Spy Games Ch. 20

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Read chapter 9 of Realtor Revenge to see this chapter of Spy Games from Raven’s point of view.


Spy Games

Chapter 20

The Russians showed up in what looked like a corporate AN-148. Even though the Antonov airliner was designed to hold up seventy-five passengers, when this highly modified VIP version landed at the small Merryville airport, it only discharged ten people … five men and five women.

A large man wearing enough gold to open a jewelry store was the first to poke his head out the aircraft door. He looked left, right, up, and down before descending the gangway. Once on the tarmac, he beckoned the next three men to follow him. While one stood guard at the bottom of the airstairs, the others did a quick search of the surrounding area, looking for possible threats. Once the four lead men deemed the area secure, the last man emerged.

I immediately recognized their leader, Alek Popov. He was a major player in the shady world of Russian politics and organized crime. He was also the man who put a price on my head for fucking and then tying up his wife, daughter and housekeeper. Fortunately, neither he, nor any of the women in his house, had seen my face. Unless I did something extremely careless, there was no way he would know the man he was willing to spend a million dollars to have slowly tortured and killed would be his host for the next seven days.

The five men had a short conversation and then one of them called up to the aircraft. I initially thought the first woman to descend the gangway was Kira Popov, Alek’s twenty-one-year-old daughter. She had the same slim fashion model body, refined features and platinum blonde hair as Kira. But when her twin, triplet, quadruplet, and quintuplet followed closely behind, I surmised that the five young Russian women were not related to any of the men and most likely not automotive engineers.

While I greeted the Russians on the tarmac and handed them the keys to their rental vehicles, Flanagan watched their entrance from a well-hidden roof top. Instead of his usual sniper rifle, he was armed with a camera and telephoto lens with sufficient power to determine the sex of a mosquito at two hundred yards. His high-resolution digital pictures were immediately transferred to the Company for identification. A half hour later, we had the names and sordid history of each of the men … all members of Alek Popov’s personal security detail. None of the blonde beauties came up on the Company’s large data base of miscreants so we assumed they were brought along to help pick out the hundred or so houses they would purchase.

Despite their obvious differences, I planned to treat the Russians pretty the much the same as we did the Chinese. A welcome to Merryville party the night of their arrival, a plant tour the next day, followed by lunch with the city council who would approve their tax-free status. Once the formalities were complete, I assumed they would spend the rest of the week buying houses while further inspecting the details of the car plant.

My plans for Raven were also the same. We would continue to invade her sleep with creepy noises and Janis’ pleading cries for help when the sun was down, and I made the same offer to the Russians as I did with the Chinese.

“Tell your men that they should take full advantage of whatever help my realtor can provide during their stay in Merryville,” I told Popov during our meet and greet dinner. “Absolutely nothing is off the table.”

“That is a very generous offer,” he replied. “She is a very appealing woman. However, I gave my men strict orders to keep their stallions out of the local mares.”

“May I ask why?”

“It is a security precaution. With the proliferation of DNA testing, I don’t want American pussies carrying around the identities of my employees. But don’t worry about my men’s wellbeing,” he said while gesturing towards one of the Russian women. “As you can see, I have brought along all the entertainment they will need.”

The Russians showed very little interest in the car plant. They dutifully walked the plant floor as Mayor Stuffit showed them the facility but, according to Raven, when the tour was done, they had no technical questions and didn’t express any desire to return later in the week.

As the week drew on, the Russian men proved either sufficiently self-controlled or scared of their boss to obey his directions. While they were unable to keep their eyes off Raven, their hands, lips, tongues and dicks spent most of their house hunting trips on or inside the walking talking sex toys so generously supplied by Popov.

Since the Russian men seemed to have nothing better to do than buy houses and corrupt the next generation of Russian women, we were able to sell them the required hundred homes in only four days. Which meant they had that Friday off with nothing on the schedule. Me being their unofficial host, Alek Popov insinuated that it was my job to entertain them.

“Entertaining the women is easy,” Janis said when I asked for suggestions. Ankara Ucuz Rus Escort “Take them shopping. But I have no idea what Russian men like to do?”

“Drink heavily and invade neighboring countries,” I answered.

“Then I suggest we divide and conquer.”

At 8:00 the next morning, Janis and I picked up the five Russian women in a rental van. Yeah, I was taking a chance having Miss Moorehead with me. If any local recognized her, the news would be all over town before lunch. To prevent that from happening, she wore dark sunglasses and kept her blonde locks covered in a scarf until we were well out of Merryville and in the next county.

It was a two-hour drive from Merryville to Nashville. I wouldn’t call the Russian women fluent in English, but with my help as an interpreter and Janis’ natural charm, the five Russian ladies soon considered Janis a kindred spirit.

Janis had done her homework. She knew exactly which stores she wanted to patronize and had called ahead, ensuring we got the royal treatment.

The first clothing boutique we visited was in a mall adjacent to the Grand Ole Opry concert hall. The manager and two assistants met us at the door and immediately escorted us to a roped off area where they had prepositioned several outfits in the appropriate sizes. Even more impressive was what the attractive store manager called the “wallet seat” … a comfortable leather chair located in the extreme corner of our section.

“Why is this called the ‘wallet seat’?” I asked as I sat in the recliner and accepted a glass of whiskey.

“It is reserved for the powerful, generous gentleman who brought these lovely ladies to my store,” she said. “I naturally assumed that is you.”

Giving her my warmest smile, I retrieved my wallet from my trousers, pulled out a credit card and handed it to her. “No limit. Give them whatever they want. And please pay special attention to the American lady. She deserves it.”

While repeating the process at a shoe store in the same mall, one of the Russian girls approached me to show off her newly purchased cowgirl boots.

“I cannot thank you enough for your generosity,” she said in Russian while giving me an excuse to admire her well-formed legs. “None of us have ever been treated this well before today.”

“It is my pleasure,” I replied in her native tongue. “A woman of your charm and beauty deserves to be pampered like a princess.”

She blushed at the complement, adding a hint of color to her otherwise porcelain skin tone. “Is it permissible to ask a personal question?”

“Asking is always allowed.”

“Is Janis your girlfriend?”

“She’s more like my personal assistant.”

“If she is your assistant, why haven’t we seen her before today? And why would you employ Miss Hardwood at all? Janis is much more personable than Raven and just as beautiful … if not more so.”

“Yes, that is a fair question. One I have been asking myself. Let’s just say that I am in the process of making a personnel change. Raven Hardwood is on her way out, soon to be replaced by Janis Moorehead. But that can’t happen until I finish my current project.”

“When will that happen?” the striking young Russian asked.

“Soon. Not long after you leave. But do me a favor please.”

“Anything for you Mr. Seiman.”

“Don’t mention that Janis was with us today. Not to Miss Hardwood or anybody else you might meet in town. If anybody asks, tell them that I alone took you shopping.”

We visited two more high-end clothing stores before stopping for a late lunch at a downtown steak house. The six women split three bottles of a local red blend paired with an excellent choice of prime cut grilled beef. By the time the remains of strawberry short cake were removed from the table, the ladies had settled on a plan for the next evening’s party.

“We need to make one more stop before we drive back to Merryville,” Janis told me as we got back into the van.

“Really? Another clothing store. Don’t get me wrong. This is your day. Whatever you girls want; I’ll do. But the back end of the van is already full of boxes. I’m not sure we have room for anything else.”

“Not to worry. This will be a quick stop. And our purchases will fit in our purses.”

“Are you planning on buying bikinis?” I asked with a hopeful grin on my face. “Do I get to help chose?”

“In your dreams. We’re going to a store that specializes in silk scarfs.”

While Janis and I were making the five Russian women and several Nashville store managers extremely happy, Flanagan and Sixty-nine, posing as high-end tour company employees, were entertaining four out of the five Russian men. Alek Popov begged off saying he had some administrative things to catch up on.

The men’s itinerary consisted of visits to four local whiskey distilleries and ended up at a bar which, among other forms of entertainment, featured axe throwing competitions.

Once we returned the bevy of blonde Russian beauties and their soused male Yenimahalle Rus Escort counter parts to the Merryville Inn, we all met back in our four-bedroom wooded hide out. Sixty-nine opened a bottle of California Chablis. Flanagan twisted the cap off a bottle of a promising bourbon he purchased during one of their distillery tours. Janis prepared a plate of cheese and homemade bread and I rustled up a Caesar salad.

We rejoined around the dining room table to enjoy the fruits of our labor and debrief the activities of the day.

“As suspected,” I said leading off the discussion, “we weren’t able to get any useful intelligence from the five Russian ladies.”

“One of Popov’s men found them at a Kiev modeling school just last week,” Janis continued. “He promised them a boat load of money to be their escorts for a week with the guarantee of legitimate modelling jobs once they got back to Russia.”

“If Popov is true to form,” I added. “Once the week is over, the girls will not only never see the promised money, they’ll also never see Russia again. White slavery is a lucrative business. One of Popov’s many revenue streams.”

“That is terrible,” Sixty-nine said. “Is there anything we can do to prevent it from happening?”

“Probably not. Anything we do to interfere with his criminal operations will get in the way of the Company’s desire to draw his political plans out into the open. If the Company is willing to sacrifice the entire town of Merryville for this project, they won’t think twice about what happens to five random Svetlanas.”

“Svetlanas? Really Mark?” Janis scolded. “Not a single one of the Russian girls are named Svetlana. You just spent an entire day with the women, and not only do you not care what happens to them, you don’t even know their names?”

“And I suppose you do?”

“Anya, Tatiana, Natasha, Anastasia and Kira … she was the one whose legs you were ogling while she showed off her cowgirl boots. Anya has a fiancé in Kiev and plans to go back to college with the money Popov promised. Natasha hopes to become a designer and –“

“Okay. I get the message. They’re real people. Just like the seven billion other real people on the planet. But our job is to protect the three-hundred million that live in the US. That’s not to say I won’t try to help Kira and the others, but at this moment, it doesn’t look good for them. Now, unless anybody else wants to critique how we treat people that associate with foreign terrorists, I suggest we move on with the debrief.

“What about you two?” I asked, turning towards Flanagan and Sixty-nine. “Did you mine any gems of wisdom from your axe throwing drinking buddies?”

After my outburst, Sixty-nine looked like she wanted to crawl under the rug and hide. But Flanagan was used to my temper and calmly took the floor.

“The four assholes you made us babysit all day while you hung out with the runway models are nothing more than clueless hired muscle. All they could talk about was the rented pussy they’ve been banging all week and how much they want to get back home. They came here to protect Popov while he buys a bunch of houses for people they’ll never meet. I asked them what the Russians who eventually move into those houses would be doing and none of them either knew or cared. Best I can tell, the four aren’t privy to the grand plan and will never return to Merryville.”

“And that leaves their leader, Comrade Popov,” I said to no one in particular. “Does anybody have a clue what he was up to today?”

“According to our offsite monitoring team, he spent most of the day on the phone,” Sixty-nine volunteered.

“Do we know who he was talking to?”

“He made a short call to his wife,” Sixty-nine said as she sifted through the information provided by our team of Russian linguists. “Then he called his Moscow mistress … followed by two calls to his broker … and then he Face-Timed his Monaco mistress, which the agent on duty taped and replayed several times for his own entertainment–“

“Yeah. I get the point. Was there anything that might help us keep the free world free?”

“Nothing that stands out so far … wait a second. Here’s a partial conversation that was made over an encrypted satellite phone. We only have Popov’s side of the call, which we got from the bug in his rental car. The linguist wasn’t sure if it amounted to anything or not, so he sent us a copy of the original Russian and also sent his translation up the chain for further review.”

“Just because he’s using an encrypted phone doesn’t necessarily mean it’s important. But it is certainly worth a listen. Send it to me and I’ll see if I can pick anything out of it.”

“Yes sir, it’s on its way to your laptop.”

“Anything else?” I asked.

“He took a two-hour nap in the afternoon, watched a “Beverly Hillbillies” rerun, complained to the front desk when he discovered they didn’t have a masseuse on staff and then ordered a pizza for dinner. Sausage, onions and anchovies.”

The debrief over, we finished our impromptu meal in silence. When I offered to help with the cleanup Janis banished me to the front porch.

“Why don’t you help Flanagan finish off that bottle of bourbon,” she told me. “I’m sure he’ll be better company than me.”

Before she could turn towards the kitchen, I gently grabbed her waist and pulled her into a kiss. She didn’t push me away but also didn’t reciprocate.

“You were absolutely amazing today,” I told her. “I’m sorry if I ruined it for you with my insensitive remarks over dinner.”

“Yes. They were insensitive, but also true. It will break my heart if anything bad happens to those girls.”

“Let’s hope I’m wrong.”

“When was the last time you were wrong?”

“When I got you involved in all of this.”

“Not from my point of view. Now go out on the porch before Flanagan gets too drunk. I think Sixty-nine has some plans for him later this evening and he needs to be semi sober to participate.”

She rose up on her toes, gave me a quick kiss and pushed me towards the door.

On a whim, I picked up my laptop as I walked through the dining room towards the front door. Once on the porch, the half empty bottle sitting next to a snoring Flanagan told me he wouldn’t be much of a conversationalist, so I opened my computer and pulled up the audio file Sixty-nine had just forwarded.

“It is finished.” Popov’s voice was competing with road noise and the sound of classical music. Not optimum, but if I listened closely, I could pick out the gist of what he was saying.

There was a pause as the person on the other end spoke —

“Yes, tax free for twenty years. Not that it matters. The Chinese will get all the profit from the US enterprise. Your people will be here to observe and learn. Mine will provide security.”

Another pause —

“Exactly one hundred houses, all in a different section of town from the Chinese, just as you requested.

“No. They will have Americans for neighbors. It couldn’t be avoided. But they are mostly country people … overly trusting but not overly intelligent. Our people will be long gone by the time they figure out what we’re planning.

“We have a party tomorrow night to make nice with the locals and then leave the following day.

“I’m afraid not. I have some personal things to attend to first. I’m still looking for the men who broke into my house, stole my wife’s jewelry and abused my family. I don’t know where they are, but men with such skill certainly wouldn’t live in this shit hole of a town.

“Not to worry. My team will ensure your engineers are safe from both the Chinese and the Americans.”

I heard the distinct warbling sound a satellite phone makes when a secure call is ended and that was also the end of the recording.

“Anything important?” Flanagan asked.

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was until I heard somebody speaking Russian. Just the sound of that nasty language is enough to pull me out of REM.”

“Sorry about that. I should have used a headset.”

“Not to worry. The Russians made us stop at a sex shop between distilleries and I saw Sixty-nine pick out some new toys when she thought I wasn’t looking. As soon as you tell me what Popov said, I’ll be moseying downstairs for playtime.”

“You two seem to be hitting it off.”

“Yeah, she’s got a surprisingly wild side … and she’s turning into quit the marksman, or is it markswoman? So, what did our least favorite Russian divulge?”

“Not a whole lot. I only got Popov’s side of the conversation. From the words he used and the slight hint of deference in his tone, I’m guessing he was speaking to either his boss or some high government official.”

“I thought Popov ran his own show.” Flanagan said.

“Yeah, he does. That’s why I’m betting he was talking to somebody high up in the Russian government. Regardless, we can confirm that they’re in cahoots with the Chinese on whatever this mystery plan might be and, as usual, they don’t trust each other.”

“That’s it?”

“The rest was just bits and pieces … hard to tell what they were saying only hearing one side of the conversation. Although there is one piece of good news. Even though Popov is still actively looking for the two of us because of what we did in his dacha, he’s convinced we’re not in Merryville.”


The housing contracts were signed. The tax breaks approved. All that remained before the Russians departed was the obligatory “end of visit” celebratory party. Popov insisted on hosting the event in one of the bigger houses that he now owned. Which was fine by me … if there is one thing that Russians do well, it’s partying. I wasn’t overjoyed when he invited Mayor Stuffit and his crooked city council. Their presence would put a huge dent into my plans for the evening. But since it was his party, I really didn’t have control over who attended.

To Miss Hardwood’s utter dismay, I insisted on driving her to the event. I didn’t particularly like the woman the first time we met and, the more we hung out together, the less I wanted to be with her. But I also didn’t want her leaving the party early and the only way I could control that was to be her date. Without her Porsche, she’d leave when I told her to, and I didn’t want her to leave until Janis had yet another chance to screw with her mind.

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