by Scott Blade
“So what then?”
“Don’t worry. He’ll get them both soon enough. They’re bound to go somewhere more private.”
“What about the operation? We need her to make Karpov cooperate.”
“Does he know that we have her yet?”
“I’m sure he’s put it together. I wanted to have him hear her voice before I threatened him. Better impact that way.”
The Listener said, “Time to change your tactics. Make the threat so we can stay on schedule.”
“Karpov is a tough man. A smart man. He won’t give up the launch code without proof of life.”
The Listener said nothing to that. Instead, he said, “Just do it. My guy will have them soon and we’ll prove it to Captain Karpov if he so wishes. We have little time left. I want that missile in the air on schedule, Farmer.”
“I’ll have it done.”
“Good. Don’t give me your location over the line. But are you within the preferred striking distance?”
“Almost.”
“Good. Get moving then.”
“I’ll call you back later.”
Farmer hung up the phone.
The Listener clicked the cell phone off and laid it down on a desk, tried to relax. A yawn. A stretch. And the Listener was more alert again.
The operation had had a couple of hiccups, but it was going to happen. And no stranger or Russian was going to stop it.
CHAPTER 37
WIDOW AND EVA ended up walking around for over an hour. They had left the diner and Widow took a full cup of coffee to go. He’d finished it long ago and they had to stop once more at an early morning coffee stand on the side of the street to get another coffee for him.
Eva kept her hands free, but had them wrapped up inside Widow’s sweater.
She stayed close to him as they walked, partially for warmth, and partially for other reasons that he did not completely dismiss, but also was not ready to believe were true.
The sun had come up and the morning was alive and well.
First they saw the early risers hitting the streets. They saw the morning joggers coming out of their apartments. They saw the first shifts of first responders coming on and then the third shifts signing off. They saw fresh-faced cops driving their routes, getting coffee, preparing for the day.
They saw twice the number of stores and diners opening up. The streetlights switched off all at once and the birds chirped.
Widow and Eva found themselves in the East Village, walking in circles after a while.
“Widow, I don’t think department stores are open on Sunday morning. I think most of them don’t open till noon, maybe eleven, but not this early.”
“I’m sure we’ll find something. Have faith.”
Eva said, “You know we’ve walked this street before?”
“I know. See that van right there?”
She looked. There was a rented yellow panel van, parked in front of a small clothing store that looked half empty.
“What about it?”
“That’s what we’re looking for.”
“What is it?”
They were coming up on the parked van from about ten yards away.
“It’s an opportunity.”
Widow led the way and they walked over to a small store of some kind that was about the size of the First Lady’s closet and not much bigger. The windows were tinted black enough to be the shades on a Secret Service agent’s sunglasses. There was no visible sign for the store, only where it used to be above the door. There was the sun-bleached outline of letters. It was a name that Widow could not completely spell because some of the letters were undecipherable. Not that he was trying too hard.
The name of the store was not important to him. What was important was what they sold.
“Widow?”
He pointed at a handwritten paper taped to the door and read it to her.
“They’re going out of business.”
“Do you think they’ll sell us clothes?”
“I’m sure of it,” Widow said as they both saw stacks of open boxes with folded clothing hanging out.
They were greeted by a young couple. Both tattooed. Both had huge smiles on their faces. Both were busy moving things and packing things and telling two other guys to pack this or move that to the van. Hired help, Widow figured.
THE MAN IN BLACK circled past the parked van and the stranger and Eva a couple of times. They had been in the store for almost an hour.
They were shopping for something. He knew that. But he was confused as to why?
He ended up parking down the street and waiting.
Finally, the stranger appeared first. And then Eva. And he knew exactly what they were doing because they both came out with new clothes on, which he figured was only a tactically decision for the girl. She had not been wearing any kind of field clothing after all.
He watched them shake hands with a young couple and then they left, headed for First Avenue and moving north.
The man in black started up his bike and followed as slowly as he could, staying back, staying way back because he knew that the Russian was trained and obviously, the stranger must have been as well. At least he must have been dangerous.
He stayed as close to them as he could without being spotted until they came to the entrance to a metro station and ducked down the stairs into New York City’s underbelly, which mean that he had to follow them on foot.
He parked his bike, abandoning it in front of a fire hydrant, illegal he knew, but what choice did he have? This was New York City. Sunday morning. The weather was crisp, but warming up with the sun and early morning pedestrians were coming out to enjoy it. There was no parking available and he would lose them if he searched for some.
He followed them down the steps into the tunnels of New York’s subway system.
CHAPTER 38
EVA WORE ALL BLACK.
They had told the couple that they needed some very comfortable clothes. When asked how comfortable, Widow had responded that it should be durable, comfortable, warm and good for “night work.”
The man had chuckled out loud to this comment, even though Widow was serious.
They played it off and the guy helped Widow, while his wife helped Eva. It had turned out that the couple had moved to New York City with a dream of expanding their little shop into a franchise and a clothing brand.
The woman designed the clothes and the man had obviously been in love with her about as much as Widow had ever seen in a married couple.
It also turned out that she was three months pregnant and sales weren’t going according to plan. However, the new addition to their family meant that neither of them was sad that they were being forced to close the shop and move back to Kansas or Indiana or wherever they had said that they were from.
Widow ended up in all black as well. Black jeans. Black t-shirt under a black hoodie that zipped up and had space in the pockets for one of the Maxim guns. The other he gave back to Eva, who stuffed it into a black bag that she had also purchased.
The bag slung over her back like a backpack, only she had informed Widow it was a purse. He did not argue.
They purchased their metro passes from a machine and entered the underground system.
“How do we get to the right street?” Widow asked.
She shot him a questionable look.
“What?”
“You don’t know?”
“I’m not a local.”
“Still, doesn’t everyone know the metro in New York?”
“I don’t. I’ve only used it once.”
“What do you use, Uber?”
“I’ve used that once too.”
“How? You don’t have a phone?”
“Someone else’s phone.”
“Old girlfriend?” she asked and led him into the small crowd of commuters as they crisscrossed people going either one way or the other.
“No. An FBI agent actually.”
“FBI? Were you FBI?�
�
“I said it was someone else’s Uber. She was an FBI agent.”
Eva said nothing else about it and pointed down the tunnel.
“We’re taking the sixth train. To Grand Central Station and then we’ll transfer to head toward the United Nations.”
Widow nodded and felt her warm hand take his. She led him farther.
Which did distract him because he did not see the man in black following behind them.
CHAPTER 39
THE LISTENER SAT BEHIND an office desk in a building that was not as busy as it was during the week because it was Sunday. The plan did not include being in the office today. The plan had been to deal with everything from home, since that was a quiet place with no family members around. No distractions. No significant other.
The Listener had no real friends here anyway. Although there were plenty of colleagues who thought they held the title of friend. But to the Listener, that’s all they were, colleagues. Nothing more and nothing less.
It had been time for Russia to return back to the good old days.
The Listener, the man in black, and Farmer, and the men at their command, were dedicated to this.
The Listener had military training and counter intelligence training, and experience to boot. Most Americans that came and went throughout the Listener’s daily life had no idea what it meant to live back when the Soviet Union was strong and powerful. Back when it and the United States were great enemies. That was when everything was great. That was the time to be alive. That was what it meant to be a warrior, fighting for good, fighting for your country.
Today, globalization had changed everything. In today’s world, the enemy was also your friend.
Russia and the United States were allies, who covertly waged war against each other, all at the same time. What the hell was that? What kind of state of affairs was this?
The Listener and the man in black and CIA agent Farmer were all on the same page on this front.
They were all tired of the world being so weak and gray.
The balance of power was dead. All three of them knew that. They knew that there was no more “balance.”
The scales had been tipped in favor of the United States, long ago. There was no enemy to fight. No opposition.
Politicians in DC and Moscow went on and on about terrorists. They were the new enemies. The militaries of both countries must fight terrorists. But what kind of enemy was that? What kind of war can be fought against so-called soldiers, most of which can’t even read?
It was a slap in the face to the Listener. It was a shot to the heart.
Experience told the Listener that most so-called enemy terrorists did not even know the difference between right and left.
Afghanistan was a country that both the United States and Russia had fought in for decades. The Russians got there first, but both had been there for what seemed like forever. Fighting there was a complete waste of time. Most of the enemies they fought there did not know anything about warfare. They had little technology. They had no grasp of world affairs. They were below under-educated.
To the Listener and the rest of the operation heads, what they were doing was a necessary action.
The Listener looked at the clock and date on a cell phone screen. It was November ninth. It was a Sunday and the time was nearing eight in the morning.
It was the day of the anniversary. It was the day of a restart of hostility between Russia and the US. It was the day that the Listener had been planning for a long time.
The Listener texted the man in black.
“Where are they now?” The message read.
A moment later the message was answered with, “Going to subway. Headed to the United Nations, is my guess.”
The Listener read the message and took a sip of coffee from a mug on the desk. Then responded with, “No. They’re headed to a law office nearby.”
A moment later, there was another messaged response.
“You sure?”
The Listener typed back, “It’s where her handler works. It’s good. It means the stranger is a nobody.”
The man in black typed back, “How so?”
The Listener responded with, “If he was a Fed they wouldn’t be going to the Russian spy that she betrayed for help. He has no backup. He really is a nobody.”
And then the Listener paused a beat and sent another text that read, “Get a photo of them.”
A couple of moments later a message came back with three images attached. All were not the best quality. All from a distance with people moving in and out of frame. And all were taken with the zoom on a cell phone, which is not the best resolution to begin with.
The Listener studied them. Looked hard at the stranger’s face. A feeling of partial recognition, a stir of familiarity, and a sense of the kind of man the stranger was, came to mind. But there was no tangible memory of the stranger.
The Listener got more of a feeling of déjà vu. The stranger had never met the Listener. But something was identifiable about the stranger.
The Listener knew exactly what it was. The stranger had a long military career, possibly more.
Another text came through. It read, “Want me to retire them?”
The Listener typed, “Yes,” but paused a beat and then backspaced and typed over it. The text read, “Forget them. We know where they’re going. Go to the hotel. Wake up Farmer’s men. We might need them. Be careful.”
A moment later, the man in black responded with, “You too.”
CHAPTER 40
WIDOW AND EVA GOT OFF at the Grand Central Terminal and Widow pointed out a payphone and reminded Eva that they should call her handler and get her to meet them. At first, the handler protested because it was a Sunday. In the end, she gave in and agreed to meet.
Afterward, Eva hung up the phone and they exited the terminal and walked east down Forty-Second Avenue toward the river, where they turned at the United Nations building. Widow took in the row of flags and admired the building that was built by good intentions. He was suddenly reminded of the cliché that the road to hell is paved by them.
Eva ignored it. Probably because she had been there and seen that.
The temperature was warming up a little from light jacket to long-sleeve weather.
Widow asked, “Do you normally meet with her at her office?”
“No. I’ve been there before. People think that she helps me with my green card. She helps a lot of Russians. She’s an immigration lawyer. It’s perfect cover.”
“Are all of her clients Russian spies?”
Eva smiled, said, “Of course. All of them are just like me. Beautiful seductresses here to take over your country.”
Widow tittered, but embraced the thought anyway. It dawned on him that if there were thousands of Russian spies that were just like her, the men in this city were in deep trouble.
They pressed on until they were close, but Widow stopped checked the surrounding buildings, windows, entrances, and sidewalks. He looked on as many faces as he could of pedestrians, both on foot and on bike. He looked at the drivers of cars and at people sitting on benches, reading newspapers. He took particular interest in anyone using a cell phone. There was no one who stood out to him as out of place. No detectable surveillance. No men with earpieces. No dark, unmarked vans. Nothing.
Of course, in a place like New York City, Widow couldn’t be sure. No one could. It was too crowded. Too many faces to vet. Vetting everyone that you come across on the streets of New York as a non-threat was impossible.
They came to the law offices, which were in a building complex with other firms and offices. The building was ten stories of brushed steel and shiny glass.
“This is it,” Eva said.
“When is she going to get here?”
“Soon. She said twenty minutes.”
“She must live nearby then.”
“I guess. We wait then.”
“Is there a café in the lobby?”
“There
’s a little cart thing.”
Widow smiled, said, “Let’s get some coffee.”
“You drink a lot of coffee!”
He shrugged.
“Aren’t you scared of a heart attack?”
“No. A beating heart isn’t likely to have a heart attack.”
“But isn’t that coffee making it beat faster?”
“Better to beat fast than slow.”
“Or not at all, I guess,” she said.
They walked through a set of automatic doors and waved at a guard sitting behind a desk. This one was more alert and friendly than the one from Edward’s building. Which reminded Widow of the guard that they’d left duct-taped inside his apartment. He wondered how long it would be before someone found him. He would have to remember to make an anonymous call to the NYPD about him when this was all done. If it was ever done.
They waved back at the guard, who seemed to recognize Eva and smiled at her.
“He remembers me,” she said.
“How could he ever forget,” Widow muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Where’s the coffee?”
Eva pointed to an offshoot of the lobby and they walked down it to grab a coffee and wait for her contact to arrive.
CHAPTER 41
THE MAN IN BLACK kicked the guy that he knew to be in charge of the babysitting mission. The guy did not budge. He lay on the floor, unconscious.
“Wake up!” the man in black said.
No movement.
One of the others was snoring, loudly. Another tossed and turned. All four of them had rapid eye movements like they were in deep dreams.
The man in black went to the bathroom to find the team’s black kit, which was where they kept the sedatives, needles and smelling salts.
It wasn’t in the bathroom. But he did find signs of where the Russian girl had been kept. He wondered why they did not have eyes on her at all times.
They were amateurs. For the first time he questioned the Listener’s logic in hiring them. Then again, the operation that they were running did not lend itself to having a variety of options. They couldn’t just ask any old mercenary to participate.
