Black And White Ops

Monique pulled the car up to the curb next to the warehouse Rick pointed out to her. She put the car in park and shut off the engine.

“What now?” she asked him.

“I go in and get it,” he told her. “This shouldn’t take too long. You wait here.” He put one hand on the door and went to open it.

Monique climbed out of the car at the same time he did. Rick stopped and looked at her in confusion.

“I thought I told you to wait in the car for me,” he said to her.

“I’m coming along,” she told him. “I don’t know what you plan on doing in there, but I want to be around when it happens. I’m sick of being forced to ride along with you and not learn a thing. You’ll just have to include me in any plans you are making.”

He stared at her for a few seconds and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, fine, but you will do as I say and follow my instructions. When I saw it’s time to go, we go. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” she said, giving him a cold stare.

“Then let’s go,” he ordered, walking in the direction of the door to the warehouse. Monique closed the car door and locked it behind her.

They pushed the double action doors open and stepped inside. The place was filthy and didn’t look like it had been cleaned in fifty years. The floor had a layer of grease on it and parts hung from the walls. There was a counter which was cluttered with all kinds of invoices and bills. The front of the warehouse was quiet, without much of the usual noise one might expect from such a place. Two men were behind the counter going over some paper work; both had cigarettes in their mouths, smoking nonstop. They glanced up when Rick stepped into the foyer and froze when they saw Monique behind him. Obviously, they weren’t used to seeing black people walk into their establishment.

“Did either of you two citizens find a small object near your warehouse?” Rick asked them in Russian. “It would be about five inches long and be made out of plastic. Someone took it from me the other day and I think they tried to hide it in the wall of your establishment.”

Both men appeared to have been dragged through a grease pit and drained out on a dirty towel. Engine oil was soaked into their skin and their hands were stained the color of walnuts. One was over six feet in height and had a shaved head. The other was much younger and had black shaggy hair. The older man snuffed out his cigarette and glared at Rick.

“Suppose we did, muchak,” he told Rick, using a slur term for “peasant”. “Why should we turn it over to you? Is there any kind of reward?”

“I’m willing to pay to get it back,” he told them. “Provided it’s intact. I can’t use it if it’s damaged. Is it in one piece?”

The man with the shaved head turned to his companion. “Go back there and tell Alexi I want the toy we found yesterday. If he asks why, tell him it’s none of his concern. I’ll buy his kid another one if it’s too much trouble.” The other man vanished through a door behind him.

There was no idle talk or chatter as they stood around and waited. The man with the shaved head went back to looking at his paperwork and didn’t make eye contact with either of them. Generations of being watched had taught Russians not to ask questions when you didn’t want the answers. Monique remained quiet with Rick and glanced around the walls. Some of the parts didn’t appear to have been moved in years. What the hell was going on behind them in that warehouse? Something illegal, she was willing to bet. Which would put everyone in the same boat. Soon the police and SVR would track them to this location and be asking these men all kinds of questions. They might even be forced to look into what was happening on the other side of the counter.

The door opened and the younger man came back with the super drive. Monique could tell this had to be it from the look of excitement on Rick’s face. It didn’t appear to be anything special: the drive resembled a small cylinder with attachments which could fit into the palm of your hand. It could have been mistaken for a video game player.

“He wants a PlayStation for his kid,” the younger man said in Russian to his boss. “And one of the new ones in a box. Unsealed.”

“He’ll be lucky not to get my boot up his ass,” the older man said to him as he turned the device over and looked at it. He turned his attention back to Rick and Monique. “What is this thing you are so desperate to get back?”

“A digital video recorder,” Rick told him. “It’s a new model. Someone borrowed it from me and left it in the wall outside. I’m anxious to get it back.” Rick counted out some money on the counter and let him examine the bills.

“It’s a lot of cash for a tiny machine,” the man with the shaved head observed. “I think you really want this machine back. I think you could afford a lot more than the pathetic sum you just dropped on my counter.”

“I’m not rich,” Rick stated, “but I do want it back.” He laid a few more bills on the counter.

“That is a lot more,” the man observed. “So I have to wonder why you want this little toy back so badly. Maybe I could sell it for a lot more than you are willing to pay? You think me some fool you can just walk in here and expect to get your little toy back? How do I really know it belongs to you?”