Black And White Ops

Chapter 7

The girl looked to be in her early twenties and was wearing a blue dress which the coat she had on barely concealed. She had thick eyebrows and Rick wondered if she was Armenian. All types of people were moving through Russia these days. In the old days of the Soviet Union, movement was strictly controlled, just as it had been with the Tsars in an internal passport system. But now the system had broken down and a new one had yet to be initiated. Like many other things, Russia was still trying to get a handle on its place in the New World Order. The girl was carrying around a large plastic garbage bag with her in the coffee shop and the owner kept glaring at her. Whatever was in the bag was something that didn’t belong in his shop and he wanted her gone. He finally said a few words in Russian to her and the girl got up and left the shop, taking the bag with her. The last Rick saw of the girl was her carrying it down the street with a cell phone propped to her ear. Somehow he didn’t think whatever she was doing was legal in any country.

Monique and Rick had decided to go hang-out in a coffee shop for a few hours while waiting on another one of Rick’s connections. This one could find them a place to stay for the night away from the prying eyes of the SVR. Now they had to be worried about both the agency and the Russian version snooping around looking for them. Once again, he’d found himself trapped in a game someone else was playing. All he needed was a square where he could move. No one was giving them strange looks in the coffee shop, which was fine with him. It was a place foreigners used all the time. He’d recognized five European languages already and two more Asian ones. All manners of deals were taking place around them with men in business suits wearing ties. Someone once told him the best place to hide was in plain sight. The coffee shop qualified with the local branch of the SVR visible through the window.

Two women in blue sat across from them. They were blond and had taken their coats off. Rick sat quietly and observed them while Monique leaned against him with her eyes closed. He kissed her on the ear to wake her a few times, but let Monique sleep. She’d been very busy early in the day inside the small amber room. Rick closed his eyes and felt his ere*tion return with the memory of it. He’d promised her a trip to one of the fantasy rooms in a big King of Prussia hotel once they returned to America. He meant to keep that one too. Just as he intended to marry the curvy woman he was holding. Time to put his spy game to rest and use the money he’d saved for the ranch in Florida. He closed his eyes and imagined plowing his fields in the day and going back inside to plow her in the evening. He once knew a guy from the country who claimed to have twelve brothers and sisters and whose mother would always pray her husband would get lost on the way home when it rained.

The women in blue were still playing with their hair. Rick kept his short so he couldn’t understand all the fuss. He did like women with long hair and had slept with a number of them who had waist-length manes. It made s*x a little confusing because they had to spend time pinning it up. Quite the mood killer when you can’t see your lover on top of you because the hair is blocking your vision.

Both of the women were wearing open-toes heels on their feet, which must have turned them blue after one or two blocks. He found it amusing the lengths people went to just for fashion. He had a few suits at home, but tended toward jeans and t-shirt between assignments. Simple engineer boots worked for him most of the time, although he was wearing running shoes right now. He noted that Monique had grabbed a pair of leather boots with heels when they left her apartment. It was going to make it difficult for her to run if they found themselves in a tight spot. In this weather and terrain running barefoot was out of the question. If he had to, Rick could carry her on his back, but hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

A young man came by with a broom and dustpan, sweeping the floor near them, but ignored Rick when he asked him in Russian if they should move. Rick tried a few other languages, but he still acted like he couldn’t hear them. Rick decided the young man must be another undocumented worker from one of the former Soviet Republics who had come north to find a job. Like in America, he was probably underpaid and working for cash. Monique was still sleeping soundly while leaning on him.

Could they be sisters? he wondered about the two women in blue. He had thought as much when they first walked into the coffee shop, but not now. One was tiny and thin, very typical for a Russian woman in this part of the country. It was why so many supermodels came from this part of the world, although the tall ones tended to hail from Siberia. The other was on the curvy side, which was becoming more common as the typical Russian had a greater access to Western-style food. Both were playing on their cell phones, another bad habit imported from the west. It was nine in the evening and the big nightclubs would soon be opening. Rick avoided those places if he could. The music was too loud and the men rude.

Just as the women in blue left the room they were replaced by two people entering in motorcycle leathers. He couldn’t tell who they were as both were wearing helmets and in the process of removing them when they stepped into the coffee shop. These had to be foreigners. The man looked to be in his forties and had a rough exterior with long hair bundled up in a ponytail. The girl with him looked no more than eighteen and was looking up to him with respect. He wondered if they were father and daughter until she leaned up to him on her toes and planted a long kiss on his lips. Then she turned to the girl at the counter and made her order in flawless Russian with a Moscow accent. The man looked a little confused until he saw the girl behind the counter start to get the cappuccinos ready. Then he put one arm around her and waited to get their order. He fumbled with his wallet and pulled out a wad of cash. Nope, man is foreign and the girl is someone he’s flown here to meet, Rick thought.

He wished the two of them the best of luck internally. Several years ago he’d met a Bulgarian woman outside an outlet mall near Philadelphia who had skin the color of alabaster with eyes blacker than the heart of midnight. Her American husband had a construction job and they were buying some appliances for their new house. He’d overheard her talk in Bulgarian to her mother on the cell phone and introduced himself to them later. It always helped to practice a language when you didn’t get to use it that much. The man had found her on some kind of matrimonial website and flown out to meet her. They’d clicked and now she was living the good life in the USA. He ran into them a year later and she was pushing a stroller with the baby in it while showing signs of baby number two.