Part 4: Tuba Mirum
The next day, Irina walked into Khasinau's office with her professional mask firmly in place; she'd dawdled on the way to work this morning to give herself time to hide the mother away and become a hardened KGB agent again.
"Comrade Derevko," Khasinau said. "Did you enjoy your time off?"
"I did," she answered calmly.
Khasinau studied her for a moment. "How is the child settling in?"
Irina had hoped she could get out of there without discussing her daughter as if she were a mission spec; she'd had enough of that during her time in America. But there was no help for it. "She's doing well, starting to learn Russian." She thought for a moment, then tacked on, "She'll be a credit to the motherland one day."
Khasinau nodded, a look of pride briefly appearing on his features. "Well, then, let's get down to business." He handed her a folder. "Ivan Barenko. He creates false papers to help disloyal citizens get out of Russia. We need to know who refers people to him and to whom he sends them for transport; you'll find out that information and then arrest him. You leave for Leningrad in the morning. It's a short-term mission; if your work is as good as it usually is, you should only be gone a week or so." Irina wanted to protest that it was too soon, that she couldn't leave Sydney now, but she knew better. She simply nodded. "Dismissed," Khasinau said brusquely, and turned away.
***
"No! You can't go away!" Sydney screamed, wrapping her arms around Irina's waist and refusing to let go as Irina tried to get out the door with her suitcase. Elena tried to pull her away, to no avail.
Irina sighed loudly. She'd told Sydney last night that she had to go on a trip; Sydney had cried, but had seemed to accept it by bedtime. Irina had hoped to get away before her daughter woke up in the morning, but Sydney had crawled into bed with her in the middle of the night and woken as soon as Irina tried to get up. "Sydney, sweetheart, I wish I could stay, but I have to go. But you're going to have lots of fun with Aunt Elena, remember?"
"You can't go away! You'll never come back!"
"Of course I'll come back, Sydney." She finally managed to pry Sydney's hands off of her, and pushed her toward Elena. "Goodbye, sweetheart," Irina said, tears pricking her eyes as she grabbed her suitcase and hurried out the door as Sydney struggled to escape her aunt's arms.
***
Six days later, Irina lay still as a disgustingly drunk man pawed her body. No need to fake an orgasm tonight, she decided; even if he did remember this tomorrow, he would be in a jail cell. She distanced herself from what was happening and waited for him to finish. Sydney's face swam into her mind, followed, as always, by Jack's, but she pushed them away. They had no place here. The man grunted as he emptied into her; he then rolled over and promptly fell asleep.
As soon as she was confident he would be out for a while, Irina slipped out of the bed and whispered four names into her necklace as she dressed in the obnoxiously skimpy outfit she'd been wearing tonight. The KGB team in the van outside had probably heard the names when he'd given them to her earlier, but it didn't hurt to make sure.
A few minutes later, four armed men burst through the door. Irina sighed. Why did they always have to be so dramatic? "Comrade Derevko, good work. We'll take it from here," the team leader said. She stood back as the men trooped past her to the bed, ignoring the looks they sent her way—some derisive, some appraising. She knew perfectly well that she was nothing but a whore to them. "You're under arrest," one of them said as they hauled Barenko up and woke him from his drunken stupor.
Barenko looked around the room in confusion, finally focusing on her. "What...Maria?"
"That's not my name," she said coldly.
He surprised her then—and everyone else—by suddenly twisting from the agents' grasp. He slipped past all four men on his way to the door, but Irina stepped into his path and flipped him over her shoulder. As he lay on his back, gasping, she placed the heel of her stiletto delicately over his balls. "Cuffs," she said, holding out her hand. One of the four stunned agents recovered enough to toss her a pair. She looked at Barenko, raised an eyebrow, and glanced down at her shoe; he held up his wrists to her obediently. Only when he was cuffed did she move her foot and let the other agents pull him to his feet.
As the men led Barenko out, she caught a new expression in their eyes when they looked at her: awe, and perhaps just a bit of fear. She smiled at their backs; that was much better.
She left the room, ready to head back to Moscow, to Sydney, and to somehow get herself back into mother mode.
The next day, Irina walked into Khasinau's office with her professional mask firmly in place; she'd dawdled on the way to work this morning to give herself time to hide the mother away and become a hardened KGB agent again.
"Comrade Derevko," Khasinau said. "Did you enjoy your time off?"
"I did," she answered calmly.
Khasinau studied her for a moment. "How is the child settling in?"
Irina had hoped she could get out of there without discussing her daughter as if she were a mission spec; she'd had enough of that during her time in America. But there was no help for it. "She's doing well, starting to learn Russian." She thought for a moment, then tacked on, "She'll be a credit to the motherland one day."
Khasinau nodded, a look of pride briefly appearing on his features. "Well, then, let's get down to business." He handed her a folder. "Ivan Barenko. He creates false papers to help disloyal citizens get out of Russia. We need to know who refers people to him and to whom he sends them for transport; you'll find out that information and then arrest him. You leave for Leningrad in the morning. It's a short-term mission; if your work is as good as it usually is, you should only be gone a week or so." Irina wanted to protest that it was too soon, that she couldn't leave Sydney now, but she knew better. She simply nodded. "Dismissed," Khasinau said brusquely, and turned away.
***
"No! You can't go away!" Sydney screamed, wrapping her arms around Irina's waist and refusing to let go as Irina tried to get out the door with her suitcase. Elena tried to pull her away, to no avail.
Irina sighed loudly. She'd told Sydney last night that she had to go on a trip; Sydney had cried, but had seemed to accept it by bedtime. Irina had hoped to get away before her daughter woke up in the morning, but Sydney had crawled into bed with her in the middle of the night and woken as soon as Irina tried to get up. "Sydney, sweetheart, I wish I could stay, but I have to go. But you're going to have lots of fun with Aunt Elena, remember?"
"You can't go away! You'll never come back!"
"Of course I'll come back, Sydney." She finally managed to pry Sydney's hands off of her, and pushed her toward Elena. "Goodbye, sweetheart," Irina said, tears pricking her eyes as she grabbed her suitcase and hurried out the door as Sydney struggled to escape her aunt's arms.
***
Six days later, Irina lay still as a disgustingly drunk man pawed her body. No need to fake an orgasm tonight, she decided; even if he did remember this tomorrow, he would be in a jail cell. She distanced herself from what was happening and waited for him to finish. Sydney's face swam into her mind, followed, as always, by Jack's, but she pushed them away. They had no place here. The man grunted as he emptied into her; he then rolled over and promptly fell asleep.
As soon as she was confident he would be out for a while, Irina slipped out of the bed and whispered four names into her necklace as she dressed in the obnoxiously skimpy outfit she'd been wearing tonight. The KGB team in the van outside had probably heard the names when he'd given them to her earlier, but it didn't hurt to make sure.
A few minutes later, four armed men burst through the door. Irina sighed. Why did they always have to be so dramatic? "Comrade Derevko, good work. We'll take it from here," the team leader said. She stood back as the men trooped past her to the bed, ignoring the looks they sent her way—some derisive, some appraising. She knew perfectly well that she was nothing but a whore to them. "You're under arrest," one of them said as they hauled Barenko up and woke him from his drunken stupor.
Barenko looked around the room in confusion, finally focusing on her. "What...Maria?"
"That's not my name," she said coldly.
He surprised her then—and everyone else—by suddenly twisting from the agents' grasp. He slipped past all four men on his way to the door, but Irina stepped into his path and flipped him over her shoulder. As he lay on his back, gasping, she placed the heel of her stiletto delicately over his balls. "Cuffs," she said, holding out her hand. One of the four stunned agents recovered enough to toss her a pair. She looked at Barenko, raised an eyebrow, and glanced down at her shoe; he held up his wrists to her obediently. Only when he was cuffed did she move her foot and let the other agents pull him to his feet.
As the men led Barenko out, she caught a new expression in their eyes when they looked at her: awe, and perhaps just a bit of fear. She smiled at their backs; that was much better.
She left the room, ready to head back to Moscow, to Sydney, and to somehow get herself back into mother mode.