“…you want us to look after your fine car?”
Sean smiled. Up until he stepped out of the car, he felt sure they were about to mug him. Obviously his size and the 'don’t fuck with me’ look had deserved a re-evaluation by the teenager. Sean towered over the four of them and probably weighed twice what each of them weighed soaking wet.
“That would be great!”
The leader held out his hand for some cash which Sean ignored but leaned into the leader and whispered.
“If I come back and the car’s good, it’ll save me having to kick your ass in front of your little gang.” Sean looked into the leader’s eyes and saw a mixture of anger and fear. “Get me?!” he added with steel, knocking the anger from the eyes.
A small almost imperceptible nod from the leader ended the interaction.
As Sean walked towards the end of the street, he could hear the young leader barking out his orders to his gang, all in Spanish. He had absolutely no idea what was being said. Sean was embarrassed. His country had two languages, English and Spanish and he spoke only one. Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan had many and he spoke many of them. At times, he felt very un-American.
As Sean had driven past the brothel, he had spotted two guards, one by the front door and another to the side of the property. As he walked towards the brothel, both pairs of eyes were on him. Obviously, they didn’t get many white American clients. Both seemed particularly uneasy at the sight of Sean and came together, backing each other up as Sean entered the drive. Both stood by the front door, blocking Sean’s entry.
“Buenas tardes, Senor!” offered one of the guards. On closer inspection, his clothes were of significantly better quality than his colleague’s. Probably the owner of the establishment, thought Sean. The other guard was definitely taking the lead from him.
Fortunately, Sean’s non-existent Spanish stretched to 'good evening’, 'good night’, 'one, two or three beers’, 'please’ and 'thank you’.
“Buenas tardes, Senor,” replied Sean, although he wasn’t sure how long it would remain one. One owner, one guard, neither looked happy to see him, nor did they move aside to let him enter.
“Perhaps we should take this inside?” suggested Sean, breaking the silence that had settled.
Neither moved nor responded. Sean stepped forward, thinking they may part to let him through. Neither did. Impasse.
The guard began to reach for his belt. The message to Sean loud and clear. He wasn’t welcome.
Sean sighed. This wasn’t really what he had planned. Inside would have been much better but time was an issue and he just didn’t have any. He stepped back and threw his hand out, catching both by surprise. Sean grabbed the guard’s wrist before it reached his belt and as he twisted hard, forced a powerful head butt into the nose of the owner. As both wrist and nose shattered, the owner fell soundlessly to the ground while the guard doubled over, screaming in agony. The scream was short-lived as Sean followed quickly with a knee to the guard’s temple.
Sean quickly scanned for any reaction in the street. There was none. A female voice shouted from inside and footsteps approached the door but whoever was behind the door wasn’t about to open it. They shouted again. Sean had no idea what they were saying. He was too busy searching the two unconscious bodies. And whoever was shouting wasn’t wishing him good evening or inviting him in for a beer. After a quick search, Sean had exactly what he needed. He thanked the two men, wished them a good evening and returned to his car.
The gang leader stood next to his car, smiling proudly. His gang numbers had swollen to ten.
The gang leader held a knife above the fabric roof of the Mustang, ready to stab it. Other gang members held baseball bats at the ready, ready to teach the hombre a lesson, thought Sean. First they’d pound his car and then him.
Sean shook his head as the gang leader swung his hand up ready to strike down. Sean was still twenty yards away and was helpless to stop him. Except, unfortunately for the young gang leader, Sean swung his hand down to his belt, retrieved the Glock he had just taken from the owner and in one seeping motion, fired three rounds in quick succession.
The first took the knife cleanly out of the leader’s hand, the second took out one of the baseball bats and the third, a baseball cap off the head of the nearest gang member to Sean.
As half the gang ran away, the other half stood their ground. One reached for a pistol he had tucked in his trousers. Before he could bring it to bear, Sean sent over another bullet and removed it from the gang member’s hand. He was not as fortunate as his colleagues. As the gun exited his hand, a snap signaled his trigger finger would not be pulling triggers anytime soon.
The rest of the gang fled.
Sean climbed into the Mustang and placed the two handguns on the passenger seat, one Glock and one Jimenez Arms. He wasn’t familiar with the make but it felt light and very cheap. The Glock certainly worked and Sean had the gang to thank for the impromptu test firing. It was always good to know your weapon worked before you really needed to know if your weapon worked. Weapons were not hard to get a hold of. You just needed to know who to go to. Pimps were weaker and far less trigger happy than drug dealers. As for the shattered nose, Sean hadn’t met a pimp who didn’t prey on the weak and less fortunate in society; it was the least he probably deserved.
Chapter 12
SVR Headquarters
Moscow
Mikhail paced nervously outside the Director’s office. He had already been in the office for hours. His wife had kicked him out of bed at 4.00 a.m. due to his tossing and turning and inability to sleep.
He had spent the last few hours going through old records in an attempt to understand what was going on but there was nothing. At least nothing he was allowed to see without further approval; something he didn’t know was possible. He had access to everything the Science Department had ever been involved in, or so he had thought. One file was inaccessible, the Grebnevo file. No other detail was available. The file was simply labeled Grebnevo. Mikhail had tried an Internet search, inputting the name; nothing showed up other than it was the name of a derelict estate just outside of Moscow. Shortly after his search, Mikhail’s computer stopped working.
“Come in!” The Director’s voice boomed through the door. His assistant didn’t come in before eight.
Mikhail puffed out his chest and stood to his full five foot seven as he walked into the Director’s office. Mikhail shrunk an inch as the imposing figure of General Yuri Borodin stood up to greet him. He was Director of the GRU, Russia’s Military Intelligence Directorate. His own Director sat motionless behind his desk, leaving Mikhail alone to face Borodin. Borodin took Mikhail’s hand and shook it before guiding him to one of the two seats in front of the SVR Director’s desk.
Mikhail sat and surreptitiously wiped the sweat from his hand. He could do nothing about the sweat forming on his brow. He just had to hope the two most powerful Intelligence tsars in Russia did not notice. Mikhail was a scientist. Politics and power games were most definitely beyond him and if he had ever harbored any doubt, the speed at which his heart was currently racing proved it categorically.
“I believe you needed to speak to me urgently?” offered the SVR Director.
Mikhail glanced at Borodin before answering. As far as he was aware, although they both worked for Mother Russia, the two tsars were constantly fighting over resource and territory. Discussing confidential SVR business in the GRU Director’s presence was not only unorthodox but unheard of.
Borodin leaned over and slapped Mikhail’s knee. “It’s OK, young man, you can discuss this in front of me. I know all about Sean Fox!”
Mikhail breathed a sigh of relief and began to relay the telephone conversations he had received the previous day, informing him that Sean Fox was alive and in America.
“Obviously,” he concluded. “There has been a miscommunication as I don’t know why my department would be involved with this Sean Fox.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m here. There was a mistake. You should not have been informed. Sean Fox is an agent of ours whom we had presumed dead. Part of a joint KGB/GRU project in the past. I believe the agent in the
