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Morning broke over the base quietly, but by the time the sunlight had started to chase away the fog that dusk had brought, most of the denizens of the base were already awake and had started to work. Most still cursing their alarm clocks under their breaths.
Sinclair was no different, and when the secretary on base dropped off three manila folders about to tear apart from the papers stuffed in them, he had the idea of flipping the table over and calling in sick for the day. The secretary, however, was in a cheerful mood, and the idea of giving her a heart attack at 0700 hours, however humorous, was just a bit too mean for Sinclair.
Frowning slightly, Sinclair glanced over the contents of the folders quickly. Most of them were intercepted communications from their not-so-friendly Russian neighbors, but a couple were photographs of what appeared to be a base that was still being constructed.
"Morning, mate."
Sinclair looked up. Soap, carrying another manila folder, albeit much thinner, walked into the small office room. The room itself was connected to one of the main buildings and seemed fairly inconspicuous, but the walls themselves were heavily insulated, along with the door being far sturdier. The overall effect kept most of what was talked about in the room from getting outside.
"Mornin', sport," Sinclair replied. He eyed the folder suspiciously. "That better be yer' breakfast, otherwise I'll probably have to shoot ya'."
Laughing, Soap tossed the folder on the table.
"Found out a bit more on one of our targets," Soap stated.
Picking up the folder and looking at the paper, Sinclair raised an eyebrow.
"Andrei Bortsov," he declared somewhat loudly. "Weapons smuggling, kidnapping, and...whoa...seems he doesn't have too much of a problem of killing his fellow patriot."
"Aye, most of them seem to have a pretty itchy trigger finger," Soap said, looking over the rest of the papers strewn on the desk that Sinclair was standing at. "However, turns out that he's a bit more of the up close and personal type."
"I can tell," Sinclair muttered, flipping through some of the photos of people that had been unfortunate enough to become one of Bortsov's victims. "Goddamn...he sure has a thing fer' snappin' necks, doesn't he?"
"Yeah." Soap unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to think about the prospect of his neck being snapped as though it were little more than a twig. "However, he's got a mother and two brothers in a small town right on the border of Russia and Ukraine. It's just close enough that they may be using that location as a hideaway of sorts while they get that base in Kazakhstan up and running."
"I'd bet my Dodge Charger on it," Sinclair replied. He paused, then looked up. "Restored the thing from the ground up. Sixty-eight year model."
Soap nodded in acknowledgment, grinning faintly at the proud tone that Sinclair's voice had taken on. Sinclair's attention seemed to turn back to the paperwork, but as he flipped through the papers slowly, he spoke up.
"So what do ya' think of Angela?"
"Pardon?"
"Yer' arms look like ya' tried to beat up a cinder block wall."
"Aye, guess so," Soap chuckled. "Girlie hits hard."
"Yeah, she does. Gotta' admit, though, yer' one of the few that's stuck through gettin' yer' chest almost crushed in."
Wincing slightly, Soap rubbed the still quite sore spot on his chest where Angela's shoulder had made impact.
"Your CIA must be teaching them to fight rougher," Soap chuckled.
"Yeah. That and Angela's almost always got some sort of axe to grind. She's got it in her head she's gotta' keep up with us. Ain't too bad, but ever' now and then, she gets real riled up about it." Sinclair laughed. "Guess ya' know how to push her buttons."
Biting back a retort, Soap nodded slightly in agreement.
"So what are we looking at, Sinclair?" Soap asked, picking up one of the photographs of the base that was still under construction.
"That base that yer' lookin' at," Sinclair said, pointing at the photo with another piece of paper. "It's about to become an even bigger problem than we thought."
"Great. What have our Russian friends done now?"
"Taken hostages."
There was a long pause of silence.
"Hostages?" Soap immediately took the paper that Sinclair was offering him. He glanced over the communications, gritting his teeth as he read the report. Two families, including women and small children, had been caught and were now being held hostage at the facility. Apparently they had wandered in too close. Soap could only guess that they were lucky to have not been shot on sight.
"Yeah. Eight in all. Two families. I'm sure ya' can see that. We were gonna' bomb the place to Hell 'n back, but now...we've got a bit of a problem."
"That we do." Soap read further, picking up the papers for the orders. They had been edited the last minute in response to the intel that there were now hostages. "So we have to get the hostages out, plant charges, and then we level the place."
"Yep. Here's hoping it goes that smoothly."
"Do they ever?"
Sinclair laughed.
"I think if they did, we'd be out of a job, sport."
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The thick haze of cigar and cigarette smoke hung in the bar like a miniature version of the smog that blanketed the town that most people were inside the bar to forget. The bar itself was dimly lit, with a couple tables having full lighting. The most light came from the five televisions, one in each corner of the bar, and then another right above the bar itself.
A news reporter droned on about some sort of stocks or money increase, Alexei took a long swig of the vodka he had been drinking. The alcohol was as clear as the ice that was floating in it, but still burned like fire with every sip. His blue eyes glanced around the room quickly, taking note of any newcomers into the bar. So far, it was just regulars, and while a couple were rather rowdy drunks, none of them were people that Alexei had to keep a close eye on.
For now, anyways.
His fingers toying with the small pendant on his neck, two quarter-sized medallions with his full name on one side and a sword with a feathered hilt, halo, and rays of light coming from behind it, Alexei took another drink, not even batting an eye at the sharp burn of alcohol. He could barely remember the days when he did wince at the bite that vodka had, although Alexei remembered that tequila and him did not get along well. At all. The mere memory of the vile stuff would cause him to scrunch his nose up in disgust.
"Mr. Maltov?"
Hearing his last name, Alexei looked over slightly. Two women, one who looked to be in her mid to late twenties, and another who couldn't have been over twenty, were looking at him with wide eyes. The smaller woman was hiding behind the older one, and while they both looked scared, the younger woman looked downright terrified.
Taking note of their frail frames, and the fact that even if they were armed, Alexei could easily reach the Glock strapped to his right leg and shoot them both before they could even take aim at him, Alexei nodded slightly.
"We...need your help, please," the older woman continued.
Turning to face the two women, his pitch black hair glinting dimly in the faint light, Alexei looked at them narrowly.
"My help?" he repeated. He smirked faintly. "I think you two are mistaken. My help is not the type that most seek out, much less two little bean poles of women."
The women exchanged quick glances, the older one shifting the weight on her feet nervously. She gave Alexei a pleading look, and in that look, Alexei realized she was far more serious than he had initially given her credit for.
"Please. Will you at least hear us out?"
Alexei nodded and motioned to the booth seat across the table from him. He took another sip of the vodka as the two women slid wordlessly into the booth. The younger woman was tightly clutching two envelopes, one bulging slightly with what appeared to be money, the other thin be looking to be of equal importance as her fingers dug into the envelope.
"My name's Mariya, and this is my sister Lana, we live...lived in a small farming town a ways from here. Near the Kazakhstan border."
Alexei lifted an eyebrow.
"That's quite a ways for you both to travel."
"We need your help," Lana whispered meekly.
Looking between the two quickly, Alexei glanced back over to the denizens of the bar. A couple of men were staring at him, but the instant he met their gaze, they quickly backed down. Apparently Alexei's reputation proceeded him better than he thought.
"And what would you two need my sort of help for?" Alexei asked slowly, bringing his gaze back to the two women.
Slowly and cautiously, Lana slid the thinner of the two envelopes towards Alexei, who nonchalantly snatched up the envelope. Opening it he was greeted with family photographs, their smiling faces slightly marred by the fold marks in the photos. The edges of the photos were worn and on a couple torn, but the faces were still easily recognizable.
"That's our family and...and our neighbors," Mariya said, her voice threatening to break. "They...they were taken."
Alexei looked up momentarily from the photos at Mariya, the dark circles under her eyes starting to glisten with tears, then turned his attention back to the photos.
"Do you know who they were taken by?" Alexei murmured.
"No. They looked like...like military, but they didn't...act like it." Mariya took in a shaky breath, Lana clinging to her arm and looking around the bar nervously.
"I wouldn't worry too much about the rest of the men in the bar here," Alexei said lowly, setting the photos aside and taking another drink. "They're not as dumb as they look. At least, for their sake I hope they're not."
Lana looked at Alexei, then to Mariya, who simply nodded her head.
"Do you know they were taken?" Alexei queried, watching both Mariya and Lana closely.
"They were just out trying to find some lost cattle," Mariya whispered hoarsely. "That's when we saw the soldiers. They were yelling at us to get back, and our father...our father tried to explain that we were just trying to find a couple of stupid cows that had wandered off. And...and then..."
"And then...?"
"And then the soldiers started shooting at us," Mariya whimpered, cringing at the memory. "I ran. I don't remember what they were yelling at me about, but I just ran. I ran home and got Lana. The soldiers...they followed me, but...I think I managed to lose them."
"You 'think' you lost them?" Alexei asked, his tone going a bit colder than he intended.
"It's been over two days," Mariya added quickly, looking startled. "And I haven't seen them at all."
Alexei kept his comments to himself. The fact that Mariya hadn't seen these soldiers, even if they were military, meant nothing. If anything, it just meant that they were good at their job. But there was no need to terrify Mariya or Lana any further.
"You want me to get your families back?" Alexei inquired finally, paying close attention to both Mariya and Lana.
The two women nodded quickly, but emphatically. So far...they seemed genuine enough.
"Or at least...find out what's happened to them," Mariya added despondently.
Alexei nodded slowly, mulling the idea over in his head. He rarely did rescue, much less entire families. His specialty was more in the business of making people disappear...
"That many people...it'd be expensive," Alexei cautioned, raising an eyebrow and looking at Mariya pointedly.
"We are prepared to pay you," Mariya said. She looked at Lana, who quickly slid the other envelope over to Alexei. As he'd guessed, it was money. Nowhere near what he normally charged, especially for something this complicated, but it was money. "I don't...think it's enough, but...I do have...more than money...to offer." Mariya had to force the statement out of her mouth, her voice cracking on the last two words.
Lana whimpered quietly, but said nothing, simply leaning against her sister.
Alexei stayed silent, counting the money mentally, but taking note of Mariya's last statement. His stomach lurched in disgust, and a pang of pity struck at his conscious. Taking a couple of bills out of the envelope, he then slid the envelope back to the two women. Lana looked thoroughly confused, but Mariya looked nothing short of panicked.
"I don't work for free," Alexei stated, folding the bills up. "But this should buy me another drink, which should suffice. As for your families..," Alexei slid the other envelope with the photos back to Mariya, who looked to be venturing a cautious smile, "write their names, ages, any other physical details you can think of, such as scars or tattoos, on that envelope. Then give me an address where you can be found and a phone number that you can be reached at. One last thing, if anybody asks, you tell them that you paid me fully for services rendered, and that's it. Nobody needs to know the price."
Standing up, Alexei handed the photos back to Lana, who quickly scooped them up into the envelope of money. She began to hurriedly scribble names and ages down on the empty envelope. Mariya watched her carefully, an exhausted but relieved smile on her face, giving her more notes to add.
When the envelope was three quarters of the way full of writing, Lana handed it to Alexei, who looked over it quickly, and then folded it carefully into his pocket. According to the address, they were staying at a hotel, which was ideal given the circumstances. He looked at the two women and nodded shortly.
"Stay warm. I'll be in touch," he muttered. He turned to go back to the bar, but Mariya spoke up, causing him to pause.
"Wait, please," she whispered. Lana quickly slid out of the booth so that Mariya could get out of the booth as well. Mariya walked up to Alexei, still smiling her cautious smile. At 6' 7", Alexei towered over Mariya, but she maintained her composure.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you so much."
Alexei studied Mariya for a few seconds, then a ghost of a smile flashed across his face and he lightly patted Mariya on the shoulder.
"Go back to your hotel room, relax as best you can, and I'll let you know something in about forty-eight hours. Understood?"
Both Mariya and Lana once again nodded, and they quickly scurried out of the bar. Alexei watched them leave. They looked at nobody as they left, and while Alexei wasn't going to ignore the suspicious little voice that was always in the back of his head, Mariya's pleas had been genuine. Or at least...genuine enough.
Walking back to the bar to order another drink, Alexei began to replay a familiar prayer in his head. So far it had kept him safe, and he could only hope that it held through this time as well.
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