From Russia With Love

Goren sat at the bar and signaled the bartender with a simple raise of his eyebrow. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick billfold. The wad of cash immediately earned him the bartender's attention.

"Vodka," Bobby ordered gruffly before slightly turning his head to his left. Bobby's mark, a man named Pyotr Lebedev sat in a dark booth across the room. He was a small man with dark hair and fast eyes. Bobby had been tailing him from afar for a few weeks now and had managed to install seven different bugs along the way. He was confident that Lebedev had no idea. The bugs were secure, all fiber optic to avoid detection and the idiot had been talking freely to his associates. 'No,' Bobby smirked in his head, careful to keep his face neutral, 'Lebedev had no idea.'

Tonight was a big night for the Russian criminal. A shipment of unfinished opium was coming in from the poppy fields of the Middle East. Bobby had a guy on the shipment crew and another one in Lebedev's warehouse who had both confirmed that the load would be dropped late that night. The shipment would be worth roughly $40 million once Lebedev refined the opium into heroin and the drugs would most likely be on the street by the end of next week. One of Lebedev's street soldiers had assured Bobby that the drugs would reach as far as "Ohio, U.S.A", the Russian kid had put it, by the next Thursday.

Bobby didn't care about the drugs though. In his mind, the drugs were the least of Lebedev's crimes. The criminal ran an organization that was responsible for the terrorism of thousands of Russian workers. Lebedev and his associates controlled all the working class unions. The unions were in place to help the laborers, but instead Lebedev ruled with the barbarism of a dictator. He ordered killings and torturing when the workers did not pay outrageous protection fees. Bobby had seen the pictures; young children and women punished for their husband's or father's inability to pay. If a man was lucky enough to escape with his life, his fingers or, sometimes, whole hands and feet were cut off, leaving men crippled and unable to work for their family's survival. Bobby was going to get Lebedev, if only on the drug crimes and he was going to make sure the Russian government imprisoned the man forever. A dark, cold, wet prison cell was all Pyotr Lebedev deserved. Death would be too good. Bobby wanted the sick man to sit in a cell for the rest of his life.

He drained his vodka and watched from his seat as a tall, light haired man slid into Pyotr's booth. The new comer wore an expensive gray suit, well tailored to his fit body, and a large ruby ring on his right middle finger. Bobby could see the shimmer of the ring on the wall just as the conversation reached his ear.

"My friend," the newcomer spoke nervously, "Forgive my tardiness."

Lebedev hissed between his teeth. "I am not a man to be waiting," Pyotr said, speaking in broken English.

The sandy haired man nodded apologetically. "I apologize, my friend."

Pyotr paused for a moment before cautiously nodding and commanding, "Speak what you want, Mr. Fredricks. Speak quickly, I have no time for this."

The man identified as Fredricks nodded, appearing anxious and pulling a thick blue envelope from his breast pocket. The movement caused a slight rustling of the sound in Bobby's ear.

Clarity returned and Bobby heard Pyotr inquire, "How much you expect for your money?"

Fredrick gave his most awkward shrug as his voice rose at the end of his statement, "10 kilos."

The hard Russian man took a final swig of his drink from his heavy crystal glass. "I vill give you 7. You take or you leave." Pyotr slammed his heavy class down and moved to stand, and motioned for Fredricks to follow. The seemingly nervous man stood and glanced around before following Lebedev out the door.

Bobby waited for a few moments before taking out his money clip again and placing 500 rubles on the sticky bar. He swept out of the door and looked to his left. A black car was driving away, 100 yards ahead and turning to the left. Bobby pulled out a single key and walked to a green car parked down the street.

Bobby followed the black car from a distance, out of the city and into the country. The weather was cold and for a few miles of curvy countryside, exhaust was the only sign of the car in front of him. Moments passed and Bobby feared he had lost the car until the curvy road came to an end. In the distance, through a clearing and some scattered trees, sat a large estate. Smoke was billowing from the chimney and Bobby could see the snow drafts that overtook the stone fence. He could also make out several surveillance cameras and flood lights across the estate. The young street kid Bobby had spoken to last week had alluded to a country estate and this must be it. The black cars exhaust had just disappeared as the wire gates slammed shut.

Bobby had not anticipated this. He had thought Lebedev might take Fredricks somewhere to hand the product over but all the way out here? No, Bobby had never anticipated this. Something was wrong. Drug dealers didn't often drive buyers a hundred miles out of the city to their country estates. He rolled the car to a stop but sat for a few moments before getting out of the car.

Cooper, who was Fredricks for the purpose of today's operation, was inside that house and Bobby was sure he would be searched. They would find the wire and maybe even figure out that the ruby ring was a camera. Bobby needed to get into that house.

Bobby made his way along the tree line, avoiding the cameras and looking around for the flood light triggers. He took his time and slowly neared the house, unsure whether he had been detected. He decided to enter the fenced yard from behind the house. As he rounded the house, his thoughts floated to the last few days. Cooper had been nervous about this op. He wasn't as sure as Bobby about the reliability of their informants and he didn't like the idea of going in on possibly wrong information. Bobby had seen those damn pictures, though, and had insisted that they move NOW! Today! If anything happened, this was on Bobby.

Sighing, Bobby pulled himself over the fence and landed in a bank of cold snow. There were trees all around him and he hung low for several minutes. Dark was descending and the moon was up ahead of him. He could make out lights in half the windows but the top floor of the house was dark. The nighttime sky would help, he was sure, as long as he could avoid setting the flood lights off. They were positioned roughly twenty feet away from each other and if he walked in the exact middle, in a straight line, he could probably avoid triggering them.

Just as Bobby was getting ready to walk towards the house, he heard a gun shot from inside. His head jerked up and without further thought, he ran for the house. The door was locked and so he used his coat covered elbow to smash a pain of glass out of the patio door. He opened the door from the inside and drew his gun and headed down the only hallway he saw. There were crashing sounds coming from underneath Bobby's feet as he frantically but silently searched for access to the basement floor. Finally, he spotted a door tucked away in a corner and thankfully, it led to a staircase. Bobby found himself in a long concrete hallway. He walked along, his gun drawn, until the sounds became distinct. Another gunshot rang and Bobby quickened his pace. Finally, the hallway gave way to a large concrete room and Bobby found his partner. The expensive gray suit they had spent half their op budget on was stained at the shoulder. Blood was seeping out and Cooper's face looked ashen.

A young man was standing above Cooper with a gun aimed at his head. They had obviously been struggling; a chair was overturned and the kid's face was swollen. Bobby's own gun met the kid's temple and with a click, the kid was alerted to Bobby's presence.

"Lower your gun," Bobby whispered into the kid's ear. He did as he was told but swore softly under his breathe, in thick Russian.

"Where's your boss?"

The kid shook his head rebelliously and remained silent.

The three men stood for several moments. The Russian kid was sweating fiercely and Bobby was starting to get nervous. The kid was twitchy and suddenly, Bobby realized that he was edging towards the concrete wall, probably to activate some sort of alarm button.

A split second later, Bobby the kid slumped to the floor. There was only a single hole through his temple. No sound was heard, thanks to the new gun the tech team had just equipped them with. Goren crouched to Cooper and helped him stand, avoiding his bad shoulder.

The partners made their way out of the basement and slowly out of the house without incident. By the time they reached the yard, Cooper was sweating and trembling. The shoulder was dripping blood, despite Bobby's best attempt at applying pressure. They weren't moving across the yard quickly enough. Finally, despite Cooper's protests, Bobby carried him the rest of the way to the car waiting outside the estate perimeter.

Five hours later, Bobby entered a dark hospital room. A monitor displayed Coopers pulse as 96, his SP O2 as 94 and his blood pressure as 123 over 72. Bobby silently thanked God and then stepped back into the hallway to look for a nurse. He couldn't see anyone but they needed to move fast anyway.

"Coop," he whispered into his sleeping friend's ear. It took a few more tries, but finally pale blue eyes opened and a look of grimace replaced Cooper's sleeping calm.

"We gotta go," Bobby insisted before drawing back the blanket that covered Cooper's body.

Cooper groaned in pain as he sat up and allowed Bobby to pull a hooded sweatshirt over his head. Sweat pants followed and then Bobby unhooked two IV bags from the stand. The smaller read 5 Morphine in nrml Saline sltn.

"I've got pain meds for you as soon as this runs out," Bobby assured Cooper as he led him down the hall. Cooper just grunted and allowed Goren to drag him out the door and to an awaiting cab.

Goren asked the cabbie to drive to the train station. Cooper's head rolled back as he caught his breathe. He slowly turned his head to face Goren. Bobby was twitching, shifting in his seat and switching between looking out the window to his left and the windshield ahead.

"Goren," Cooper spoke, keeping his voice low. Bobby's eyes left the window and rested upon Cooper.

"Thanks for coming in after me."

Bobby just shook his head and turned back to the window. "You were right. You're instincts were dead on. We shouldn't have moved ahead with it." Goren was still staring out the window, refusing to meet Cooper's eyes.

Cooper was fighting sleep and only had the strength to mutter, "How many times has it been the other way?"

Cooper closed his eyes and slept until he felt the cab stop. They boarded the train bound for St. Petersburg and then took another cab ride to a small strip of runway outside the city where an airplane was waiting for them. The pilot accepted the cash Bobby handed him in silence and soon they were air bound, headed west, away from the sunrise.

The plane ride was spent in silence as Cooper slept and Bobby stared at the gray sky all around him. His thoughts were scattered and whirled and no amount of deep breathing was helping him regain control. Cooper had almost… God, he'd almost gotten Cooper killed. Bobby scrubbed his hand over his chin for the hundredth time that night.

He hated when his thoughts got out of control like this. He was never able to direct himself when it got this bad. There was only one person who had ever been able to ground him enough…just with her presence and she wasn't here now. He hadn't even spoken to her in, what, two years now? Not for the first time, he wondered how she was these days. Maybe she was happy and settled. Alex deserved happy and settled and he wished with his whole heart she was.

Bobby stood up and reached over his head and pulled a duffel bag down to his lap. He rifled inside and pulled out a few things. Two American passports with he and Cooper's pictures and corresponding ID, an envelope of cash, which he split into two piles, and a ragged, well used black leather portfolio. He unzipped the folder and flipped to the back. Bobby's thick hand reached inside a Velcroed pocket and extracted a small key. He carefully put it into another envelope and then used a black felt tip pen to write 'Alex Eames' on the front of the envelope.

He only intended to enclose the key and some instructions but suddenly he wondered if he shouldn't include a note. 'Just to say hi,' he reasoned with himself. Normally, he didn't allow himself to think about Alex very often. She was an area of his brain that was off limits under normal circumstances. In his line of work, he couldn't afford to be distracted and Alex was definitely a distraction. Sometimes, when he wasn't working and had a few moments to himself, he would allow his mind to wander to her. And he would remember the oddest things. Like the smell of her hair, the shape of her waist in his hands, her legs entwined with his in the morning, that time she got shit faced and sang 'Wild Thing' into a hair brush while she danced on his bed.

A smile danced across Bobby's face as he thought of her crazy bed hair and her complete incoherence when she woke up in the mornings. In early morning, she would be so pissed off; he often took it upon himself to start her day off well. If they had time, he would make sure she came to a screaming orgasm right away; if not, he would be sure to stop for coffee at Starbucks.

And so, Bobby wrote Alex a quick note that turned into a longer letter and stuffed it into the envelope before he could change his mind. He grabbed another piece of paper and wrote her address and phone number from memory just as the plane landed.

Cooper woke up to the landing gear hitting the airstrip in Munich. As the plane taxied into a terminal, Bobby fished a prescription bottle out of his jacket pocket and dumped 2 pills into Cooper's hand. He swallowed them dry without asking what they were. Bobby put the bottle into Cooper's bag and started down the stairs. Cooper winced in pain and tried desperately not to move his shoulder as he followed Goren down the small staircase to solid ground.

Outside the terminal, a helicopter's rotors began spinning. Goren led Cooper to the aircraft and opened the door, helping his friend into the seat and then buckling the safety belt, careful to avoid Cooper's shoulder. Bobby grabbed the envelope addressed to Alex and shoved it in Cooper's hand.

"You aren't coming?" Cooper questioned, as he looked down and read the envelope.

Bobby shook his head and shouted above the roar of the spinning rotors.

"I'm going to Berlin to debrief with Johnson. You're going to Virginia. Walters wants you at Langley for a few weeks."

Cooper nodded and looked at the envelope again. "You want me to find her?"

Bobby nodded and shouted, "Drive up to New York for me, huh? Just give her that." Cooper nodded and Bobby pulled another envelope out. "Here's some money and a passport. You've got a plane leaving out of Luxemberg in three hours that goes straight to National airport. Get your shoulder checked out again, okay?"

Cooper nodded and as Bobby got ready to shut the chopper door, Cooper yelled to him, "Bobby. This," he gestured towards his bad shoulder, "wasn't your fault. And you saved my ass."

Bobby didn't really respond; he just shouted back, "I'll see you in a month or so."

A week later, Cooper stood outside the New York address Bobby had given him and knocked on the door heavily. He waited for a few moments and was about to knock again when a small child answered the door.

The little boy looked up at Cooper curiously.

"Hi," Cooper began. Was this Alex's child? Bobby hadn't mentioned that Alex had a five year old. Just as Cooper opened his mouth to ask where the little boy's mommy was, a tall brunette woman came to the door with a baby on her hip.

"Can I help you?"

Cooper stood straight up and paused. This was Alex? Somehow, he had pictured the love of Goren's life a little differently.

"Alex Eames?" he questioned.

The brunette shook her head. "No, she was the previous owner. My husband and I purchased this home last year."

Cooper was not surprised. She had also changed her number and was apparently no longer an NYPD detective. "You don't happen to have a forwarding address for her, do you?" Even as he asked, Cooper knew the answer.

The woman shook her head apologetically.

"Okay, well, sorry to bother you."

Cooper turned and walked down the steps of the little house. He sighed heavily. This woman had changed everything in the last few years, which led Cooper to wonder, 'Just how badly had her relationship with Goren ended?'