SAVE THE GIRLS: A JAMIE AUSTEN SPY THRILLER (THE SPY STORIES Book 1)

by Terry Toler

  This case had him puzzled. If it was her, it would raise more questions than answers. Why would a young American woman attack two boys and rob them of a few dollars? If they attacked her, and she was defending herself, where did she learn the skill, and why didn’t she call the Militsia?

  Nothing about either scenario made sense. Petrov considered the second possibility as he tried to picture in his mind how it happened. The girl wandered by mistake into the alleyway. The boys tried to rob her, and she put them down, having some self-defense training. A grin came across his face, hoping that was the case. These punk boys were a nuisance and consumed too much of his time. The girl might deserve a commendation rather than an arrest warrant as far as he was concerned. But what did she have to hide?

  The only explanation then would be that she was CIA. He looked at her picture again. She didn’t fit the profile. Why would she be working alone in Minsk, and what interest would she have in a couple of punk kids? Maybe she wanted a gun and took one off of them. She obviously couldn’t bring one into the country. But the CIA could easily provide her one. The government knew the US had operatives working covertly in Belarus. Certainly, she wouldn’t need to rob a couple boys to get a gun, and neither of them mentioned they even had a gun on them.

  He called his secretary into his office.

  “Did we hear back from the Ministry of Transportation about the girl, Allie Walker?”

  “Yes,” she replied, “I put their response on your desk.”

  Petrov shuffled through some papers.

  The secretary walked over to the desk and found it for him.

  He glanced at it reading it aloud to himself, “The girl was thoroughly checked out in customs, and she’s clean.”

  Meaning she wasn’t a CIA agent or a known terrorist. The second was obvious. And the Ministry of Transportation would know if the Americans had an operative working in Belarus. A common courtesy afforded most host countries. Normal protocol, the CIA would contact the Ministry and let them know an officer was traveling to Belarus and would give them a stated reason. No one was naïve enough to believe they didn’t conduct clandestine operations, but what could a girl like this possibly be doing undercover in Belarus?

  More questions than answers, Petrov concluded. A mystery easily resolved by showing the boys her picture. But the one kid was out of commission. His only immediate option was the second kid. He pulled out the file to review his information.

  Rafael Lipko. Petrov ran his name through the computer and found no criminal record other than a few minor offenses while a juvenile. However, something about the name rang a bell. Lipko…

  On a hunch, he ran the last name through the computer and got a hit for Oleksandr Lipko, He did more research and found him to be Rafael’s older brother. Olek was a known gang member. He’d been linked to more serious offenses including the bombing of the Russian embassy. That’s why he remembered the name. Olek had done a couple stints in prison, but they hadn’t been able to make any of the more serious allegations stick.

  Now, he felt like he was getting somewhere. It made more sense. The attack could have been retaliation by another gang. Perhaps, Olek and his group did something to the Brotherhood, the name of a Russian gang operating in Belarus. The Brotherhood hit back by attacking his little brother. His brother made up a story about a girl attacking them to keep the heat off Olek and his gang. He searched the computer to see if there were any reports of gang activity in the last few days. Nothing obvious surfaced or that could be tied to a retaliatory hit. Didn’t mean something didn’t happen; it simply meant this wasn’t on their radar.

  Petrov debated his next move. He needed to question the boy, but it would be a pain. His morning was already shot, and he had a mountain of paperwork to take care of. He considered sending one of his other detectives but rejected that idea. This case was a priority to him. He wanted to satisfy his curiosity about the girl. Customs was suspicious when she entered, and that’s why they questioned her for four hours. He was suspicious now. Something about her didn’t seem logical even with what the Ministry had said. A gut feeling maybe.

  He looked up Rafael’s address in the police report and compared it to the one on the computer. They matched.

  The two young men lived in the Leninsky District less than three miles from his office. He wrote down the address, 24 vulica Karla Marksa, a street named after Karl Marx in a district named after Lenin. Petrov grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, gulped down another cup of coffee, lit a cigarette, and headed back outside. He could’ve walked but decided to take his car in case he got a lead that took him elsewhere.

  Not a house but a three-level apartment building. He pulled up in front and stopped in a tow-away zone right in front of the building. Petrov immediately wondered how the boys afforded such a nice place in such a nice part of town. He took the stairs rather than the elevator to the second floor, found number 24, and rapped loudly on the door.

  Olek answered. Petrov knew it was Olek from the mug shot on the computer. He flashed his lieutenant’s badge, looking for a response. Nothing noticeable came across his face. He seemed indifferent as if a detective came to his house every day, which was in and of itself suspicious. Most people in Belarus would be petrified if a lieutenant of the Militsia knocked on their door unexpectedly. Olek was trying too hard to seem innocent. Petrov had seen it many times. Try so hard to seem like they’re not hiding anything, and it becomes obvious they are.

  Olek wore a white sleeveless undershirt, black jeans, and expensive Air Jordan tennis shoes. He was muscular with an unshaven, scruffy beard, not full, but like young men those days were wearing.

  Anger rose inside of Petrov. He struggled to control it. He couldn’t stand punks like Olek. They were arrogant and had no respect for authority. More importantly, they had no regard for the history of Russia and Belarus and the men who’d come before them who fought wars so they could remain free from the tyranny of the west. He considered Olek a waste of youth and ability. He should be serving in the armed services rather than roaming the streets causing problems for the authorities.

  Petrov ignored his dislike for him and got to the point.

  “I’m looking for Rafael,” he said, roughly trying to bring the right level of intimidation to the situation.

  Olek had his left hand on the door holding it half shut. Almost like he was hiding something inside. Petrov could’ve forced his way in but wanted to let it play out.

  “He’s not here,” Olek said, becoming noticeably more nervous. A sign he was lying.

  “Where is he?”

  “He went to the grocery store.”

  “I’ll wait for him.”

  “He… may be a… while,” Olek said, stuttering. “I don’t expect him back for several hours.”

  “It takes several hours to go to the grocery store?”

  “He had to run some errands… for our mother. He’ll go to the grocery store last.”

  Now he knew Olek was lying. Petrov had been a detective long enough

  to know when someone was hiding something. But what? And why? He had no intention of waiting around, but he said so to throw Olek off. A clear sign someone was lying was when they changed their story after you poked holes in part of it.

  If Rafael was at the grocery store, he’d only be gone for a few minutes. He’d have milk or eggs, or something that needed to go in the fridge. He wouldn’t carry groceries around for other errands. If he was going to the grocery store last, Olek wouldn’t have answered that he went to the grocery store. He would have said he went out to run errands. Interrogation was an art, and Petrov knew all the tricks.

  Olek clearly didn’t want him to wait for his brother to return. Probably because his brother was already there.

  Petrov debated his next move. He could just walk right in. He didn’t need a warrant or probable cause. Whatever he wanted to do was enough to warrant a search, and a seizure for that matter.

  He hesitated. If he went in, he
’d probably find something. Maybe the boy. That would be the best-cased scenario. Then he could find out the truth about the girl. But what if the boy wasn’t there? He might find guns or drugs. That would require him to take Olek down to the station. There’d be paperwork to fill out, and then his afternoon would be shot. The whole day wasted.

  Instead, Petrov pulled the picture of the girl out of his shirt pocket and flashed it in front of Olek. “Have you ever seen this girl before?” he asked.

  Olek looked at the picture. “No,” he said with more of a grunt than a word.

  Petrov studied the young man carefully. He was telling the truth. At least about the girl. He handed him the picture along with one of his cards with a phone number on it.

  “Have Rafael look at this picture and see if it’s the girl who attacked him. Have him call the number on the card. He probably won’t get me but tell him to leave me a message. Just yes or no. Verify if it’s her or not. I expect to hear from him today. Is that understood?”

  Olek took the picture and the card but didn’t respond.

  “Do you understand, Olek?” Petrov said more sternly.

  Olek nodded yes and started to shut the door.

  “If I don’t hear from your brother in the next few hours, I’ll be back down here at your doorstep. I don’t think you want to see me again, so soon. Are we clear?”

  “Tak, ser.”

  “Yes sir,” Olek said respectfully with a hint of fear in his voice.

  Petrov turned and walked away and back down the stairs. More confused than before. What was Olek hiding? How was he involved? Made him more suspicious that the attack was related to Olek’s gang in some way. Maybe the girl had nothing to do with it after all.

  Petrov wasn’t a patient man. He wasn’t going to chase Rafael around town and didn’t want to make another trip to the hospital. The nurse had said Yegor might need more surgery. He wasn’t an errand boy. He’d already wasted too much time as it was.

  He decided to go to the hotel and question the girl himself. He’d conduct a thorough search of her and her room. If she was hiding something, he’d find it. If she was lying, he’d know it immediately.

  He got back in the car and drove to the hotel.

  ***

  Olek closed the door and walked into the bedroom where Rafael was hiding, shaking. He shoved the picture of the girl into his face.

  “Is this the girl who attacked you?” Olek asked roughly.

  Rafael’s eyes widened and a look of fear ran across his face. “That’s her.”

  “Why is a detective involved? What were you doing? You’d better not lie to me or I’ll beat you worse than she did.”

  “It’s Yegor’s fault. The girl just happened to walk into the alley. We were hanging out. We weren’t doing anything wrong. I promise. Yegor tried to rob her. He told her to give him her money and cell phone. That’s when she attacked him. She broke his leg. I was trying to get away but then she attacked me. Like some ninja or something. Started doing karate and stuff like that. She attacked us before we could do anything. Then she took Yegor’s gun. You know, the one you gave us.”

  “I have to get that gun back.”

  “I don’t know where it is. All I know is she took it. I didn’t tell the police about the gun.”

  “You idiot! Why did you talk to the police at all?” Olek said. “Have I not taught you anything? Never talk to them. We resolve these things ourselves. We have ways of dealing with people like her. You call this detective and tell him that’s not the girl.”

  He gave Rafael the card the lieutenant had left for him.

  “What if he knows I’m lying?”

  “Just deny it. He can’t prove it. Tell him that’s not the girl. Tell him you didn’t really see anything. It was dark. You were in an alley. You were blindsided. You don’t even know if it was a girl. You might’ve been wrong about that.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell him.”

  Olek put his hand on his little’s brothers head and pulled it toward him. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of this myself. She has disrespected your honor and the honor of our family. I’m going to make her pay.”

  Olek took out his phone and dialed the number for the leader of their gang, Kostyantin Vinovoy. The gang was called the Red Spades. They had more than a hundred members—men between the ages of twenty-five and forty. Many of them were hardened criminals. A number were wanted for various violent crimes including murder. Olek was one of the more prominent leaders. One of Kosyantin’s right hand men. He could count on his brothers to help him find the girl and make her disappear.

  Vinovoy answered on the first ring.

  “Kosty. This is Olek. I need your help.”

  ***

  Petrov drove the short distance to the Monastyrski Hotel. It took a while to find a parking space on the street. He didn’t want to park right in front of the hotel and perhaps spook the girl. He found Fabi and the two uniformed militsia in no time. Something that frustrated him. Fabi was not supposed to let the girl see him. If he could easily see Fabi, then so could she. He said as much right after he walked up to them.

  “What are you doing, Fabi?” Petrov said.

  “We’re watching the hotel. Waiting for the girl.”

  “You’re doing surveillance. She’s not supposed to see you.”

  “She hasn’t. I was just—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Petrov said in a gruff voice. “Has she come out?”

  “No. We haven’t seen her.”

  “That’s not surprising. She just got here yesterday. Probably jet-lagged. Slept in. She’ll come out soon. Are there any other exits?”

  “There are, but they all lead to this street. When she comes out, we’ll see her.”

  “Fabi, you stay in the shadows. I want you to keep following her, but don’t let her see you.”

  He told the two uniformed policemen to stop the girl and search her bags and her body. Make sure her papers were in order and that she wasn’t carrying a weapon. He’d give her thirty minutes. If she came out, the men could search her while he searched her room. If she didn’t come out, then he’d knock on her hotel room and surprise her. Even if she was asleep. An even better plan. Catch her off guard. Do a search of the room with her present and before she had time to hide anything.

  Petrov was satisfied. He finally had a plan.

  “Allie Walker. Let’s see if you are up to no good,” he said quietly to himself.

  12

  Monastyrski Hotel

  Jamie slept past noon. She felt much better, except for an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She would’ve slept later, but the feeling woke her up. At first, she thought she was hungry. Then she realized the feeling came with anxiety. A sense of dread. A sixth sense like danger was lurking.

  She sat up in her bed, analyzing the situation, searching for the source of her angst. It had to be one of two things—the fight with the boys or her contact not showing up. She decided she was most troubled about the boys.

  While she was concerned about the contact, the boys had complicated her mission. At first, she thought they wouldn’t talk. They’d be too embarrassed to admit they’d been beaten up by a girl. If they’d belonged to a more sophisticated gang, that probably would’ve been the case. But these were young kids, inexperienced, who would never be able to keep their stories straight.

  If she hadn’t hurt the one boy so badly, then they would’ve probably kept their mouths shut. The one kid with the hurt leg would have to go to the hospital. The police would be called. Even if they made up some story about another gang or being attacked by some unknown assailant, their stories wouldn’t hold up to interrogation. One of them would cave and say it was an American girl with blonde hair.

  The Militsia would show them her customs picture and they’d identify her. How many young American girls with blonde hair were running around Minsk? Her tail would also acknowledge he’d lost her for two hours, and she’d have no alibi. Her word
against theirs, and she could talk her way out of it, except…

  Except she had their gun.

  The gun was problematic. No way to talk her way out of having that. It tied her directly to the boys and to the attack. Although the attack would be the least of her worries. The gun would blow her cover. Any story she came up with wouldn’t matter. If they found her with it, they’d arrest her and not care whether she got it from the boys or not. They wouldn’t even care about the attack at that point. The gun would be their biggest concern.

  Jamie evaluated her options. She couldn’t leave the gun in her room. It would be searched again. Her hiding place was good, but not that good. Not worth the risk. She couldn’t carry it with her because if she were stopped, she’d have to use it. No way would she let them arrest her. That was why Brad said she couldn’t take a gun with her. His words echoed in her head. No guns. If you have a gun, you’ll be tempted to use it. She hated to admit Brad was right, and she was wrong.

  She couldn’t be captured in Belarus with a gun. She’d be locked up for years, and the CIA wouldn’t do a thing about it. They’d rather let her rot in jail than admit they had an officer working undercover in Belarus without notifying them first. But would she use the gun?

  If she was stopped by a policeman, and the gun was discovered, Jamie also knew that she wouldn’t use the gun against him. She wasn’t going to wound or perhaps kill an innocent policeman who might have a wife and kids in order to save her own skin. It didn’t bother her to kill bad guys, but she wasn’t going to kill an innocent man just to protect herself.

  She might use it to get away, but what if the policeman pulled his gun? She didn’t want to have to pull the trigger in self-defense. Local police would be no match for her. She was much more highly skilled, and she didn’t want to put herself in a situation where she’d have to make a split-second life or death decision. If it came down to shoot and escape or don’t shoot and go to prison for fifteen years, she’d choose the first option.