Fugitive

Chapter 14

I turned to face Doug again. "How can we contact you? If we want more", he asked casually. I discretely let out a huge breath of relief. "Sorry man. That was the last of the lot. Leaving the country". Doug nodded as if he was familiar with what I had said. He nodded and I turned to leave a second time. This time I wasn't stopped. I made sure we got out of there promptly after that. Not realising until later that Alexander would probably take the hit for it when they realise it's all fake. How hadn't I thought of that? Instantly, I felt guilty. "Alexander I have to tell you something". He nodded for me to continue, concentrating on the road. "That coke was fake. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier". Alexander looked over at me from his spot behind the wheel. "What the fuck Jacob! You sold those guys 10 grands worth of fake cocaine? I told you these guys are dangerous. They're going to kill us. Kill me"! "They don't know where you live do they"? I asked. "Fuck no. Unlike you I'm not that stupid. This is deep shit. You've ruined a contact for me. Not to mention they will hunt me down and kill me". "I'm sorry man. I didn't think. At all. I was a dick. I know that. But you had to know I couldn't have magically gotten all that coke. I needed the money. Why don't you come to Russia with me"? I asked grabbing at straws. Hoping I could somewhat fix the situation in some way. "Russia is bad for business. American's are much better buyers", Alexander muttered. I looked out the window in shame. He replied as a parent would to their child who had just done something wrong without realising. "It will be fine. I will fix it. As always". Didn't make me feel any better. I've been struggling with guilt recently. I don't think you're human if you don't feel guilt. At least some of the time. But it seems like every move I make I'm doing something wrong. Stealing cars, ruining a contact for Alexander, leaving Toby and Cat alone in the house, Issac. The list is damn near endless. An envelope with the passport inside arrived the next morning. The passport was incredibly authentic. I guess I expected it to look real, but somehow this looked too real. I could easily have mistaken it for my real passport, if I didn't look at the name. Alexander took the cash and told me he would be giving it to the guy who made the passport when they meet later in the week. Apparently his 'guy' had enough faith in Alexander to send him the passport without the money up front. Personally, that's not something I would do. Alexander is a great guy, but I wouldn't trust him not to screw me over, if it he could get something big out of it. Not something worth that much money. Maybe this guy does owe Alexander something. Or the other way around. I showered that morning and gathered my gear. My disguise was ready in an hour. The contacts still incredibly irritating. As I promised Alisa I was dressed in a suit. Alexander had an old briefcase in the back of a cupboard. After a quick clean it was good as new. My new name was David Adam Wood. Not my first choice but I went with it. I'd bought a phone in cash from the tech store in town. Obviously taking my guns wasn't an option. I'd arranged for Alexander to put them in a storage unit here in Jacksonville. I knew he would take care of it. Alexander turned the radio up loudly for the ride to the airport. He would never admit to it but I'm sure he was nervous. Just as much as I was. The music calmed him. It was a tiring ride to the airport. Not an incredibly long journey but long enough to leave plenty of silences and annoying thoughts in your head. I didn't have much in the briefcase. Some papers that looked official but meant absolutely nothing to me, or anyone else for that matter. I had my phone that I doubted I'd use much. I'd brought a suitcase with me too. Just a small one. Alexander had given me some of his old clothing. I'm sure a passenger with just a briefcase would have seemed suspicious. I couldn't help but feel nervous when I entered the airport. Like everyone was watching me. The paranoia setting in again. Alexander had basically thrown me out of the car and drove off. Simply wishing me good luck and saying nothing more. He didn't like public places either. From there I walked, shiny floors underfoot, to the baggage section, past the waiting areas and through security. The passport help up well. Though I can't say I wasn't terrified while it was scanned. Sweat was beading above my eyebrow. Knowing my voice would be shaky I didn't talk too much. But when I did I did it as confidently as possible. Businessmen are like that. Arrogant and confident. Before long I was seated in the plane still anxious that at any moment an officer would walk onto the plane, pinpoint my location and arrest me on the spot. There was a man dressed rather similar to me in the isle seat. Another business man. My leg wouldn't stop bouncing up and down, a nervous tick. Cat used to make jokes about it meaning I had to go to the bathroom. He noticed my anxiousness. "You alright there, young man". I almost chucked at the young man part. His greying hair hinted at his age, either way he was clearly older and more experienced than me. And he wanted to show it. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you. I'm just a little, afraid of heights", I lied. The old man looked at me with sympathy, as if he knew how I was feeling. I clutched the arm rest tightly willing myself to calm down. I was fine then. It wasn't until the door shut and the plane was in the air that I started to relax. It was a reasonably short flight to Atlanta which was the first stop over. Only about an hour and a half, which left me nothing to do. Instead I watched the other passengers. There was a family with some young children, toddlers, who refused to sit still. A man with a thick beard and lots of tattoos. He must be legit to have gotten past security. Couldn't help being a little sceptical. I knew I was judging him but you know. Another human thing. Can't help it. I feel like as predators we're wired to analyse everything we see. And everyone. Potential threats, potential meal. I guess. There were even a few businessmen. They all seemed to nod as me as they took their seats, like there was some mutual respect between us. I admired that. The flight was over quickly. For another hour, I waited at the airport for the next part of the flight. Coffee isn't something I've enjoyed often. It dulls my senses. I've read about studies where it actually helps your focus. In some cases, it helps people see better in the dark by up to 38%, and people can detect different colours better. There are some controversial studies, some of them claim that coffee is some miracle thing and others saying it shuts your body down after that initial hit. Either way it doesn't work for me. However, I couldn't stop myself from getting a cup at one of the cafés there. The next flight was nine hours. I took the opportunity to get some sleep, knowing I'd need it later. I'd often found it hard to sleep on planes. I didn't like all the other people around, watching me sleep. It seemed a bit creepy, you know. Sleeping to me feels like more of a private thing. The plane landed at Munich airport at 9:30am. Immediately I was surrounded by Russians. It made me uncomfortable to say the least. I don't know what I expected but I felt like such a fish out of water. The loud speakers spoke in Russian, the signs were in Russian. I was regretting not bringing some kind of translation dictionary. I've picked up a bit of Russian over the years but not enough to understand what anyone was saying that clearly. Despite the language barrier I didn't have much trouble finding the boarding gate for the last stretch of my journey. After another two and a half hour wait, which consisted of more coffee, I boarded the plane to Moscow. The plane landed three hours later at the Domodedovo International Airport. The airport is 26 miles from the centre of Moscow, which I why I was sent there. There are two other airports closer to the city that would have been a lot quicker but there is more risk. I was less conspicuous this way. It was 3pm local time. Once more I was surprised by the culture shock I was experiencing. My briefcase kept hitting my leg as I walked. It was annoying to say the least. Somehow, I managed to pay for a rental car despite the old Russian man with a heavy accent speaking very little English. I almost signed Jacob but quickly corrected myself. David is who I am now. For the moment. I drove towards the centre of Moscow then cruised around the streets for a while. Not knowing where I wanted to go or where I should go. Alexander told me about a bar the Bratva often go to. One he used to spend a lot of time at when he was in Moscow. With nothing but the name there was little hope of finding it by driving around aimlessly. Instead I checked into a small hotel as David Wood, provided my passport as 'valid' ID and paid in cash. The room had dark wallpaper. A bedside table was squeezed beside the bed. A square box TV sat on the stand a couple of feet from the bed. Do box TV's even still work? I know we had one when we were a kid. Until we upgraded to a flat screen. That was a pretty exciting moment for Cat and I. Well, our whole family really. I turned sideways to get through. The bathroom was just as cramped. The sink pretty much in the shower. Despite its size there was a chocolate on the pillow, fluffy towels at the end of the bed and everything was clean, which provided a bit of comfort. A small window provided some natural light. Taking advantage of the Wi-Fi I got on to google maps and looked up the bar. To my surprise, it wasn't far. It backed onto a large warehouse. Which I can only assume is used to store drugs and other things I don't even want to imagine. Is Bratva involved in human trafficking? I hope not. Alexander had assured me that Bratva wasn't bad. I wasn't sure how much I could believe. It is the Russian Mafia after all. I counted the blocks. Seventeen from the hotel. The TV was a useless source of information. Everything was in Russian. The screen was so faded in pigmentation it may as well have been black and white anyway. But at least it went I suppose. My laptop rested in the space on the bed beside me. The curser wandered over different icons for a while. My mind spinning. I was stuck. Unsure of what to do next. Adrenaline was starting to wear off and exhaustion was kicking in. More than anything I was tired of everything being my fault. I was tired of being blamed and I was tired of running. But I was in Russia. In Moscow. Everything was right there. In my fingertips. I kept leaning slightly closer to grasp what I wanted, but I was being held back. By something unobtainable and invisible, yet ever-present. The uncertainty was unbearable. The thought that maybe coming here was a mistake. That nothing would ever be solved. That I would look Cat and Toby's killer in the eye and not be able to do anything. It would all be for nothing.