A/N: Many thanks to my beta!
It's three p.m. sharp when we enter the gates into the warehouse area. With their plane is due to land at 3.30, and taking into account the travel time, we have exactly one hour before Daniel's guests arrive.
Sarah has arranged everything perfectly. Aside from the two of us, seven men were assigned to this operation, all built like mountains, and dressed in black suits. Six are with us, and will be strategically placed so everything is under our control. One other man is surveilling the airfield and will inform us of the Russians arrival, and how many are in their party. He's supposed to stay there until they leave, unless something goes very wrong, and we have to call him over. The only time the Russians won't have someone watching them, once they arrive on US soil, will be the trip from and back to the airfield.
Although everything seems to be under our control, Sarah doesn't allow anyone to relax. From the moment we left the Estate, every move we made was planned in advance, from the schedule down to the two stops we've made during our journey.
The day is dark and cold. The smattering of freezing rain that fell in the morning has left the air saturated with humidity, and the night will be falling earlier. It's not ideal, the road that leads to the warehouse only has a couple of miles of visibility, but at least all is quiet, even the birds have been silent, as if, they too, were feeling the tension of the moment. The man Sarah places on the second floor of the decrepit building, closer to the entrance, will not be able to see anyone coming from afar, even with his binoculars, but the area is dead quiet. The sound of the motors should be enough to alert him, and by proxy, us.
One other man is posted at the main entrance of the building and another will be guarding the narrow backdoor, which will be serving as an emergency exit in case something doesn't feel right. If that happens, Daniel's safety is our priority. He'll be escorted out through the back and directly into one of the cars that we've parked as close as we could. Only one vehicle is out in the open, parked right in front of the warehouse main door. The third and last car with us is entirely outside of the complex, hidden behind one of the abandoned houses off the main road. The man standing guard at the airfield has another vehicle with him. All sedans, different brands, different colors, plates from different New England states, but none from Massachusetts. Sarah wanted us to attract as little attention as possible.
Upon his arrival, Daniel exits his car in front of the building when Sarah and I make sure everything is ready. We, along with the three remaining men, escort him inside. He looks nervous in his charcoal suit and crisp white shirt. Even with a perfectly tailored black overcoat covering his weak shoulders, Daniel looks incredibly out of place. It's obvious all this is new ground for him, his eyes darting anxiously, his strides slow, feet almost dragging while we show him around.
Delphine's words enter my mind: I doubt he has any idea what he's gotten himself into. He's too green and, unless something changes a lot, once the Russians get here, they'll pick up on it immediately. They're seasoned professionals in these sort of affairs, and know very well what they're doing. Daniel is a duck and he's being played. I have no empathy for the man, but can't help but feel for his sorry ass.
It doesn't matter how competent I, Sarah or the men with us are at our jobs, we can keep Daniel physically safe, but he's the only one who can protect himself against the type of financial maneuvers the Russians could make against him, especially since he hasn't revealed anything about the negotiations he's here to make. He's so intent on keeping everything a secret, in fact, that he instructed us to stay out of earshot. We're to keep a reasonable distance, only as close as necessary to prevent any harm to befall him.
Daniel sits stiffly at the head of the table while we complete the finishing touches. Sarah and I place glasses and bottles of water in front of several seats. One man is already circling the overhead platform, and Sarah joins him for now. She'll come back down for the Russians' arrival, then return to the platform. The last two men and myself will cover the ground. Meanwhile, our man at the airfield has informed us of the plane touching down. Six men and a woman got into three black SUV's that were waiting for them, indicating that at least three people were already in the US.
Sarah doesn't like it in the least. I look up at her in the platform as I hear her low, tense voice in my earpiece.
"Eyes sharp everyone," she says, her stare alert and scanning the lower level. "They should be here in twenty."
Her words are followed by several "Roger that" mumbled by the men in their positions and I nod subtly in her direction when her eyes find me.
"Twenty minutes," I lower myself and say close to Daniel's ear, the only in our party who's not in constant contact. He looks nervously at me. "Do you want to go over the extraction plan one last time?" I suggest as a way to keep him on his toes. The last thing we need is our supposed leader to freeze and lose touch with what we're doing.
"Go to the back door where Josh and Sarah will be waiting for me," he says, his eyes going to his back where the exit is.
"That's right," I nod. "Josh is outside and, at the smallest sign something is wrong, Sarah will go down the stairs at the other end," I point them out again, and his eyes follow my hand. "They'll take you to the car parked in the back while the rest of us cover you."
Daniel nods in understanding. "I still think I should have a gun."
"No!" I state firmly, shaking my head. "We've been through this, Daniel, you don't need a gun. The rest of us are armed, we've got you," I say in the most reassuring way I can, lightly patting his shoulder. "You just worry about your part, and leave security to us."
He has been requesting a gun since we've talked last night in the library. There are several reasons for me to oppose this, but none as strong as the obvious. Under no circumstance, should a man ready to snap at every little movement like Daniel is now, have a gun. We don't need to start a shootout with the Russian mafia.
My own weapon rests reassuringly heavy in its holster pressed snuggly against the side of my torso, beneath my jacket. I have no intention of pulling it out, but Sarah was emphatic about all of us being prepared. We don't make a habit of using any sort of firepower in our missions. In fact, I can count the times I had one with me during a job on one hand, but Sarah was always more comfortable with this necessary side of our jobs. She avoids it, doesn't use it unless she absolutely has to, just like myself. The difference is that, if the time to pull out our weapons comes, Sarah won't hesitate to do it. Having her by my side today gives me sense of security I wouldn't have otherwise.
I look at her, in black cargo pants and heavy boots, she has left her leather jacket in the car, and the butt of her sidearm peeks from under the side of her chest, sending a silent message. She descends from the platform, back straight, expression serious, and stops at the table.
"They're down the road," she informs us in a low voice. "Marcus has already spotted them," she says, referring to the man on higher ground and then stares at Daniel. "I think it would be a good idea for you to meet them outside."
"Yes, yes… of course," he mumbles, shoving his chair back and getting up.
Both of us follow a few steps behind, and I notice Sarah looking at me sideways with an expression that tells me she's thinking exactly the same thing I am. She doesn't trust Daniel to keep his cool.
The high beams of the SUV's nearly blind us as we move outside, just in time to see them cross through the gate and slowly come to a halt behind our car. Doors open simultaneously, as if in a thoroughly rehearsed dance, and hard looking men step outside, the large coats they don could be to guard them from the late afternoon cold or to conceal their weapons. They don't say a word, but look around, carefully scanning their surroundings before two of them go to the back door of the second car and open it.
The man that steps out seems to be in his late fifties, strongly built with broad shoulders, but of small stature. He's completely bald, his eyes are small, and too close to each other, but there's intelligence behind them, a kind of shrewdness acquired by many meeting such as this. His thin lips form a straight line, and a parrot like nose makes his face look uneven. After him comes a long legged young woman, early to mid thirties, pale skin, dressed in a sharp, white pant suit. The tight cut of the blazer perfectly displays a generous bosom, her long, straight, jet black hair drapes over her back. Her eyes are as gray as the winter sky above our heads, and a tiny, charming smile rests naturally on her fleshy, red lips.
The two of them appear to be unfazed by the mounting tension, their steps filled with confidence as they approach Daniel.
"Daniel, rat teebya veedet'," the man says in a genial voice, pulling Daniel in for a hug.
The American is caught by surprise with the familiarity of the greeting, only half returning the hug before the Russian pulls back.
"May I introduce Sashya," he says, stepping aside for the woman to extend her slender hand, nails as red her her bold lips, in a much more guarded greeting, that Daniel takes with his eyes raking over the voluptuous body. "She'll be translating for us, since my English is not good enough to deal with such sensitive matters," the Russian continues is a gleeful way, and although his words have a heavy Slavic lilt, his English seems perfectly fine.
Daniel finally smiles, his eyes still glued to the gorgeous woman. "Any reason is a good reason to have a beautiful woman at the table," he says, and the woman acknowledges the compliment with a small smile and a nod.
Next to me, Sarah is discreetly rolling her eyes, one of her brows quirked upwards when she looks at me, and a subtle smirk sets on her lips. Until that moment, her expression was of slight confusion. By now she has probably identified the nationality of the new arrivals, and I can't imagine what she makes of all this, but it's not like she'll share her thoughts with me. Not now, when every word we say is being monitored by the rest of the team we brought with us. Sarah has to apply some unusual restraint to her actions and words. Later though, I'm sure I'll hear all about it.
"Why don't we get out of the cold?" Daniel is saying, moving aside to allow passage to the man and woman. "We have some drinks to keep us warm."
"Ah… perfekt, moy drug," the man says, a large smile on his thin lips and a hand slapping Daniel's upper back.
Sarah and I stand back as they move inside. Two of their men entered the warehouse as soon as they've arrived, presumably to make sure everything was in order, but we're not worried, having our own men guarding the building. Still, we'll be outnumbered. We've spread our team, but that gives us a strategic upper hand. They leave their drivers by the cars, ready for a quick exit if needed, and the last two guards enter only after Sarah and I, walking behind us a little too close for comfort, but to say anything about it would be reckless.
While the two men already inside have placed themselves on the ground level, one passes by us, without so much as a look in our direction, and starts to climb the stairs to the overhead platform. Sarah watches him for a few seconds, twisting her lips when he settles halfway up. The other man starts to move as well, but stops right in front of me, his large chest puffed out, and I have to crane my neck to look at him. He has dark eyes, his facial hair somewhere between a week's stubble and an unkept beard, but his most distinctive feature is his swollen nose, the bridge of which was unskillfully patched up, the area around it an ugly purple.
"Your friend broke my nose," he grunts in broken English, his angry eyes narrowing in my direction.
My brain quickly makes the association with the events in Warsaw and I can't keep the smirk from my lips. "It's an improvement," I say and don't stick around to hear his response.
I walk away, my eyes moving to the table where Daniel is holding the chair for the woman to sit.
"What's that about?" Sarah asks in a hush voice next to me.
I briefly look a her and shrug. Sarah obviously doesn't buy it, but she won't get into it either, she has other concerns for now. Instead, she heads straight to her post upstairs, brushing past the Russian guard and settling in the middle of the overhead bridge, her eyes sweeping the floor. I hear her ask "all good?" in my earpiece and a series of affirmatives follow. My eyes track the man who accosted me, standing on the far end of the building, leaning against the office. He doesn't bother to peer inside, opting to stare at me. I reward him with a large grin.
I don't stand still, moving around the floor, but keeping a reasonable distance from the table where the meeting seems to have already started. One of their guards was carrying a black briefcase that's now open on top of the table. Only Daniel, Sashya and the small Russian, whose name is still a mystery, sit there, each of them with a bound folder in front of them. They talk low amongst themselves and there's no way for me to discern what they're discussing without being noticed. I start to think that, perhaps, Sarah has selected the place too well - they have the luxury of privacy, along with security.
They've been at it for twenty minutes when I notice Daniel's eyes looking for me and, without any word or gesture needed, I approach the table.
"Cosima, why don't we get our guests a drink?" He says in an unnecessarily, condescending tone.
"Vodka, pazh'alsta," the Russian man says.
"Oh father, you are a walking stereotype," the woman, Sashya, says in perfect English with a British inflection and then looks at me, the enigmatic smirk seems permanently attached to her lips. "I'll have a sparkling water, if you have any."
I nod and go to the fridge. Now that I've been able to see them in some light, I can see the resemblance between the two in the gray eyes and the astuteness. The man's are less bright than the woman's, but it's there. I find it curious that he's introduced her as the translator and not his daughter, who he's probably grooming to take his place some time in the future. It puts Daniel at an even greater disadvantage. He's utterly ill equipped, and is being worked by two career criminals, for all I know. If he hadn't sounded so patronizing barely a minute ago, I'd be inclined to conjure some sympathy for him.
From the fridge I secure the bottle of vodka that I've bought, because stereotypes exist for a reason, and the sparkling water. I dislike playing waitress, but this is the perfect opportunity to linger around the table and try to discover what this meeting is all about. So, I take my time setting the bottles and small glasses on the table, opening the bottle of water and pour some in the glass already in front of the woman.
My eyes wander over the folder open in front of her, thankfully written in the Latin alphabet. Top to bottom, a list of names, with a series of numbers and what looks like an address under each name. I manage to recognize several cities: Belgrade, Kiev, Częstochowa, Sofia. A couple of them are repeated, but the only relation I can think of is that all of them are located in Eastern European countries.
"You can leave the bottle, Cosima," Daniel's words makes me take my eyes of the list, "thank you."
I nod. "Anything else you need..." I state before turning on my heel.
With my eyes, I search out Sarah, looking down at me, following my every move. I know she's itching to know what I've seen, but, again, she'll have to wait until we can speak in private. Besides, I'm not exactly sure what I've just seen, and am trying hard not to jump to conclusions. I have a very bad feeling about this, and suspect I won't like the answer once I get it.
I'm hard pressed to keep my focus on what is happening around me, the quietness making me restless, the only noise being the three people talking in low voices, and the occasional refill of glasses.
"Something is wrong," I hear Sarah's voice in my ear, and look for her on the balcony, only to find her no longer on the bridge, but by one of the windows looking out, one of our men next to her. "Marcus, come in!" She asks the man standing post on the other building.
"Nothing to report," he answers.
"There's movement at your three o'clock," Sarah insists.
"Probably an animal."
I hear the conversation in my ear and look around the ground floor. Our guys are hearing the same thing I am, and are alerted, but not moving from their posts, while the Russians remain completely oblivious to what's being discussed over our communication system.
"Any movement on the road?" Sarah continues.
"Negative."
"Josh, what's your status?" Sarah asks the man guarding the emergency exit.
"Standing guard," he replies. "I see nothing, but it's dark and the fog doesn't help."
"Do you hear anything?"
"Just the wind," he says.
Sarah walks along the platform, no hurry in her steps. She doesn't want to make any sudden movements that would attract attention, but she goes to the end of it, stopping just before the stairs further from the main entrance of the building and looks outside through the last window.
"I see movement," she repeats, in an incredibly calm voice. "Vegetation moving, coming from the East."
I look at her again and when she meets my gaze, Sarah uses her left hand to tap her right shoulder twice, the signal that it's time to go.
"Josh, stand by," she says.
"Copy that."
I try to emulate Sarah's coolness, keeping my steps casual, and position myself in front of Daniel without crowding him, and wait until he looks at me. He knows the drill, we've gone over it several times. We don't want the Russians to get trigger happy, and we don't want them to realize something is wrong before we are ready to leave. He takes a couple of moments, that we probably don't have to spare, to look at me and I give him the signal, two taps on my right shoulder. To my astonishment, Daniel ignores the signal, slightly shaking his head, and returning his attention to the Russian woman who's saying something close to his ear.
My mind is racing, thinking about what to do next. I can't repeat the signal, I know very well he's seen it, and to repeat the gesture will raise suspicion.
"Blyat'!" Someone screams outside.
Immediately everyone starts to move, weapons are drawn, every man in fighting stance, but at least they don't start shooting blindly. I look at Daniel, standing up quickly, his chair falling backwards with the impulse, but he doesn't know what to do. Meanwhile, three of their guards have already surrounded the Russians and are pulling them to the front door. It's complete chaos, but my instinct kicks in and I run to Daniel, who, ridiculously is following the Russians. I grab his arm and push him the other way, in the direction of the back door.
My eyes are on Sarah, holding the door to the office open with an angry face. Behind me I hear several explosions from the smoke grenades thrown inside the warehouse.
"What the fuck was that?!" Sarah screams when we get to her.
I say nothing, just shake my head, not trusting the words that would come out of my mouth if I were to speak. Daniel's fucking mindless actions could've gotten us in very big trouble.
Josh is keeping the back door open as Sarah pushes Daniel through it. Before I exit, I look back, the building is quickly filling with dense smoke, but my eyes can still find the table with absolutely nothing on it; not the papers, not the glasses, not even an half empty bottle of vodka. Just before we close the door behind us and step into the dark night, we hear shots being fired and several screams in Russian. There's nothing we can do about our men, we can only hope that the communications Sarah made in advance was enough to give them an head start.
"Shit!" Sarah says, continuing to push the man who seems to have frozen with fear. "Get to the car!"
Josh walks ahead of us and we can hardly see where we're going, but none of uses flashlight that all of us have attached our belt so we don't expose our position. He opens the back door and Sarah shoves Daniel inside, following quickly, while Josh gets behind the wheel and starts the engine.
"Stop!" A voice screams behind us, coming from the side of the building. The sound of the engine probably attracting attention. "Federal Agents!"
"Get in!" Sarah says through the open back door of the car.
"No, no! You go!" I shake my head and wave my hand. "I'll lead'em away then find the other car."
"No way!" Sarah presses loudly.
"Stop right now!" The agent is getting closer.
"Go! Now!" I say and get out my flashlight. "I've got an idea."
"Fuck! Go Josh!" Sarah says, sensing the time running out, and the car starts to move, headlights off, so they can stay under the radar as long as possible.
The agent has already turned the corner and I spot his position by the sound of his heavy footsteps. I aim the flashlight still out at his face and, when he is as close as I dare for him to get, I light up the powerful led beam.
"God dammit!" He screams, stumbling back, momentarily blinded by the light.
I waste no time turning in the opposite direction the car took and run like hell, keeping the flashlight on so the man can follow me when he recovers. It's not hard to keep him motivated, I doubt he thinks he can outrun a car. My trick has only given me twenty seconds of advance, and soon, he's after me, his heavy footsteps getting closer. I speed up, sprinting for a while until my lungs start to burn, low branches whip against my leg. The beam of my flashlight shakes with the movement, but I'm able to locate my exit and suddenly turn off the light and stop running, lowering myself and start to move slowly.
The man chasing me was counting on the light I was providing and when I turn it off, he finds himself in pitch darkness. I hear him curse under his breath, and his heavy footsteps stop as well as he fumbles with his own flashlight. One lit and he sweeps the area, but I'm far enough from him and can move away, seeing him moving his arm. I keep to low to the ground, the tall vegetation giving me some cover, moving very slowly and quietly, approaching the hole in the fence whenever his back turns to it.
"Fuck!" He says a little louder, his breathing coming in heavy puffs, fogging even more the air in front of his face.
They'd used the fog to conceal their approach, and I use it to my advantage to get the hell out of here. There's a moment of absolute silence, even my earpiece has gone dead. Either Sarah has shut it down, in case someone else is listening, or the Feds have jammed it to create confusion between our ranks. The only sounds I hear are distant shouts carried by the wind from the fighting still happening near the warehouse. The hole in the fence is right next to me and I wait until the agent turns his back on me again to escape the complex.
I keep moving slowly, carefully, not making a sound as the man continues his search, but with every step, I am safer. My flashlight remains out, but there are a few vehicles speeding in the direction of the warehouse now, the sirens off but the emergency lights are on, rotating blues and reds on the roofs and front grills of the cars, helping me see where I'm going. I cross backyards of abandoned homes, the walls that used to divide the properties have long collapsed and are rubbles of stones that I step over, trying not to think about what sort of animals are crawling around my boots.
The agent is well behind me when I see the dark blue car, parked exactly where we've left it. I open the driver's side door that we've left unlocked and crouch, pulling back the mat to find the key. Blindly, I feel for it and, coming up empty, am forced to turn on the flashlight, keeping the light low.
"Looking for this?"
The voice comes from behind me, and I immediately stand up, my eyes narrowing in its direction, not risking raising the flashlight from the ground, but it's not like I need visual confirmation.
"I fucking knew it!" I say between a clenched jaw. "I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew there was something."
"I never doubted your sagacity," she says. "Although I really thought you'd have it all figured out by now."
Delphine has a serious expression, approaching me in small, careful steps, the key I was looking for balanced between the fingers of one hand, the other showing a gun. She's in black tactical gear, FBI in large, white, block letters across her bulletproof vest, the blonde curls under a dark blue cap.
"Put the gun away, we both know you're not going to shoot me," I say, my eyes on the still raised arm.
To Delphine's credit, she does so immediately, holstering the weapon in the belt, while at the same time she pockets the key. "I didn't know who would show up," she says, almost apologizing.
"Are you going to arrest me?" I ask in a mocking tone.
A small smile appears on her lips and she shakes her head. "Not unless you force me to," Delphine says. "You're much more useful to me by Daniel's side."
"Good! Then give me back my key so I can get there." I extend my hand and now she's close enough for me to see her eyes briefly lowering and then return to my stare.
"Not likely!" Delphine responds, and I see the hint of amusement in her eyes for an instant before she quashes it. "I can't just let you leave."
A particularly loud shout comes from down the road and makes both our heads turn towards it. When Delphine looks back at me she's biting her lower lip, and I can read the dilemma she's facing. It's obvious she doesn't want to reveal our position, she's not inclined to take me in.
"Either you call your friends, or give me back the key," I try to take advantage of her indecision. "We can't stay here forever, Delphine."
She takes a deep breath, her eyes sweep the area around us. "You've got something to write on?"
"Are you serious?" I ask confused, but she narrows her eyes at me, so I search in the glovebox and come up with a pen and post-it. "Unbelievable…" I mutter, giving them to her.
"Turn around," she motions with her finger twirling in the air.
"This is ridiculous," I say as she uses my back to scribbled something on the paper.
When she pats my shoulder I turn back around and she's searching a pocket under her vest, taking out a ring of keys. "Wait there," Delphine says, handing me the piece of paper with a New York address along with the car's and ring of keys.
I look down at her hand. "What if I don't?"
"Don't make me do it," she says, sounding somewhat tired.
"Do what?"
"I may be letting you go, Cosima, but I know where to find your friends…" she hints, not sounding entirely pleased that she had to resort to threats.
"And what am I supposed to tell them when I go missing, waiting God knows how long for you?" I ask, in one last attempt to get out of it, even though I should be counting my blessings.
"You're a smart girl, Cosima, I'm sure you'll think of something," Delphine offers little help.
I press my lips together, and after a brief hesitation, take what she's giving me. Delphine gives a short nod and starts to walk to the front of the building and towards the main road.
"Are you going to give me some answers?" I ask before she's too far.
"Don't disappear with my house keys, please."