The Spy Who Came for Christmas (10 page)

Read The Spy Who Came for Christmas Online

Authors: David Morrell

Tags: #Crime, #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #Espionage, #Organized Crime, #Russia

"Quite a life we chose."

"Chose, Pyotyr? Do you honestly believe we made a choice?"

"We stay here, don't we?"

"Where else would you go and not attract attention? With your fake identity card, do you think you could be an accountant or a real-estate agent in some place like Omaha? How long do you think it would take for government agents to show up at your door? But not before the Pakhan sent men to slit your throat to keep you from telling the government what you know about him."

"Believe me, Andrei, I wasn't complaining."

"Of course you weren't. Feel how cold it is. Look at the ice on the beach.. The TV weatherman says we'll get another six inches of snow. Even then, I don't know why anybody grumbles. Brighton Beach is nothing compared to spending a winter in the Russian army."

"Or in a prison in Siberia,. Perhaps we should go back inside and have dessert. Your wife'll think we don't like the
oladi
she made."

"In a moment. First we have business to discuss. That's why I asked you to come out to the porch."

"Why are you scowling, Andrei? Is something wrong? I swear I wasn't complaining."

"Hah--got you. I just wanted to make you worry so your surprise would be all the greater. I have very good news, my friend. You're being promoted."

"Promoted?"

"The Pakhan likes what I say about you,, and what he's seen. He likes the intensity you bring to your work. He likes the results. Don't make plans for Christmas. You and I and some others, including the Pakhan, are going to Santa Fe."

"Where's that?"

"New Mexico."

"The desert? Good. I wouldn't mind a warm Christmas, drinking rum and Coke next to a swimming pool."

"It's not the kind of desert you're thinking of, Pyotyr. This is
high
desert. Pine trees. Cold and probably snow. It's near a ski area in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains."

"Sangre de Cristo?"

"I Googled the name. It's Spanish. It means 'Blood of Christ.' Apparently, that's what the explorers thought the sunset on the snow looked like."

"Andrei, I don't understand why the Pakhan wants to go on a holiday where it's cold."

"We're not going therefor a holiday. We're going for a baby."

* * *

"A SPY?"
Meredith's voice rose. "I should never have brought you into the house. Leave.
Get out."

"The baby It's the baby you wanted to help."

"I made a terrible mistake. Go. If my husband finds you here when he comes back--"

"Is your husband the man who beat you?"

The question caught Meredith off guard.

Kagan turned toward Cole. "Is your father the man you wanted to hit with the baseball bat?"

In the glow of the night-light, Cole pushed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. "I wasn't going to let him inside so he could hurt my mom again. The snow landed on my glasses. You were blurred. I didn't think anyone else would be coming."

"But you stopped when you realized I was a stranger."

"If you'd been him, I'd have used the baseball bat. I
swear
I'd have used the bat."

"I believe you would have." Kagan put his hand reassuringly on the boy's thin shoulder.

The baby started crying, rooting its mouth against Meredith's chest.

"Please," Kagan told Meredith, "do something. If the men outside hear him--"

"How do I know
you're
not the one who's dangerous?" she demanded.

Even though her attention was directed toward Kagan, she instinctively rocked the baby. Her raised voice made its tiny hands jerk with agitation.

"Do I look like I want to hurt you?" Kagan felt blood dripping from his arm onto the brick floor. He needed to take care of it soon before he lost so much blood that his strength was gone. "Do I look like I'm even
capable
of hurting you?"

"So much is happening. My husband ..."

"Won't hit you again," Kagan said. "I promise."

That made an impression. Meredith became very still. Fixing her gaze on him, she no longer averted her face. Even in the dim light, it was obvious that her cheek was more purple,

her eye more swollen than when Kagan had first seen her. The split at the side of her lip was larger than it had first appeared. But despite everything, he had a sense that she'd once been an attractive woman.

She's that thin because she's nervous,
he realized.

"Won't hit me again?" Meredith's voice dropped. "I wish I could believe that."

"Hey, it's Christmas. Wishing will make it come true."

"If you do something to Ted, he'll only take it out on me later."

"That's his name? Ted? Don't worry. I won't do anything that would make him want to hurt you."

"Then how would you get him to stop?"

"Hey, don't you like surprise presents? Help the baby, and I promise Ted won't hit you again."

Kagan couldn't remember anyone staring at him harder.

"Somehow," she said, "you make me believe you."

The baby cried, kicking against Meredith's arms.

She reached under its blanket. "The diaper's soaked. But I don't have anything to ... A dish towel," she realized. She held the baby with one hand and pulled two towels from a drawer. "Let's see if I remember how to do this."

She spread one of the towels on a counter and folded the other. Then she set the baby down on the first towel and eased its head onto the makeshift pillow of the second.

As she unzipped the baby's blue sleeper, Kagan saw that Cole still hadn't done what he'd asked. Again he urged the boy, "Go into your bedroom. Turn on the television. Go to the window in the living room. See if anybody's watching the house. If they are, fool them the way I told you." "But what if somebody
is
watching the house?" Cole wondered. His eyes looked large behind his glasses.

"They won't try to get in right away. For one thing, they won't know for sure that I'm here."

"You think somebody's going to
break in?"
Cole's voice wavered.

Movement made Kagan turn toward Meredith. As she pulled the baby from its sleeper, the infant's legs curled toward its chest, emphasizing its vulnerability. Immediately, it jerked its arms and whimpered.

"They won't try to break in unless they hear crying," Ka- gan said.

"I'm doing the best I can," Meredith snapped. "With only this night-light, it's hard to see."

"No, that's not what I meant," he said in a hurry. "Please, I apologize."

'What?" Meredith looked at him in surprise.

"I guess I sounded disapproving. I didn't intend to. You probably get plenty of disapproval as it is. The baby can't ask for more than your best."

She studied him as if seeing him for the first time. Then the baby's squirming required her attention, and she tugged open the adhesive strips on the diaper.

Cole remained in the kitchen.

I've got to engage him,
Kagan thought.

He unclipped the tiny microphone hidden under the ski-lift tickets on his parka. He put it deeply in one of his pants pockets, where the scratch of the smothering fabric would prevent it from transmitting voices. Then he removed his transmitter from under his coat and gave it to the boy.

"What's this?" Cole asked, curiosity mixing with suspicion.

Kagan took out his earbud, cleaned it on his pants, and handed it to him. "They're part of a two-way radio setup. That's the transmitter, and this is the earpiece. The on-off switch is at the top of the transmitter. The volume dial is on one side. The channel dial is on the other. Do you play video games?"

"Of course." Cole seemed puzzled by the question, as if he took it for granted that everyone played video games.

"Then you ought to be good at multitasking. While you watch for movement out the window, I want you to hold the receiver to your ear and listen while you keep changing the frequency on the transmitter. Maybe you'll find the channel the men outside are using. Maybe we can hear what they're planning."

Cole studied the objects in his hands.

"Make it seem like you're listening to an iPod," Kagan told him.

"Right. An iPod." The boy examined the equipment and nodded. "I can do that." He mustered his courage and limped into the living room.

Throughout their conversation, Kagan sensed that Meredith was watching him.

Then the baby squirmed, and she removed the diaper.

'A boy," she murmured. "He doesn't look more than four or five weeks old."

"Five weeks. Good guess," Kagan said. "If he'd waited a little longer, he'd have been a Christmas present."

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