Chapter 7 – The Woman’s Story
Gwen motioned to Roger to come to the table and keep pressure on the woman. She left the kitchen, and returned holding her Glock, which the woman noticed. Roger pulled the table away and the woman stood up for the first time in three and a half hours. She stretched like a, like a Russian blue cat. When the cats saw her do this, they both stretched, too, in unison. This was the first time in six months Roger ever had seen them do anything other than sit on the kitchen counter and look regal. They then assumed their standard pose, Roger thinking his mutt cat couldn’t stretch like that. Roger, Gwen, and Catherine all watched the Russian woman stretch, and it was a sight to behold. She had a body that was half Olympic cross-country skier and half Estee Lauder cover girl. Jinny was gonna flip out when he saw this number. For the first time in many years Roger thought seriously about contradicting his wife, because he knew she was going to suggest, well demand, that the woman get her clothes on. Quickly he came up with a plan in which he would volunteer to get the woman’s clothes, and come back saying they contained super-sophisticated high tech weapons, built into the fabric of the clothing, that couldn’t be removed by anyone other than a CIA high tech weapons ordnance officer. They would have to get the story out of her in her current condition. This was just a fantasy, of course; he didn’t actually voice it, much as he wanted to.
Gwen motioned with the gun that they should go into the living room. On the way, she picked up the woman outer clothes that were on the hallway floor, and brought up the rear. In the living room she threw the clothes at the women, who put them on, Roger hating to see that.
When the woman finished dressing Gwen put her on the couch and motioned to Catherine and Roger to sit in chairs, facing her. A strange sound came out of Roger’s mouth, and Gwen thought it was his disappointment at seeing the woman getting dressed. It wasn’t. Roger was pointing to the baby grand piano, on which sat the two blue cats. This was the first time either Gwen or Roger had seen them anywhere other than on the kitchen counter near the pantry. How did they get there? Why were they there? Roger thought, what’s going on?
First he had met The Deneuve, who exhibited subtle magical powers, who then had taught them to his wife, who over the last six months had been teaching them to Slevov, one of the two wealthy Russian women who had helped the team steal the Hermitage artifacts, and who lived part time in a big Sullivan’s Island beach house. Now, here was another woman who apparently had this stuff, ‘cause, otherwise, why would the cats stretch like her and then follow her into the living room and sit on the piano watching her? Life was simpler before he got involved with Russians. He had more money now due to them, which was good, but his life was more complex. Never before had a woman dressed in black, wearing OPIUM perfume, sneaked into his house in the middle of the night, holding a Walther PPS. Roger was disappointed that he had not been able to determine, conclusively, that the woman’s underwear was silk, as he suspected, but he sure was looking forward to the next few minutes. Here he was, sitting in a room with two, and possibly three, special women; with the two inordinately special women ready to grill the third, potentially, special woman. He sat back and waited for something unusual to happen.
Gwen handed her gun to Roger, got up, and moved the heavy coffee table close to the woman’s legs so it barely touched them, effectively pinning her there, though in a gentle way. Gwen was not taking any chances, and Catherine smiled at her protégé. Gwen took her gun back and sat down, letting the gun rest casually on her thigh. There was a round in the chamber, racked into place earlier that morning, at 3:45am, and the safety was off. ‘Here we go’, thought Roger.
“What’s your name?” asked Gwen. The woman shook her head ever so slightly, which set her hair in motion. She looked down at the table touching the front of her legs, while the sofa touched the back of her legs. No answer. Gwen waited a minute, and of course neither Catherine nor Roger said anything. Gwen was on point again, the other two covering the flanks. Gwen slowly got up and went over to the baby grand on which sat the two cats. She looked at the woman, then looked at the cats. She raised the gun and began scratching one of the cats under its chin with the sharp little pointy site on the front of the barrel. The cat said, “Caooh.” Then Gwen did the same thing with the other cat. “Caooh.” Gwen, just momentarily, allowed the end of the barrel to point to the head of the cat. Then she came back and sat down in the chair facing the Russian woman. Gwen had Thespian tendencies, no doubt about it, evidently having rubbed off The Deneuve and onto her. Hadn’t the girls already established the fact they weren’t going to kill the woman and bury her in the garden. Roger loved it when his wife played games under stressful conditions. Catherine smiled at this metaphorical pantomime. Roger really hoped Gwen wouldn’t follow up her act with, “We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” and he didn’t think she would. Usually she was very original.
Gwen looked at Catherine and said, “We only have two options, and one of them is not viable, right?” Catherine nodded. “We’re going to trust her, right?” Catherine nodded. “She’s not going to come after us again, right?” Catherine nodded.
Gwen looked at Roger. “Is this ok with you, dear?”
Roger liked it when his wife played games under stress, but he wasn’t too sure about this one. He looked at Catherine, who sent him a powerful, positive, penetrating vibe, which diffused within him. It was a feeling of surety. He looked over at the woman, who was looking at Catherine, staring at Catherine. Roger knew if he rationally tried to figure out what was going on, he would get nowhere, so he closed his eyes and let his mind drift. The woman. Who was she? Who sent her to the June’s house? How did The Deneuve know she no longer was a threat? What was the woman going to become? Is her underwear silk or not? These ephemeral thoughts drifted through and around him, and then vanished. He was left with intuition, and he let it flow through him. It led him to trust his wife. He opened his eyes, looked at Gwen, and telegraphed his answer to her question: “Yes, ok.”
Gwen got up and went to the piano. She put her gun on its top, next to the cats. They were too hoity to beg for more chin scratching, but Roger bet they wanted some. She returned to her chair and pulled the table away from the woman’s legs. The woman crossed her legs and rubbed one of her shins. Roger liked that. Gwen said, “You’re in with us. You understand?” She nodded. “We will give to you, and you will give to us. Understand?” The woman nodded. “Do not turn against us.” The woman nodded. “Who are you? Why did you come here?”
The woman took a minute before she answered. “You know I can’t tell you that. If I told you, then you would think if someone got to me, and pressured me to tell them about you, I might do that. The only thing I will say is that now I am yours.” And she looked at Catherine and Roger.
Gwen asked, “Are you Russian?”
The woman laughed and said, “Of course I’m Russian. You know that. Why ask?”
Roger had a question he wanted to ask her, but he refrained.
Catherine remained impassive. She was beautiful when she was impassioned, beautiful when she was thoughtful, and beautiful when she was like this.
Gwen said, “Ok, we’ll demand nothing about your past, even though you know stuff about us. You weren’t too good sneaking around our house. Is there anything you can do right, other than wear perfume?” Gwen didn’t mention anything about the dog growling and alerting them to her sneaking around. No use giving away all their secrets.
The woman smiled a little smile, and made a sound. It was something between a hiss and a click of the tongue and a squeak, definitely Cyrillic in origin. Instantly the two Russian blue cats jumped off the piano and leapt onto the back of the sofa. One positioned itself to the left of the woman’s head, and one positioned itself to the right of the woman’s head. They sat staring ahead of them at Roger, Catherine, and Gwen. Roger thought, “Jesus.”
Then the woman looked at the doorway to the living room, and loudly said a Russian word. She looked back at them and waited. In seven seconds they heard the sound of dog paws on the stairs, coming down from the second floor. The June’s dog came into the living room, looked at Roger, and went to the woman, looking at her. The woman smiled at the dog and touched its head. Then she smiled at the others. Roger thought, “Jesus. My dog is now a Russkie.”
Catherine smiled and said, “We gotta winner here, Gwen.”
Roger thought, damn, first Catherine shows up with these powers, and then my wife gets them, and then Slevov, and now this one, who doesn’t even have a name, and who now controls my dog. For a split second he felt inferior, but then he got a grip. He thought about all he had left now was his mutt American cat. He bet this woman couldn’t get it to sit on the sofa behind her head. His cat would remain independent, as cats are meant to be. He hoped.
Gwenny June Page 6
