Ch 3, Some Other Life

James was fiddling with her hair: "I missed you so much…that it's a miracle I lasted the few minutes I did."

They were lying face-to-face in Teresa's bed. All clothing, which had been an impediment, had been done away with.

She leaned forward and bit his scruffy chin. "Some amazing minutes!" Somehow being playful held her tears at bay.

He arched his eyebrow and gave her a slow smile. "Yeah? How amazing?" She only swatted his shoulder.

He nuzzled her neck, tickling her with his beard, then reached for a strand of her hair to sift through his fingers again, while laying his head on the pillow and exhaling deeply.

"Please don't go...We can think of something else," Teresa whispered.

James stopped playing with her hair and said, "Try to get some sleep."

"Please." She repeated.

He had always trodden carefully when it came to matters of the heart. He had always tried to do the right thing; he had never just acted. But he had no choice now. If they were to have a chance at the 'other life', it was on him to get them out. That's why he had lasted with Finch all this time: to come back and to save her…and himself with her… from this damn Life!

"Don't go," she said one more time.

And he didn't just then. When they kissed again, there was this surge and then a release, a letting-go like he had never known before, a letting-go like when one was staying very still and surrendering and the heart would pound against the rib cage, the pulse would race, the toes would curl, and every part of the body would relax and happily give in.

He didn't go just then but stayed…to kiss her beautiful bare shoulder, to keep twisting her curly hair around his fingers, to share the bliss of their bodies next to each other until sleep claimed them.

In the morning James found Teresa having coffee in the front room where her little coffee maker was gurgling and where the smell of fresh brew permeated the air. The curtain was wide open.

She wore a terrycloth robe, and it was opened just a little, just a hint at the bounty beneath. He didn't think he had ever seen anything so damn beautiful.

She looked at his tousled hair and smiled.

"Hi," he said, scratching his cheek, a ponderous look in his eyes:" About last night…" He started saying as she interrupted him: ""No need to think of any smooth lines…You already got me in bed."

And she smiled at him, which made him smile back: "I was up all night working on a smooth line."

"Oh…" she poured him coffee as he sat next to her oh so gingerly, drank a few times and then said:

"Do you want to hear it? The smooth line I came up with!" His tone was playful but there was something hidden underneath it.

She looked him in the eyes with expectation as he took a breath and simply said: "I love you!"

"I love you too, James!" The words rolled off her tongue as she exhaled and the flirty look on her face was gone. "Please don't go! Please let's think of other options!"

He kissed her gently and caressed her cheek with his hand, then mumbled: "You know there's no other option. I need you to trust me on this, please!"

Her head leaned on his shoulder as he sipped his coffee in silence, sitting next to her, savoring the moment, knowing that all the walls had fallen down.

Teresa lifted her head and finally broke the silence. "Going back to 'About last night'…"

James cleared his throat: "I'll leave it to you."

"It was pretty…frigging awesome." She nudged him with her elbow.

He smiled. "Yeah. I knew I should leave it to you."

She rose as he watched her. She wore only the bathrobe. Women should leave their frilly lace thongs and baby dolls. He would take a beautiful woman in a simple terrycloth robe any day of the week.

"I'm taking a shower," Teresa said, turning to him.

"Is that an invitation?" he asked.

"Do you want it to be?" She shook her head lightly.

"What do you think?!" Came out of his mouth under the naughty smile.

"Not enough time." She almost smiled too.

"I can work fast." He sounded serious now.

"I'm not a fan of fast, James!" She said in a low voice as if she was asking how come he had not noticed. It was clear to him that she was making an effort to joke.

He cocked his head to one side, and she went on: "Besides if you …work fast…it might not be your best work."

He forced his eyes to open wide: "Ouch!"

She bent down and kissed him gently on the lips. "Thank you," she said.

He was about to attempt cracking another joke because he needed to remember this morning as a light one…but something in her tone made him pull up. Something in her voice overwhelmed him and made him ache. He squeezed her hand and stayed silent and then watched her walk away, feeling profound sadness that this magical night might never be repeated.

In a minute or so she popped her head from the bathroom and said: "I'm sorry I doubted you!"

"I'm sorry I …got angry and snapped at you last night!" He was making an effort not to get on his feet and hustle her back in the bathroom.

So, he found his voice and went on: "Anyone else lose faith in me, it doesn't matter...with you it's different…Pote says I have a blind spot when it comes to you!"

"Why can't we just get out now?" She sounded desperate.

"Finch will find us. We will be loose ends for him and the Agency!" He himself had considered the possibility of running now and had decided that being on the run from the CIA was not freedom.

"So, you think he will let us leave after we eliminate Kostya?" She was not leaning on the door frame anymore but had even stepped out of the bathroom.

"Not really…He will make us the biggest cartel and we'll be working under his protection!" James felt it very difficult to speak out the truth: "But I sense that's not what you want, right, Teresa?"

"Is that what you want?" She countered fast and he felt unprepared for the direction of the conversation: "Because you said you'd kill that son of a bitch…and then we are out!"

"So, you want out of the biz?" James got up from his seat and walked to stand right in front of her.

"Yes, I do…I want to live a normal life… like Pote and Kelly Anne will!" She took his hands in hers as she said it.

"With me?" James was certain it was with him but needed to hear the words spoken by her.

"Of course. With whom else?" Her voice was subdued, but gentle.

"You said your life wasn't worth it without me. Well…neither is mine without you!" He squeezed her hands in his.

Teresa was looking him straight in the eyes and he felt like this was one of the most sincere conversations they had ever had: "So no matter what, we run from Finch!"

He smiled: "It looks like that!" Then he took her beautiful face in his hands, pulled her to him, kissed her forehead, held his lips there, closing his eyes and giving in the moment. He felt her arms around him.

"I still think we should run now and leave Kostya to Finch! We owe no one anything!" She murmured.

James sadly shook his head: "If we do that, there won't be even the slightest chance of Finch letting us go or …ahh…looking the other way. Let's first see how exactly he plans to assist me getting in there!"

"Promise me you'll be very careful!" She whispered again as he pulled back.

There were tears in her eyes and a second later there were in his eyes too. Suddenly he felt so very tired: "I will. I promise!"

With that he kissed her again and let her go back into the bathroom.

Finch's man had delivered a pass for the Russian Consulate for James to use as an assistant to the US member of a UN Committee, headed by the Russians and currently holding some meetings on the premises for several days.

The pass looked as original as it could be, with James's photo, looking serious in a black suit, a photo taken when he had worked for Finch.

The analysis of the two sets of blueprints of the building, one provided by Finch, one by Oksana's team, indicated that James's best shot would be to hide in a filing room at the end of the corridor where several offices of 'external' contractors were located and where the third office to the left was the one of Konstantin Federev.

Finch's contact would hide a gun with a silencer for James in the third right cabinet in said filing room.

The intel confirmed that Federev conducted business every other day from this office as it was the safest place to communicate with his FSB counterparts in Russia.

James had to wait for him using the filing room as base, and take him out at first opportunity…right in his own office. The plan seemed very plausible because his security did not accompany him to his office, but rather mingled with others in the cafeteria in the basement of the building.

The escape was to be accomplished down the laundry shaft that connected all floors. The riskiest part would be for James to get to it unnoticed after the hit as it was located in the other wing of the Consulate building where the living quarters were.

It looked very doable, not easier than most of his other missions, but all details lined up logically! The plan even gave him a sense of hope as he outlined it to Teresa and Oksana before taking his goodbyes.

He wasn't thrilled with the suit he had to wear, but as he was supposedly part of a delegation, he decided not to overthink it. His mind felt quite right as he slid in the back seat of the sleek sedan with dark windows that Finch had sent for him.

Oksana hung up the phone with her distro associate and as everything had been in order relaxed into the plush seat waiting for Teresa to come back from seeing James out.

Just as her thoughts were pleasantly trying to convince her that they stood a chance of eliminating her overbearing, powerful and nasty cousin, her cell rang. It was her daughter Samara, who studied in a private school in Atlanta.

"Hey! What's up?" Oksana knew Samara was an early riser because she jogged.

But the voice she heard made her blood freeze: "It's not my dear niece, but your dear cousin…who seems unable to understand what he did to deserve your involvement with certain forces…undermining HIM!" The last part of the sentence saw his deep voice raised to a nasty pitch.

"Kostya, please! I can explain!" Oksana's hands were cold and sweaty, and she sat back in the chair, not realizing when she had even gotten up on her feet.

"You better be able to explain. First, why you lied to me Samara was studying in Seattle when she was actually in Atlanta…and second, what offers Teresa Mendoza was talking to you about yesterday…And don't even think of pretending you don't know how I know! You know I have ears everywhere!"

"Please don't harm her! I am on my way!" Oksana had gotten up again and was scrambling to get her belongings from the table and shove them in her purse.

"I love my niece…I do! For now! Get back to Atlanta. My jet will be waiting. Do not tell Mendoza where you're going!" And the phone went dead.

Oskana came up with a lie about an internal issue she had to take care of and left.

Teresa didn't pay much attention to her hasty exit and flimsy excuse as she herself was preoccupied with her own thoughts.

The flight to NYC on the CIA private jet had been uneventful and James was getting antsy sitting in the filing room and waiting.

As Federev did not show till the end of the day, James ate one of the snacks in his 'field package' and after the 100th examination of the gun, straightened his shirt, put on his jacket and headed towards the cafeteria at the lowest level of the building.

As he found a seat at the bar and started looking around, it became clear that the cafeteria was more like a bar. There were food menus but looked like they had stopped serving food already. It also had a dance floor with a pole and a topless blond on it.

Men of all ages, some with uniforms, other in civilian clothes were enjoying drinks, chatting, or just staring at the dancer. There were three female customers, all in uniforms, who enjoyed their drinks with the men around them and paid no attention to the topless dancer onstage.

James had placed the guest pass on his chest, so the bartender asked him right away in broken English what he wanted and served him a beer with complete lack of interest.

He sipped his drink, pretending to watch the dancer but kept catching his mind wander to Teresa and the night they had had. His eyes observed the perfect body on the pole and his mind's eye kept showing him another perfect body that had fit his like no other.

He shook his daydreaming away and tried to observe the patrons while pretending to observe the dancer. Her moves were 'languid' at best: her bored expression made James think she was not happy with her job, the pole not so much a tool of the dance trade as something that kept her upright. But the rest of the patrons seemed to like her as he heard some cheers and clapping.

He smiled to himself as he thought he was not a prudish man, but he didn't quite get the appeal of topless places. It wasn't that the women were unappealing, but he just couldn't quite buy into the fantasy they sold.

He thought it might be a weakness in his character, but he needed to believe that the woman getting his attention was really, truly into him. He did get the merely physical, but he thought that intimate encounters could only be mixed with affection and possibly love, hence the word 'intimate'. James decided he was simply old-fashioned. Whatever the implications might be!

That's when he spotted a short chubby man Finch had shown to him on a photograph. The CIA believed he was the main FSB man on American soil, and possibly Federev's boss.