Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10) (32 page)

The sky continued to darken. The harbinger of an impending storm. There were fewer locals on the street. She realized it wasn’t a good idea to stay out any longer. No point getting caught in a spring storm a mile or so away from her hotel.

She backtracked toward her hotel. Stopped two blocks away from Anastasiya’s apartment building and took a few more pictures, zooming in on the doorman. Maybe Sinclair could get her a name.

“Anastasiya?”

Her heart stopped and her stomach sunk. Muscles clenched in reflex. The voice came from in front of her. She dropped her head and turned around. Walked away at a brisk pace.

The voice called again in Russian. “Hey, Anastasiya. Come back here.”

Her eyes scanned the street. Left to right. Right to left. She looked for something that would block the man’s view of her, and allow her to slip away at the same time.

“Where are you going?”

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder and saw the man that had called for her. He was tall and athletic looking and wore a dark trench coat, the kind that made hiding a weapon easy. He moved toward her, weaving in and out of pedestrian traffic. He was a block away. Far enough for her to give him the slip. Close enough that he could take her out with a single shot, if he had the right weapon under his coat.

Her feet moved quickly through the packed snow. She had to make decisions even quicker. Duck into a store or an alley? She’d be cornered. Run to the hotel? She’d give up her position.

A crowd gathered a hundred feet in front of her at a stopped bus. Old and young. Men and women. They boarded one at a time. She reached the bus after the last person had boarded. She jumped on the bottom step as the driver was closing the door.

“Please,” she said. “I don’t have fare, but I need to get on board.”

“Sorry,” the driver said. “You have to pay.”

She stuck her head out and looked behind the bus. The man was running toward her. He held a pistol in his right hand.

“That man is coming after me. He has a gun. He’s going to kill me.”

The driver turned his head, then squinted, then straightened up. Said, “Get on now.”

Clarissa climbed two more steps and stopped next to the driver. The door behind her closed. “Can you go off route?”

“I can take you wherever you need to go.”

“Just lose him and I’ll get off and you can take these people where they need to go.”

The driver nodded. Grabbed the mic off the dashboard. “We are going to pass the next few stops. Everyone sit tight. I’ll double back in a few minutes.”

The groans of the passengers behind gave way to the groan of the big diesel engine as the bus pulled away.

Clarissa placed her hand on the driver’s shoulder. She squeezed and said, “Thank you.”

5

Kharkiv, Ukraine was probably a nice place in the summer. Green trees mixed with the tan and khaki colored buildings that spiraled outward in a circular pattern from the center of the city. In late March, when temperatures hovered just above freezing while the sun spread its rays from above, dead trees littered the ground around those same buildings, and the scene looked desolate.

The plane continued northeast past the city and landed at what looked to be an abandoned runway.

Jasmine turned on her phone and pulled up a map that centered on their location. She held it in front of Jack and said, “Halfway between the city and the border.”

The pilot came out and opened the door. Dropped the stairs and disappeared again.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Jack said.

Jasmine nodded and stood.

Jack stepped into the aisle, grabbed their bags and headed toward the front of the plane. He stopped at the door and poked his head out. A car pulled up, a large late model sedan. Black. Two men got out. The man on the driver’s side stood next to the car. The man on the passenger’s side walked toward the plane.

Jack dropped the bags and reached behind his back. Grabbed his Beretta and held it out of sight.

The man stopped five feet from the base of the stairs. He lifted his arms to the side, stretched his fingers wide. He spoke with an American accent. “I’m unarmed. You can put your weapon away, Jack.”

“What about him?” Jack nodded toward the driver.

“He’s unarmed. We’re on your side.”

Jasmine placed her hand on Jack’s shoulder and leaned past him to look outside. She smiled at the man on the ground. “Jack, that’s Harris. He’s one of us.” She squeezed past Jack and went down the stairs.

Jack tucked his gun away and picked up the bags. As he stood up, he noticed Harris reach into his coat. Jack dropped the bags again. Reached behind his back. His hand wrapped around the handle of the gun. Then he saw Harris’s hand emerge with two dark blue passport folders. Jack let go of the gun. Took a deep breath, then grabbed the bags and walked down the stairs.

Jasmine was already on her way to the car. The driver walked around the back, met her and opened the rear passenger door for her.

Harris stepped up and reached for one of the bags, then he handed Jack his passport. “I don’t think we’ll have trouble getting across. These passports are legit.”

“What about the passports Frank gave us?”

“We’ve taken extra precautions with these.”

“What kind of precautions?”

“Monetary.”

“Paid someone off at the border?”

“Paid to have someone in particular at the border.” Harris turned and walked toward the car. The trunk popped open. He lifted it with one hand and tossed the duffel bag in with the other.

The men passed each other, Harris to the passenger’s side, Jack to the driver’s. He opened the rear door and slid in next to Jasmine.

“Are we going straight to the border?” Jasmine said.

“Yes,” Harris said. “After that we’ll take you to your car.”

They spoke little during the thirty minute drive. Jack said nothing at all. He stared out his window, catching glimpses of barren farmland between thick clusters of trees that formed a ten foot wide barrier between the highway and open land. He wondered why they hadn’t planned to let them out close to the border. They could cross by foot somewhere off the beaten path. Then they could arrange to meet further down the road. The scenario played out in his mind. He found a major hitch. The area would be patrolled. Hell, there might even be a physical barrier. It was probably safer to take their chances crossing where they could pay someone off than to risk being picked up by the Russian Army in a field crossing an arbitrary line.

The vehicle slowed and eventually stopped behind a line of cars. They were ten deep. It would take a few minutes to pass.

Harris turned in his seat and said, “Just stay cool. They’ll want to look at your passports. They won’t ask any questions. Don’t speak. Don’t make eye contact. Simple instructions. Follow them and we’ll make it across with no problems.”

Jack nodded. Looked past Harris. The scene ahead looked like something out of the 1970s. An old wood framed building stood next to the road. The windows were darkened. A high fence topped with barbed wire wrapped around the building on three sides and cut across the landscape as far as he could see. Two armed guards stood in front of the building. He figured there were a few more inside. Four more armed men positioned themselves around the car at the front of the line. One man stood next to the driver’s window and spoke. Two more stood in front of the car, and the last man at the rear.

The process repeated itself as each new car pulled up. At the sixth car, they pulled the driver and passenger out. Inspected them, then the car. Normal operations resumed after that.

Finally, it was their turn. The driver pulled the car up and stopped when one of the armed men held his hands out.

All four windows rolled down. Cold air rushed in and swirled around the car and enveloped them. Jack resisted the urge to pull his jacket tight. The move might alert the guards.

The guard approached the driver’s window. He said, “Passport,” and waited for the driver to hand his over.

The driver obliged.

“Why are you visiting Russia today?” the guard asked.

Jack shifted his line of sight from the two armed men in front of the car to Harris. Harris’s head turned to the side. The look on his face matched the feeling in Jack’s gut. Harris had said they’d ask no questions.

The guard straightened up and appeared to gesture toward the front of the car. One of the men left his position and went to the passenger side of the vehicle. He asked Harris for his passport and followed it up with a question. “What do you do for a living?”

“Contractor,” Harris said. “We’re all contractors. U.S. based and heading into Russia to make an estimate.”

That was all Jack caught before the guard on his side of the car stuck his hand through the open window. Jack lifted his hand, the passport held lightly between his thumb and forefinger. The guard snatched it and took two steps back. It felt like the process was taking longer than it should have. Out of his peripheral vision, Jack saw the guard approach again. The man’s hand hit the side of the car and the door next to Jack opened.

“Get out,” the guard said.

Jack cast a glance toward Harris, then stepped out. He felt Jasmine staring in his direction. Didn’t look back.

“State your name.”

Despite Harris’s proclamation that there would be no questions asked, Jack had studied the passport and created a back story. He hoped Jasmine had done the same.

“Milton,” Jack said. “First name, Mark.”

“What are your plans in Russia?”

“Like the man already said, we’re contractors and are on our way to estimate a job.”

“Don’t move.”

The guard backpedaled toward the front of the car. He handed the passport to another guy. Each guard took a turn looking at the picture on the passport, then at Jack, then back to the passport.

The open fields and possible physical barrier and roving teams of guards along the open border seemed like a better idea as far as Jack was concerned at that moment. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the guard on the other side of the car. He now stood with his weapon aimed at Jack’s head.

Jack slowly turned his head forward. Stared out across the empty field in front of him. No place for cover. Nowhere to run. No place to hide. He felt the heft of his gun against his back and wished he had hid it under the seat.

Just stay cool.

Easy to do with the air temperature. Tough to do under the circumstances. But Jack was trained for this. If it came down to it, he’d go out in a hail of gunfire rather than allow himself to be taken back to that hell hole prison.

The voices from the front of the car stopped. He heard the footsteps of the guard approaching. He didn’t turn to look.

The sound of the guard’s hard-soled boots hitting the pavement rose above the wind and idling engines. The man kept his rifle aimed in Jack’s direction.

His mind raced, thinking five steps ahead. He let his right arm drift toward his back. Toward his gun.

6

The man stopped a few feet away from Jack. The guy’s eyes were narrow and dark. His cheeks red and chapped. A few seconds stretched into twenty. What was the delay? Either they knew who he was or they didn’t. Finally, the man lowered his weapon and stepped forward. Lifted his other hand and said, “Here is your passport, Mr. Milton. Get back in the car.”

The guard lifted his rifle halfway, pointed in Jack’s general direction. Aimed at nothing. He stood there like a statue.

Jack reached behind his back and opened the door. He kept his eyes on the guard and had decided that any sudden movements he deemed as a threat would be met with equal force. The guard didn’t move until Jack sat down.

“What the hell?” Jasmine said.

Jack closed the door. “Roll the windows up.” He waited for the driver to oblige, then continued, “Someone recognized my face. They couldn’t place it, though. They all looked at my passport picture. The face wasn’t quite what they recalled. The name didn’t match.”

“The assassination,” Harris said. “The politician last year.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “They sent me to Black Dolphin over that.”

“I thought no one gets out of Black Dolphin alive?” Harris said.

“I wasn’t alive when I left.”

Jack waited for Harris to ask the inevitable follow up question. He didn’t. Instead he leaned back in his seat and stared out his window. The driver put the car in gear and slowly started forward. They rolled past the guards, who lined up two to a side. Knees locked. Shoulders pinned back. Weapons aimed down.

The driver accelerated quickly past the old wood framed building on the side of the road and the guards positioned inside and out. Tall trees lined the road again, blocking the views of barren farmland. No one spoke. No one moved. Thirty minutes dragged on and felt like three hours. Jack was relieved when Harris finally spoke.

“We’re here.”

“Where’s here?” Jack asked.

“Outside Belgorod,” Harris replied.

The location meant nothing to Jack.

The driver pulled the car into a residential neighborhood. Turned onto a street that dead ended into a cul-de-sac.

Harris pointed toward a two door, white car parked in front of a dirt lot and wood framed skeleton of a house. Said, “That’s your ride. All the papers are inside.”

“Did you put them there?” Jasmine asked.

“No,” Harris replied. “I had a friend do it.”

“Like your friend at the border crossing?” Jack said.

Harris twisted in his seat and turned toward Jack. “I apologize for that, Jack. He wasn’t there. I’m going to make sure that never happens again.”

“Do what you want. Don’t leave until we know everything we need is in that car.” Jack stepped out and walked around the back of the vehicle. Met Jasmine on the other side. They grabbed their bags from the trunk then walked toward their new ride.

“Think it’s rigged?” Jasmine said.

“Wouldn’t doubt with the luck we’ve had with explosives lately,” Jack said.

She laughed. “Seeing as how I’ve got nobody waiting for me, I’ll open the door.” She reached out and grabbed the white handle, pulled up and opened the driver’s side door.