Chapter 3: Zim Versus the Russian

"General Beckman," Casey said.

"Colonel Casey," the woman on the screen said. "Agent Walker. And I can only assume this is the new Chuck?"

"Affirmative," Casey said. "This pile of protoplasm calls itself Cris Zim."

Zim grimaced at the insult, but he didn't want Casey pissed off at him. He looked at the general. "You can call me Cris."

"Okay, Zim," she said. "We have a mission for you. You'll be going to Miami. A weapons dealer from Russia will be there for a meeting with Neville Twittleford."

Zim laughed at the ridiculous name. He stopped when he saw no one else laughing.

"The British millionaire?" Walker asked. "Why?"

"I'm getting to that. Zim, do you know who this man is?" She held up a picture of a man with a shaved head. He had flinty eyes, and his mouth looked like a stab wound.

Something weird happened in his head, and information Flashed through his thoughts. "Sergei Stolyichaniavenka. KGB. Suspected in thirteen assassinations throughout the world." He blinked, and his mind cleared up.

"Good. You even pronounced his name correctly."

An evil grin broke out on Casey's face. "Say that name again."

"Uh . . . Stoyyyyyyyyyyuuhhhhhhhhhhvenka?"

Casey grunted and returned his attention to the general. "I've crossed paths with him before, back when I was known as El Angel de la Muerta. I almost managed to poison him while I was hiding out in the palace walls. This close." He held his index finger and thumb about an inch apart.

"You might get your chance again, Colonel," Beckman said. "We have intel that suggests that he is trying to sell something called the Widowmaker. We're unclear on what, exactly, it is. Anything, Zim?"

Zim squinted as if that would make him Flash. Nothing. "Nope."

"Regardless, we have the time and place of their meeting," Beckman said. "We need to get that Widowmaker away from him, whatever it is."

"Question," Walker said. "Why does Neville Twittleford want the Widowmaker? What does he plan to do with it?"

"Unknown, Agent Walker," Beckman said. "Your plane leaves in three hours. Please report to me as soon as you're set up at the hotel."

Zim thought about most of the plane trips he'd taken lately. "Maybe we should take the train," he said.

"We're on a tight schedule," Beckman said. "Get on with it." And the screen went black.

"No, seriously," Zim said. "Almost every plane I've been on has crashed."

Casey and Walker ignored him as they went about packing for the trip. Zim leaned over the computer and tried to figure out how to get Final Fantasy up on this thing.

Casey clapped his hand down on Zim's shoulder. "Forget it, Nintendo Power. Let's get going."

Zim sighed tremendously.

They went back up into the Buy More, which was now closed. They took the back door out, to Casey's car. It was a Crown Vic, and it looked pretty sweet. As they drove around to the front of the store they saw Jeff and Lester staggering around the empty parking lot. It looked like they'd already got trashed at the Bennigan's in the mere hour since the store closed.

At the airport they bypassed security—one of the perks of being a spy for the government—and boarded a private plane. Once settled in, Walker took out her phone and scrolled through some documents.

"Okay, Zim. Your cover. You're going to be millionaire Zimothy Finley. You know a friend of a friend of Neville Twittleford. Your friend is named . . . are you listening?"

"Of course," Zim said. He wasn't. He was too busy waiting for something to go wrong as he felt like he was reaching the end of the chapter. Whoever wrote his life liked to throw cliffhangers at him.

Walker looked doubtful, but she continued. "Your friend's name is Higgs Bosley. He's into international arms. And he's a real guy, so don't get creative. Stick to the plan. When we get to the hotel . . ."

Zim tuned her out. Now he didn't even care about what was going to happen shortly. He knew he'd get out of it in the next chapter.

"Okay?" Walker asked.

Zim didn't know what she'd just said. Whatever. "Got it."

They landed in Miami, much to Zim's surprise and relief. From there they went to the hotel, where Walker presented him with a suit to wear to the party tonight. "Remember, you have to keep Sergei occupied the whole time. I don't know what you have to do, just make sure he doesn't go away."

Zim frowned at the suit. At least this time he didn't have Brandon fucking with him about wires. He got dressed, and then she gave him a pair of glasses and an earpiece and a watch. "The glasses have a camera in them. If you want to talk to us, you'll need to talk into the watch. Okay?"

"Uh . . . yeah."

"Let's go."

Given Zim's new opulent lifestyle, he found it easy to navigate this party full of rich people. He was one of them, after all. He liked watching all the hot chicks, and more than once he thought he might start hitting on a few.

Casey stopped him from his ear each time. "Keep it in your pants, Bruce Wayne. Eyes on the prize. And stop drinking so much."

Zim let out a tremendous sigh. Then he finally saw Neville Twittleford. He spoke with that Russian guy with the stupid last name. He didn't even remember what it was. Time to shine. Maybe then Casey would let him get some poontang.

"Hey Neville," Zim said. "I heard you'd be at this party. How are you?"

The Russian stared at him, and Zim realized he'd just barged into their conversation. Eh, so what?

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Neville said. He paused, waiting. When Zim didn't respond, he knew the idiot hadn't understood him. "And you are . . . ?"

"Cris Zim," Zim said.

"You fucking idiot," Casey said. "Zimothy Finley."

"You can call me . . . uh, Zim. No, Zimothy. I'm . . . yeah."

"I thought I recognized you," the Russian said. "I'm trying to place it, but I think I have it. You arrived in Italy with Raymond Reddington. I saw you at the airport. Shortly before the destruction of Cutthroat Island."

"Uh, yeah. That was me."

"Zim," Casey said. "That guy isn't being conversational. He's going to accuse you of something. Be ready."

"I loved Cutthroat Island," the Russian continued. "And as I understand it, Reddington betrayed almost all of us on his so-called Blacklist."

"So what are you saying?" Neville asked.

"Dammit," Casey said.

"He's a spy," Sergei said. He pulled his gun and aimed it at Zim's head.

"FUCK," Zim said.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .