The Life We Lead: Ascending Read online

  “Excuse for a moment please, friends,” Petior said as he followed Roman into the hallway. As they walked away, Roman pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. Petior took it and closed the door behind them.

  “I wonder if that’s the bill. I thought Petior said this meal was covered. Should we offer some money?” asked James trusting Daen to know more about Russian customs.

  “Nah, man, he’d take it as an insult. Besides, that was a normal sized sheet of paper. When was the last time your bill for food was that big? Nah, just be cool and it will be good.”

  Petior opened the door and walked back in. “We are done here now?” he asked. “May go for drink?”

  “Dinner was great, man, but I don’t think I’m up for a night of drinking,” Daen immediately responded.

  “Thank you, Petior. Tonight was very nice, but I’m with Bryan. An early night’s in order,” James agreed.

  “You are sure?” Petior said with a slight frown. “It is good, tonight. I hope before you leave we can do again.”

  A few minutes later, the three were back in the cold, snowy streets of Moscow. They parted ways after tentatively planning to see each other at the bar one more time.

  As James and Daen turned a snowy corner, heading back toward their hotel, Daen muttered, “Seems we have a short stack behind us again.”

  “The girl, yeah. A boy took off the moment we stepped outside. He was watching from the alley across the way.” James began to explain the day’s events, including the room below them and how he’d set it up.

  “We may see some activity,” he concluded, “but I’m not sure to what level. I wouldn’t put it past them to have kids doing a lot of the work, or even to be waiting for us back at the room.”

  While Daen digested this, James added, “You go in and up to the room. Check the monitors and signal me in the hallway fifty seconds after we shake hands. One jump is all clear to enter that room; we aren’t being watched. Two means come up.”

  “Okay,” replied Daen.

  The hotel looked unwatched as they approached and entered. They said good night to each other, shook hands, and James turned to the front desk to make sure no messages had come in. In reality, this was just an excuse to waste the fifty seconds before entering the hallway.

  “Hi, any messages for Stephen Lewis?” he asked the clerk.

  The man flipped a piece of paper and peered down.

  James noticed that even though he wore a long sleeved shirt, a tattoo was partially visible on his hand and another one right below his collarbone, visible from his unbuttoned collar.

  “No,” the man replied curtly.

  James felt a surge come over him; it was almost time for whatever was coming. He focused on the man and gave him a quick visual scan, making mental notes.

  Checked with left hand, right hand not visible. Probably right handed and has a weapon. Made eye contact. Limits tattoos to areas that can be hidden, so someone who’s in the public eye. Looks like he can handle himself well. No visible scars. Right eye slightly larger than left, weight shifted to right foot, so extremely right dominant; will probably be thrown off with a left handed fighter. Lean and top heavy, so free floating rib best point of immediate attack.

  “Thank you,” James said and walked toward room nine. The clerk picked up the phone and spoke in Russian in a hushed voice.

  Thud. Thud.

  Daen had jumped twice.

  James stopped in front of room nine. He made a show of putting the key in the door but then stopped, pretending he’d forgotten something. He placed the key back in his pocket and turned. He thought he heard a small creak from inside the room as he headed for the stairs.

  A few seconds later, he was in the room with Daen. “The clerk is helping whoever’s behind this little arrangement. Any conditions we need to remove?”

  “No, man, I don’t see any kids around, just two guys sitting in the room.” Daen pointed at the monitor. “Seems like these folks are serious about teaching you that respect. You sure all you did was challenge that fool in the subway?”

  “Yes sir, but go figure that logic out. You want the room or the clerk?” He walked over to the balcony, ready to drop down, already knowing Daen’s answer.

  “Dumb question. The clerk. What do you think, catch him in the hallway or at the desk before you start?”

  “The desk would be best. He knows how to fight and is very right dominant. Chances are he’s packing, too. Let’s try to keep this quiet,” said James with a smile. “Say sixty seconds?”

  “Works for me.” Daen slid his pistol in his jacket while James checked his triggers for the mini-flashes and the men’s positions in the room via the monitors, both of which faced the door to the hallway.

  James walked to the balcony and hung down. Just as he let go, he heard Daen exclaim, “Damn!” in a hushed voice.

  Landing, James peered up, wondering what was wrong.

  Daen’s head appeared. “Petior just walked into the lobby.” He dropped James a microphone pack and went back in the room.

  James hooked up the earpiece, digesting this piece of information. “What do you see?”

  “He’s still at the desk, probably trying to get a room number. What do you want to ... Damn. One of the guys left the room and is walking toward the desk. They’re shouting. I can hear them through the floor.”

  “I am breaching the room, taking out the remaining man with the flash, and will join you in the lobby. Go now,” said James. Turning his back to the building, he detonated the flashes with his eyes shut.

  Bang.

  One count, and James pushed open the window he’d unlocked and climbed in the room. He could hear noise in the lobby, but he had to take down the guy in the room. He quickly crossed over to the man. Obviously blinded from the flash, the man was holding his ears and grimacing.

  James considered a sleeping hold but didn’t have time.

  Crack, crack.

  James hit the man in the jaw twice, hard enough to dislocate it, and the guy dropped to the floor. James took out his gun. He barely had a foot in the hallway when he saw Daen running out the front door.

  James followed, but before he reached the door, Daen was speaking into the earpiece.

  “The clerk and the guy that came out of room nine grabbed Petior. Saw them take him out the side door that is next to the revolving door. They shoved him in a black sedan and took off. I have the plate. You okay?”

  James knew Daen was smart enough not to give chase. The idea of trying to chase a vehicle in an area you don’t know isn’t an action a member of the group would consider. It was pointless if you didn’t have the ability to stop the vehicle.

  “Fine. I have one more guy in the room. Hey!” James exclaimed as he rounded the corner and reentered room nine. The man was attempting to escape out the window.

  “Bryan, alley!” James shouted as he sprinted across the room and out the window.

  The man staggered to his feet in a weak attempt to flee as James tackled him, dropping his knee into the man’s back in the snow and wrist-locking him to the middle of his own shoulder blades.

  And there it was. What he had felt coming was here. And now that it was, James could trace it, like the others, to a dream he’d had.

  When Daen arrived, he used a zip tie from his pack to quickly secure the man’s hands. James stuffed a bit of fabric from the man’s shirt into his mouth and they hustled him back inside room nine through the window, letting him fall on his head.

  “Go see if there is a real front desk clerk tied up, then come back. We need to minimize potential witnesses.”

  Daen left without a word, shutting the door behind him. James propped the bound man in a chair, closed the window, and turned to study him.

  Now that James considered him, the guy wasn’t that old. In fact, he had to be two or maybe three years younger than himself. James pulled out the gun, made sure the safety was on, and pointed it at him.

  He looked familiar, es
pecially something around the cheeks, but the left side of his face was rather swollen and James couldn’t place him.

  The man looked around nervously. Enough of his senses had come back that he knew he was in trouble.

  “Do you speak English?” James asked.

  The man looked around even more frantically.

  “Do you speak English?” James repeated with more force.

  The man nodded, continuing to look around the room.

  “If you make any noise or yell, I’ll shoot you in the head. I’m going to remove the gag. Do you understand?” James looked the young man in the eyes.

  The man stared at James for a moment before giving a single nod.

  James approached him with his gun in a back stance and got just close enough to remove the cloth with a tug before taking two steps back. He wasn’t secured to the chair, and James was going cautiously until Daen was back.

  “Are you seriously hurt?” James asked.

  The young man shook his head.

  “What is your name?”

  No reply.

  “I said, what is your name? What are you called?”

  “Nikolias,” the man answered.

  “Where did they take our friend?” James asked.

  “What friend? Is two of you,” came the raspy voice of Nikolias.

  “A man, a friend of ours, they took him from the lobby. Where would they take him?” James asked.

  “Why should I tell you?” sneered Nikolias.

  “Well, besides me having a gun pointing at you, imagine me pointing it at your sister,” James said in a flat tone.

  “I have no sister,” Nikolias said with a ring of defiance, but also truth.

  “Your cousin then, the girl in the subway station who works to keep the other children in line,” James said coolly, having finally placed Nikolias’s face.

  “What? You are lying,” the man said, but this time his body language betrayed him.

  “Oh, and I just happened to mention the subway and her job?” James asked in a sarcastic tone.

  “She is not my family. Do what you think. It is nothing to me,” Nikolias lied.

  “She is your family. I can see it in your face and cheekbones. And if your life and hers really mean nothing to you ...” James chambered the gun.

  “You will not hurt her. You will not!” Nikolias started to shout.

  “Quiet down.” James waved his hand up and down to make sure Nikolias understood. “If you tell me where to find my friend, I’ll let you go as well as her. I’ll also help you find a way to get out of this area if you want. I’ll also help protect you,” he said as Daen entered the room.

  “There was a clerk back there. Looks like they knocked him out, but he’ll be alright. I saw the schedule. Natalia was supposed to work tonight man. Not whoever was back there,” said Daen.” He gestured with his head to Nikolias before tying him to the chair. “What’d you get from him?”

  “Nikolias here was about to tell us where we can find Petior, in exchange for his life and his cousin’s, along with my promise to help protect them if they want it.”

  “You made some progress then. About time you do something tonight.” Daen grinned, grabbing the other chair. He faced it toward Nikolias and sat down.

  Both Daen and James peered at Nikolias with anticipation, but he said nothing. He seemed to be concentrating very hard.

  Daen started to speak to Nikolias in Russian, and Nikolias’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “We can help you,” Daen said, “but you need to help us. All we want to know is how to get our friend back. Consider your situation and how we’ve treated you so far. We’re trying to be fair to you and give you help in return for help.”

  “What makes you think I need your help?” Nikolias answered.

  “You’re our prisoner, but you’re a captive of whatever group you …” Daen began, but Nikolias cut him off.

  “What makes you think I want to leave?” growled Nikolias.

  “When you help us, your bosses won’t be too happy with you, and your cousin and you will need to leave to survive,” replied Daen.

  “So he says,” Nikolias said curtly with a head gesture towards James.

  “What did he say? Why did he just do that?” asked James.

  “Sounds like he doesn’t feel a need to help us. Seems he doesn’t want or have a reason to leave,” Daen replied, a puzzled look on his face.

  “I am no traitor, and I will die to help our fraternity and country. I am loyal and believe in things, unlike you American dogs,” Nikolias stated in English.

  James bowed his head, closed his eyes, and rubbed his temple for a moment with his left hand. He dragged it down his face before speaking again.

  “Okay, tell us what the fraternity’s cause is. What’s so special about it that you are willing to risk your life, your cousin’s life, and that of our friend because someone felt I was disrespectful near a train,” said James.

  Nikolias laughed. “We know you looking for drugs. You feel drugs aren’t disrespectful and destroying. You think we do not know that is why you are here. We see you peoples and how you treat us. You all deserve death for exploits on us and our children.”

  It all clicked into place for James. “Bryan, please translate what I’m about to say. I want to make sure our friend here understands completely.”

  Daen nodded.

  “You are right,” James affirmed. “We are seeking those who deal in drugs. But we seek it for the same reason you do. We do not wish to purchase drugs or sell them. We want to stop those who are doing it.” He paused to let this sink in. “We’ve been able to find a connection that somehow links several mafia factions. We’re trying to understand how it works, find those responsible, and bring them to justice. We’re on the same side.”

  As Daen finished translating James’s final words, James walked over and released Nikolias.

  The room was silent as Nikolias sat rubbing his hands and looking at Daen and James.

  Daen hid his surprise at James’s actions. His companion always seemed to keep things under control, and Daen was placing his faith in that judgment.

  After a few long moments, Nikolias stood. As he did, James spotted a tattoo on his wrist.

  “If we are on same side,” the man spoke slowly, “you must show good faith. My weapon back, please.” He stammered as if doubting his own daring in making such a request.

  “You can have your gun back.” James removed the ammunition from Nikolias’s gun and held it out to him.

  “And the bullets?” asked Nikolias.

  “Those you may not have back, at least not yet. However ...” James unchambered his own gun and took out all the rounds. “We will remove our ammunition as well. Is that more fair?”

  Nikolias considered him and nodded.

  “Stephen …” began Daen in an uncertain voice.

  James cut him off. He had this, and Daen needed to cooperate.

  Slowly, Daen removed the rounds from his gun, too.

  “Nikolias, that symbol on your hand, is that the symbol of your fraternity?” James asked.

  Nikolias raised his hand to show the tattoo as he took a pace or two to the side.

  “Da.”

  “It is the same symbol I saw at the train station, on your friend’s tattooed neck tonight, and several other places, like the window ledge of Roman’s restaurant. Roman is a good friend of our friend Petior’s, too,” stated James.

  Nikolias gave a start of recognition at Roman’s name.

  “What does it mean?” Daen asked.

  “It is the hammer and sickle stretched out and lying parallel, as if making equal sign. The lies of the old country, but with the sword of truth running through to show it is not equal, and we will break it and rise up from a rebellion,” said Nikolias. He ran his finger over each part as he described the tattoo and then continued.

  “They use drugs to keep us down, hurt our family, our children, and make everyone dependent on them for
everything so they have all power. They take our children. They only respect violence. We protect ourselves and take out as many as we can in the fight to get the power back to the people of Russia. To have a strong, fierce, respected nation again.”

  James got it. The station, the organization, the control, wasn’t as much about the money as it was about keeping that area clear of drugs and teaching the kids life lessons they would need if the revolution being sought were to happen. They were trying to do good using the tools and methods they had available to them.

  “Why did your friend at the subway assume I was looking for drugs?” James asked.

  “He said you make move to make friends with children. That you are strong and healthy but know how to fight. You watch before doing. This is what smart drug dealers are like.”

  “I see,” said James.

  “How do you know Roman? He does not normally talk to outsiders,” asked Nikolias, whose attitude seemed to be changing as his tone became more even.

  “He hosted a dinner for us tonight because Petior is his friend. We got to meet him at the end of the dinner. I am sure the children you had watching us told you where we had dinner?”

  James knew they were winning Nikolias over. He added, “Perhaps we can go talk to Roman and you can see for yourself that we met him and he will tell you about Petior.”

  “No, no that is not need. I take you to Petior. We must hurry,” said Nikolias.

  Chapter Two

  A minute later, they were walking up the street. They went about a block before Nikolias stopped. The three men got in a car and drove for about fifteen minutes before reaching their destination.

  The housing complex was made up of five twelve-story buildings that formed a “U” shape with a thin forest behind it. They were older brick buildings in need of repair, and the sidewalks leading to them were heavily damaged and missing large sections. Several bricks were missing from the buildings, but some of the missing bricks seemed deliberate, as if space had been made for surveillance cameras, though none could be seen.

  The courtyard area had a fountain in the middle that seemed remarkably well maintained, given the state of the buildings, with concrete benches that created a rectangle around it. This area clearly was a source of inspiration and pride for the inhabitants. A plaque on the fountain said “Hope Eternal.”