Short Stories

Spy For Hire (2)

                      Once again I sit in the meeting room of the SVR . Whatever it is, it must be a big mission. I stand lazily as the Deputy Director enters the room. " Deputy Director Popov, I must say, I was not totally impressed with such late night calls." I smile smugly at him. He's a middle aged man, about six foot two with slightly greying hair on the sides of his dirty blonde head. He's a handsome man and quite the charmer. I learnt that from way back when we first met.

I must say, I'm a sucker for older men.

                    "Yes well, it was incredibly urgent, it couldn't wait." He watches me cautiously as he sits down, I follow suit, crossing my legs as I do. " You do realize you called me at three o'clock in the morning. " I say with a snare. He clears his throat, obviously not wanting to entertain my sarcasm. 

                    "Why am I here Iosif?" I ask impatiently. He pours me a drink and slides it across the table, I catch it swiftly and take it back, these Russians and their liquor, it's like a moth to a flame. Finally he speaks in a slow and steady voice, " Hakan Abul. A Turkish National who lives in Russian. He's done it all. Human trafficking, drug smuggling arms deals. He even has his own private army."  I interrupt him with a chuckle, " This is Russia, everyone has a personal army." 

                     He's less than impressed with my joke but he continues on after shooting me a warning glare. " Recently he's been supplying Ukraine with weapons and supposedly drugs. This cannot happen of course." He slides me a folder with pictures of automatic rifles, his  last  known supply chain and other information. I read it before resting it down on the table and look at him. He looks at me back. I get up and walk over to his side of the desk which I sit on top of. He watches my legs but I'm quick to snap his focus back to my face.

                     "Where do I come into this? Huh? What's in it for me?" I ask. He smiles at me before opening his mouth to say, " We need you to go in and pretend to be a maid, gather information on the transactions so we can stop it from even happening. You are required to get very close to him, to the point he trusts you without even thinking about it." I almost grimace, but believe it or not it's a good grimace. " What's my payoff? " I ask seriously. He looks at me and hesitates.

                       " If everything goes as planned, half a million dollars. "  I whistle, my eyes going wide and I hop off the desk. Folding my arms across my chest I walk in circles before looking at him. "Is he that important?" I ask regretfully. He simply nods, I know what he means by that. It basically means that there is no room for anything going wrong on this one. 

                          He stands and holds his hand out for me to shake, " So do you accept? " I watch his hand hesitantly. After a while I grab it and shake firmly. " This better be quick Mr. Popov because the Americans are calling me and they really want me. " I say as I make my way to his  lips. Our eyes lock and our lips brush. He leans in, hands wrapping around my waist pulling me closer. Stepping away slowly I move around him. 

                           " When will I be starting and when will further details be given to me? " I say with a smile. He is annoyed but he manages to grumble out a ' downstairs you bitch' . 

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                          " Can I ask you a question?" I say to the man sitting beside me in the fake taxi cab. He's another agent for the SVR who is pretending to be my driver. A short, stocky light haired man. His ego bigger than his biceps he answers a cold, " No." My lips twitch. " You know I don't like to be told that dreadful word, no. I think it's so bitter and negative. So I'm going to pretend you told me yes ." His eyes roll with my words.

                          As my mouth opens to speak again the car stops abruptly in front of tall, black gates that are adjoined by atleast a kilometer of fencing on each side. The guards, of middle eastern origin  walk painstakingly slow towards the car. " Who are you? " He asks me with a thick Turkish accent. In my Russian accent I reply, " Sasha Petrov, I'm the new maid for the house. " I smile nervously. He steps back and looks around. I see my driver struggling not to look so surprised at how well my accent is. 

                           " They told me you were coming. You may proceed on. " He says slowly before opening the gate. We drive up the unnecessarily long driveway. I was blown away at all the plants and flowers which surrounded lavish, bronze fountains of angels playing in between the streams of water that littered the grounds. It was damp and small specs of glistening snow sat on the ground in patches. 

                            " For someone as illegal as him, you would think he was  modest. " I scoff lowly. Upon reaching the front door which was protected by a long atrium, four women in maids' outfits stood waiting patiently for the car to pull up. They smiled sweetly at me with their hands clasped together in front of them. Strangely enough, they all looked the same as I did with common dark hair. Our skin tones varied, some more tan than others but this man obviously had a preference. 

                           I stepped out the car with the agent in tow getting my luggage out the trunk and found myself straight to them. We swapped greetings, all very, boringly formal. Once inside the driver discreetly bugs some parts of the room before leaving the rest to me. They all smile at me oddly, excitedly. Some Russian, others, the older ones Turkish. One of the younger women, about twenty-five presses the button for the intercom. " Um, hi Sir, the new maid is here. " She's Russian.

                         Long, drawn out seconds later. A deep voice, velvety and rich sounds from the other side, " send her to me. " It said. 

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I like where this is going, I have a feeling so will you.