Chapter Thirteen
Tess
TRUE TO HIS word, George was able to get us in contact with Krist Darwood, a.k.a.
The Man from Brussels. More specifically, with one of his four handlers, Officer James Hart.
Who, as luck would have it, was George’s godson.
Hart’s father worked with George back in the late nineties, and their families remained close to this day.
Hart’s relationship with George might also have had something to do with his cushy assignment of guarding an uber-rich guy who basically lived under house arrest. Regardless, I was in no position to complain.
George Korman got us to Officer Hart, who got us to Krist Darwood.
Officer Hart briefed Darwood on our situation, and once done, I set the meeting time with Sasha.
We were to join Sasha tonight at his home once more, but this time an actual party would be taking place.
One of his top crew members, a thug named Maxim, was turning thirty and Sasha was throwing him a blowout birthday bash.
Sasha made it clear on our brief phone call, that mixing business with pleasure wasn’t a problem for him if it wasn’t a problem for me. What would be a problem was our failure to attend.
“I hope you know how much I truly like you, Eleanor,” Sasha said.
“It’s the only reason you and your betrothed aren’t swimming in the icy waters of the Gulf of Finland.
But if I think, even for an instance, that you are playing me, I will cut you into chunks and feed you to each other. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sasha. You’re a man of your word and I wouldn’t disrespect you by thinking otherwise. Our employer assures me that you’ll come away from tonight’s meeting a happy man.”
“You’d better pray to God that I do.”
Click.
“We’d better pray Krist Darwood can act,” Cameron said, listening in to the call.
“Officer Hart said Darwood is an extremely cooperative asset.”
“That’s not how George made it sound,” Cameron muttered.
“We’ll be fine,” I said.
Cameron grinned. “Holy shit, look who’s out here on the business end of the I-beam.”
I sighed. “What choice do I have?”
“That’s the point of surrender,” he said, gently as we drove to the airport. “It’s kind of like a bumper sticker I saw on the back of one of those big ass, raised, semi-trucks that read, ‘If you can’t stop, smile as you go under.’”
“Of all your ‘pearls of wisdom,’ that is absolutely the biggest load of crap of all,” I said.
“Crap!” Cameron exclaimed. “I almost got a swear word out of you.”
“How can you crack jokes? If this doesn’t work, Sasha will kill us, and he’ll take his time.”
“That’s exactly why I’m cracking jokes. Otherwise, I’d have to think about how afraid I am.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re afraid?”
He reached over and linked his fingers with mine.
“Of course, I am. I’d have to be some sort of sociopath if I wasn’t.
You’re right. Sasha is a powerful and dangerous man who wouldn’t think twice about killing us, but we have a job to do.
And that job is to convince Sasha that we have the upper hand.
If Darwood diverges from the script or tries anything funny, we’ll have to improvise.
Otherwise, we stick to the plan. Soon enough, Sasha Fedya will be eating out of the palms of our hands. ”
“That’s a gross thought, but I appreciate the pep-talk.”
We met Officer Hart and the guest of honor at Pulkova airport, which is only about twenty-five kilometers from Sasha’s estate and can accommodate private jets. How a retired spook was able to pull off an assist like this was nothing short of amazing.
As we pulled up, I could see a tall man, dressed in what looked like a very nice suit standing outside the plane.
“Eleanor, Noah, it’s always nice to see you,” Officer Hart greeted us in character as instructed. There was little risk of Sasha having eyes on an airport tarmac, but it was best to stay sharp no matter where we were.
Officer Hart was tall, blond, handsome, and even more of a Dirk Squarejaw type than my Dirk Squarejaw. He had broad shoulders and stood a few inches taller than Cameron.
“Thanks for getting the boss here safely. I think this trip is going to be worth everybody’s effort,” Wallace said, shaking Hart’s hand.
“Sure,” Hart said, curtly.
Having seen Cameron’s genuine smile so many times over the past week, I could tell the one he was giving Officer Hart was as fake as the Matisse I sold to Sasha.
Then Krist Darwood, the Man from Brussels himself, emerged from the jet and made his way down the steps and onto the tarmac where he introduced himself.
At least, that’s what I’d write in my report.
In reality, I had to stifle a laugh when a man I can only describe as “looking like a balloon man made by a children’s party clown,” squeezed and wriggled out of the jet’s doorway.
His jet-black dyed combover belonged in the hall of fame of bad hairdos.
His suit, while clearly expensive, would have looked better if a reclining chair was wearing it.
He was squatty, misshapen, and had the skin complexion of Silly Putty.
And then he spoke. “Yeah, Yeah, good to see youse two,” Mr. B said in a pinched, nasally, Great Lakes accent.
“Now, how far’s dis fuckin’ house I gotta drive all da way out to?
Cuz da crapper in dis fuckin’ model airplane here is busted, and I gotta take a fuckin’ leak so bad my eyeballs are fuckin’ floatin’. ”
Now, I can’t tell you how I’d pictured Mr. B to look and sound, exactly.
But I can assure you, this was not it. This man did not present himself as a feared member of a violent criminal underworld.
This man looked more like he should be complaining to a tour bus leader on some crappy vacation package deal.
“You’re not stepping foot in that airport building,” I said.
“And we’re not stopping on the way,” Wallace chimed in.
“But I gotta piss,” Mr. B whined.
“Then I guess you’re gonna have to find a bush,” I said.
“A bush? Lady, where da fuck am I supposed to find a fuckin’ bush. We’re on a tarmac. We may as well be in the fucking dessert, that’s how many fuckin’ bushes are out here. Who am I, Moses? I’m supposed to conjure up some magic fuckin’ bush?”
“He always like this?” Wallace asked Officer Hart.
Hart shook his head. “No. Sometimes he’s difficult.”
Wallace bent down to face Darwood at eye level, pulling him close. “I’d like to get something straight, right off the bat, if that’s okay.”
Darwood shrugged.
“Good,” Wallace said. “First of all, I don’t know what kind of officers you’re used to dealing with.”
Officer Hart scowled, his spine stiffening.
“But you’re on my watch now, so you’d better stow your shit and get into character right fucking now before you get us all killed. Nod once if you understand.”
Darwood nodded.
Wallace continued, “Most importantly, that ‘lady’ is in charge of this mission, and reports to the people who hold your leash. This is her operation, which means you will do whatever the fuck she says, and you will do it respectfully. Or, you can say goodbye to your sweetheart deal and say hello to a dark fucking hole with your name on it, located someplace you won’t find on any map. ”
“Alright, ease up, he gets the picture,” Hart said, tapping Wallace’s shoulder.
Cameron shook him off, shooting Hart ‘Snake Eyes.’ “Put a hand on me again and it’ll be the last thing you do with it before a series of extensive and painful surgeries.”
The two men stared off and I’m not proud to admit it, but it made me so wet I thought I was going to have to find a bush. It’s not like these two ultra hot guys were fighting over me or anything but try convincing my panties that.
“You know that we’re doing you a favor by being here, right?” Hart asked, pulling my focus back to dry land.
“Gee,” I replied. “I thought we were all here to serve the American people.”
“Look,” Cameron said. “I’m sure your bad-guy is the life of the fuckin’ party back home in Osh-fuckin’-Bgosh, Ohio, but our bad-guy here in Russia doesn’t have a sense of humor. My partner and I are only alive because Sahsa Fedya respects and fears your asset. We need him to keep doing so.”
“You’re alive because you dropped my asset’s name. He’s only here because I’m here and I’m only here because George asked.”
“You know, I wonder,” Cameron said. “When God wakes up in the morning, does he think he’s you?”
“Girls, girls, you’re both fuckin’ pretty, okay,” Darwood said, cutting in. “How about youse can both ride on the parade float together, huh?”
“Shut up,” both Hart and Wallace said in unison.
“Oh, good. Now we’re on the same page,” Wallace said to Hart before turning to Darwood. “We need you to be Mr. B tonight, okay? Can you handle that?”
“I’ll be fine, I swear to gahd,” he replied. “But I’m gonna piss my fuckin’ pants if I don’t get to da john.”
“Just go behind the Jet, Krist,” Officer Hart snapped. “There by the back wheels.”
I had a feeling it was going to be a long night. I had no idea how right I was.
* * *
Cameron
This time around, we rented a Towncar and I drove, giving us the ability to speak freely and go over the mission plan several times on the way to Sasha’s house.
We supplied Hart and Darwood with as much pertinent information as we could and had to trust we could pull this off. The mission itself was simple.
“We meet privately with Sasha, and introduce him to Mr. B who, in turn, sells the idea of partnering with him,” I said.
“Which will not only save our butts, but hopefully grant me access to Sasha’s innerworkings,” Tess said. “Once I find out who his Nazi plunder connection is, I can get the heck out of here. Everything hinges on tonight.”
“So, let’s not shit the bed, gentlemen,” I said.
“And, if I didn’t say it before, thank you for assisting us,” Tess said.
I saw Officer Hart nod in the rearview mirror.
“Hey, every operation I assist on reduces the number of days I gotta have dis fuckin’ thing on,” Darwood said, pointing to his ankle monitor. “So I’m cream fuckin’ cheese over here.”
How this man came to be a feared connected guy was completely mind blowing to me. Used car salesman? Sure. Carnival barker? Absolutely. Game show host aboard the worst Great Lakes dinner cruise you’ve ever been on? B-I-N-G-Fn’-O.
But black-market smuggling kingpin? Try as I might, I couldn’t see it. But Mr. B was our only card at the table, so I was gonna do my best to play the fuck out of him.
“Potential asset or not,” Hart said. “If Sasha doesn’t go for this, and things go pear shaped, I have no problem putting two rounds in his chest.”
Holy shit, this guy was a crotch pheasant. Did he memorize that fucking dialogue from some straight to MüvieNüdle action flick?
“That’ll be some trick to pull off without a gun,” I replied.
“What?” Hart snapped.
“Oruzhiye zapreshcheno (Guns are forbidden),” I added.
Hart turned to Tess. “What is he talking about?”
“He’s right. Sasha has a strict, no weapons policy. There are metal detectors at every entrance, and his goons have a license to stop and frisk. The only guns allowed are the ones his bodyguards carry,” she replied.
“What’s the matter, Hart?” I asked. “Never been on a date without your gun before?”
“Consider yourself lucky I’m not here for you, or I’d be gone,” he replied, glancing at Tess.
“I can pull over and drop you off right now,” I said.
Hart leaned forward. “I’m the one that’s gonna drop you when this is all over.”
“Stop breathing on my neck,” I said. “You’re not my type.”
“Can we focus, please?” Tess growled.
“Tess is right,” I said, smugly. “It doesn’t matter that you won’t have your gun, because you won’t be in the meeting with us anyway.”
“You know, maybe we should pull over and straighten things out, you and me,” Hart said.
“I said, knock it off,” Tess snapped in what could only be described as textbook ‘mom voice.’ “Wallace is right. Sasha will insist on meeting alone.”
“I was told I’d be posing as Mr. B’s bodyguard,” Hart seethed.
“You are,” Tess said. “A bodyguard who will wait in the lobby if he’s told to do so.”
That was the exact moment I fell in love with Tess. She already had me on a string, and I’d certainly never felt the way I did about her with any other woman, but that was the precise moment I was able to define it in my mind.
“Why my Godfather agreed to help the two of you is beyond me,” Hart said, sounding like a pouting child.