Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong to Warner and Shoot the Moon - not me!
Dmitri Varostov sat quietly, watching the boy through the small two-way mirror. He had not stirred since Gurov had placed him in the cell an hour ago. The escape from the States had almost been too simple, and Varostov hadn't slept any easier knowing the boy was on a plane on his way to Moscow. A door opened behind him, and Varostov did not even turn to look.
"Privyet, Nikolai," he said. "The boy has not moved. How much did you give him?"
"Enough to keep him quiet on the flight. He's very light for being that tall. Probably a little too much for his weight," the tall, dark man answered.
"When he wakes, send Pyotr in and take care of final preparations. The boy cannot be here when Scarecrow arrives," Varostov turned to exit the room.
"What are you going to do with him?"
"I'm placing him in your care in the city jail. Once Scarecrow is out of the way, I will send Pyotr to get you both out of the prison. You will then be paid, and we can get rid of the boy," Varostov replied. He turned to look at the tall man. "Scarecrow will be here within 16 hours, guaranteed. I'm going to make arrangements at the prison now. Notify me when Pyotr is through with the boy," and he left the room.
Nikolai Gurov sighed. A Moscow jail was no place for a fourteen-year-old boy, no matter who was there to protect him. He shuddered. Gurov would not enjoy being in the jail in the first place, let alone looking after the boy. The place was too dangerous. 'Something will need to be done,' he thought to himself. His reverie was interrupted as the boy began to regain consciousness in the small room next door.
Jamie's vision was blurred. He couldn't tell where he was. The only sensations he could make out were the pounding of his head and how cold the room was. He heard a door open from somewhere, and momentarily felt a gust of warm air. The door slammed, and Jamie jumped.
"Where am I?" he asked quietly. He still couldn't make the figure out. It was dark in the room and his vision was still blurry.
"You're in Moscow, young one," the voice spoke. It certainly was cold enough to be Russia. And the man did have an accent.
"Why am I here?" Jamie tried not to display the fear in his voice. The man was coming into focus, and he looked sympathetic.
"You are being held hostage. Is there anything I can do for you? A young man named Pyotr is going to come in shortly and prepare you for the next part of your journey, but do you want anything while you wait?"
"Do you have a cigarette?" Jamie asked. It was too cold to ask for anything else.
"Indeed," the man sighed and handed the boy a cigarette and lighter. Gurov turned to glance at the mirror. The boy shivered and stared at his cigarette. The man was overcome with guilt and could not look and him. "I will leave you now, Pyotr will be in soon," he said quickly and fled the room.
Jamie's vision had returned and he looked around the room. It was completely bare, save a small mirror on the far wall. He looked down and realized he was still in his undershirt and tux pants. Then he remembered being taken out of his room. He did not understand who would want to hold him hostage. He puffed the cigarette slowly, trying to keep the warm smoke inside his body for as long as possible. He couldn't stop shivering. Just as he let out his last breath of smoke, the door opened again.
"Get up and take your shirt and pants off," a young voice commanded. Jamie turned to look at another boy, who didn't look much older than Philip. "Do it now and don't struggle or I will force you to do it," he continued.
"Are you out of your mind? It can't be much above forty degrees in this room. I'm not taking anything off," Jamie replied and rubbed the cigarette butt into the cold cement floor.
Pyotr crossed the room and pulled Jamie to his feet. "I will give you one more chance," he said coldly. Jamie stood completely still and stared at him. "You give me no choice, American," Pyotr said and punched Jamie in the stomach. It knocked the wind out of him and he fell to his knees. Pyotr punched him again, on the side of his face, and then kicked him in the side. Jamie fell to his side and curled into a ball, warm tears streaming down his face silently. Pyotr dropped what appeared to be clothes on the floor, then stooped to remove Jamie's shoes and socks.
"You will change into these clothes. I will be back for you shortly," he said quietly and spat on the floor next to Jamie's face. "Don't be stupid, American. Cooperation will keep you alive a little longer." Jamie did not move as he listened to the footsteps across the hard floor, and finally the door slam. The tears continued to fall as he tried to sit up. He felt a sharp pain in his side and lay back down. He tried to slow his labored breathing down, as it was hurting each time he had to take in air.
He looked up at the mirror across the room. It only reflected the black room. Jamie had almost expected it to reflect himself. Biting his lip, he forced himself to stand and change clothes. Pyotr had left behind what looked to Jamie like navy blue hospital scrubs. He pulled the uncomfortable drawstring pants on over his skinny legs and bent over to pick up the shirt. He had to cry out at the pain from his side. He realized his nose was bleeding and roughly wiped it on his undershirt before removing it. He attempted to button the shirt, but his hands were shaking so badly he gave up and lay back down on the floor. The tears began to fall again.
After what seemed like hours, Pyotr reentered the room with a chair and a small bag.
"Get up," he stated coldly. Jamie did not hesitate and bit his lip again while he stood up and slowly lowered himself into the chair. "Are you in pain?" Pyotr asked.
Jamie only nodded. Pyotr opened the small bag and pulled out a pair of scissors. "I'm going to have to shave your head. You will not look as suspicious to authorities this way," he stated as he began to clip the curls. When it was short enough, Pyotr pulled a straight razor from his bag and shaved Jamie's skull as close as he could. "This might hurt a little, I am sorry I do not have any water for you," Pyotr said as he continued to shave. Jamie hardly noticed. He was concentrating on his breathing. Pyotr dropped the razor back into the bag.
"Stand up," he said. Jamie slowly stood and turned to face Pyotr. The older boy buttoned Jamie's shirt for him and backed away from him. "You look like a very young Russian convict," he finally said. "I'll be back shortly."
Once Pyotr was out of the room, Jamie walked slowly to the mirror across the room. He was completely bald, his nose was still bleeding a little, and the bruise had already begun to form around his left eye. He noticed he could see his breath as he exhaled. Two words were written on the breast of the shirt in cyrillic, and he remembered the stuff written on the box his camera came in. The camera was from Russia, from Moscow in fact. He wondered why Russia seemed to keep popping up in his life. Jamie sighed and turned away from the mirror. Pyotr came back into the room with a broom and dustpan to sweep up the hair.
"How old are you, Pyotr?" Jamie asked quietly.
"I am nearly eighteen," he replied, not looking up from his task.
Jamie sighed again. Pyotr collected the bag, the dustpan and broom, and the chair and made his way to the door.
"Are you still in pain?" he asked.
"Yes, it hurts to breathe," Jamie replied. Pyotr gasped and shook his head.
"I probably broke one of your ribs," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, I'm just following orders. You'll be out here soon, and that rib will be the least of your worries," he finished. "Do svidaniya, James," and he left the room.
Jamie began to shiver again. It seemed to be getting colder and darker in the room. He looked down at his feet and noticed the pinky toes beginning to turn blue. Rubbing his hands together didn't do much good. He slumped against the wall and began to cry again.
Varostov watched the boy through the mirror with cold eyes. As soon as Pyotr came out of the room, he grabbed his collar.
"You show no weakness to subordinates, Pyotr. Not ever," Varostov angrily whispered. He loosened his grip on the boy's collar and seemed to calm down. He walked to the camera and removed the videocassette. "Take this to Nikolai, young one. Tell him to make arrangements for the Americans to see it on a closed television circuit. I am expecting Scarecrow will leave the country as soon as possible after seeing the tape," he said. "Remember, Pyotr. No weakness."
Amanda woke just before seven. Lee was sitting in a chair watching as she realized what had happened the night before. She immediately began to sob as the reality took over her thoughts. He helped her sit up and tried to comfort her as this second wave of pain washed over her being. No words were exchanged, just love and understanding. The phone rang. Amanda fell silent and wiped her eyes as Lee answered the phone.
"Stetson," he answered.
"Scarecrow, you need to get in here as soon as you can," Billy said. He sounded upset.
"What have you got, Billy?"
"Just get in here, and if you can avoid it, don't bring Amanda," he sighed and hung up.
Lee looked at Amanda. She was watching him intently, hoping for any news on her son.
"Billy needs me to go in, Amanda," he said.
"I'm coming with you," she replied. He didn't even try to fight her. She changed her clothes and Lee quietly walked down the hallway to check on Philip. He was still asleep. Lee quietly left him a note on his desk, telling him where they had gone and to let his grandmother know they would be back as soon as they could.
Amanda had pulled herself together quite well, putting on the mask of professionalism as they entered the Agency building. Lee wasn't sure it was a good idea for her to bottle up emotions, but knew she had to be strong at the moment to go in and see Billy.
Billy sat at his desk and waved his two best agents into the office. He rose to give Amanda a reassuring hug and guided her to a chair in front of his desk. He took a deep breath and began.
"One of Varostov's grunts in the city gave one of our agents the frequencies to a closed television circuit. He said to try and tune it in around 8:30," Billy said, glancing at his watch. "My guess is it's probably Varostov's conditions on getting Jamie back," he continued. "Amanda, there might be film of Jamie. Are you sure you want to watch?"
She nodded in agreement and reached for Lee's hand. Billy stood and turned on the television, then leaned up against the wall to wait for the picture to come in. After about two minutes of static, Gurov's face appeared on the screen. He looked tired and extremely unhappy. Amanda gasped.
"That man was sitting behind us at Dooley's the other day, Lee!" she cried.
"Nikolai Gurov," Billy stated plainly. Lee sighed. He obviously hadn't noticed him at Dooley's, nor had he realized he had probably been being followed for quite some time before Jamie was taken. He began to feel very guilty.
"The boy is safe, as you will see. Varostov merely requests an audience with Scarecrow in Moscow at his earliest convenience," his voice came from the television. "Do not worry about finding the boy, Scarecrow. If you cooperate, he will remain safe."
The video then cut to Jamie, unconscious on the floor of the little room. They watched as Varostov came in and tried to explain to him where he was, and gave him the cigarette. Amanda did not appear to notice that her son was smoking; she only appeared relieved that he had not been harmed. The video then cut to Jamie standing face to face with a much younger man, and Amanda cried out in horror as the man punched and kicked her son. She buried her face in Lee's shoulder as the video continued. It cut to Jamie staring into the two-way mirror, bald, bruised and bleeding. Lee tensed at the sight of the uniform he was wearing. It appeared to be a Russian convict's prison uniform. He glanced at Billy, who could only shake his head. The television finally showed Gurov's face again.
"Come to Moscow, Scarecrow. Come get the boy." The television was static again, and the room fell silent except for Amanda's quiet sobs.
"I can't wait for the supply plane, Billy. I've gotta get to Jamie, and I've got to get to him now," Lee stated.
"I'm going with you," Amanda whispered.
"No, you're not," both men said in unison.
"Amanda," Lee continued, "you need to stay here with Philip. I promise you I'm going to bring Jamie back. This is going to be emotional enough for me, without you there. You being there makes things far too dangerous," he whispered and pulled her hair away from her face. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" She nodded as the tears began to fall again. Not only did she have to worry about her son, but now she had her husband to worry about as well. "I promise you, Amanda. Jamie and I will be back home, and soon," and he pulled his wife into his chest to let her cry.
Billy looked on, his heart breaking for the young couple. They had had some trying times, but this one was going to make them or break them.
"Lee, let me go check on flights for you. Stay put and try to calm down," Billy said as he opened the office door and began to bark orders at the surrounding agents.
Lee Stetson did not want to leave his wife and family alone for an indefinite amount of time. He had set his own personal deadline, but he knew things could go wrong at any point. He looked down at his wife to ask a question he had hoped he would never have to ask.
"Amanda, do you want me to call Joe?"
Joe's flight came in from Africa forty-five minutes before Lee's flight left for Moscow. Lee looked on as he and Amanda embraced and shed tears that only parents could shed for a child. Billy had patted Lee's back, trying to reassure him, but it hadn't been easy to watch. The foursome went into an airport restaurant and had a drink and tried to explain to Joe the entire situation. He had been angry at first, but softened when he realized Lee's concern for Jamie and his determination to bring him back. When Lee's flight was called, Joe stood to shake his hand.
"I'm trusting you to bring him back, Lee," Joe said.
"And I'm promising you he'll come back safely," Lee replied.
Lee turned to Billy, his best friend, and looked him in the eyes.
"Keep an eye on them, will you Billy?" he asked.
"You don't even need to ask, Scarecrow. Keep your head clear. If you run into problems, Francine still has that flight tomorrow morning. You call anytime and she'll be on a plane," he responded, and stuck out his hand. Lee took it, and then pulled Billy in for a firm embrace.
"Thank you for everything, Billy," Lee said, pounding him on the back.
"No thanks are needed, Lee," he responded.
Lee offered his hand to Amanda, and they walked slowly to where the stewardess was taking tickets. 'Last call, Moscow,' a voice boomed over the speaker.
"Amanda-"
She put her finger to his lips. He kissed it tenderly and his eyes began to water. She began to cry and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"You'll come back to me in one piece, Mr. Stetson. And you'll bring your son home with you. And then we're going to start our family, the way we should have in the first place," Amanda whispered. "I love you."
"And I love you, Mrs. Stetson," Lee whispered back, the tears finally falling. He reached into his pocket and produced her wedding set, and placed the rings on her finger. He handed her his ring, which she slid onto his wedding finger. He kissed her one last time, handed his ticket to the stewardess, and boarded the plane.
A man he had not seen yet came into Jamie's room and pulled him to his feet. He placed manacles on his feet and hands, and then led him from the room. Once he was out the door, he caught a glimpse of Pyotr before he was blindfolded. He was led through what seemed like a huge building, until he finally heard a door open and felt a gust of bitter Russian air. Once out the door, he felt snow under his feet and then was shoved into the back of a van.
"Hello, young one," a voice came from the darkness. Gurov removed Jamie's blindfold and sat down across from him in the back of the van. Jamie realized the man's head had been shaved and he was wearing the same clothes Pyotr had forced him to put on earlier.
"What are you doing here?" Jamie asked. His voice trembled a little, and he bit his lip to keep from crying.
"You and I are to be comrades, if you will. You are being sent to a Moscow jail for safekeeping. Varostov did not want you in the building when your stepfather arrived. Too many risks," he sighed, and reached for his cigarettes.
"My stepfather? I don't have a stepfather," Jamie replied.
"No?"
"No, I don't. My parents have been divorced since I was very little."
"Very wise, Scarecrow. Keep the marriage quiet and protect the family. Very wise," Gurov was thinking out loud. He offered Jamie a cigarette, which he gladly accepted.
"Would you please tell me what I'm missing, sir?"
"Call me Nikolai, young one."
"Nikolai. Who is Scarecrow?"
"Scarecrow is your stepfather. You probably know him as Lee Stetson," Gurov spoke softly and lit Jamie's cigarette.
Jamie took a long pull at the bitter tasting Russian tobacco. He really didn't know what to think. He had almost decided to disregard Nikolai completely, but then the man continued to talk.
"Scarecrow is his codename. He is a federal agent for your government, as is your mother. When they married, they probably kept it quiet to protect you and your brother. They had done well, until, well, until I overheard them talking a few days ago. I reported to my superior, Varostov, who ordered me to kidnap you from your room and bring you here."
Jamie automatically drew away from the man who he had begun to think might be able to help him. He studied the man's features, and swore he looked familiar. Maybe he had seen him around the city the week before he had been kidnapped.
"Now, we are going to a Moscow jail. You and I have both been convicted of smuggling Christian propaganda into the city. It is not going to be a pleasant experience, young one. I will try my best to protect you, but you must make your every move carefully. Do not speak, unless we are alone. As far as everyone knows, you are a young Russian boy who followed the wrong example and helped me bring in the propaganda."
Jamie nodded and inhaled more of the cigarette. The truth sank in rather quickly. But now he realized he had been lied to in an attempt to protect him. If the truth had come out six months ago, he never would have accepted it. But it was not six months ago and he had come a long way from the lonely, heartbroken boy he had been. His family had shown their love to him in so many different ways recently, and Jamie accepted the truth of his mother and stepfather's triple life as one of those ways. He looked up at the man and smiled.
"Lee is going to come get me, you know," he sneered.
"I know it better than you do, young one," Gurov replied. He then reached to the floor to put his cigarette out. He noticed Jamie's feet. "You've got frostbite on your toes."
"I can't feel them anymore," Jamie replied.
The van came to a stop. Gurov secured his own manacles and waited for the prison guards to open the doors.
"Remember what I told you, young one. I will protect you as best I can."
Jamie nodded as the van doors opened. He caught his breath as he saw the Kremlin looming behind the small building that he would be housed in. He silently prayed he would live to come back some day and photograph it. He smiled as the guards roughly pulled him out of the van. Lee would come for him, and Jamie couldn't afford to start doubting him now.
Dmitri Varostov sat quietly, watching the boy through the small two-way mirror. He had not stirred since Gurov had placed him in the cell an hour ago. The escape from the States had almost been too simple, and Varostov hadn't slept any easier knowing the boy was on a plane on his way to Moscow. A door opened behind him, and Varostov did not even turn to look.
"Privyet, Nikolai," he said. "The boy has not moved. How much did you give him?"
"Enough to keep him quiet on the flight. He's very light for being that tall. Probably a little too much for his weight," the tall, dark man answered.
"When he wakes, send Pyotr in and take care of final preparations. The boy cannot be here when Scarecrow arrives," Varostov turned to exit the room.
"What are you going to do with him?"
"I'm placing him in your care in the city jail. Once Scarecrow is out of the way, I will send Pyotr to get you both out of the prison. You will then be paid, and we can get rid of the boy," Varostov replied. He turned to look at the tall man. "Scarecrow will be here within 16 hours, guaranteed. I'm going to make arrangements at the prison now. Notify me when Pyotr is through with the boy," and he left the room.
Nikolai Gurov sighed. A Moscow jail was no place for a fourteen-year-old boy, no matter who was there to protect him. He shuddered. Gurov would not enjoy being in the jail in the first place, let alone looking after the boy. The place was too dangerous. 'Something will need to be done,' he thought to himself. His reverie was interrupted as the boy began to regain consciousness in the small room next door.
Jamie's vision was blurred. He couldn't tell where he was. The only sensations he could make out were the pounding of his head and how cold the room was. He heard a door open from somewhere, and momentarily felt a gust of warm air. The door slammed, and Jamie jumped.
"Where am I?" he asked quietly. He still couldn't make the figure out. It was dark in the room and his vision was still blurry.
"You're in Moscow, young one," the voice spoke. It certainly was cold enough to be Russia. And the man did have an accent.
"Why am I here?" Jamie tried not to display the fear in his voice. The man was coming into focus, and he looked sympathetic.
"You are being held hostage. Is there anything I can do for you? A young man named Pyotr is going to come in shortly and prepare you for the next part of your journey, but do you want anything while you wait?"
"Do you have a cigarette?" Jamie asked. It was too cold to ask for anything else.
"Indeed," the man sighed and handed the boy a cigarette and lighter. Gurov turned to glance at the mirror. The boy shivered and stared at his cigarette. The man was overcome with guilt and could not look and him. "I will leave you now, Pyotr will be in soon," he said quickly and fled the room.
Jamie's vision had returned and he looked around the room. It was completely bare, save a small mirror on the far wall. He looked down and realized he was still in his undershirt and tux pants. Then he remembered being taken out of his room. He did not understand who would want to hold him hostage. He puffed the cigarette slowly, trying to keep the warm smoke inside his body for as long as possible. He couldn't stop shivering. Just as he let out his last breath of smoke, the door opened again.
"Get up and take your shirt and pants off," a young voice commanded. Jamie turned to look at another boy, who didn't look much older than Philip. "Do it now and don't struggle or I will force you to do it," he continued.
"Are you out of your mind? It can't be much above forty degrees in this room. I'm not taking anything off," Jamie replied and rubbed the cigarette butt into the cold cement floor.
Pyotr crossed the room and pulled Jamie to his feet. "I will give you one more chance," he said coldly. Jamie stood completely still and stared at him. "You give me no choice, American," Pyotr said and punched Jamie in the stomach. It knocked the wind out of him and he fell to his knees. Pyotr punched him again, on the side of his face, and then kicked him in the side. Jamie fell to his side and curled into a ball, warm tears streaming down his face silently. Pyotr dropped what appeared to be clothes on the floor, then stooped to remove Jamie's shoes and socks.
"You will change into these clothes. I will be back for you shortly," he said quietly and spat on the floor next to Jamie's face. "Don't be stupid, American. Cooperation will keep you alive a little longer." Jamie did not move as he listened to the footsteps across the hard floor, and finally the door slam. The tears continued to fall as he tried to sit up. He felt a sharp pain in his side and lay back down. He tried to slow his labored breathing down, as it was hurting each time he had to take in air.
He looked up at the mirror across the room. It only reflected the black room. Jamie had almost expected it to reflect himself. Biting his lip, he forced himself to stand and change clothes. Pyotr had left behind what looked to Jamie like navy blue hospital scrubs. He pulled the uncomfortable drawstring pants on over his skinny legs and bent over to pick up the shirt. He had to cry out at the pain from his side. He realized his nose was bleeding and roughly wiped it on his undershirt before removing it. He attempted to button the shirt, but his hands were shaking so badly he gave up and lay back down on the floor. The tears began to fall again.
After what seemed like hours, Pyotr reentered the room with a chair and a small bag.
"Get up," he stated coldly. Jamie did not hesitate and bit his lip again while he stood up and slowly lowered himself into the chair. "Are you in pain?" Pyotr asked.
Jamie only nodded. Pyotr opened the small bag and pulled out a pair of scissors. "I'm going to have to shave your head. You will not look as suspicious to authorities this way," he stated as he began to clip the curls. When it was short enough, Pyotr pulled a straight razor from his bag and shaved Jamie's skull as close as he could. "This might hurt a little, I am sorry I do not have any water for you," Pyotr said as he continued to shave. Jamie hardly noticed. He was concentrating on his breathing. Pyotr dropped the razor back into the bag.
"Stand up," he said. Jamie slowly stood and turned to face Pyotr. The older boy buttoned Jamie's shirt for him and backed away from him. "You look like a very young Russian convict," he finally said. "I'll be back shortly."
Once Pyotr was out of the room, Jamie walked slowly to the mirror across the room. He was completely bald, his nose was still bleeding a little, and the bruise had already begun to form around his left eye. He noticed he could see his breath as he exhaled. Two words were written on the breast of the shirt in cyrillic, and he remembered the stuff written on the box his camera came in. The camera was from Russia, from Moscow in fact. He wondered why Russia seemed to keep popping up in his life. Jamie sighed and turned away from the mirror. Pyotr came back into the room with a broom and dustpan to sweep up the hair.
"How old are you, Pyotr?" Jamie asked quietly.
"I am nearly eighteen," he replied, not looking up from his task.
Jamie sighed again. Pyotr collected the bag, the dustpan and broom, and the chair and made his way to the door.
"Are you still in pain?" he asked.
"Yes, it hurts to breathe," Jamie replied. Pyotr gasped and shook his head.
"I probably broke one of your ribs," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, I'm just following orders. You'll be out here soon, and that rib will be the least of your worries," he finished. "Do svidaniya, James," and he left the room.
Jamie began to shiver again. It seemed to be getting colder and darker in the room. He looked down at his feet and noticed the pinky toes beginning to turn blue. Rubbing his hands together didn't do much good. He slumped against the wall and began to cry again.
Varostov watched the boy through the mirror with cold eyes. As soon as Pyotr came out of the room, he grabbed his collar.
"You show no weakness to subordinates, Pyotr. Not ever," Varostov angrily whispered. He loosened his grip on the boy's collar and seemed to calm down. He walked to the camera and removed the videocassette. "Take this to Nikolai, young one. Tell him to make arrangements for the Americans to see it on a closed television circuit. I am expecting Scarecrow will leave the country as soon as possible after seeing the tape," he said. "Remember, Pyotr. No weakness."
Amanda woke just before seven. Lee was sitting in a chair watching as she realized what had happened the night before. She immediately began to sob as the reality took over her thoughts. He helped her sit up and tried to comfort her as this second wave of pain washed over her being. No words were exchanged, just love and understanding. The phone rang. Amanda fell silent and wiped her eyes as Lee answered the phone.
"Stetson," he answered.
"Scarecrow, you need to get in here as soon as you can," Billy said. He sounded upset.
"What have you got, Billy?"
"Just get in here, and if you can avoid it, don't bring Amanda," he sighed and hung up.
Lee looked at Amanda. She was watching him intently, hoping for any news on her son.
"Billy needs me to go in, Amanda," he said.
"I'm coming with you," she replied. He didn't even try to fight her. She changed her clothes and Lee quietly walked down the hallway to check on Philip. He was still asleep. Lee quietly left him a note on his desk, telling him where they had gone and to let his grandmother know they would be back as soon as they could.
Amanda had pulled herself together quite well, putting on the mask of professionalism as they entered the Agency building. Lee wasn't sure it was a good idea for her to bottle up emotions, but knew she had to be strong at the moment to go in and see Billy.
Billy sat at his desk and waved his two best agents into the office. He rose to give Amanda a reassuring hug and guided her to a chair in front of his desk. He took a deep breath and began.
"One of Varostov's grunts in the city gave one of our agents the frequencies to a closed television circuit. He said to try and tune it in around 8:30," Billy said, glancing at his watch. "My guess is it's probably Varostov's conditions on getting Jamie back," he continued. "Amanda, there might be film of Jamie. Are you sure you want to watch?"
She nodded in agreement and reached for Lee's hand. Billy stood and turned on the television, then leaned up against the wall to wait for the picture to come in. After about two minutes of static, Gurov's face appeared on the screen. He looked tired and extremely unhappy. Amanda gasped.
"That man was sitting behind us at Dooley's the other day, Lee!" she cried.
"Nikolai Gurov," Billy stated plainly. Lee sighed. He obviously hadn't noticed him at Dooley's, nor had he realized he had probably been being followed for quite some time before Jamie was taken. He began to feel very guilty.
"The boy is safe, as you will see. Varostov merely requests an audience with Scarecrow in Moscow at his earliest convenience," his voice came from the television. "Do not worry about finding the boy, Scarecrow. If you cooperate, he will remain safe."
The video then cut to Jamie, unconscious on the floor of the little room. They watched as Varostov came in and tried to explain to him where he was, and gave him the cigarette. Amanda did not appear to notice that her son was smoking; she only appeared relieved that he had not been harmed. The video then cut to Jamie standing face to face with a much younger man, and Amanda cried out in horror as the man punched and kicked her son. She buried her face in Lee's shoulder as the video continued. It cut to Jamie staring into the two-way mirror, bald, bruised and bleeding. Lee tensed at the sight of the uniform he was wearing. It appeared to be a Russian convict's prison uniform. He glanced at Billy, who could only shake his head. The television finally showed Gurov's face again.
"Come to Moscow, Scarecrow. Come get the boy." The television was static again, and the room fell silent except for Amanda's quiet sobs.
"I can't wait for the supply plane, Billy. I've gotta get to Jamie, and I've got to get to him now," Lee stated.
"I'm going with you," Amanda whispered.
"No, you're not," both men said in unison.
"Amanda," Lee continued, "you need to stay here with Philip. I promise you I'm going to bring Jamie back. This is going to be emotional enough for me, without you there. You being there makes things far too dangerous," he whispered and pulled her hair away from her face. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" She nodded as the tears began to fall again. Not only did she have to worry about her son, but now she had her husband to worry about as well. "I promise you, Amanda. Jamie and I will be back home, and soon," and he pulled his wife into his chest to let her cry.
Billy looked on, his heart breaking for the young couple. They had had some trying times, but this one was going to make them or break them.
"Lee, let me go check on flights for you. Stay put and try to calm down," Billy said as he opened the office door and began to bark orders at the surrounding agents.
Lee Stetson did not want to leave his wife and family alone for an indefinite amount of time. He had set his own personal deadline, but he knew things could go wrong at any point. He looked down at his wife to ask a question he had hoped he would never have to ask.
"Amanda, do you want me to call Joe?"
Joe's flight came in from Africa forty-five minutes before Lee's flight left for Moscow. Lee looked on as he and Amanda embraced and shed tears that only parents could shed for a child. Billy had patted Lee's back, trying to reassure him, but it hadn't been easy to watch. The foursome went into an airport restaurant and had a drink and tried to explain to Joe the entire situation. He had been angry at first, but softened when he realized Lee's concern for Jamie and his determination to bring him back. When Lee's flight was called, Joe stood to shake his hand.
"I'm trusting you to bring him back, Lee," Joe said.
"And I'm promising you he'll come back safely," Lee replied.
Lee turned to Billy, his best friend, and looked him in the eyes.
"Keep an eye on them, will you Billy?" he asked.
"You don't even need to ask, Scarecrow. Keep your head clear. If you run into problems, Francine still has that flight tomorrow morning. You call anytime and she'll be on a plane," he responded, and stuck out his hand. Lee took it, and then pulled Billy in for a firm embrace.
"Thank you for everything, Billy," Lee said, pounding him on the back.
"No thanks are needed, Lee," he responded.
Lee offered his hand to Amanda, and they walked slowly to where the stewardess was taking tickets. 'Last call, Moscow,' a voice boomed over the speaker.
"Amanda-"
She put her finger to his lips. He kissed it tenderly and his eyes began to water. She began to cry and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"You'll come back to me in one piece, Mr. Stetson. And you'll bring your son home with you. And then we're going to start our family, the way we should have in the first place," Amanda whispered. "I love you."
"And I love you, Mrs. Stetson," Lee whispered back, the tears finally falling. He reached into his pocket and produced her wedding set, and placed the rings on her finger. He handed her his ring, which she slid onto his wedding finger. He kissed her one last time, handed his ticket to the stewardess, and boarded the plane.
A man he had not seen yet came into Jamie's room and pulled him to his feet. He placed manacles on his feet and hands, and then led him from the room. Once he was out the door, he caught a glimpse of Pyotr before he was blindfolded. He was led through what seemed like a huge building, until he finally heard a door open and felt a gust of bitter Russian air. Once out the door, he felt snow under his feet and then was shoved into the back of a van.
"Hello, young one," a voice came from the darkness. Gurov removed Jamie's blindfold and sat down across from him in the back of the van. Jamie realized the man's head had been shaved and he was wearing the same clothes Pyotr had forced him to put on earlier.
"What are you doing here?" Jamie asked. His voice trembled a little, and he bit his lip to keep from crying.
"You and I are to be comrades, if you will. You are being sent to a Moscow jail for safekeeping. Varostov did not want you in the building when your stepfather arrived. Too many risks," he sighed, and reached for his cigarettes.
"My stepfather? I don't have a stepfather," Jamie replied.
"No?"
"No, I don't. My parents have been divorced since I was very little."
"Very wise, Scarecrow. Keep the marriage quiet and protect the family. Very wise," Gurov was thinking out loud. He offered Jamie a cigarette, which he gladly accepted.
"Would you please tell me what I'm missing, sir?"
"Call me Nikolai, young one."
"Nikolai. Who is Scarecrow?"
"Scarecrow is your stepfather. You probably know him as Lee Stetson," Gurov spoke softly and lit Jamie's cigarette.
Jamie took a long pull at the bitter tasting Russian tobacco. He really didn't know what to think. He had almost decided to disregard Nikolai completely, but then the man continued to talk.
"Scarecrow is his codename. He is a federal agent for your government, as is your mother. When they married, they probably kept it quiet to protect you and your brother. They had done well, until, well, until I overheard them talking a few days ago. I reported to my superior, Varostov, who ordered me to kidnap you from your room and bring you here."
Jamie automatically drew away from the man who he had begun to think might be able to help him. He studied the man's features, and swore he looked familiar. Maybe he had seen him around the city the week before he had been kidnapped.
"Now, we are going to a Moscow jail. You and I have both been convicted of smuggling Christian propaganda into the city. It is not going to be a pleasant experience, young one. I will try my best to protect you, but you must make your every move carefully. Do not speak, unless we are alone. As far as everyone knows, you are a young Russian boy who followed the wrong example and helped me bring in the propaganda."
Jamie nodded and inhaled more of the cigarette. The truth sank in rather quickly. But now he realized he had been lied to in an attempt to protect him. If the truth had come out six months ago, he never would have accepted it. But it was not six months ago and he had come a long way from the lonely, heartbroken boy he had been. His family had shown their love to him in so many different ways recently, and Jamie accepted the truth of his mother and stepfather's triple life as one of those ways. He looked up at the man and smiled.
"Lee is going to come get me, you know," he sneered.
"I know it better than you do, young one," Gurov replied. He then reached to the floor to put his cigarette out. He noticed Jamie's feet. "You've got frostbite on your toes."
"I can't feel them anymore," Jamie replied.
The van came to a stop. Gurov secured his own manacles and waited for the prison guards to open the doors.
"Remember what I told you, young one. I will protect you as best I can."
Jamie nodded as the van doors opened. He caught his breath as he saw the Kremlin looming behind the small building that he would be housed in. He silently prayed he would live to come back some day and photograph it. He smiled as the guards roughly pulled him out of the van. Lee would come for him, and Jamie couldn't afford to start doubting him now.