Canyons of Steel - A modern day western

Chapter Four Part Three

Rickenbacker International Airport, Ohio – 12:20 pm. - August 23, 2002

Passengers, flight attendants, pilots and more mingled in the terminal of the airport. Some arriving, some departing. No one really took much interest in each other, even the guards that were spread throughout the terminal seemed to be a bit more relaxed. Attentive, but still relaxed. They all knew of what happened less than a year ago. Even with such an action on American soil as the hijacking of three airplanes, it was business as usual in America. Something that many of the politicians had hoped would happen. To stop common, everyday activities would show any supposed enemy a weakness. Besides, there wasn't anyone matching descriptions of known terrorists coming through today.

This fact alone aloud the large Russian easy access through the airport.

“Your reason for your trip, Mr. Andropov?” the attendant inquired to the large man.

“Am here for business,” he replied in a slow, but pleasing manner. “There is convention at Ohio State University, and I am merely sharing information vith many of my colleagues.”

“Ah, yes. We've had a few international academics passing through here today.” She checked over his passport information and stamped the appropriate pages, sliding it back to him with a smile. “Enjoy your stay in the United States, Mr. Andropov.”

The large man bowed with a kind smile. “Spasibo, tovarich.” It was all too easy. Passing through customs, getting into the country. Even with forged papers. No one in the States was looking at Russians right now. After all, Russia was an ally now, even if considered a temperamental ally. Terrorists didn't come to America from Russia. At least, not anymore.

Oh, how wrong they all were.

For this was not an academic wishing to share information at a convention. In fact, he was a former KGB agent. And now a member of the Red Hand. His real name was Dimitri Kovalenko. His code name loosely translated into Truth Seeker. An ironic name for an organization dedicated to lies.

He walked slowly and with purpose through the terminal, politely excusing himself as he met other travelers. They would be left with only the kind smile of the large, heavily bearded man. Perhaps they even might consider him a gentle Russian giant. So much the better.

Dimitri became all business as he reached the bank of phones. One quick call to his associates, words spoken in code. The number was memorized since he received his orders in Moscow. With a gloved hand, he dialed quickly, and waited for his contact to pick up on the other end.

“Hello,” the quiet voice of a woman answered quickly.

“My dear sister,” Dimitri said into the phone with a smile. A show, in case anyone was watching. “It has been so long since I have seen the four of you. I am in Columbus, attending convention here. It would be most wonderful should the four of you come to visit me.”

“Of course,” the woman replied. “It would be most wonderful indeed. We shall meet you in a few hours.”

“Da. I will be looking for you. Dasvidanya.” Dimitri hung up the phone and went outside to hail down a cab. Everything was working according to plan.