Part 12
Nizhniy-Navgorod
Thursday, January 29
2300 Hours
Alexi could probably steal the president’s pen out of the Oval Office. I’ve never met anyone like him. That he found a car doesn’t surprise me, that he found us coveralls, complete with jackets impresses me; however, the guy actually found us two toolboxes that will carry the canisters and serve as our ‘in’ to the steel mill. He did all this with his arm hurting as badly as my chest. He swears it isn’t broken, but from the look on his face, he’s definitely feeling it.
"You do this a lot?" I ask as we eat the dinner he also stole. It’s some kind of meat. But somehow even I couldn’t ask that he find me a roasted vegetable or tofu burger. It’ll probably make me sick as a dog, but I haven’t eaten much since we left Atyrau. Even though there was food on the train, my stomach was so upset I couldn’t eat.
"Not really." He’s dropped the act that he puts on for Mac. The sparkle that’s in his eye when he’s around her is missing. Of course, he’s a man. Mic was definitely right about that. I’ve yet to meet the man who wasn’t in love with her, even Mark with his Alana, is still in love with her. Alexi chews his sandwich thoughtfully. "Mostly I sit in bars and listen. Or, drive people around and listen."
"And then tell Webb."
"Or whoever pays me the highest." There’s a familiar smirk on his face. "Webb is always highest."
"I’ll bet." I look out the window. It’s nearly 2300 hours – shift change is the same all over the world it would seem. "You’re sure this will work?"
He just shrugs that Russian shrug of his. God, I hate that. We watch as men and women start to arrive. "Now." He opens his door, and I have little choice but to follow him. It’s cold here on the street; the wind blows debris around. I guess those little old ladies who swept the streets were a Soviet thing. I don’t remember the last time I saw one. I should try and remember to ask Alexi about it when we’re done. "Just keep your head down and don’t look at anyone," he hisses right before we join a group of ten or so people.
My heart is in my throat as we approach the employee entrance. Alexi had volunteered to take them inside, but it’s my responsibility. I meant it when I said that I wasn’t going to let these things out of my sight again.
I can’t believe that Mac went with Webb. She’s always covered my back. She was there for me so many times. Of course, I’ve acted like a real jerk since I found out she was seeing Webb. I have to get past it. I have to accept the fact that, for now at least, she’s content to play with fire. And I know she’s going to get burned. She’s so stubborn; she just won’t listen to a word I say. Wasn’t I right about Brumby? He left her! Ha! Okay, so Renee left me too – for an undertaker for pete’s sake. And let’s not forget Annie. But that wasn’t my fault! Josh was having a great time with the other kids. It’s not my fault that those guys took over the ship.
Someone says something in Russian, and I freeze mid-step. A man, who reminds me of Ratzo Rizzo in Midnight Cowboy, is glaring at me. I look at him and have absolutely no idea what to do. It takes me a moment to remember what Alexi told me. ‘Look like a simpleton.’ How a simpleton got a job in a steel mill is beyond me but it’s a moot point, I can’t seem to do anything but clench my fist, ready to punch and run. Alexi says something, and Ratzo says something else, but to Alexi this time. I figure he’s making a disparaging remark about me. Whatever it is, he walks away. Alexi takes me by the arm, and drags me through the doorway. We stand in the group of men who are punching in at a time clock. The man who spoke to us is standing off to one side, and I can’t take my eyes off him. Finally, he makes a rude gesture and walks away just as Alexi pulls out two time cards.
"Excellent. You make a great simpleton," he says once we’re alone.
"Terrific." I feel like a fool. No, I feel like a true simpleton. Alexi leads me back to the locker room where we stash our coats. We’re lagging behind everyone else, but no one says anything further. Once we’re in the aisle, I feel free to talk to him again. "What if someone asks us to fix something?"
"Just let me do the talking."
"Fine. Tell me this, did you hurt the guys you stole this stuff from? Are they still alive?"
This afternoon, after we arrived in the city, he left me at a small diner. When Alexi finally returned, he had the uniforms. I now realize that he’d gone to the factory to follow the dayshift home. We changed clothes at the bus station, and spent the rest of the day napping in the stolen car. Well, not really napping. I doubt if I’ll ever catch up on my sleep.
He looks hurt. Tough. "No, I didn’t hurt them, not really. But they are alive and no one will find them until we are long gone.." I see the wily survivor in his eyes and suddenly, Alexi doesn’t seem quite so harmless or obsequious.
"Sorry, I guess that’s more Webb’s gig than yours."
He stops beside a load of iron ingots. There’s no one else in sight. "You really have that little respect for the man who spent so much time getting your brother out of Russia? Who gave up his seat on the jet so Zhukov could get medical treatment? Who trusted you to destroy the gas?"
"Trusted me? That’s a laugh. He had no choice." I look around us and find what we came for. I point to the bright hot molten sludge pots bubbling with their liquid steel. "Come on. We’ll dump the canisters there."
"No." Alexi sighs and shakes his head like I really am a simpleton.
"Why not?"
"Because if you do, we’ll both die. You just don’t go and dump them into the sludge. It will bubble up at the change of temperature. We will try the blast furnace first. It will be safer."
As we walk through the plant, the huge buckets that travel overhead fascinate me. Sparks shower down and bounce off our hardhats. Tiny fires ignite and die out on our fireproof coveralls. Finally, we reach the very back of the mill. There’s no one around, but I immediately understand why. We really haven’t walked that far, but sweat is running down my back. I can’t imagine what the mill would be like in the middle of summer. Back here, I know what a turkey in the oven must feel like. I can barely breath. Alexi leads me between two of the giant furnaces. I stop thinking as he finds the controls to open one of the doors. The breath is seared in my lungs, and the heat seems to dance before my eyes. Alexi opens his toolbox, removes the top shelf and picks up the canister resting inside it. He throws it, one-handed, into the blast furnace and stands back to allow me to do the same. I take out my own canister and start to toss it in, but I hit the door and drop the canister. "SHIT!" We both stand there staring as it rolls towards the other furnace. If it gets too close… I stop thinking and dive for it. Catching it, it already feels hot against my hand but Alexi’s right there. He takes if from me. The next thing I know, the door is closed again. I swear I can feel the drop in temperature.
Alexi urges me to my feet, and drags me back to the main floor. We’re both gasping for breath. "This was safer?" I should have looked around, but I didn’t.
I don’t need to understand Russian to know that we’re busted. The foreman’s before us, shouting something. Alexi points at me and shouts something back. He must not have been happy with the guy’s response, because the next thing I know, Alexi swings his toolbox, knocking the foreman out. Together we drag him to a quiet recess.
We make our way to front of the factory. No one stops us, not even when we pass a couple of guys near the door. Calmly, we walk outside. The heat of the mill intensifies the cold of the street. And of course, we left our jackets in the locker room. I hope I live long enough to catch a cold. After one look, we break into a run down the street and around the corner. With my luck this week, I’m surprised that the car’s there waiting for us.
As we speed off down the street, I gasp out. "Don’t even think about stopping until we reach Moscow." I reach back and retrieve the coats that we were wearing, and help Alexi shrug his on.
"Thanks."
"Sorry about back there."
He just shrugs again.
"No, I mean it. I apologize when I’m wrong."
"It was a shock to your system. I understand; you weren’t used to the heat."
"And you were?"
"I remember what it was like. I worked in such a plant after I got out of the Army. Working for Webb and driving a cab is better."
"I’ll say. Hey, how long have you known Webb?"
He thinks for a while. "Nearly ten years. He found me."
"What does that mean?"
We must go a mile before he answers me. "I was in military intelligence before everything changed."
"Why did you leave the Army? I thought you guys stayed in for life? You’re not old enough to have retired."
He squirms in his seat. "My sister wanted a better life for herself and my mother. She’s a violinist. She defected in 1986. I got my mother out six months later."
"Why didn’t you leave, too?"
"There was girl."
I sigh and stare straight ahead. "Isn’t there always."
"Isn’t that what makes life worth living?"
"Hasn’t proved that way for me."
"She loved you once. She followed you across Russia."
"Yeah, tell her that."
"Why didn’t you? What did you do when she found you?"
"Saved Putin’s life!"
"After that?"
After that? What had we done after that? Oh yeah, she went back to Brumby. Damn her. Why couldn’t she have waited? "You know, there was another man even then."
"You admit that?" His voice is incredulous.
"Hell, as far as I know, she was involved with Webb then, too." That was a low blow.
"You will not say such a thing about Sarah MacKenzie." I can hear the passion in his voice.
"You brought it up!"
"And that gives you the right to say such things? She was so sad when I saw her that second time. But so determined to find you. Have you done such a thing for her?"
"I’ve been there for her. I would do anything for her." Except go to her when Brumby left her. Commit to her. Give her a decent reason why she should wait for me. Dear God, I’ve thrown her away and then acted like a child because I can’t have my favorite toy.
"Will you allow her to be happy?"
"With Webb?"
"You speak with such hatred in your voice."
"Tell me this. Did he get your sister out of Russia?"
"No… my mother."
"And what did he ask for in return?"
"My loyalty."
"So you’re a traitor to your country."
"Perhaps. Perhaps I help my country." Ha. Yeah right. Score a point for me.
"Look. Maybe Mac and I can’t be together for whatever reason, but that doesn’t mean that Webb is right for her."
"Perhaps."
He doesn’t say anything else, and I sit beside him, staring into the dark. It’s a clear tonight. There are even other cars on the road. This part of Russia is densely populated. Small towns, their windows aglow, slide past us and I let the highway sounds lull me to a twilight place; warmer, away from Russia, out of this car that smells of old food and older bodies. I think back over the past eight years. Clayton Webb has been there off and on for all those years, and I have to admit he’s done things for me. Given me information that I couldn’t get anywhere else. But I’ve done things for him, too. Hell, I saved his life when Palmer would’ve killed him. Of course, he saved mine when Josh was kidnapped. I can’t get past the fact that he gave up his seat to Sergei and trusted me to get the papers out of Kazakhstan. He could’ve pleaded national security. But I never thought he would. Not that I would’ve left Sergei. But I didn’t have to ask.
Oh, hell and damnation. Why does she have to leave me? Who do I have if I don’t have her? Who can I go to when… when there’s no one else?
The blast furnace didn’t heat my face as much my shame does at this moment. I almost expect Alexi to hiss in pain. What a jerk I am. For one brief moment of crystal clarity, I see myself through her eyes. All the horrid things I’ve said to her over the years. Years, hell, the past three weeks have been a regular litany of mean selfish things. Oh, she’s gotten her licks in, but I could’ve controlled that. I could have… shit, shit, shit. What the hell did Webb do? Why is she so obviously in love with him now and not me? When did it change? When did…
"How does he speak about her to you?"
"With respect and esteem."
"I know that you care about me, just as you care about Sarah. But you don’t show it."
My brother had it right. All right. I’ve used Mac to fill in the holes in my life. But what have I given back to her? I’ve used Webb to gather information. But he’s right. When I’ve paid him back it was never just for him, it was always in my interest to do so. God, no wonder we’ve reached this point. I’ll never get her back now.
It’s dawn by the time we reach the city limits. Mac should be at the embassy waiting for me. I’ll tell her then. I’ll tell her that if Webb is what she wants, then fine. I won’t stand in her way. I’ll show her the respect she deserves, and then, when Webb disappoints her, when he lets her down, and I know he will, I’ll be there waiting for her.
Only lorries and a few other trucks and military vehicles share the Moscow streets with us. Alexi makes his way to the embassy. He goes around to the back.
"You’ve been here before?"
"Once or twice." He speaks to the guard at the back gate.
The Marine comes to attention. We must be on some alert, because he looks tense. "Mr. Webb told us to watch for you. He’s inside."
Thank God, everything’s okay now. I can talk to Mac. We’re led through the first floor and up a flight of stairs to a small room.
As soon as I see him, I know something’s happened. He sits on the sofa in front of an unlit fireplace, his hands hang between his knees, and he’s staring into to the firebox. "Did you do it?" His voice is harsh, like he still hasn’t slept and is still in pain.
"Yeah, boss." Alexi breathes the answer. He too knows something’s wrong.
"What the hell happened on this end?" I demand. Striding up to him, I stand in front of him. When he looks up at me there are tears in his eyes.
"The building blew. I don’t know whether Sokol got out or not, but that was all part of the plan. I went back to the Marco Polo but there were police everywhere."
All I see is red. I reach down and grab him by his shirt. "Where’s Mac!? Why did you let her out of your sight, you son-of-a-bitch!?"
He doesn’t even fight me. He just stares at my face – only because there’s nowhere else to look. "I thought she would be safe there."
I throw him back on the couch. "Is she…"
He buries his face in his hands. "She wasn’t there! I don’t know where she is! I’ve called in every favor I have in this town. I don’t know where she would go. I finally got past the police guards. There’s… there was… There was a dead soldier in the room where she was supposed to wait for Alana. Oh God, there was so much blood."
I’ve never seen him so completely lost. Webb is always in control. "What’ve you done to find her?"
He leans back and stares up at the ceiling. "You mean besides talking to everyone I know, from the ambassadors of three different embassies to the bus boys of six different restaurants? Besides Lazarenko and Siamko’s rivals?" He sighs and shakes his head, trying to clear it. "I even called Dosivitch. Told him if anything happened to her, the planet wasn’t big enough for him to hide. He swears he doesn’t know anything about it."
"Yeah, like he would tell the truth."
"I don’t know, Rabb. I thought I was keeping her safe."
"How? Why did you put her in the hotel?"
"To meet with Alana. To make sure that Alana was away from the building when Sokol blew it up. We talked about it. She agreed – not very readily…"
"I bet not. She thought she was out of the action. She hates being out of the action."
"Tell me about it. You should’ve seen her in Afghanistan. Fought that guy off like a pro."
"What the hell are you talking about? What guy?"
"She never told you?"
"No. And, it’s not important now. We have to figure out what happened to her."
"Boss?" Alexi steps forward. "Why was Sarah at the hotel?"
"I told you, she was meeting Alana there."
"Lazarenko would let his wife, his badly beaten wife, meet with a stranger? What reason did you give?"
"Sarah was posing as a reporter. She was interviewing entertainers."
I’m back to being exasperated with him. "Why would Lazarenko let her go? Sokol said her face was a mess after they were through with her."
"It was. The scars were still evident even from across the street. I saw her getting into a car while I was checking out the site. I made a phone call." He’s growing more and more upset. "I thought I was saving them both!"
"Well you blew that one, didn’t you, Webb." I turn away. I really want to hit him, but it won’t do any good.
Alexi sits down next to him. "No. It was a good plan. I know of Lazarenko. Thank God I’ve never met him. He has a large ego. He probably had Alana tell Sarah that a rival beat her when she wouldn’t leave her husband."
"Yeah, that’s what Sokol and I thought."
"Sokol knew about this?" I snap.
"Yeah, Harm, Sokol knew about it. He gave Mac a cross to show Alana and to tell her a secret place to meet him."
"What place!?"
"It was a secret! He knew that I couldn’t just let him walk away. He knew that I’d have to tell the Russians where he was. He was a loose cannon who would’ve given Siamko the gas if that was the only way!"
"Excuse me, boss, but what place?" Alexi persists and we both turn on him. But he’s sitting there so calmly, while the two American’s are going to pieces. That brings us both up short.
Webb takes several deep breaths before continuing. "I told you. It was a secret. Sokol swore that Alana would understand."
"What did he tell her?" Alexi repeats it as if he’s talking to an idiot child. Of course, in my estimation, Webb’s acting just like… just like a man so in love he can no longer think straight. I, on the other hand, am just pissed beyond words. I have a feeling I know exactly what happened. Mac had to take charge. She wouldn’t just leave Alana to find Sokol. Jesus, she’s so much like me, it’s frightening.
Webb closes his eyes and thinks. "He said, ‘Tell her you want to get some pictures in a nightclub. Give her the cross. She’ll tell you which one – hopefully, she’ll lie to you. I’ll know the one.’"
"Ah. I think I know the one, too."
Webb looks like he’s either going to kiss Alexi or kill him. "Excuse me? I wasn’t aware that you and Sokol were on that good of terms."
There’s that shrug again. "There are many things that you don’t know about me, boss. But I know where they would go."
"Why?" I have to know. If I were sure that Mac was unharmed, then it would almost be funny watching Webb try and control his emotions.
"Because I saw them there. It is a very small jazz club…" But Webb doesn’t let him finish.
He grabs Alexi’s arm even as he’s standing up. "Take me… us there. NOW!"
"Sure thing, boss."
Clay commandeers an embassy car, but relinquishes the keys to Alexi. I climb in back, allowing him to sit in front. We’re barely through the gates before he starts. "She better be there. I still don’t know what happened. I’m going to kill whoever hurt her. Alana will have the names. Why didn’t she call me?" And on and on. Through the highways and back streets of Moscow. Through parks, neighborhoods, and even a couple of industrial area, Clayton Webb rants his worry in the only way open for him.
Finally, I can’t take it any more. "Clay! For God’s sake! Shut up! We’ll find her."
"You don’t understand. I should’ve…"
"Oh Jeez, you’ve got it bad." I’m in the unique position of calming down the tin man. "Come on, Clay. This is Sarah ‘Take no Prisoners’ MacKenzie. Hell, you said that Alana’s face was still battered?"
"Yeah." He turns in his seat. I wonder if he’s forgotten that his neck probably still hurts as badly as my chest does. Of course, ever since I took that dive for the gas canister, I’ve been afraid to actually take stock. Right now, I’m just stiff.
I shake my head to clear it a bit. "Have you ever been around her when she’s trying an abuse case?"
"No." He pauses to consider it. "Bad?"
"Makes you want to protect your privates. I’ve seen Chegwidden stay out of her way when she’s on one of those. When I’ve been handed the defense on something like that, if it even remotely looks like the bastard’s guilty, I pawn it off on one of the junior lawyers. I’d be surprised if she didn’t take one look at Alana’s face, and try to scratch the eyes out of the bodyguards."
At least he’s quiet for a bit. When we reach the street that the bar is on, Alexi parks about a block away. He leads us down an alley, saying, "It isn’t open now, of course."
Webb and I both scan the buildings around us. You would swear we were in an alley back home. Alexi stops us and points to a dumpster and a door. "I see no guards, no trouble."
Webb pushes forward, his gun hanging down, but his hand grips it with the tension that we’re both feeling. My own gun is out. We exchange a silent signal. We’re in this together; Mac’s the only one who counts.
He starts to kick in the door, when I hold up my hand. He rolls his eyes but nods. Twisting the doorknob, I look back at him and give him a shrug worthy of Alexi. "Locked."
"Just as well, the hinges are on the outside," he mutters.
"Wait!" Alexi hisses. "Let me try."
Before we can stop him, he’s at the door knocking. He says something in Russian, and Webb cocks an eyebrow. He gets an unreadable look on his face. I know he’s scared, but now he looks furious, or maybe I’ve never been able to read him, and he’s just at the end of his rope. Regardless, the door opens and a kid’s head pokes out. I don’t give him a chance; I pull him the rest of the way out into Alexi’s arms.
"Boss!" But it’s too late; Webb’s already inside. He beat me to it, but I’m right behind him. We’re in a tiny storage area, boxes of booze and other stuff are scattered around us. We’re the only ones here.
"Webb. Webb. Clay!" My hiss sounds like a shout, but he keeps going, and I know someone’s going to die if… He bursts through into the bar, and I almost knock him down when he stops dead in his tracks. "Mac!?"
She looks up from where she’s bending over Mark Sokol. He looks like shit. His clothes are torn, and his face is as awful looking as the frightened woman clutching his shoulder. I swear, he gives us a ‘Hi, Guys’ grin, but my eyes are locked on Mac, who’s looking not at me but at Webb.
"Clay?" She’s clearly surprised to see us. She even looks guiltily at Sokol.
"What the hell happened!?" Putin can probably hear him. "What the hell were you thinking? I told you not to leave the room!" His voice can only be described as a girly screech. Not attractive at all, and I fully expect Mac to go into full Marine mode.
The woman, who has to be Alana, steps forward, but Mac stops her and hands her the towel. She walks up to Clay, and even I cringe at what’s about to happen. I’m really glad she’s ignoring Alexi and me. Let Webb take the brunt of her anger. I almost feel sorry for him.
They stand there just glaring at each other until the rest of us are looking at one another, wondering if we should say something. Even Sokol, who’d gripped Alana’s hand in his, is looking like he’s going to stand up and go to them.
"Clay?" Who is that, and what has she done with my jarhead? She reaches out to touch his cheek. "I’m sorry." Huh? Then the words come out as a rush. "The guard they sent with Alana had just returned from Atyrau. He knew me. I… I…"
He takes her by the shoulders. "You had to kill him? That was you? They’re looking for you."
"I know. We ran. A couple of policemen tried to stop us. We ran and ran and ran and…"
He takes her in his arms and they’re holding each other. Neither says another word, but from this angle, I can see the fear, desperation and love on Webb’s face. Mac? I’m looking right at her. Even with her eyes closed, I can see it all. I see the one thing on Mac’s face that I never saw when she was dating Dalton or Mic. She’s in love with him, too. It’s all right there. I won’t stand in their way. I won’t give her any grief. I know now that she won’t allow it.