend, “but won’t be long, so if you could ...”

  “How are you even functioning, man? You had almost as many shots as me and you ain’t anything!” Daen spoke in the loudest voice his head could take.

  “I don’t know what to tell ya, but how about you be in and out of the shower before I get back?” James grabbed his clothes and suitcase.

  “Where you goin’?” Daen’s head poked out from the covers, looking a lot worse than James had expected.

  “Long story short, I was followed today, and we may have a visitor. I booked the room below this one and need to make it look like I’m staying in it. I’m also hooking up some sensors in there so need to run a cable. In fact, if you jump in the shower now, I’ll drill while you’re showering so the sound doesn’t kill you.”

  “Gimme two minutes, and that is very considerate, man.” Daen shuffled out of bed and toward the bathroom.

  James finished packing. When he heard the shower running, he picked a spot about an inch from the interior wall behind a dresser set. He was betting each of the rooms in the hotel was set up in the same fashion, though after he started drilling it occurred to him that he should have verified that first. Even when his assumptions were logical, he liked to confirm what he could.

  He finished the hole and ran a length of cable down before hooking the other end to a monitor that would remain in the room he and Daen shared.

  He grabbed his stuff and made his way downstairs. He approached room nine, then stopped. “Check first, genius,” he said to himself.

  Walking up to Natalia, he asked, “Excuse me, Natalia, has anyone else come in or out of the hotel since I left you?”

  “No, you are looking for someone?” she asked.

  “Bryan and I are meeting a friend for dinner and want to make sure he hasn’t already arrived. Thank you,” said James, giving her a smile as he walked away.

  Entering room nine, James found he’d been correct to think the rooms would all be set up the same. Only the furniture differed. In this case, the dresser was long and flat, though in the same spot as the one above. It was covered with a thin layer of dust from the drilling.

  James put his clothes and toiletries in their proper places before installing the hardware. He then installed the two-way split mini-camera that would allow him to see the room via the monitor upstairs.

  He could see the bathroom door as well as the large window on the opposite wall of the main door. His blind spot was the entrance, but a hallway remote camera would let him see the door, hallway, and lobby.

  He taped remote flash capsules inside the bathroom door as well as near the window. This way, if he needed a quick entrance or exit, he could blind his visitors for a few moments.

  He stepped into the hall and walked to the fake plant one door down. He picked it up and moved it to the other side of the hall to get a better view, then attached the camera.

  Next came planting the guns. First he had to plant a tranquilizer gun that he could get to with his hands potentially bound. He decided to plant it under the chair next to the window.

  The 9 mm pistol was tougher. It was his preferred weapon, but he would only have eight shots if the thing didn’t jam, and he didn’t know how many visitors to expect. He decided to keep it on him but hid an extra clip and cartridge of darts in the room under the dresser.

  That should do it for now, until we see who and what come, he thought.

  He made his way upstairs after setting a door tripper to room nine that would appear innocent enough, but would tell him if someone entered the room while he was gone.

  Forty minutes later, when he and a somewhat better looking Daen set off to meet Petior, James noticed he had a tail again. The boy had apparently been waiting outside the hotel.

  Poor kid, having to wait in the cold all that time.

  James had a soft spot for kids who weren’t in the best of economic situations.

  “Bryan, we have a tail,” he said loud enough for Daen to hear him over the gust of wind. “Boy about ten, shabby coat, gloves, mismatched
shoes, about seventy-five feet behind us. This is part of what I was talking about earlier. Right now, no play,” he said as they walked.

  “Follow,” Daen replied, and he and James were on the same page. They went on with their business as if the kid wasn’t there.

  After a few more steps, Daen spoke, “And that one at ten o’clock?”

  Daen was rather skilled himself. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have been a member of the group.

  James looked up. “No change,” James answered with a fake laugh, as if Daen had something funny.

  They walked the rest of the block to the bar, where they found Petior waiting.

  “My Ameri`can friends! Ha ha, come drink!” he said even before the door was closed.

  James quickly gave the bartender a look with a slight tilt of his head as if to say, “Same arrangement as last night.” The bartender nodded.

  “Man, I can’t have it. Not after last night,” said Daen, looking decidedly green.

  “One drink with your friends,” said Petior. “What are you, how you say, walking punsy?” to which he laughed very loud.

  Daen whispered to James, “What did he just call me?”

  “Either a pansy or a pussy, but either way, it was funny.” James crossed to the bar, picked up the drink the bartender pushed at him, clanged glasses with Petior, and slugged his water down.

  “Whatever, man,” was all Daen could muster. He drank with his eyes closed and gave a slight shiver, managing to keep it down.

  It was apparent that Petior was about to order another round, but James cut him off by placing cash on the counter to cover the bill twice over, saying, “Petior, we are very hungry and looking forward to tasting some excellent food tonight and don’t want to spoil it with too much vodka first. Shall we go?”

  “Da, da, good point making, da, let us go now,” said Petior, but James was slightly distracted. Something was coming. His stomach was swinging as though he were on a roller coaster. The sensation was stronger tonight and again felt like something about the bar.

  His eyes scanned the room and did a fast head count. Seven customers, his party, the barman, and the plain waitress. The layout hadn’t changed; nothing was out of place. This wasn’t it, not yet, but he was on full alert.

  James bet it had something to do with the kids tailing him. He’d felt this same feeling last night, but it had been too early and could have been jet lag.

  He hadn’t yet mastered these little warnings he got and wasn’t particularly keen for them to continue, especially when some were false alarms. Tonight, he was conscious enough not to let it show that anything was concerning him.

  Walking toward the door, he smiled and clasped Petior with his left hand and Daen with his right. Upon exiting, the first thing James looked for was a kid. He saw a girl and quickly realized the kids were using a complex relay system with disguises and all.

  This girl was about nine or ten and appeared to be wearing boys’ clothes, but at least she wore newer looking shoes and a coat free of holes. Her hair was rather short and sticking out everywhere from under her hat. As they walked, following Petior to the restaurant, it was evident she was new to this. She tried to mask it by begging along the way, which made her have to run to catch up every time she asked for money.

  They walked only a few blocks, but it seemed much longer. They kept making odd turns here and there. When they stopped and Petior knocked on an old wooden door, James wondered where they were. Nothing marked this place as a restaurant.

  “What are we doing here?” Daen’s voice was muffled again behind his coat collar.

  “This is the place,” Petior answered. “We go in back. Only special VIP use this entrance.” The Russian pushed out his chest as if to boast.

  A voice came from inside, speaking in Russian.

  Petior answered, and the door opened.

  James was clueless. “You catch that?” he whispered as Petior walked inside.

  “No.” Daen walked over the threshold, a puzzled look on his face.

  James looked back as he pulled the door closed and saw the girl turning the corner, no doubt heading back to report their location. At least she wasn’t standing in the cold waiting for them.

  They walked through a storeroom filled with potatoes that looked like it also served as an office. This connected to a short dingy hallway that opened to a kitchen area. The kitchen looked like an odd assortment of modern equipment meets the eighteenth century. A large kettle was boiling over an open fire near a huge stainless steel counter and matching refrigerator with a large extension cord powering it. Old graters sat next to a food processor and espresso machine.

  “You see here the plates and new machines?” said Petior. “I get these for them and they do me favor in return. Food is very good, too!” He said this louder than was needed, and the two women in the kitchen smiled, with the older giving Petior a wink.

  The man who had let them in led them to a hall with two additional doors and a staircase. They went up the stairs and entered what appeared to be a private parlor, which was the second door on the right.

  The room consisted of a large fireplace that took up almost a whole wall, a ragged sofa with beautiful hand woven coverings, and a table with four chairs. Candle brackets lit the room, though based on the outlets and light bulb in the center of the ceiling, electricity was available. Two small windows on each side of the sofa let in extra light.

  The man produced a tablecloth from a cabinet in the hall and gestured for them to sit.

  “I will get the best food, da?” said Petior.

  “Sure, man, that would be great,” said Daen.

  Petior stepped with the man into the hallway and began to order the dinner in Russian.

  “No vodka!” Daen called out.

  “Baaaa,” came Petior’s reply.

  Daen looked at James for support, but James was already chiming in. “Petior, please just water for tonight.”

  More grumbles followed by laughter from the hallway.

  “What did he say?” asked James.

  “Missed it, but probably saying how we ‘Ameri`cans’ can’t hang with them drinking. After yesterday, he’s right,” Daen said with a frown, embarrassed to admit it.

  James smiled. Walking toward the windows, he noticed that the floor creaked with each step, like the old Buddhist temples that used creaky floors as an alarm system against intruders. Peering into the street, he noticed the windows in the adjacent building made a mirror effect. His eyes fell to the outside windowsill of his own window.

  There was a marking there. Two downward slanted lines parallel to each other. They looked like scratches, except they were burned into the wood. The top line had a small hook toward its highest end while the bottom had a larger blunt circular end at its bottom. Crossing the two in the center was a single vertical line. For some reason, this looked familiar.

  James turned to call Daen over, but Petior was back and beckoning him to join them at the table.

  “Friends, tonight you will have good Russian food from good Russian people. They bring the best for you at no charge.” Petior was clearly pleased at this arrangement.

  “We certainly appreciate that, but we can pay. We’re grateful to you for just bringing us here ...” began James, but Petior would not allow it.

  “You have paid enough. You bought all drinks last night and then today. It is my turn to return favor with my friends,” said Petior in a humble voice.

  James knew it would be offensive to refuse, so he said, “Thank you, my friend.”

  Daen said the same in Russian, which made Petior laugh.

  “How does black man speak the motherland tongue so good?” he inquired.

  “What? A black man can’t speak Russian?” Daen pretended to be insulted. In fact, he thought racism was funny because it was so ridiculous. “It isn’t too interesting a story, I’m afraid to say, man,” he went on. “When I was in high school, my momma had a friend who was a professor. She said I should take
Russian in high school because I needed to take a second language for college anyhow. If I took Russian, I would qualify for some scholarships without much competition, since most people don’t take Russian. Especially since I was taking it as a minority. So momma made me take four years of it.”

  Daen laughed. “They were right,” he confirmed. “I got a nice scholarship, and now I’m minoring in Russian. My professor laughs and says I’d blend into Russia if only I matched the snow.”

  They all laughed at this and clinked glasses. Daen and James had water, and as usual, Petior drank vodka.

  As the meal courses began, dinner was full of laughter, discussion, and excellently prepared food. Daen was obviously starting to feel better and had begun exchanging jokes with Petior in Russian.

  “That is much more funny hearing the way you tell it, Bryan,” said Petior, a huge grin on his face. “I will need to remember to tell your version with the pig instead of the fat waitress; is much better.”

  “I think you translated something wrong, Bryan,” said James, grinning at his friend.

  Petior attempted to correct the Russian where Daen went wrong because pig means just pig and the slang did not translate, which led to more laughter.

  “Hello, Petior,” came a man’s voice in Russian from the hallway that sounded slightly out of breath. A short, round man with a head full of white hair entered the room, walking slightly forward on his right side, as if he’d had a shoulder dislocated too many times. His face was lined, though he was probably only in his fifties.

  “This is my friend Roman. He is owner and our host,” Petior explained as everyone shook hands.

  “Dinner was very good,” James began, but he soon realized Roman, given his expression, did not speak English fluently, if at all.

  Daen immediately jumped in and expressed their gratitude.

  Roman stared at Daen as though he’d never met someone like him in his entire life, then leaned in and whispered something to Petior.