Yekaterinburg
Cafe Matrushka
December 7
1828 local
"They're WHAT?!?!?!"
Clay sighed, mentally thanking himself for remembering to pick a busy, bustling, and noisy
location to tell Mercedes the news about Harm and Mac. Glancing around, he saw that no one
have given them more than a passing glance, even with her outburst.
"Keep it down," he ordered. "There are still people looking for us, you know."
"Well, excuse me," she retorted, her voice laden with sarcasm. "Not everyone can be as
blasé as you."
"Mercedes...." he groaned.
"Fine," she said shortly, waving her hand dismissively. "At least now I know why you were in
such a hurry to get back to the city." She paused to take a sip from her steaming glass of tea.
"Look," she continued, softening a bit, " I know it's your nature to keep secrets. But please try to
remember I'm involved in this, too."
"Fair enough," he conceded.
"Right. So what are we going to do?" she asked in a businesslike tone.
"We?"
"Yes, we. If you think for one minute that you're leaving me out of this..." she began.
"That is precisely what I'm thinking. It's too dangerous, and you're not trained for this sort of
thing."
"Like hell. I'm not helpless, you know. Besides, you may need me; Who better to drive the
getaway car than an ex-racer?" she offered.
Clay sighed. This was not helping his headache. "You're good behind the wheel, I'll give you
that," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose and missing the dirty look she shot him.
"Good? I'll have you know--"
"Mercedes, you're not going and that's it. Dammit, I don't want you getting hurt, and I
particularly don't want the Yekaterinburg police getting their hands on you," he snapped. "I
made a few calls earlier, and there's a lot more going on here than you know."
Her eyes narrowed. "Like what?"
Shit. He had been hanging around Rabb--Harm-- too long. His mouth was getting ahead of
his brain. "Like it's not your concern."
"Verfluchtes Mann! Du bist ein echtes--" Mercedes stopped, catching herself. Taking a deep
breath, she mentally reminded herself that cursing at Webb in any language would likely get her
nowhere. "Sorry. Old habits die hard." She sighed, pulling off the black fedora she'd acquired to
hide her hair, raked a hand through it, then crammed it back on her head. "I need a break. I'm
going to go powder my nose, and calm down. But this discussion is *not* finished." With that,
she picked up her bag and retreated to the ladies' room.
Which gave Webb the perfect opportunity to put his plan in motion. Using an old magician's
trick, a small vial of clear liquid appeared in his hand. A few drops in Mercedes' tea, and it
disappeared again, even as Clay nodded to the waiter observing the busy cafe. He'd chosen this
place for a reason; more than once, it had served as an Agency safehouse, and several of the
employees and the owners were on the Agency's payroll. A perfect place to hide Mercedes for
several hours.
A few moments later, the lady in question returned, taking her seat across from Webb. He
relaxed a bit as she took a large gulp of her tea before speaking. It shouldn't be too long now.
"Clay," she began, "tell me what I need to do to convince you to let me come with you on
this."
"Mercedes, I don't want you hurt," he replied softly.
She smiled softly. "I appreciate the concern, but this is Harm and Mac. Hell, it's my fault
they're here in the first place," she stated, blinking a bit.
Clay could tell the drug was beginning to take effect. He watched her try to fight the
sedative for several minutes, attempting to shake off its effects, before speaking again.
"Mercedes," he said quietly, "I know you want to do this. And it is not your fault; it's Harm's for
being such an impulsive pain in the ass," he said, even as she wobbled slightly in her chair,
unsteady and off-balance.
"Clay...what... what's happening...?" she asked, confused.
His voice was low, even as he moved to support her. "Harm and Mac are being moved
tomorrow morning. That's my best chance to get them out of there."
"But..."
"I'm sorry, Mercedes, but I can't let you come along."
Her eyes widened momentarily, even as realization penetrated her fogged mind. "You son of
a bitch. You slipped me a mickey. You son of a...."
Clay caught her as she collapsed, sliding from the chair. The waiter was there immediately,
solicitously offering a back room for the lady to recover.
Slinging her bag over one shoulder, Clay gathered her up and carried back to the waiting
bedroom in the back of the cafe. He laid her down gently, setting the bag on the floor beside the
bed before turning to the waiter. "Okay, she should be out for quite a while. I'll be back for her
tomorrow night. But keep an eye on her, Anatoly."
The waiter nodded. "Good luck."
Clay nodded in acknowledgement, even as he headed out the back door. "I'm gonna need it,"
he muttered.
*********************************************************************
December 8
0436 local
"Ugh... Was ist?" Mercedes groaned, waking slowly. Recollection came crashing back, and
she sat up slowly, looking around. Webb was gone. He'd ditched her. "Arschloch," she
muttered. The damn fool was going to try to rescue them alone
She looked at her watch, the heavy steel chronograph confirming the early hour. Well, hell.
She might be able to get there in time after all.
Gathering up her things, she silently crept by the sleeping Anatoly, and out into the night.
************************************************************************
Yekaterinburg City Jail
0548 local
Once again, Harm and Mac were awakened roughly by the guards and cuffed. This time,
however, they were kept together, and hustled up several sets of stairs.
No one spoke a word, but more than once Harm had glanced at Mac, wondering about their
destination and concerned for her. For her part, Mac's eyes never entirely left her partner's form.
Outside the prison, they were manhandled into a van, and the door shut behind them. Again,
the partners glanced up at each other, before Mac called to the driver. "Where are we
going?"
"Not where they think we are," a familiar sarcastic voice replied in English.
"Webb?!?!" Harm was the first to react.
"Clay, what the hell are you doing?" Mac asked.
"Breaking you two out. Now hang on," he ordered, even as he saw a guard approaching the
van, presumably to ride escort. He waited until the last possible minute, right as the guard
reached for the door handle...
And stomped on the gas. With a cloud of smoke and squeal of rubber, the van accelerated
away, weaving around the escort vehicles and barreling into the town square.
"Webb!! What the hell!?" Harm bellowed, even as a sharp swerve set him stumbling into Mac.
"Hey, you wanna drive? We've got company on our tail, and they're persistent as hell," Webb
shot back, fishtailing around a corner.
Mac peered out one of the small, grate-covered rear windows. "He's not kidding, Harm," she
yelled. "Looks like we've got most of the Yekaterinburg police force after us."
Harm glanced behind them before shouting to Webb. "Can't you make this thing go any
faster?"
"It's floored. This is a van, Rabb, not a Lamborghini."
Mac, still watching out the back, only half heard the conversation. Then, all of a sudden,
mayhem erupted behind them, and her eyes went wide. "Uh, guys? This may not be a
Lamborghini, but I'm pretty sure that is."
"What the..?"
Both Clay and Harm glanced behind them, just in time to see a gleaming gold Lamborghini
Murcielago dive in, skidding across the road in a full-out power slide, and causing three of the
police cars to swerve. One found a lamppost, and the remaining two impacted other cars.
Help had just arrived.
TBC....
Cafe Matrushka
December 7
1828 local
"They're WHAT?!?!?!"
Clay sighed, mentally thanking himself for remembering to pick a busy, bustling, and noisy
location to tell Mercedes the news about Harm and Mac. Glancing around, he saw that no one
have given them more than a passing glance, even with her outburst.
"Keep it down," he ordered. "There are still people looking for us, you know."
"Well, excuse me," she retorted, her voice laden with sarcasm. "Not everyone can be as
blasé as you."
"Mercedes...." he groaned.
"Fine," she said shortly, waving her hand dismissively. "At least now I know why you were in
such a hurry to get back to the city." She paused to take a sip from her steaming glass of tea.
"Look," she continued, softening a bit, " I know it's your nature to keep secrets. But please try to
remember I'm involved in this, too."
"Fair enough," he conceded.
"Right. So what are we going to do?" she asked in a businesslike tone.
"We?"
"Yes, we. If you think for one minute that you're leaving me out of this..." she began.
"That is precisely what I'm thinking. It's too dangerous, and you're not trained for this sort of
thing."
"Like hell. I'm not helpless, you know. Besides, you may need me; Who better to drive the
getaway car than an ex-racer?" she offered.
Clay sighed. This was not helping his headache. "You're good behind the wheel, I'll give you
that," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose and missing the dirty look she shot him.
"Good? I'll have you know--"
"Mercedes, you're not going and that's it. Dammit, I don't want you getting hurt, and I
particularly don't want the Yekaterinburg police getting their hands on you," he snapped. "I
made a few calls earlier, and there's a lot more going on here than you know."
Her eyes narrowed. "Like what?"
Shit. He had been hanging around Rabb--Harm-- too long. His mouth was getting ahead of
his brain. "Like it's not your concern."
"Verfluchtes Mann! Du bist ein echtes--" Mercedes stopped, catching herself. Taking a deep
breath, she mentally reminded herself that cursing at Webb in any language would likely get her
nowhere. "Sorry. Old habits die hard." She sighed, pulling off the black fedora she'd acquired to
hide her hair, raked a hand through it, then crammed it back on her head. "I need a break. I'm
going to go powder my nose, and calm down. But this discussion is *not* finished." With that,
she picked up her bag and retreated to the ladies' room.
Which gave Webb the perfect opportunity to put his plan in motion. Using an old magician's
trick, a small vial of clear liquid appeared in his hand. A few drops in Mercedes' tea, and it
disappeared again, even as Clay nodded to the waiter observing the busy cafe. He'd chosen this
place for a reason; more than once, it had served as an Agency safehouse, and several of the
employees and the owners were on the Agency's payroll. A perfect place to hide Mercedes for
several hours.
A few moments later, the lady in question returned, taking her seat across from Webb. He
relaxed a bit as she took a large gulp of her tea before speaking. It shouldn't be too long now.
"Clay," she began, "tell me what I need to do to convince you to let me come with you on
this."
"Mercedes, I don't want you hurt," he replied softly.
She smiled softly. "I appreciate the concern, but this is Harm and Mac. Hell, it's my fault
they're here in the first place," she stated, blinking a bit.
Clay could tell the drug was beginning to take effect. He watched her try to fight the
sedative for several minutes, attempting to shake off its effects, before speaking again.
"Mercedes," he said quietly, "I know you want to do this. And it is not your fault; it's Harm's for
being such an impulsive pain in the ass," he said, even as she wobbled slightly in her chair,
unsteady and off-balance.
"Clay...what... what's happening...?" she asked, confused.
His voice was low, even as he moved to support her. "Harm and Mac are being moved
tomorrow morning. That's my best chance to get them out of there."
"But..."
"I'm sorry, Mercedes, but I can't let you come along."
Her eyes widened momentarily, even as realization penetrated her fogged mind. "You son of
a bitch. You slipped me a mickey. You son of a...."
Clay caught her as she collapsed, sliding from the chair. The waiter was there immediately,
solicitously offering a back room for the lady to recover.
Slinging her bag over one shoulder, Clay gathered her up and carried back to the waiting
bedroom in the back of the cafe. He laid her down gently, setting the bag on the floor beside the
bed before turning to the waiter. "Okay, she should be out for quite a while. I'll be back for her
tomorrow night. But keep an eye on her, Anatoly."
The waiter nodded. "Good luck."
Clay nodded in acknowledgement, even as he headed out the back door. "I'm gonna need it,"
he muttered.
*********************************************************************
December 8
0436 local
"Ugh... Was ist?" Mercedes groaned, waking slowly. Recollection came crashing back, and
she sat up slowly, looking around. Webb was gone. He'd ditched her. "Arschloch," she
muttered. The damn fool was going to try to rescue them alone
She looked at her watch, the heavy steel chronograph confirming the early hour. Well, hell.
She might be able to get there in time after all.
Gathering up her things, she silently crept by the sleeping Anatoly, and out into the night.
************************************************************************
Yekaterinburg City Jail
0548 local
Once again, Harm and Mac were awakened roughly by the guards and cuffed. This time,
however, they were kept together, and hustled up several sets of stairs.
No one spoke a word, but more than once Harm had glanced at Mac, wondering about their
destination and concerned for her. For her part, Mac's eyes never entirely left her partner's form.
Outside the prison, they were manhandled into a van, and the door shut behind them. Again,
the partners glanced up at each other, before Mac called to the driver. "Where are we
going?"
"Not where they think we are," a familiar sarcastic voice replied in English.
"Webb?!?!" Harm was the first to react.
"Clay, what the hell are you doing?" Mac asked.
"Breaking you two out. Now hang on," he ordered, even as he saw a guard approaching the
van, presumably to ride escort. He waited until the last possible minute, right as the guard
reached for the door handle...
And stomped on the gas. With a cloud of smoke and squeal of rubber, the van accelerated
away, weaving around the escort vehicles and barreling into the town square.
"Webb!! What the hell!?" Harm bellowed, even as a sharp swerve set him stumbling into Mac.
"Hey, you wanna drive? We've got company on our tail, and they're persistent as hell," Webb
shot back, fishtailing around a corner.
Mac peered out one of the small, grate-covered rear windows. "He's not kidding, Harm," she
yelled. "Looks like we've got most of the Yekaterinburg police force after us."
Harm glanced behind them before shouting to Webb. "Can't you make this thing go any
faster?"
"It's floored. This is a van, Rabb, not a Lamborghini."
Mac, still watching out the back, only half heard the conversation. Then, all of a sudden,
mayhem erupted behind them, and her eyes went wide. "Uh, guys? This may not be a
Lamborghini, but I'm pretty sure that is."
"What the..?"
Both Clay and Harm glanced behind them, just in time to see a gleaming gold Lamborghini
Murcielago dive in, skidding across the road in a full-out power slide, and causing three of the
police cars to swerve. One found a lamppost, and the remaining two impacted other cars.
Help had just arrived.
TBC....