Russian Law (Law Series ) (Volume 1)

by Camille Taylor

  The clerk picked up his phone and dialed his supervisor’s number. This is definitely something that classified as an emergency. As he listened to the phone line on the other end ring, he looked down at the video display relaying the feed from the security camera embedded in the wall above the exit and watched as Alvin Pochenchov followed Michael Ducane out the hotel’s door.

  Lucas Gates opened the door to his Annandale home. Silence greeted him. The house was deserted. True to her word Marlie was packed and gone. Good. He had never been a relationship kind of man anyway, never been one for home at five and dinner at six. He lived for his job and only had sex in between. He had taken a slight chance with Marlie but like all his other relationships had gone bust. All his previous girlfriends thought that they could change him. Make him something he was not. He was not a man to be consumed by everlasting love. Not that he didn’t believe in it just that he had never experienced it and probably never would. Not many women could deal with what he did for a living, the secrecy of never knowing exactly what he was doing and with whom not to mention the erratic hours.

  He had been recruited straight out of college and had found the work rewarding and had made a career of it. He had been taken under the wing of James Fitzgibbon when he was just a green boy and was made into the top agent and man he was today. He owed Jim for that, among other things.

  Lucas looked about his house. Some might say it needed a woman’s touch. He hadn’t updated his furniture since college and the IKEA brand looked dated, not at all homey. Maybe one day soon he would hire someone to come in and redecorate. Why not, he thought, he had the money for it, never taking vacations. He was one that lived to work and not worked to live.

  He went to his bedroom and pulled out his carry-on from the closet and started packing. He came across some articles of clothing left by Marlie. He tossed them across the room towards the bin. He didn’t plan on seeing the woman again and he wasn’t about to go out of his way to return her clothes to her. As far as he was concerned anything she left in her bid to get out of his life was fair game.

  Lucas turned his attention back to packing. Although it barely required much thought these days, the action second nature that his hands automatically picked up his razor, comb, toothbrush and toothpaste from the ensuite. The only thing that ever changed was the locations. He had never been to Russia before and this would be a new experience to him. He made sure he packed some long johns. It got cold in Russia,. He was only half joking to Jim when he mentioned his balls might freeze and drop off.

  He threw in his cell phone charger and zipped up the carry-on. He was now ready, tucking his passport into his pocket as he mentally ran through the GPS in his head, picking out the fastest route that would bypass the bulk of traffic out at this time of day. In two hours he would be boarding his flight bound for Moscow.

  Chapter 4

  Elena Ivanova opened the large glass door and entered the building housing SVR headquarters. She swiped her identification badge in the reader and headed down the hallway. She had worked for SVR for over five years as an inter-agency liaison officer. It was a job she loved and did well. She had connections in almost every Intelligence Agency in the world. She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to her floor.

  After her husband had died, Elena had been subjected to months of grief counseling and was made to see the agency’s psychologist. None of which had helped her. Talking about the unfairness of life seemed pointless to her and the only thing that could make anything right was closure, which she knew she would never get. Not while Nikolai was still on her mind and he would never leave her, she wouldn’t allow him to.

  Soon Elena was entering her office and sighed out loud at the stack of papers on her desk. The pile was never-ending. She dumped her purse into her desk drawer and removed her coat before sitting down at her wood desk. She barely had time for her bottom to hit the soft cushion of the seat when a brisk knock sounded at her door and was immediately opened. Surprised, Elena looked up at the man standing in her doorway. She stared at him coolly as he entered her office and closed the door behind him.

  SVR Director Vladimir Mishkin looked over at her as he walked toward her desk. She stood as he drew near. She knew how much he hated it since when she was standing they stood eye to eye. At five foot six this was not much of an accomplishment on her behalf.

  “What can I owe this honor Director Mishkin?” she asked.

  Vladimir Mishkin looked about her office, at the stack of paperwork on her desk before looking back at Elena.

  “I need you to work on a case.”

  Elena’s eyebrow went up. She crossed her arms under her breasts and leant against her desk. She hadn’t been expecting this. For the past six months she had been confined to her desk, now she was being offered an active case and by the Director of SVR. Go figure.

  She nodded, understanding. “Meaning no one else wanted to do it?”

  Vladimir narrowed his eyes. She knew she had hit the nail on the head. She had heard rumors around the proverbial water cooler that a CIA Agent was on his way here. She just never thought that she would be the liaison officer. Nor did she particularly wish for the job. American’s have a rather bad reputation that couldn’t be ignored.

  “The American Agent is due in a matter of hours. I would not be asking you but as you can see I am in a bind.”

  Yes she could see that.

  “How long is he anticipated to stay? I have other work I wish to complete and don’t want my time to be monopolized.”

  “I would want your complete attention on this matter Agent Ivanova. I don’t wish him to be running about unattended.” He studied her carefully. “If you agree to do this, I will reinstate you to live status.”

  She smiled. “You must be desperate Director. I’ve been told until I complete my stages of grieving and the psychologist signs off on my mental health that these walls is all I’ll be seeing for a very long while.”

  Mishkin frowned. “You are very stubborn.”

  “That’s what Nikolai loved so much about me,” she told him sadly. “But I will accept your terms Director. I miss the people connection I once had and let’s face it no one likes paperwork.”

  Vladimir Mishkin looked at her as if she was something under a microscope. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? I could see if -”

  “I’ve been ready for six months Director Mishkin,” Elena interrupted. “In fact I’ve needed it.”

  Vladimir nodded. “Very well Elena,” he said, using her first name, something he did rarely. “But step lightly you will be watched closely.”

  “I’m not going to go off the deep end,” she promised firmly.

  She had learned it was easiest to keep her mouth shut and work in silence. At least until she had the evidence she needed.

  “Then the case is all yours,” Director Mishkin said and turned around, walking towards the door. Elena followed him out of her office.

  “So, who is this American Agent?”

  Lucas hated to fly, he hated the cramped seats that didn’t allow him to properly stretch his long legs out comfortably. He hated the damn in-flight meal and he hated the security checks at foreign airports. The country not long ago had a multiple murderer and known terrorist fly into the country and had the welcome mat rolled out for him. But a hardworking solid citizen and CIA special agent had twenty questions thrown at him, his references verified and had a pat down that came real close to second base – all while the head of security glowered at him.

  Fucking fantastic.

  What a way to start the investigation, he thought. Now he was in a taxi cab and after several attempts of trying to ask the driver if he spoke English was on his way to Yasenevo to the SVR headquarters. Lucas secured his winter coat more firmly around his body, the cold climate getting to him even through the layers of clothes he wore. It wasn’t like Washington weather, he mused, but a deep chill that cut deep into his bone and refused to leave. He watched as the driver swerve
d through the traffic, shouting what Lucas guessed to be a profanity as his thick, hairy arm rose with a rude gesture to accompany his remark at a truck driver who cut him off as they drove past Moscow Automobile Ring Road.

  Lucas looked outside his window, snow drifted down to the road adding to the already heavy layer. He guessed by midnight there will several inches on the ground and Moscowians tomorrow will be battling their way through the sludge. He never understood how people could believe snow to be so beautiful. Maybe it was because he had been born and raised in Virginia and that not a year went by that snow did not fall in the winter months. He had seen enough to last him several lifetimes and had certainly shoveled his fair share.

  Suddenly he was jerked back in his seat as the old relic of a taxi came to a stop. He glanced back out the window and then back at the driver who stared back at him with a look of impatience on his face. Lucas pulled out two twenty dollar American notes and handed them to the driver before grabbing his bag and exiting the cab. He had barely got the door closed before the taxi went rocketing into the stream of traffic leaving Lucas choking on the exhaust fumes.

  Once inside the SVR building, his visitors pass attached to his jacket, his pistol locked away in a lockbox at reception, he was escorted down a long hallway, up two flights of stairs and through numerous passageways before they entered a small conference room. An older gentleman sat on one side of the table, a seasoned vet, Lucas thought. He could always pick them, something about the way they held themselves or the arrogance on their faces maybe. He guessed this to be Director Vladimir Mishkin.

  On the other side of the table sat a woman who he estimated was in her late twenties, her hair was somewhere between a dark blonde and a light brunette. Her eyes were grey. They were both wearing suits, hers with a skirt and were sporting identification badges. They both stood as he entered.

  “Agent Gates?” Director Mishkin asked.

  Lucas moved forward. He wasn’t about to correct the man on the proper use of his title, Special Agent Gates. He nodded curtly. He had just about had enough of this God forsaken country, was it any wonder it was so far north? From the moment he got off the plane it had been one thing after another and had had a gut full. All he wanted to do was get this case closed and go back home.

  “Vladimir Mishkin?” he asked, knowing full well he would get a rise out of the old bastard. He was past caring.

  He saw the woman’s eyes widen in surprise. He guessed not many people dared address him as anything other than Director Mishkin. But he wasn’t most people and he wasn’t in a pleasant mood. He flashed her one of his grins he knew got the ladies heart rates going. Vladimir nodded, unruffled and raising Lucas’s estimate of the man. He had known some that would’ve coughed and spluttered over the blatant disrespect. “Nice to meet you,” he added.

  Time to behave Gates, he told himself. His country was on thin ice as it was. What had Fitzgibbon said, be diplomatic. He must remember that. He held out his hand and took the older man in a tight grasp, before letting go.

  “I hope your flight was not too rough?” Vladimir appeared to be pained but made the mandatory pleasantries. After all he was Director. He had to set an example for proper conduct.

  “I’ve had worse,” he admitted truthfully.

  “Agent Gates I’d like you to meet Elena Ivanova,” Mishkin introduced. “She will be your agency liaison during your stay in Russia. Any questions or complaints are to be directed through her.”

  Elena came forward. He could smell her flowery perfume as it filled his nostrils. She was short compared to him, standing several inches shorter than his six foot and was at the same eye level as Vladimir Mishkin who looked like a Hobbit, short and hairy. Lucas glanced down at her shoes, no not wearing killer heels some women chose, knowing full well what they did to their legs as they suffered through the pain, just suitable ones for a person expected to be on their feet for hours at a time, a sensible woman. He liked that. Elena Ivanova also rose in his estimations.

  Elena shook his hand. “How do you do?” she said in perfect English, with only a slight accent. She had been trained well and he knew from experience with the CIA’s liaison officers that it would not be the only language she knew. Many were expected to know at least enough to get by of all the major languages of the world.

  Close up he could now see her grey eyes were quite light, almost cold looking but the welcoming smile on her face was at odds to her eyes.

  Lucas smiled back. “A pleasure.”

  “Well Agent Gates I will leave you in Agent Ivanova’s hands,” Mishkin said before exiting the room.

  “Thank you.”

  He turned his full attention to the beauty in front of him. Elena wasn’t thin by Hollywood standards back home. No, she had some meat on her, something for a man to grab hold of. Her light colored hair was pulled back off her face in a no nonsense chignon. Her cheek bones were prominent, giving her facial structure an unusual look, one that would guarantee she got more than one passing glance by the male of the species.

  “Please follow me Agent Gates,” she said, her accent sending shivers down his spine.

  “Please call me Lucas.”

  Elena nodded. “Very well Lucas. You may address me as Elena.”

  “Elena,” he said, letting her name roll of his tongue, tasting it.

  Lucas followed Elena down some more corridors, his full attention on the sway of her hips. It wasn’t exaggerated as many women did when they knew a man was behind them but they still rocked side to side as they accommodated her long fast strides. He yanked his gaze from her hips and admittedly her ass, to look inside some of the open office doors as they walked past.

  The little worker bees were hard at work buried under mountains of documents. He could hear the drone of an overworked agent in the room up ahead. As they passed by he glanced into the room and saw the agent in charge giving instructions to a group of about ten men telling them about the mission they would soon be going on. Lucas knew the sight well as he had been in the same position as the man many times before, so the language barrier was non-existent.

  He leaned close to Elena and asked, “What mission are they about to impart on?”

  He watched as her eyes widened, surprise again on her face and wondered if he would ever stop surprising her. Not likely, he thought. Their techniques would be too different, too varied. He saw the question forming on her lips and he shook his head.

  “No, the only other language I speak is body language.”

  “Oh,” she nodded. “Well your spot on, the agent is telling his men about his informant that advised him that the mafiya has a shipment coming in on Tuesday. He wants to set up a perimeter around the dock with,” she paused listening intently to the man speak for a second before they were out of earshot. “Roughly fifty agents,” she continued as they turned a corner.

  Lucas gave off a quiet whistle. “Must be some shipment.”

  “It always is with the brotherhood.”

  She opened an office door and waited until he entered before closing it behind him. She walked around the side of her desk and sat down in her chair. He took the one reserved for visitors.

  “Director Mishkin didn’t give me many details as to why you’re here, Special Agent Gates, only that I was to accommodate you in any way possible and should give you access to anything you want.”

  A non work related thought popped into his head before he could stop it. He wasn’t usually one to think of sex during an investigation especially with a fellow agent. Lucas was very goal orientated and he believed that an agent was agent no matter the sex. They were all trained for the same thing and knew their jobs. Each had their own specialty – they’re own worth. He wasn’t a man with a big ego that needed to be stroked. He was also a team player and the “no I in team” rule had been drilled into him from the moment he had joined the CIA. He wasn’t one to cause problems because his boss was a woman. He actually had a high esteem of women in elevated positions, admiring them
greatly. He knew they had to bust their balls and be better than everybody else to get where they are and that kind of agent had his support one hundred percent. Which was why he didn’t understand this reaction he had to Elena Ivanova.

  Sure she was beautiful and attractive but she wasn’t the only woman in the world. He liked to kept things on a professional level always. His break up must have been affecting him more than he’d like to admit. Maybe it was his body or minds way of telling him he was ready to settle down. God, he hoped not. He loved his life just as it was.

  Lucas nodded. “Good to hear.” He settled himself more comfortably in his chair. “Two days ago there was a murder – professional hit, the man’s name was Igor Zimtovich.”

  Elena frowned. “A Russian citizen?”

  Again Lucas nodded. “That’s not all, found on his remains was this.”

  He pulled out Igor’s credentials and passed them to her, her eyes widened when she opened it up to see the SVR ID and badge. She looked up at him, her mouth opened slightly.

  “An SVR agent?”

  “It gets worse. We uncovered some partial fingerprints that we were able to match to a Michael Ducane. An American terrorist, his specialty is bomb making.”

  Elena frowned. “Michael Ducane?”

  “A seasoned terrorist, not to be taken lightly. We believe he’s currently in Russia.”

  “And I take it you have no idea why?” she asked.

  “Michael goes were the money is. He’s only part of the problem. I’m here to bring him in before he can do any damage and while I’m at that, find out who it was that hired him.”

  “That’s an awful lot to ask of one agent,” she commented.

  He grinned and her heart sped up, just as she assumed he meant it to.

  “I enjoy a challenge.”

  “Most men do,” she replied. “I’ll see what I can do help.”

  She jerked the mouse of her computer until the SVR seal and log in boxes appeared on screen. Deftly she entered her username and password into fields and pressed enter. SVR’s computer database came up on screen and she clicked on an icon and flicked through multiple screens before she had the one she wanted.