Thank you to everyone for reading. Especially purdys pal, who's wields the pointy stick of a beta so very well.
Chapter 3
Madeline didn't like feeling uncomfortable in her own home, but Michael assured her that Tatiana would be safest at his mother's house.
"I know the guestroom isn't very large."
"Oh no," Tatiana waved away the concern. "It's just fine. I even like the colors."
As Madeline poured lemonade for her houseguest, she perceived a certain unruffled elegance about the woman. They were the same age, their birthdays separated by only a few months, yet Tatiana sat in the chair at Madeline's dining table with a straight spine, quietly sipping her iced drink. Even after the whirlwind departure from her home in Coconut Grove, Tatiana's light blue cotton ensemble looked freshly pressed and she appeared unaffected by the move.
"I must thank you for accepting me into your home," Tatiana smiled graciously at Madeline.
"Oh, I'm used to having unexpected company," Madeline explained. She used her left hand to cover up a dark spot on the bottom corner of her blouse. She frowned trying to remember how she had gotten gun oil onto her clothes. Obviously at Michael's loft, but she had been careful while cleaning and loading the double barrel shotgun. Madeline thought she could better hide the blemish from behind the kitchen counter and moved to put the jug of lemonade into the refrigerator.
Madeline sighed, trying to think of normal topics of conversation. "How long have you lived in Miami?"
"Off and on for about five years," Tatiana answered. "I wasn't aware that Michael lived here, but I have to admit, I am very glad to have found him. I would never have made it out of St. Petersburg seven years ago without him and his friend."
"His friend?" Madeline was curious. Michael never told any stories about his time as a spy. Madeline perked up at the possibility of details.
Tatiana smiled wistfully, "Commander Axe. He was a charmer, that one."
"He still is," Madeline made sure to use present tense. "But he just goes by Sam now-a-days."
Tatiana nodded at the correction. "My Bruce reminds me a lot of Sam." Tatiana smiled as Madeline made her way back and sat down in the chair across the table. "I met Bruce at a convention in Toronto, shortly after my return from St. Petersburg. We became close and I joined the other Snowbirds spending the Canadian winters in a warmer climate. By 2004, Bruce was traveling back to Ontario with me for the cooler summers. It's a funny way to live, but we like it. I was closing things up here and getting ready to join Bruce, who's already in Mississauga, when all this stalker business started."
"You and Bruce have been married only a few years then?" Madeline asked
Tatiana blushed, "Oh, we're not married."
Madeline laughed, "Let me get us something a little stronger, and you can tell me all about your time with Sam and Michael in Russia."
"You're making that hole bigger than you need to, Michael," Fiona commented as she looked up from where she sat on the floor, adjusting the pinhole camera setting to 'motion detect'.
Michael squinted his displeasure at Fiona, but he did stick a finger into the hole he'd drilled into the back of the picture frame, getting a general idea of its size. Taking the miniature wireless LAN camera from Fiona's hands, he slid it into the hole. It fit perfectly. He gave Fiona a toothy smile, but refrained from commenting. His shoulder still ached where Fiona had smacked him earlier in retaliation for a comment about his mother's eagerness to 'lock and load'.
Fiona rolled her eyes. She dusted her hands off on her Christian Dior Capri pants as she stood up. "Well, that's the last one, Michael."
"Now we wait for the stalker to make another appearance," Michael sighed as he hung the picture back on its hook.
He and Fiona had picked Tatiana up and driven her to his mother's house late that afternoon. Tatiana hadn't been thrilled about the move, but had accepted the fact that her house wasn't safe. All of the threatening notes she had received had been found inside her home. It had taken an extra hour of travel time to make sure they weren't followed to Madeline's house and back again. Since returning, Michael and Fiona had set up half a dozen pinhole cameras throughout the main floor of Tatiana's house. They had gone through the second floor, ensuring it was secure against an intruder's entrance. Whoever was leaving the notes, was gaining access without leaving any trace of his entry point.
Fiona walked over to the laptop computer she had set up on a side table. She confirmed each camera was scheduled to send a power notification every hour or if activated, to send pictures taken every three seconds.
If you're dealing with a client that has only joined this century's communication technology with text messaging, you're going to have to rely on outside access to the internet. Luckily, most Americans are acquainted with the World Wide Web and have wireless routers in their homes. Only twenty five percent of those people will have adjusted the factory settings and turned on the firewall; which means three out of four of your neighbours with a wireless internet connection will have a signal you can piggy-back your transmission on.
"We're good to go," Fiona smiled and closed the computer. It took only a few more seconds to pack up the cords and adjust the bundle so it could be carried under an arm.
For the hundredth time, Michael wondered about the file of information Sam had already dug up. He hated feeling like he was going over ground already covered by a capable operative. Michael and Fiona had discussed at length the possibilities of Sam's intel from the docks. The buddy in Port Miami with access to the information Michael needed could be the Dock Master or a pretty waitress at one of the many bars in the area. Knowing how thorough Sam was, he probably had notes from both.
"Come on," Michael stuffed the hand drill into the backpack they had brought their equipment in; zipping the bag shut and hoisting one of the straps over his right shoulder. "Maybe your gunrunner friend has more info about Anatoly's black SUV."
"Marcus won't let that information go cheaply, Michael," Fi warned as they headed out the back door. "There'll be a premium charge for his time and the use of one of his boys to follow your Russian friend."
Michael nodded. Damn, but he missed Sam.
Michael pulled up his shirt collar against the downpour that had started just minutes before they arrived at the meeting spot. He had left the dry confines of Fiona's car to try and get better sight lines through the trees. He wasn't happy with the meeting place in the edge of the Wildlife Management area Fiona drove them to. He became even less happy when Fiona admitted the nature spot off state hi-way 41 was picked by Marcus, the gunrunner. They had already been waiting fifteen minutes and there still was no sign of the man showing up. Michael tried to find within himself the ability to give the benefit of the doubt. After all, the rain was coming down so thick he couldn't even see the satellite antennas from the trailer park they passed on their way into the forested area.
Michael wasn't paranoid, but he knew the snapping twig he just heard didn't come from any of the animals that called the park home. While he couldn't see anyone coming through the rain, Michael wasn't positive the same held true for his visibility to whoever was sneaking through the woods.
After signalling to Fiona, who was sitting warm and dry in her Saab 9-3, Michael crouched low and ran to the trees. Sheets of rain blurred his image as he disappeared behind the thick trunks.
Watching Michael slip away, Fiona pulled out her SIG 228 from her waistband and popped the magazine, checking it was full before sliding it back into place. She debated providing Michael with back-up, but the visibility was no more than a few metres and she couldn't be sure which way he went. Michael was a big boy, and besides, the rain would ruin her Prada sandals.
Fiona stared through the windshield at the spot she had last seen Michael. A knock on the window beside her, made her jump. The rain was starting to let up, but still, all Fiona could focus on was the barrel of another SIG, this one pointed at her nose.
Fiona rolled down her window to address the dark coloured mass behind the gun, "Yes?"
A round face slowly lowered into her view. Fiona tried not to recoil from the scarred features that belonged to the large man in black as he leered at her. Lord, but she preferred the gun.
"Miss Glenanne?" the man asked. "Mister Almudena would like you to join him in his vehicle."
Fiona sighed, "Couldn't Marcus have just walked with you here?"
The bruiser of a man smiled, showing uneven teeth, "He's rather insistent." He pulled on the car handle and opened the door, exposing Fiona to the elements.
It wasn't cold, just very wet. This was Miami, after all. Fiona pulled on her rain coat, stuffed her SIG into the right hand pocket, and exited from the car. She promptly stepped into a two inch deep puddle. Fiona closed her eyes to the injustice of it all and followed Igor, as she had decided to name the brute of a man, down the rocky trail away from the dry comforts of her car.
They rounded a bend in the road and two hundred metres of sidestepping puddles brought them to Marcus' navy blue Escalade. Fiona noticed that Igor still had his weapon out as he waved with it, directing her to stand in front of the vehicle.
"I'm going to enjoy this," Igor said as he made to pat Fiona down.
"Me, too," Fiona replied. She drove her knee into Igor's groin. As the big man instinctively doubled over, off-balance, Fiona grabbed him, tugged, and spun; using the giant's momentum to drive him head first into the Caddy's grill. He fell to the muddy ground.
"Was it as good for you as it was for me?" Fiona asked, but got no reply. Igor was out for the count.
"Guess not," she sauntered around to the back passenger door and pulled it open.
Fiona was greeted by a gun held by a Columbian man. Everything about him was dark: his hair, his eyes, his skin colour, but especially the look on his face.
"Hello, Marcus," Fiona acknowledged the gun runner and when she noticed another body guard on his left side, she added, "And friend."
"Fiona," Marcus replied without shifting the aim of his Browning 9mm away from her chest.
"What is this about, Marcus?" Fiona asked, putting her hands in her coat pockets, affecting a casual stance.
Marcus smiled, "I believe we agreed upon the sum of five thousand dollars for the exchange of information, did we not?"
"Why do I get the feeling that information no longer includes the location of a visiting Russian agent?" Fiona asked, watching the body guard as his right hand reached inside his jacket.
Marcus smiled and shrugged. "You've always been a smart girl. Too smart, really. That's only one of the many reasons I've decided take you out of the picture. In the long run, your clients – soon to be my clients – will bring me so much more than that five thousand."
The opening of the rear driver's side door completely surprised the Columbian gunrunner. The sight of the bodyguard being hit in the neck with a quick jab of Michael's straight fingers and then bodily pulled out from the vehicle, barely registered before Marcus could turn in his seat and bring his weapon around to aim at his new opponent.
Before Marcus could utter a threat, he was stopped by Fiona holding her gun against his right cheek.
"I'll take that," Fiona smiled as she took the semi-automatic out of Marcus' hand. Looking over at Michael, she couldn't resist adding, "Took you long enough."
Michael looked Fiona over, checking for damage. Seeing none, he shrugged, "I had to take out the two in the back-up car, first."
Fiona leaned back. The rain had let up enough now that she could see another Escalade parked fifty meters behind Marcus. She tossed her wet hair over her shoulder, "Thanks."
Michael smiled, "Anything for you." Fiona smiled back.
Pushing her SIG harder into Marcus' cheek, "You were about to tell us about the Russian."
Marcus raised his hands and attempted to nod, but the gun barrel in his cheek pulled his skin so he stopped. "I'll tell you everything."
Fifteen minutes later Marcus and his men had their hands cable-tied and their mouths gagged. 911 had an anonymous call about suspicious goings-on in the Wildlife conservation area near Krome Avenue and Hi-way 41.
Fiona and Michael made their way back to their car.
"You drive," Fiona tossed the car keys over to Michael.
"You okay?" he asked with concern.
"No, Michael," Fiona whined, stopping at the passenger door. "They ruined my new shoes."
"I'm sorry, Fi," Michael said with relief. "I'll buy you a new pair when this is all over." Michael opened the door and slid into the driver's seat.
Fiona sighed. She would never admit it to another living soul, but whining without earning a snarky reply just wasn't any fun. She missed Sam.