I hope you enjoy this.
Chapter Eight:
Sokolov was in the room the next time Raisa contacted her sister.
"This makes things infinitely more complicated," Albina said. "Getting you out of the country was a challenge, but not impossible. This, is something much more difficult."
"I don't know what to tell you, Albina," she said. "He won't leave the country without his daughter."
"I don't deal directly with espionage agencies," she said. "The chance of getting caught is too great."
"I wish I could be of some help," Raisa said. "But I don't have the proper tools to access databases."
"I know, you're helping as much as you can. How is Spencer?"
"Quiet," Sokolov said. "He keeps to himself most of the time. He is eating though and performing the exercises as instructed by the doctors."
"He has a purpose now," Albina said. "He needs to be strong for his daughter."
Raisa sighed. "I just don't know how we're going to help him."
"We'll figure something out. I need to contact his American friends." she said. "In the meantime, we need to relocate you tonight. Emphasize with him that it won't be far, and I have no intention of getting you out anytime soon."
"Will I still be able to contact you?"
"Your hosts will be providing you with a powerful computer. Guard it with your life."
"I will," she said.
…
"So, you're saying, Pretty Boy might still be alive?" Morgan said.
"I'm sure of it Morgan," Garcia said anxiously as they sat in his kitchen. "This Russian contact wouldn't lie to me."
"What has he been doing for the last four years?"
She began to sniffle. "He's been in captivity for the last two years. She doesn't know what happened directly after the car accident."
"What do you mean by captivity?"
"He was tortured so badly that he could only recall his name under hypnosis."
"That poor kid," he said.
Garcia's phone beeped. She looked at it and immediately pulled out her laptop.
"It's her," she said as she logged on.
"Is this line secure?" she asked.
"Yes," Garcia said. "I have this computer secured in every way imaginable."
"Are you with anyone right now?"
"Yes," she said. "Derek Morgan, a coworker of Spencer's and mine who has been a civilian for more than eight years."
Arnica sighed. "I take it you told him then."
Morgan moved next to Garcia. "I have no intention of sharing this with anyone else. She is a friend of mine and needed a shoulder to cry on."
"No one else, for now friend, okay?"
"Okay," Garcia said.
"I have news for you and most of it is not good. While your friend has recovered his memories, he also found some disturbing things. His wife is a Russian spy and sent their daughter away to train to be a spy."
"No," Garcia gasped.
"During the two years after his accident, he was brainwashed into developing weapons for Russia using his engineering degree. But something in him still wanted to stop, and it was revealed that he had been sabotaging them. He was sent away to be tortured to death."
"How is Reid dealing with all this?" Morgan asked.
"My sister says he is quiet and keeps to himself. He is taking care of his body though, which is a good thing."
Morgan and Garcia sat in silence, letting all the information sink in.
"I don't know how to help your friend," Arnica said sadly. "I have been smuggling people out of Russia for years. This, is simply beyond my skill set."
"What about Interpol?" Garcia asked suddenly. "We have a friend who worked with Reid who'd be happy to help."
"The people I work with do have a better relationship with Interpol," she said. "What is this person's position?"
"She is currently in a deep cover assignment, but I'm sure she'd be willing to help. I have her contact information."
"She also ran the London office of Interpol briefly," Morgan added.
"So, she has friends in high places. That is useful. But we still don't know much about his wife. There are no pictures of her on any cameras that my operatives can find."
"That isn't a problem," Garcia said excitedly. "I have photos from his wedding on my computer."
"She could have changed her looks since then."
"That's what facial recognition software is for."
"Send her photo to your contact in Interpol. I don't want either of our digital fingerprints on it. Let another outsider deal with it. I trust you to be discreet."
"I will," Garcia said.
"Contact me when you find anything. I don't care what time it is."
"Understood."
Arnica logged off. Garcia looked to Morgan, with tears her eyes.
"I just want him back," she said.
"I do too baby-girl," he said hugging her. "I do too."
…
Prentiss was on a rooftop in France, observing a drug smuggling deal in action. She took photos of every action, every face. So, entranced with her work, she nearly missed the sensation of her phone vibrating.
No one ever bothered her while she was at work. Never. Unless it was an extreme emergency. She looked up at phone briefly. It was a picture of Reid's wedding with a message.
"His wife is a Russian spy who sent their daughter to be trained as a spy while he was brainwashed and tortured for the last four years. Look up her photo at Interpol to see if you can find a match."
Prentiss instantly put away her camera equipment and left the building. She tried her best to hold back her tears.