Spy Games Ch. 25

Since the jet wasn't parked at a terminal, an old-fashioned gangway was pulled up to the passenger door. The aircraft was positioned so that anybody watching the plane from the terminal, plus the multiple security cameras covering the tarmac, got a clear view of whoever got on and off. My goal was to convince all voyeurs that five rather bulky Russian men and five thin Russian women boarded the plane and remained on board as it departed.

Even though I explained my plan to the Russian girls before we left the hotel and then again as we drove to the airport, they were still understandably nervous when we approached the jet.

"I know Popov is dead but what if Leonid escaped from your friends?" Anya asked in her native tongue.

"Or maybe more of his men have come from Russia and are waiting for us," Anastasia added.

"Listen girls, I know this makes you nervous and I'm sorry to put you through it. But if you don't climb those stairs and get in the plane, I can't guarantee your safety. If it will make you feel any safer, I'll go first."

"Yes, please," Anya said.

Having wasted enough time, I pulled the collar of my large coat up around my neck, tipped my hat low to avoid the cameras getting a clear view of my face and climbed the steps carrying Alek Popov's suitcase. Trying to act like young women returning home from an adventure, the girls stepped out of the van, gathered their suitcases from the vehicle's rear luggage area and followed me up the stairs ... making sure their blonde locks and pretty faces were exposed for all to see.

Agent Fifty-two followed the last girl up the stairs. It didn't take much of a disguise to pass him off as a Russian mafioso. He already had the bulk and beard that most of Popov's men possessed and, with the rising sun glaring into the terminal mounted security cameras, even the most persnickety observer would be hard pressed to say he wasn't one of Popov's murderous gangsters.

Just to be safe, Fifty-two partially closed the passenger door so nobody outside would see him and the five girls step across the aisle and directly into the catering truck.

So far, the security cameras had recorded five women and two men boarding the airplane. Three additional men arrived five minutes later when Flanagan escorted the two Russian pilots through the formalities of filing a flight plan and onto the tarmac.

"You all set?" Flanagan asked over the com link.

"Yeah, bring them aboard," I answered.

Flanagan ushered two disheveled and confused pilots up the gangway and into their plane.

"Why are you doing this?" Leonid asked as soon he saw me waiting for him by the cockpit. "Why did you kill our comrades but not us?"

"Your friends didn't give me much choice. Somebody points a gun at me, I tend to take it personal."

"Yes, but you must know that when we get back to Russia, we will tell our superiors what happened."

"I'm counting on it. I've got a shit load of money investing in this deal and I'm not about to let the death of an insignificant gangster get in the way of my plans. When you land in Moscow, I expect you to go to whoever Popov works for and ensure him that I am still in. The Merryville operation is still a go. Do you understand me Leonid? The only reason I'm letting you live is so you can pass on that simple message. Do as I say, and you might live a long life. Cross me and you'll never blow out another birthday candle. Now get your sorry ass in the cockpit and out of my country."

Flanagan and I joined Fifty-two and the girls in the catering truck, closed the cargo bay door, and signaled Sixty-nine to lower the bed and drive away. An airport employee removed the gangway and, twenty minutes later, the Antonov left the ground with only the two pilots on board.

***

It had been an emotionally and physically exhausting couple of days, both for my team and the five Russian girls. With the threat at least temporarily eliminated, I saw no need to rush back to Merryville. After a leisurely stop at Waffle House for breakfast, Flanagan and Sixty-nine returned to the motel while I took Janis and her Russian posse to a mall.

Yeah, more shopping. But this trip was entirely my fault. I made the Russian girls leave their suitcases, personal items and most of their clothes on the Antonov. I also made sure the luggage of Alek Popov and his two cemetery mates was also on the plane. Why? Because bodies sink and are eaten by sharks. Suitcases full of clothes and half-empty shampoo bottles float. I needed proof that five Russian men and five Russian women were on that airplane when it started across the Atlantic.

Early that afternoon, Flanagan sent me the first news release.

"Five hours after takeoff, an AN-148 airliner registered to purported Russian gangster Alek Popov exploded over the north Atlantic two-hundred miles from the coast of Greenland while enroute to Moscow. No distress signal was received. Three aircraft in the area witnessed a tremendous blast in the sky. Subsequently, several ships encountered a wide debris field in the same area.

According to the flight manifest and backed up by security cameras at the departure airport, ten people were on board, all Russian citizens. Several aviation experts agree that the event was not survivable, and it is extremely unlikely the bodies will ever be recovered. Names of those who perished will not be released until notification of next of kin.

"While the possibility of foul play cannot be ignored, our contact at the National Transportation and Safety Board reports 'the conditions are extremely similar to the 1996 disaster which killed all 230 occupants of TWA Flight 800 when faulty wiring sparked fuel vapors inside a half empty fuel tank.'"

"Tell Agent Fifty-two I will never again doubt his abilities," I texted back.

"Too late. He's already disappeared."

I gathered the girls into my room and told them what happened. Although I didn't come out and say it, I'm sure most of them knew, even before the jet took off, that it would never reach Moscow. As happy as the girls were to learn that the men who had treated them so roughly were now little pieces of fish food, their questions revealed their naiveté.

"When can we go home?" Anya asked.

"Never," I replied.

"I don't understand," Kira said. "Are we your prisoners?"

"No. Well not exactly. In a few hours, your parents will be told you died in an airplane crash. If you suddenly show up alive and well, the word will get out. There will be an investigation and the people who supported Popov will realize he was murdered."

"Are you scared they will come for you?"

"A little. But I'm more afraid they will come after you and your families in an attempt to get to me." Which wasn't a complete lie. Although my biggest concern was somebody in Russian intelligence figuring out that their operation in Merryville had been compromised.

"We must stay in America to protect our families? They will be heartbroken."

"I want you to think of the alternative. If we hadn't come to your rescue, you would have simply disappeared. Your families would go their entire lives not knowing what happened to you. Wondering, worrying, always hoping you would miraculously appear at their doorstep. Instead, they think you were killed in a freak airplane accident. They will still grieve, but they have a chance for closure.

"As soon as you signed on with Popov, your fate was sealed. You were not going home. The only question is, what do you want your parents, friends and loved ones to think happened to you?"

I don't know what I regretted more. Telling the lies or having to deal with the truth. They had more questions which I tried to answer as tactfully as I possibly could and, in the end, the girls finally accepted their fate.

"What happens next? Where will we go? How will we survive?" Kira asked.

"I will speak with the people I work for. They will give you new identities, send you to school and get you jobs."

"Can we stay with you and Janis?" Anastasia asked with puppy dog eyes that nearly brought me to tears.

"I wish you could, but in a few days, I will move on, and Janis will stay in Merryville."

"You will not stay with Janis? But you love her. And she loves you."

"Mark is a worldly man, and I am a small-town girl." I spun around to see Janis standing in the open doorway that separated our adjoining rooms. "He must follow his dreams and they apparently don't include me. But, if you want to stay in Merryville, and Mark's people allow it, you are welcome to stay with me for as long as you wish."