Before McMasters could say another word, Houston picked up the remote and switched off the screen.
For a minute, he sat in silence and stared out the window. He watched as one of his women walked over towards the stable to make sure that his horse was ready for his afternoon ride. He enjoyed riding. It allowed him to clear his mind and to focus on what really mattered to him.
There was a knock at the door. A second later, the door opened and Sofia stepped inside. “Sir, I have your travel arrangements to Crete all worked out. Would you like to go over them?”
Houston stood and smiled at Sofia. “Not right now, perhaps after supper.”
“Very good, sir,” said Sofia with a nod.
As he watched her leave the room, his heart ached slightly at the thought that all of his loyal household staff would soon be dead.
17
Jen had never been so happy to get off a plane and walk out into a busy airport terminal to pick up her luggage. Her flight left New York in the mid-afternoon; however, after stops in Washington and Frankfurt, the journey had taken just over fifteen hours. She stretched out her tired and aching neck as she watched as Sam and Cardinal made their way over to join her by the baggage carousel.
“I’m booking the flights next time,” muttered Sam. “My back is killing me from all this sitting.”
“I had a great sleep,” said Cardinal.
“Yeah, I heard you three rows away,” pointed out Jen.
“I don’t know how you can sleep as often as you do,” grumbled Sam.
“It comes with the territory,” replied Cardinal. “Why stand when you can sit? Why sit when you can lie down and why stay awake when you can sleep? When I was in the army, I spent plenty a night lying out in the open waiting to do my job. It’s payback time, as far as I’m concerned.”
Jen shook her head at her friends’ banter as she reached for the first of her suitcases, slowly making its way down the carousel.
With all of their luggage in tow, Jen led them out into the bustling terminal. It may have been early in the morning, but the airport was already busy with people rushing to get to their flights.
“Where are the car rental places?” asked Cardinal as he looked around, trying to spot a sign pointing the way to the nearest business.
“Not needed. I have a car waiting for you,” said a voice from behind with a thick Russian accent.
As one, they all turned around and saw Yuri Uvarov standing there, wearing an undone, rumpled and dirty Russian Army jacket with his trademark Hawaiian shirt underneath. Tall, skinny, with a constant five o’clock shadow on his face and a black ponytail that hung down below his collar, Yuri was the fifth member of Mitchell’s team. Although not officially part of Polaris’ establishment, Yuri was an indispensable teammate who could fly just about anything ever made.
“Where have you been?” Jen asked Yuri. “I’ve tried for days to reach you.”
“Da, I was lying low,” replied Yuri. “I ran into some old friends who claimed that I owed them money. A day later, they sent some goons to collect their money from me. I had to disappear or I would have ended up facedown in Gorki Park with a bullet in the back of my head.”
“Did you owe them money?” asked Sam.
“Da, but that is another story and not something for you to worry about, little lady.”
“As long as they don’t try to come after you while we’re around,” said Jen.
“Not to worry pretty lady, they won’t be bothering anyone ever again,” said Yuri with a quick wink at Jen.
Jen didn’t want to know what that meant.
Yuri continued, “I called Valery Tokarev. He is expecting us to pick him up around noon today.” With that, Yuri turned around and led them all outside into the frigid morning air. After walking through a busy parking lot, they stopped beside a small, forest-green BMW minivan. Yuri dug out his electronic starter and fired up the engine.
“You have to be kidding,” blurted out Cardinal when he saw how small the car was. “I’ll never fit in there.”
“Looks fine to me,” said Sam, smiling. “You’ll just have to bend your knees, my dear.”
“Sorry, it was all they had that could hold five people,” explained Yuri.
“I’m calling shotgun,” said Jen as she slid into the passenger-side seat.
“Where to first?” asked Yuri.
“Let’s check into our hotel,” said Jen. “I’d like to shower and change my clothes before we head out to meet Mister Tokarev.”
“Did you manage to round up some supplies in case we need them?” Cardinal asked Yuri, cryptically.
“Da, in the trunk. I am like the American Boy Scouts; I never go anywhere unprepared,” replied Yuri.
“Okay, then, I’d also like something to eat,” said Cardinal.
“There’s a small restaurant in your hotel. It is not the best in Saint Petersburg, but the food is not too bad. We can have a late breakfast,” said Yuri as he placed the car in gear and began to make his way out of the airport’s hectic parking lot.
Several hours later, with a light snow falling, Yuri pulled the minivan off the main road and drove down a narrow side street before coming to a halt in front of a drab, gray apartment block. Built at the height of the communist regime, the building looked like thousands of others spread throughout the country: cold, soulless and uninviting.
Yuri parked the car behind an old Lada covered in snow whose tires had gone flat months ago. He told Sam and Cardinal to remain in the car while he and Jen went inside to meet Mister Tokarev. Sam, as expected, objected to being left behind, but when Yuri pointed out that too many new faces would probably unsettle Tokarev, she relented and sat back in her seat.
They made their way to the tenth floor, using an elevator that Jen was certain wasn’t going to make it as it shook and shuddered the whole way up. A dimly lit hallway led to Tokarev’s apartment.
“My God, this place is rundown,” remarked Jen.
“Da, after communism fell many of these old buildings were bought up by, how do you say… unscrupulous people who probably haven’t spent a single ruble fixing them up.”
Yuri knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” called out an elderly woman in Russian.
“Yuri Uvarov and Miss Jennifer March,” replied Yuri. “Your husband is expecting us.”
A second later, the door cracked open. A woman looked out. “How do I know that you’re not from the police?” asked the woman.
“Madame, please look at us. Do we look like the police?” said Yuri.
Opening the door a couple a little wider, the old woman eyed Yuri and Jen suspiciously for a moment before slowly opening the door and asking them to step inside.
“What was that all about?” Jen quietly asked Yuri.
“In Russia, old habits die hard,” replied Yuri.
A couple of seconds later, a small man with thick, white hair and bushy eyebrows walked into view. He was dressed for the cold. Kissing his wife on the cheek, he told her that he would be gone for the day. Tokarev looked at Jen and Yuri and smiled warmly.
“Good day, Miss March, I am so pleased to meet you,” said Valery Tokarev, in Russian-accented English.
“Good day to you, too, sir,” replied Jen, holding out her hand in greeting. “I thought you didn’t understand English, that’s why I used a translator when we spoke over the phone.”
Tokarev gently shook Jen’s hand before doing the same with Yuri. “There’s an old Russian saying. Trust, but verify, Miss March,” said Tokarev.