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jayley chapter 20 . Jul 20
except that it'll be tons easier to kill/kidnap mattie from a foster care home...how is THAT better?
Response: ~evil laughter~
Guest chapter 20 . Jul 20
Do Koloshenko's handlers know what he's up to?
Response: Nah…don't think so.
Virginia Courthouse, US Federal Courts – Roanoke Division, Roanoke, VA
Vladislav Golovin watched the naval officers leave but tailed the young girl and her CPS worker. It would be his job to keep an eye on them. The Russian Foreign Ministry wanted tabs kept on the girl. Golovin did not know why; only that it was required. After working many years with the Russian Foreign Ministry as an intelligence agent, he knew that orders were orders and that he had to follow them without question. The Russian foreign minister, Sergey Lomovtsev, was adamant in those instructions.
Swiftly walking with a purpose, he managed to tail the CPS worker and the young girl to the car that they entered. Watching the car as he swiftly approached his own vehicle, he pulled out scant moments after they did.
Forty-one years ago, Golovin had been brought to the Commonwealth of Virginia by two immigrant parents from what was the Soviet Union. Their pretext was to immerse their son in the American culture and their only way to do that to the point where he was unmistakeable from a native-born American was to actually live in the United States. His job was destined from the very beginning to be that of an intelligence agent for the Supreme Soviet.
From nursery school to the time he was in elementary school, his education was much like any other American child. He was brought up on the American staples of a show that consisted of a talking horse and his trainer and the early children's movies of Walt Disney. However, fearful that their son was getting too entrenched in American society, his parents made sure to indoctrinate him on the superiority of the Soviet way of life. At the tender age of six, he was approached by the first Soviet Foreign Ministry agent on the pretext of being a Big Brother to him.
Golovin took it at face-value for what it was. Pavel Ovcharenko was what he now knew as his handler, but back then he was big brother; the one who took him to movies, who told him stories about what it was like back in the motherland – what Vlad didn't know was that he was being groomed for intelligence work from that early stage and the natural curiosity of a six year old gobbled up the attention that he was getting from his big brother. It was only when he was approaching graduation that his mother and his father had revealed that Pavel was an agent from the motherland – that Vladislav, himself, was Russian from birth, that he had never been naturalized in what he thought of as his homeland and that his chances at employment with anybody in America would be very limited unless he worked for the motherland.
After the initial shock and betrayal of his confidences, Vlad noted to himself, as he watched the car that he was tailing weave in and out of Beltway traffic, that it wasn't so bad after all, he was getting paid very well in fact now after being formally employed for well over 20 years in the Foreign Ministry. As of late, there had been news that the handler for Syn Myasnika, the Butcher's Son had made contact with his contact and that Syn Myasnika was himself a carbon copy of his father. Shaking his head, he thought to himself that intelligence work was a messy business.
Seeing the car pull into the parking lot of a building, he circled the block and parked within view of the entrance of the parkade and waited.
Animal and Lia's home,
Animal was not a happy camper. Lia found him downstairs in the study area. He was quietly cleaning a Model 870™ Express tactical shotgun. A box of Federal Target double-ought sat on the table beside him.
"A bit nervous about the situation, are we?" Lia asked.
"Not sure when this Koloshenko is going to get around to offing anybody who's a known associate of Rabb's, but in any case I want us to be prepared." Animal said softly as he finished cleaning the barrel of the shotgun; then put the shotgun back in the locker. He also made sure that the ammunition was right next to where he had the shotgun for easy retrieval. The Beretta 92 was next, chambered in 9mm; Animal field-stripped the sidearm to its components and cleaned each and every part, oiling the necessary parts and then putting the sidearm back together. Loading up six clips with 115 gr. Federal Luger 9mm; he put the sidearm in the locker and the six clips beside it, making sure that his carry holster. Considering that the Navy was now in summer khakis, he would be able to take his web-belt along with his holster on his way to the Pentagon, sign it in with the Master Chief at Arms, and then retrieve it on the way back home. The papers from NCIS allowing him to carry to and from home were signed by Gibbs and his higher ups and in Animal's wallet as well. Lia had been faxed her own copy as well. Turning to Lia, he asked her "Have you prepped your sidearm as well, or shall I clean it for you?"
"Already done, sweetheart." Lia confirmed by showing him the ready 92FS, along with her own six clips. "Think we should get some shooting in at the range, this weekend?" she questioned him with an intent look.
"Would be advisable." Animal replied as he shut the arms locker. The arms locker had two Bushmaster M4-style carbines chambered in 5.56; but those wouldn't be as useful as the sidearms for every-day use. Also, Animal had a Winchester Model 70 in 30-06 with a Nikon Monarch X 2.5-10x44mm Tactical Rifle Scope mounted on a black synthetic stock. Lia didn't mind his rifle purchases, but ixnayed the Barrett that he was eyeing. Really there wasn't a necessity at any rate to be able to stop an armored vehicle. Suffice it to say, that the only time he was able to send a 50 cal. round down-range was when he was able to rent one from the store for a few hours and the cost of 50 BMG 661 grain full-metal jacket was exorbitant – all that for 10 rounds and Barrett Light 50 rental. There was nothing he would like better than to take out Koloshenko with a 50 cal. but it wasn't worth the effort and as far as Animal was concerned. Koloshenko wasn't worth the cost of a 50 cal bullet.
Meg and Harm's Apartment, Reston, VA
Harm looked over at DiNozzo who shrugged. "What do we have to do to get this problem dealt with once and for all?"
"The only way that we can stop him, is to wait for him to move against one of us." DiNozzo's answer wasn't satisfactory to Harm which was evident in the glare that Harm sent DiNozzo's way. It was ignored.
"You sure there's no way to lure him out with a tempting target."
"There is one way, but your wife may not like it." DiNozzo said.
"What do you mean." Harm thought that he meant to offer up Meg as bait. "No…not Meg! She's not bait for Koloshenko. Absolutely not." Meg's expression was just as adamant that she sure as hell wasn't about to be used as bait for a killer. Harm's visage was twisted with rage and he gripped the arm-edge of the couch with a clawed left hand leaving indentations in the fabric where his fingers had clutched.
"Power down!" DiNozzo stood up. "You recall that when Koloshenko as Lindsey did the office evaluation, he knew that you had something going with Colonel Mackenzie?"
"You're thinking of using Mac as bait?!" Harm's voice rose incrementally.
"Best chance we have, Rabb."
"You guys are out of your mind!" Harm objected vociferously. "Why do you need to expose her and make her into a target?"
"Because she's close to you, Rabb. A former friend and associate and one that Koloshenko won't be able to resist gunning for. Koloshenko wants revenge, Captain, and he's not going to stop until he gets it." DiNozzo stared directly at Harm. "He's going to go around the fringes trimming your friends one by one until he gets to you and to your wife."
"…so you're saying; offer up a tempting, juicy target that he won't be able to resist going after and we take him out in one fell swoop?" Harm snorted derisively. "And what makes you think that Mac will do this for you?" He remembered how bitter she looked when he had handed her the invitation and remembered that she had opted to not attend the wedding.
"Let's just say, she can be convinced." DiNozzo smirked. "…to do a good deed for a former friend." He left out the 'if she knows what's good for her'.
Roanoke City Department of Social Services, Roanoke, VA
Vladislav Golovin sat in his car, waiting on an auburn haired teenager to be brought out of the Department building and be taken to the foster parent who would be taking care of her. He had been waiting for a while and to not arouse suspicion, he had moved his car several times, but always within eyesight of the building itself.
He did not know why he was tailing the social services woman nor the child, but those were his orders from higher up. Right from the very top of the Kremlin. Comrade Lomovtsev had instituted those orders and he would obey them.
First Chief Directorate, Moscow, Russia
"Comrade PodpolkovnikBelousov, Please get Comrade Senior Sergeant Zhukov." Foreign Minister Lomovtsev ordered.
When the sergeant reported to the First Chief Directorate, the foreign minister smiled, standing up and walking over to the young senior sergeant. "Comrade Zhukov. Your brother and his new wife have been denied his application to adopt this young teenager. We have our agent watching over. There has been a new threat. Comrade, to the safety of this young one because of her attachment to Captain Rabb."
"How do you know about Mattie? Comrade Foreign Minister. It was not spoken about outside of our family."
"We have our ways, Comrade Senior Sergeant. You may need to go to America to help protect your brother's daughter. Would Galina mind the travel?"
"No, she would not mind. It is just that we need some advance notice. Is there anyone protecting Mattie right now?"
"Right now we have one person on the ground. Comrade Senior Sergeant, but there is no guarantee that he will be able to protect her. It is imperative that we get someone else there as well. You are to report to the Ambassador at our embassy when you reach America. He will give you directions."
"Who is chasing her?" Sergei asked.
"It is Syn Myasnika." The response made Sergei's blood run cold. "You may know him as Commander Teddy Lindsey."
"eto piz`dets! [this is fucked up!]" he swore vociferously.
"I agree, Comrade Senior Sergeant. This is why we need you there. We will be sending you, Galina and a Spetznaz trained operative as backup. Make sure your brother's daughter is safe."
"Why do you do this for us? Comrade Foreign Minister."
"We do this for your brother. If the traitor Yerastov was able to launch that missile with effect, many people would have died. Your brother risked not only his life for the Americans he served with, he risked his life for Russia as well. This is why we do this. Now make sure the Butcher's son doesn't survive his engagement with your brother." The foreign minister patted Sergei on the shoulder. "Dolg platezhom krasen [Debt is a shame until it is repaid]. Remember that, Comrade Senior Sergeant."
"I serve Mother Russia!" Sergei stood up straight.
"Very well. Go with honor, Comrade."
Senior Sergeant Sergei Zhukov turned to leave.
"He is a good man." The foreign minister stated as he looked out the window at the cars on Leninskiy Prospekt. "He will protect his brother's daughter."
Valeri Demitrevich Belousov nodded. He had known Sergei's father. An American pilot and POW from the Viet Nam war. It had surprised many outside of the Kremlin circles that Harmon Rabb Sr. had not been picked up much earlier when he had escaped capture. Belousov knew that Rabb yearned for his own country, but that for all his dreaming, he was a pragmatic man. He knew that there was no way, without money, without connections, without a way to get out of the Soviet Union and back home, that his life was now tied up in the Rodina. Oh, KGB agents were able to keep tabs on him, but the Soviet KGB had indicated that Rabb was not to be bothered. What a unique concept; captivity without walls or restraints. Valeri Demitrevich had felt for the man and the fact that for all that Harmon Rabb had freedom, he was still a captive in mind and in location. And when Rabb finally met Pitchta those many years ago, he had yet another anchor to the Rodina. Even Colonel Mikhail Ivanovich Parlovsky knew this, hence the reason why he had let Rabb go free for so long. The best shackles that you can inflict on a man are those of his own making. Belousov chuckled wryly to himself. How fitting that for all the efforts that he had made to escape, in the end, he had shackled himself for the love of a woman.
Knights Park Inn, College Park, MD
A TV blared in a room in a run-down motel on the outskirts of DC, in a college town. In the room holed up was Koloshenko as he intently perused his likeness in the mirror. He knew that in this part of the neighborhood, he would not stick out like a sore thumb. With luck he would be able to pass as a college professor of some sort – the fumbling, slightly, nerdy professor. All he had to do was take a week or two and cultivate a beard of some sort; maybe change a pair of glasses. Picking up a pair of oversized glasses would be an easy task. The nerdier he looked, the less likely he would be spotted by those searching for him. He would also change hair beard color buying hair and beard dye at neighboring towns; separately of course so that suspicions wouldn't be raised. Not very many men dyed their hair or beard, so buying the items together would rouse the interest of any cashier. Considering both his US Navy name and his Russian name were out on "Most Wanted" posters all over the United States, he would have to change his appearance drastically, perhaps even to the point of contact lenses.
He focused on the things that he would have to change about his appearance. First of all his military haircut would have to go. In Leavenworth, they had kept his hair cut short in military style; merely a part of the psychological break-down of resistance. Removing his hair completely would enable him to open himself up to a whole line of different disguises. He could vary his age with cosmetics…utilizing them in a way that he could paint on bruises or age-lines. He could don latex masks. And each person who saw him on his various outings would not be able to recognize him. This was the only way he could garner retribution against those he felt had wronged him – to not be recognized or be able to be picked out of a crowd.
He looked in his kit and found a pair of brow-line glasses that he could wear out for this excursion. A trip to various optical shops was a trip that should be arranged at some point on his agenda. Looking at the items in his disguise kit, he figured that he should obtain some other clothes and a trip to the reclamation clothing shops such as a Value Village thrift store as was available in Adelphi. And if he had dressed as shabbily as he potentially could, he would be able to walk in there as a believable customer to that shop. It had been about three days since he had shaved and he was getting a passable stubble that ranged from his neck to his cheeks, keep it up and scruffy and he could get away as a drunk on the street.
He thought about his Papa Ivan. When he had been in the Navy, he had referred to his father as Iurnan Lindsey – quick thinking on his behalf as most didn't put two and two together to realize that a blonde-Eastern - European in appearance male would go un-noticed and perceived as Gaelic. From the very start, his father had driven into him the fact that if he could not be a chameleon; his life as a foreign intelligence agent was as good as over before it began. Papa Ivan had told him that to survive; one must be able to blend into the background. And Mikhail took that to heart. From his time as Teddy Lindsey, he was able to blend into the background, to be able to be overlooked – to develop a persona as a bumbling, incompetent naval officer that people looked down upon. Those were the traits that allowed him to slip by un-noticed by most that looked down upon him as some lesser breed of naval officer. Mikhail knew his role and performed it well.
"Volk ne nabrosit'sya na svoyu zhertvu bez osobogo presledovaniya. [The wolf does not pounce on his prey without much stalking.]" He muttered to himself as he assessed his face in the mirror. It would be acceptable enough to go to the drugstore for a few items and a fast-food restaurant to get his meal. Then he would completely change his image and Teddy Lindsey would completely vanish.
United States Disciplinary Barracks, Ft. Leavenworth, KS, 3 days later
"I don't know how the hell you convinced me to come here, Rabb, or how the hell you managed to pull this one off" muttered DiNozzo as he looked at the forbidding concrete block construction of the United States Disciplinary Barracks at Leavenworth. "This is downright insane."
"Let's go meet up with the guy who I think is the ringleader. I think there's a connection that we're just not seeing." Harm replied casually; Meg was with him. They entered the main building where they were given a pat-down, relieved of their side-arms, then ushered into what was a sparse small room with a table bolted down directly into the concrete in the center of the room and stools likewise as with the table, bolted down. "Maybe he might have an idea as to where Koloshenko is."
Harm and Meg sat looking at each other casually. About five minutes of waiting passed then the door was opened, and Clark Palmer shuffled in guided by four guards equipped with truncheons. Palmer was a known flight risk and as such was shackled both ankles and wrists. His smile when seeing Harm was more of a knowing smirk. "Hi, Harm…" he grinned, his grin not meeting his eyes. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" he chuckled as if he had made a joke. "Really, I have been a good boy. So…what brings you here? Little bored? Need the company?"
"What do you know about this guy." Harm stood…with the folder in his hand, slapping it down on the table.
"You know, Harm." Palmer had a wide grin plastered on his face. "Kinda hard to see what you're referring to." Holding up his shackled hands as far as the guards would let him, he said snidely. "I'm a little tied up…" He chuckled again. "…at the moment."
Harm gave him a disgusted look. "This guy…right here." He said opening the folder to the photo enclosed inside. "You know about him escaping."
Palmer shrugged his shoulders. "Haven't got a clue, Harm. As you know, they have me pretty much busy from sun up till sun down - trying to make me see the error of my ways. It's a full-time occupation. I'm sure they're having fun too."
"You're lying, Palmer." Harm snarled.
"Temper-temper, Harmon." Palmer leaned in close, while Harm resisted the urge to back away. "And even if I did know something about it, which I don't. What makes you think I might be willing to give that information away…you know. A little quid pro quo, unless there's a deal that you can give me." Palmer leaned back on the stool. "You know an exchange of something mutually beneficial."
Looking at the guard, Harm said. "I think we're done here. You can take him back…" he finished scathingly "…to solitary."
"Hey, Harm…" Palmer looked Harm over as the guards let loose a bit of tension on the chains. "No need to get testy. Alright. I do know this guy. His father's a big name First Chief Directorate guy. DSD kept tabs on them too."
"So where do you think he is?" If Harm's cold slate eyes were lasers, they would have burned a hole in Clark Palmer's head. Palmer wasn't the least bit intimidated.
"Haven't got a clue, Harmon. But rest assured. If you're saying he's escaped and your guys can't find him…you'll probably be in harm's way pretty soon." Palmer looked pleased with himself for being able to yank Harm's chain with that pun. Harm threw a look of disgust at him.
Meg muttered to DiNozzo. "That joke is getting so old, it's got mould growing on it."
"Harm's way. He he he…" Palmer chuckled, "Man…I crack myself up." He looked over at DiNozzo and Meg. "Sorry, folks. No-one ever writes…or visits and you can only talk to yourself for so many hours. And scratching on walls gets dull after a while. "
"So you know absolutely nothing about Koloshenko?" Harm asked, his fists clenching tightly. After the history of Palmer trying to kill him, Harm was ready to do Palmer a favor and put him out of his misery.
"Gosh, Harm. Do you ever have a one-track mind or what?" Palmer smirked, yanking Harm's goat even further. "You oughta go see that shrink girlfriend of yours. You might be getting kind of obsessive." Meg wasn't the least bit upset when Palmer brought up the topic of Jordan Parker.
"She's dead… Palmer! Some whack-job like you killed her." Harm lashed out viciously with his words. It didn't faze Palmer in the least. It was a female whack-job that did Parker in.
"Well…that's a pity." Palmer answered with a blasé wave of his shackled hands, his laissez-faire attitude winding Harm up even more. "I guess you're in the market for a new head-shrink then." The psychopath in Palmer was starting to rear its ugly face. "Too bad I couldn't refer you to mine. He has a rather unique taste…" Palmer paused for a long moment then finished with an evil grin." for chianti." Seeing Harm's shocked face, he let loose a bout of raucous laughter. Meg and DiNozzo looked at each other wondering just how much of a completely loose bag of nuts this Clark Palmer character was. When they looked up, it was un-nerving to see Palmer's blue eyes, with no feeling, much like a shark on the hunt, shackled though he was, focused on them. "Hey, Harm…you found someone new. Oh…and is she married?" Clark Palmer winked at Harm. "You sly ol' devil, you. Matching ring set. So…is she good nudge-nudge…wink wink…"
Harm stood up, his six-foot-four-inch frame threatening. "Shut up, Palmer!"
"So…that pretty wife of yours is also in the target path of this…what's-his-name…" Palmer surmised as he gazed his impassive glance over the three sitting in the interview room.
"Koloshenko…"
"That's right…starts with a K." Palmer gave him a big annoying smirk. "These guys are pros, Harmon Rabb Junior, Mr. Holier-than-thou. They don't mess around. If you step wrong, you're dead. So…word of advice. If you want to live a long, happy life…with lots of children running around, and you having to work double-overtime for your darling little drool buckets; you might want to invest in making sure you either a) put him back behind bars." Palmer paused again, drawing out the dramatics. "…or b) plant him into the ground. Either way; remember the lesson imparted to you?" He chuckled. "Wilderness of Mirrors, Harm. Nice to meet the both of you." He said eyeing both DiNozzo and Meg. "Sure wish I could chat with you longer, but they keep me hopping here." His smile was less than comforting.
Meg and DiNozzo got up, they instinctively sensed the interview was drawing to a close.
Palmer stood up. "A word of advice, Harm. Watch your back…you might not know where it's coming from."
"You're warning me?" Harm smirked back at Palmer. "You're helping instead of trying to kill me?"
"Hey, for all the times I tried to knock you off. Harm. I don't know. It's like we have a kind of perverse relationship." Palmer chuckled. "…and I think I'm starting to like you…" he waggled his eyebrows. "…and frankly…it be a waste if someone killed you." The guard hauled him to his feet and Clark Palmer shuffled to the door, for a moment he paused….and finished his sentence ominously. "before…I do." He laughed as he was led out of the room in shackles.
DiNozzo took a look at Harm and said. "That guy is nuttier than a box of nuts in a squirrel cage." Meg just wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.
2604 Babcock Road, Vienna, Virginia.
"Senor Brovo!" the housekeeper called out as she approached the house door. Usually the almirante stood in front of his door and let her in. She rarely had to use her key. "I am sorry I am late. My bambinos were not ready for school on time!" There was no answer and the door was locked. Giving a prayer to Santa Maria, she hoped the key worked. She usually came out once a week to clean the house from top to bottom.
When she opened the door, she was met with an absolutely putrid smell, that made her gag and almost throw up. Venturing in farther into the house she turned the corner to find the almirante on the floor, his face bloated, his eyes sunken in and his skin festering with lesions, where the gas in his decomposing body had ruptured the decaying skin.
She screamed.
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