“You do look weird as a brunette. I like this much better.” He lifted her hair in his hand, and she smiled and spun, heading to the bathroom. Maybe she put a little extra sway into her walk as she went. Smith was an enigma, and if she had her way, he’d be hers.
13
Smith handed his passport to the old, bored-looking security guard at the St. Petersburg airport. The man flipped the page open to his picture, looked at the passport, and then at Smith. Flipping through the passport, he looked at the stamps in the back of the book, then he closed it and tossed it to Smith. Well, so much for worrying about the passport being looked at critically. Val stepped next to him and presented her passport, smiling at the guard. The older man did a double take and looked at her ring and then at Smith. “Your husband?” the man grunted at her.
She looked up at him. “Yes. We’re returning from our honeymoon in France.”
The man narrowed his eyes and glanced between them again. Smith leveled a stare at him that could melt cement. The guard shrugged, flicked her passport back to her, and called, “Next.”
“What was that all about?” Val whispered as she put their passports into her purse.
“He didn’t believe you would marry me.” It was pretty obvious to him.
Val snorted an indelicate laugh. “Whatever.” They claimed their luggage and wheeled them to the street. Over the crowd, Smith saw an older woman holding a sign with his name on it, and he angled Val in her direction. Once they reached the woman, who stood in front of an old Spetsteh all-terrain vehicle that had been driven hard, he loaded the suitcases in the trunk. Then as Smith climbed into the front seat, Val sat in the back.
The older woman got into the truck and merged into traffic. She reached down to the floorboard and brought up a bucket. “Pampushka.” She took off the towel and grabbed something wrapped in wax paper, handing it back to Val. “Kiefer.” She nodded to the midsection, and he lifted the door. He took out two small plastic bottles. He opened both and handed one to Val. Grabbing a small pampushka that was split and buttered, he took a sip of the Kiefer and ate the bread. His mother had always told him never to eat dry bread and gave him this food for a snack between meals. He watched out the window as they traveled away from the city. He’d love to explore St. Petersburg, but that wasn’t on the agenda.
Not another word was muttered the entire trip. Val’s eyes were closed when he turned back to check on her, though he doubted she was asleep. Still, he followed her cue, rested his head against the old, cracked headrest, and watched the country go by. It was beautiful and heart-wrenching at the same time. They drove through small villages where skinny dogs lay in patches of shade and old women were outside washing clothes. Whitewashed homes sometimes displayed colored shutters, but more often than not, the structures were unadorned. There were few power lines. He kept his head and eyes forward, not wanting the woman driving to notice him taking in everything. He assumed the conditions wouldn’t be new or shocking for a person who was supposed to be from the country.
Smith had researched Russia. He wanted to know about his mother’s homeland. What he’d found was a life of strife for most citizens. A duality was seen in most major countries, but not to that extreme. Those in power, the ones who lined their pockets instead of providing for the general population, lived in the lap of luxury. Those who didn’t worked from sunup to sundown and beyond to survive. The farther east they traveled, the harder survival would become. Vast areas of Siberia didn’t have regular power, and the native inhabitants lived on what the land provided.
He turned to look out at the countryside, but his mind traveled back to the hotel room. Val had literally flown through the air to take him down. He wasn’t expecting it. He allowed himself a happy smile. Tough and beautiful. Val had dropped him, not once, but twice. Few people had done that. Of course, he’d never fought a woman before.
He thought of the women he’d been ordered to kill. Memories that would haunt him forever. He made sure it was quick and, if possible, without their knowledge. The men he’d killed were monsters. Not on the level of evil he was currently hunting, but those hits didn’t bother him as much.
As the woman turned down a bumpy gravel road, Val sat up and looked around. They drove a little farther, and a structure came into sight. A hanger, Smith assumed.
The woman pulled up next to the building and shut off the old vehicle. “Go there. He’s waiting.” She pointed to the door, got out of the truck, and trudged to the small house on the other side of the larger building.
Smith got out at the same time as Val. “I’ll grab the luggage.” Russian was the language from there on out. She nodded and stood near him, but he could tell she was keeping an eye open. When they had their luggage, he led the way through the door, flipping his sunglasses up to see the darkened interior.
“Good. You’re here. Come, we need to go now.” A small man, about sixty-five, stood and waved them over to a small Cessna. “One bag here.” He pointed to a storage compartment. “One bag goes here. I have to keep the weight balanced.”
He looked at Smith, then at Val. “You on the passenger side. Her behind me.” He grabbed a foam pad. “No seat.” He handed the pad to Val, who lifted her eyebrow at his retreating back.
“No seat,” she said in Russian. “Oh, fun.”
Smith chuckled. “At least he gave you a cushion.”
She turned her attention to him. “Guess what I’m thinking.”
Smith tried hard to stop the smile that spread across his face. “I wouldn’t want to hazard a guess.”
“See, I told you, youareextremely intelligent.” She lifted the foam pad mimicking the pilot. “No seat.” She walked to the plane where the pilot waited with the door open.
He followed her and gave her his hand to help her to the step and into the tiny aircraft's back storage area.
He waited until she was settled before walking around the plane and getting in on the passenger side. The pilot tossed them both headsets and put his on. Then he started the engine and tapped on several dials on the dash before he grunted and moved the plane to taxi to the end of the dirt runway. He glanced back at Val. “Comfortable?”
He heard her reply in the headset, so he knew the pilot heard her, too. “I’m telling your mother,” Val said with a pout.
He laughed at her because she was batting her eyelashes at him. “My mother wouldn’t believe you. Nadia Solntesevskaya always flies first class. This was the quickest transportation my grandfather could arrange to get you to Novosibirsk to see your mother.”
The pilot’s reaction would have been funny if he wasn’t the one in control of the aircraft. His jerk was as sharp as if someone had stabbed him. He did a double-take at Smith. If there was a family resemblance, Smith wasn’t aware of the fact, but the man seemed to go a bit pale.
“Are you all right?” Smith asked. The guy had better not pass out as they sped down the runway. The pilot seemed to catch himself and turned back to the business at hand. He pulled back, sending the aircraft into the air.
The flight was low, which he assumed would keep them below any radar in the area. Either that or the old plane couldn’t fly any higher. He’d wager on the latter. The drone of the aircraft stifled any conversation, even with the headsets. The pilot pointed to the horizon as dusk was covering the land. “Novosibirsk.”