Cobalt (4 page)

     ‘I do try.’ Rick responded.

     ‘Yes, you are very trying, I’ll give you that. Go to sleep.’ She turned to face away from him, leaving him to his thoughts. The fantasy was gone. What he really wanted was the flesh and blood woman sitting beside him. She had other plans, however. He leant over and kissed her cheek gently. Madeline smiled slightly before turning back to face him. ‘Go to sleep.’ She stated, ordering him to comply. He smiled at her and then closed his eyes.

CHAPTER 5

 Teslovich sat, reclined in his black leather executive office chair staring out of the window, towards Red Square, drinking Johnny Walker Black Label, no Vodka for this Russian, he thought. It was too cliché. Evil Russian drinking vodka, only in James Bond 007 films. Besides after years in America he had developed a taste for the refined flavour of Black Label, and with his constant global travel he could buy cases cheaply, particularly from Italy. Teslovich always made it a point to have his pilots fly his private helicopter to San Marino when in Italy. It was a beautiful city-state within the region of L’Aquila. A city-state that like Monaco governed itself, had no taxes and sold Johnny Walker for five Euro…a mere fraction of its resale value. He always bought ten cases whenever he went to San Marino. He also bought cases of Cognac, Rum, good Italian wine, Moet and Amaretto – alcohol he could readily sell back in Russian. Ah Russia, thank the lord for communism and corrupt politicians. It was this that made his life so wonderful. Living off of others misfortunes…

   Teslovich was feeling exhilarated after destroying the Ninth Street bus station. The group had been inactive for far too long. Destruction meant power, and Teslovich felt as though the whole world was beneath his feet. The view from his twelfth floor office also added to the illusion. Taking a long gulp of his iced scotch, Teslovich eased back further into the chair, swinging his feet onto the top of his desk. Until Kellerin contacted him, Teslovich had been operating his antique business. As far as the authorities knew it was a legitimate business, run by a shrewd, but honest businessman. Little did they know the furniture, statues and other exotic merchandise provided Teslovich the means to ship drugs and weaponry into Russia, and internationally. The employees of Teslovich’s enterprise were also under the impression that they were working in a legitimate business. As far as they were concerned Teslovich’s latest absence was due to a promotional and purchasing trip to China, not the terrorist mission on American soil, in which he had participated. His mobile rang beside him. Teslovich answered it slowly, sipping the Black Label once more.

     ‘Teslovich, it is said that the Red Baron landed in Red Square.’

    ‘Had I had my way he would not have taken off from it.’

     ‘Ah, Comrade it is wonderful to hear from you. The mission was a complete success, however, my informant tells me that Director Shaw has sent Deputy Director Glazer and the delectable Madeline after you. So now my friend I must warn you. Be careful.’

     ‘Sir, I do not fear the CIA. I have outsmarted the likes of them on many occasions.’ Teslovich smirked. He saw no reason to worry. It was one man and a woman that pursued him. ‘A woman?’ He questioned somewhat amused at the serious tone his superior took. The thought of a woman tracking him soothed any doubts he had felt when Kellerin informed him of the pursuit.

     ‘You do not realise the severity of the situation. Madeline, though beautiful, is the most resourceful and intelligent creature I have had the pleasure of studying. Do not underestimate her.’ Kellerin had often thought that should Madeline ever join his syndicate, they would make an unstoppable team. Intelligence and beauty, a dangerous combination under the simplest circumstance, let alone on a crusade to shape and control the world. ‘A lot rides on your ability to distract Madeline and Deputy Director Glazer. They are by far the best to emerge from the CIA, or any other law enforcement agency. It is imperative that you keep them following you until the last possible second, before you join us in our endeavour to alert the American President to the situation at hand. Remember, stay two steps ahead of them. I will contact you soon. Again my friend, be careful.’ Teslovich dropped the phone on the desk beside him and turned back to face out the window. From where he sat the Kremlin, once the powerful centre of government for the entire Union of Soviet Socialist Republics before its dissolution in 1991, stood opposite him, and only a few blocks away. Teslovich reminisced, when the USSR had been at its peak this situation would never have touched the Great Sleeping Bear. Russia had been great then. Napoleon had been unable to defeat it, as had Hitler. Now his Russia was to fall to the US and it’s work treaty. Teslovich gulped down the remainder of his scotch and turned to his left to face St Basil’s multi-coloured onion shaped domes. The cathedral contained some of the most unique architecture in the entire world. It would be a tragedy to see such a great building crumble, but with the economy disintegrating, Teslovich saw it inevitable. In his mind it was the US/Russia work treaty that was destroying the economy and it was his mission to see the treaty destroyed. CIA or not, he would see Mother Russia returned to its once all powerful state, and Teslovich vowed, he would not be stopped by a mere woman.

CHAPTER 6

Marcus and Lychart had been busy all afternoon creating a profile on Kellerin and his men, to send to the White House. Dominic Kellerin was someone the CIA had dealt with on many occasions. While they, or any other law enforcement agency located on four continents, had never been able to capture the terrorist, they had completed a large file on the man. And from hits recorded hits in Africa, Europe, America and Asia, they were now able to identify his actions, a mile away. Kellerin usually operated on a relatively small scale. He was more about money, than killing. His choice of weapon was a black bag filled with plastic explosive surrounded by nails and ball-bearings. It was known that when planting these devices, Kellerin often did the task himself. The only problem was that the CIA, and all other investigative forces involved, didn’t know of his planned actions until it was far too late. Then all that was left for them to do was clean up the mess.

Madeline had been following Kellerin for some time now. She was tuned into his thoughts and feelings. Of anyone in the CIA, Madeline knew she was the only one who stood a chance at catching Kellerin. In Marcus’s search of the database the CIA had created on Kellerin, he had run across the profile Madeline had made. Drawing from all available resources, world-wide, she had been able to detail every event he had ever been involved in, from his debut protesting the Vietnam war, to this latest bombing. Kellerin, a devout catholic, had begun his causes fighting for freedom in his naïve Ireland, but as the religious battles in Northern Ireland drew no closer to resolution Kellerin grew disheartened. He wanted to make a difference. As his notoriety grew, his ability to deliver pin-point lethal blows to his enemy became known Kellerin became a highly regarded and respected hit-man. Kellerin’s first recorded kill was when Kellerin was only sixteen years old. Authorities had been chasing Kellerin for thirty years now. Throughout his thirty history as a global terrorist Kellerin had been active about nearly every issue known to man-kind, from the environment to the disadvantages Russia had compared to America in the space race. The production of nuclear weapons, to the forced signing of global disarmament treaties. Kellerin acted either on his own principles or on behalf of the highest bidder. He who held the money controlled Kellerin, and while Kellerin believed in some of his causes it became obvious by his contradicting fights, that where a paid job was concerned, his personal feelings had little relevance. Kellerin’s agenda, however, never changed. It was his belief that no matter the cause death was a last resort, particularly the deaths of innocent bystanders. Kellerin was a businessman and a strategist, not a cold-blooded homicidal maniac. All his hits were well planned and finalised so that the casualties were the lowest that they possibly could be, and that damage- public or personal- was also on a small, yet attention-demanding scale.

As Marcus had read Madeline’s profile he began to see why his fellow terrorists saw Kellerin as a modern day Robin Hood. His actions were for the greater good, and while they were not noble, they were effective. When he had found himself looking at Kellerin as a Martyr he reread the list of Kellerin’s convictions, and discovered that not once had Madeline insinuated that Kellerin should go unpunished, as he had imagined reading.  Whether or not his cause was just, Kellerin did inflict unnecessarily acts of violence, and as Madeline’s notes pointed out he was a killer, a ruthless one at that. Madeline’s profile also detailed Kellerin’s chosen associates physically and psychologically. Kellerin’s main associate was a well-known anti-American activist known as Comrade Michlov Teslovich. It was he Marcus believed Madeline was on the trail of. Teslovich was sloppier in his actions than Kellerin, so he was the more logical choice to track. By capturing Teslovich, Madeline hoped to be able to pin-point Kellerin, and bring him to justice.     

CHAPTER 7

Madeline and Rick surveyed the small apartment they had rented, in Moscow. Through the adjoining door they could see the small, but adequate bedroom. A chair sat by the balcony door, and apart from a television, only a lounge, small bar-fridge and a coffee table adorned the compact room. The walls were painted a yellowish-white colour, that contrasted greatly with the pale blue carpet and furniture. The decorations were sparse - a vase of dusty, imitation flowers sat on the television set, and a painting of a colourful fruit basket hung above the refrigerator in what was considered to be the kitchenette. Rick guessed that if he was to look in one of the draws beside the bed, he would have found a  bible, printed in Russian, of course.

Madeline left Rick to set up their communications equipment - which consisted of her Toshiba lap-top computer with built in modem, and a small satellite dish, about the size of an apple, for instant internet up-link - on the coffee table while she went and had a shower. They were in for a long wait, and after a long flight all she wanted was a shower and a change of clothes. Clean clothes.

After the shower Madeline headed out into the lounge to wait with Rick. A standard procedure up-date was due anytime, but whether it would be in the next few minutes or the next twenty-four hours was anyone's guess. Madeline looked at the clock on the computer screen. It was one-thirty in the morning, and she was getting closer and closer to falling asleep on the couch. Shifting the cushions around her, she rolled onto her side to look at Rick.

Rick rose and went to stand by the balcony door, tossing his jacket over the chair. He looked out over the silhouetted Moscow skyline; the city’s lights stared back at him.  Madeline gazed over at him, saw him reach into his inside coat pocket and retrieve a cigarette and a lighter. She scowled as he raised the cigarette to his lips, she hated it when he smoked, and just as he was bringing the lighter up to meet it, she leapt from her seat, strode over to him, and snatched it from his mouth.

         ‘How many times do I have to tell you to quit that?’ she scolded. Rick turned to face her, fully intent on defending his action, but when he found himself being studied by her bright sapphire eyes, he lost all defiance.

    ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘After the flight, being back in the field. I guess I still need something to help me relax.’

     ‘Does it work?’ she asked.

    ‘Not really.’ he said, shaking his head, slightly.

Madeline smiled as she tossed the offensive objects aside. ‘That's what I thought.’ she stated. She stepped behind him then, and placing a hand on either shoulder, she began massaging them and the nape of his neck. He raised his hand to his shoulder, holding one of hers. She leant forward to rest her chin on that hand. ‘I can help  you relax,’ she drawled in her even alto voice. Her words, spoken to soothe and tease, drifted into his ear, and then he could hear, and feel the closeness of her breathing.

     ‘Madeline,’ he began, rotating to look her in the eyes - the action releasing him from her grasp. ‘You're enough to give any man a coronary. Not exactly a relaxed state.’ At the widening of her eyes, Rick continued. ‘Shocked it hasn't happened to me yet?’ He offered a grin, for her benefit. It was a grin she countered by stepping away from him, breaking the mood that had been created.