Dual Assassins Read online

  “Cut that out,” said Reanna as she poked his shoulder with a finger.

  Jim continued, “Did you by chance see the license plate number?”

  “No, I don’t think there was any on the car. If there was a plate, it was too dark to read it. It all happened so fast.”

  “Did you hit him?”

  “I thought I did. I got off three rounds and I think I got at least one hit. I thought I shot him in the head; but of course, if I did he wouldn’t have driven away. Let’s call the police, Jim. We’ll let them handle this.”

  Jim wrinkled his brow. “That’s not a good idea. I can’t afford to get tied up with this. It could affect our mission which is way more important than this…not now anyway. Plus you have an unregistered Russian pistol. I say for now we leave it alone. We’ll just keep the drapes closed until we get the window fixed.”

  Reanna looked back out the window and said, “Okay, you’re probably right.”

  “Hey, you did a pretty good job for a Russian spy,” said Jim, smiling. “You could—”

  “Stop that nonsense,” responded Reanna. “I told you not to mention that again. You know I was only an informant for them for a short while before linking back up with the Americans. And remember, I’m a natural born American citizen of which I am very proud. Nobody around here has even heard of or knows of that. Please, don’t joke…you promised. It’s not funny.”

  “Okay sorry.” But he knew she was raised in a Youth Pioneer Camp in Russia, and eventually became a member of the Vladimir Lenin All-Union Pioneer Organization as a Yook. Even though she insisted she was only an informant for Russia when she lived in Hawaii, he knew better.

  Chapter Four

  Jim and Reanna kept the living room drapes closed as they both returned to work the following morning. Reanna, wearing a surgical mask, was busy readying the operating room for the next procedure when a blond-haired gentleman was rolled in on a gurney to have a bullet removed from his shoulder. The side of his face was also covered with a fresh bandage. Reanna recognized him as the shooter from the previous evening.

  “Hi, what’s your name,” she asked while she checked his hospital wristband.

  “Anatoli Petrov,” he responded with a slight Russian accent.

  “I understand we’re going to remove a bullet from your shoulder, is that right?” Reanna was thankful she was wearing a surgical mask to hide her features.

  “Yes.”

  “How did that happen?’ she asked while she prepped his shoulder for surgery.

  “I don’t know, somebody drove by and just shot me.”

  “Oh, that sure is strange. What happened to your face?”

  “A bullet went through my cheek. It went in one side and out the other. It only chipped the corner of one tooth. Other than having a hole in each cheek, I’m fine—just lost lots of blood.”

  “That’s incredible, especially here in St. Louis. You are one lucky man.”

  “Yes, I sure am.”

  “Where do you live, here in St. Louis?”

  “I do now.”

  “You have an accent, where are you from originally?”

  “Russia…in the city of Tuchkovo, just west of Moscow.”

  “Well, that sure is interesting. Do you like it here?”

  “Oh yes, it very good.”

  “Well, we’re certainly glad you’re here, welcome to the U.S.”

  The anesthetist said, “Come on, enough with the travelogue, it’s time to get to work.” The surgeon entered the room.

  “Yes, doctor,” said Reanna as she turned to the patient: “Anatoli, don’t be nervous now, you’re in good hands here.”

  The son-of-a-bitch-- at least he’d saved her the trouble of searching for him.

  When the surgery was completed, Anatoli was wheeled to recovery while Reanna began her lunch hour. But instead of going to lunch, she went to Anatoli’s room and grabbed the bag of his personal effects. She took it into the restroom and sat down behind the closed door of a stall and examined the bag’s contents. From an almost empty wallet, she eyed an international driver’s license issued by Russia. She glanced at her watch. Anatoli’s property had to be returned before personnel began to filter into his room. She kept rummaging in the bag and found a key for Room 106 at the Sleep Tight Motel. Reanna slipped the motel key into her bra and placed his car keys into her pocket. She returned to the room and placed the bag back in its original location. She felt confident she hadn’t been noticed.

  Jim returned home from work and was greeted at the door by Reanna holding two glasses of wine, one of which she handed to him. “Welcome home, sailor,” she said, which was what she called him when they first met and somehow, the name stuck. Although he was a Marine veteran, Jim never complained about being called a sailor. He considered it a term of endearment.

  Jim kissed her gently and said, “What’s the occasion?”

  She told Jim about her visit with Anatoli Petrov at the hospital and the conversation they had in the OR prior to surgery.

  “How lucky is that?” exclaimed Jim. “See what you can find out from him tomorrow.”

  “I’ll try, but I had a surgical mask on at the hospital when I talked with him. He’ll recognize me if I’m not wearing a mask.”

  “Well…try.”

  Jim raised his glass and savored the light wine. He said, “I’m going to the motel and snoop around. I’m sure we’ll find out something about him there. Thanks for getting the key, hon.”

  “Be careful at the motel; he may not be working alone.”

  “I understand.” He leaned over and kissed Reanna, then rose to his feet and drained the balance of the wine. He set the glass on the table and said, “This should prove to be interesting. I won’t be long.”

  Chapter Five

  Jim drove directly to the Sleep Tight Motel, a ‘C’ shaped two story structure. All of the exterior doors faced the parking lot. He drove into the lot and parked his car in front of Room 106. Exiting the car he approached the door. He stared at the ‘106’ on the door. His hand was on his .38 caliber revolver which was tucked into his belt. It was kept out of sight by his sport coat. He moved his head closer to the door and listened for any movement. The only sound he heard was the humming traffic from the roadway. He then gradually inserted the key with one hand and unlocked the door while he pulled out his pistol with the other. He grabbed the cool door handle and slowly pushed the door open. He entered an empty room and closed the door softly behind him. He crossed the room, checked the bathroom and found it empty. He slid open the sliding closet door and observed only two shirts and trousers hanging in the closet. A small suitcase was on the floor. It was obvious that Anatoli hadn’t planned to stay long. He pulled out the unlocked suitcase and found only the normal underclothes and toiletries inside. Then he spotted a box of .40 caliber bullets. He checked the nightstand drawers and only found a Bible, scratch paper and pencil. The desk in the corner was empty but he spotted a small notepad with the top page blank but noticed impressions in the paper. He took a pencil from the drawer and gently rubbed it across the paper, revealing a telephone number with an area code of 202 which he recognized as D.C.

  Jim called the motel switchboard and gave the woman the number to call.

  “Yes sir, Mr. Petrov, one moment please,” she stated as she dialed the number.

  Once connected and after two rings, “Good morning, Central Intelligence Agency, may I help you?”

  Jim said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I must have dialed the wrong number,” and he hung up.

  Looked like Petrov was in contact with the CIA…the same man that tried to kill him last night. He must know about the mission, but how? Could there be a mole in the Agency? How could he accomplish his mission while looking over his shoulder? He was definitely a target…but by whom?

  After returning every item to its original place and removing any evidence of his presence in the room, he opened the door to leave and was greeted by several policemen with drawn pist
ols, “Stop, raise your hands, turn around and face the wall.” Jim felt handcuffs being applied to one wrist as his arm was pulled down behind him then cuffed to his other wrist.

  They searched Jim and pulled out his .38.

  “What were you stealing in that room?” one policeman asked.

  “Nothing,” replied Jim.

  “The motel clerk spotted you entering the room and knew you weren’t the one who rented the room. Is that your room?”

  “No sir.”

  “Then what were you doing in there?”

  “Um…I need to make a telephone call, sir.”

  “You’ll have your chance when we take you downtown.” The policeman turned to his partner and said, “Put him in the wagon.” Jim was placed in the back of a police cruiser and taken to the station. He was charged with breaking and entering and the possession of an unlicensed weapon.

  He only had one day before he left for Washington. He couldn’t tell the cops who he was or what he was doing in the motel.

  Chapter Six

  Reanna was stunned that Jim never returned home. She left the house early in the morning and drove to the hospital. When she entered the parking lot, she drove up and down the aisles until she spotted the black Pontiac with the rear window broken out. She parked next to Anatoli’s car. When she didn’t see anyone nearby, she exited her car and approached the Pontiac, unlocked the door and sat in the driver’s seat. She searched the glove box and back seat area but everything was clean except for the shattered glass in the rear seat and floor. There were several splotches of blood on the inside driver’s door and dash panel. She reached under the driver’s seat and pulled out a .40 caliber Browning High Power semi-automatic pistol with a mounted silencer. She held the pistol close to her stomach, covered it with her purse and carried it back to her car. She opened the trunk and wrapped the weapon in a towel, placed it inside, then locked the trunk. Reanna looked around and saw some employees walking to work but they were not nearby. She smiled while she walked with a swagger to the hospital for another day in surgery.

  Multiple surgeries throughout the day kept Reanna busy, but thoughts of Jim and Anatoli plagued her all morning. Reanna went to Anatoli’s floor after the lunch hour. The floor nurses were having a meeting in the conference room. With most of the nurses off the floor, she went to Anatoli’s room.

  When she entered his two-bed room, Anatoli was lying in the only occupied bed with bandages on his face and shoulder.

  “Hi, how are you feeling?” asked Reanna with a smile as she walked to his bedside.

  “Okay, I guess,” he said in a low but flat guttural voice. “I’m awake,” he mumbled. Who are you, do I know you?” His eyes searched for the answer.

  “Not officially,” said Reanna in her soft-spoken voice. Her heart began to beat a little faster, but she managed to remain calm on the outside.

  “Well, you do look familiar.”

  Reanna shot him a look and then smiled. “Well, your face I will never forget.”

  With squinted eyes, Anatoli studied Reanna’s face. “I don’t understand…who are you?”

  Reanna smirked and said, “I can see your face behind that .40 caliber Browning pointed right at me before you sped away a few nights ago.”

  “That was you?” he answered, his eyes shot open and his mouth fell. He tried to shout for help but was too weak to utter more than a hoarse whimper.

  “You should know better than using a pistol to shoot somebody from that distance across the street. Shame on you, who are you working for?” asked Reanna.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as he glared at Reanna. He lifted himself up on by his elbows, and made a lunge at her but she jumped back.

  “Look Anatoli,” said Reanna, “I’m not a patient person. This could get ugly very quickly. I would suggest you cooperate; you might not enjoy the consequences if you don’t.”

  “Big bluff, lady,” he rumbled.

  “Don’t try me. Now, who are you working for, and what is his name?”

  “You’ll never find him.”

  Reanna pulled her fist back then jammed it into his operated shoulder. His eyes went wide as he winced in pain. “His name is Yuri. There, now you know and now you can leave me alone.”

  “What’s his last name?”

  “Go to hell, lady.”

  “Okay, if that’s the way you feel it’s okay with me. I got the information I wanted. Just relax. Here, you might be more comfortable with two pillows instead of one. Let me help you.”

  Reanna crossed the floor to the other bed and picked up the pillow and returned to Anatoli. “Here, this will help you sleep,” then slammed the pillow down over Anatoli’s face and pressed down with both arms with all of her weight. Anatoli’s one arm began to thrash and his feet began to kick at the sheets. His weakened body squirmed but Reanna maintained a tight grip on the pillow while she looked back at the doorway. Reanna took in deep breaths and kept heavy pressure on the pillow. This’ll teach you to try to take my Jim away from me. Come on, Ruski, die…die.

  The only sound in the room was his muffled cries for help which soon stopped. His one arm fell to his side and his body became quiet. Reanna raised the pillow and felt his carotid - no pulse. She stood up and returned the extra pillow to the second bed.

  She looked at Anatoli and said in Russian, “Go to hell, you bastard,” then walked out of the room and headed for home.

  Chapter Seven

  Reanna was surprised when she entered an empty house. She had expected Jim to be there when she arrived. He needed to leave for Washington. She began to organize a few personal items for her upcoming trip. She went to the kitchen and filled two glasses with her favorite white wine and placed them on the coffee table in the living room, their favorite chatting spot. She turned on the radio to their favorite easy listening station and returned to the couch. After waiting for an hour, she began to pace back and forth; she knew something had to be wrong. She picked up the telephone and called S & S Engineering. Her brow wrinkled as she listened to the ringing of the unanswered telephone while she twisted several strands of her hair around her finger.

  Then she dialed Carl at home and he answered on the second ring.

  Without waiting for Carl to speak, Reanna said, “Carl…Reanna. Have you heard from Jim?”

  “No, why?”

  “He said he would be right home, but that was hours ago.”

  “I haven’t heard from him, but if and when I do, I call you right away. You sound worried; don’t be. You know Jim can take of himself.”

  “Yeah, okay thanks,” and Reanna hung up the phone.

  She could look for him but this was a big city. She’d never find him. She walked to the door, grabbed her pistol and returned to the couch. For a few more hours, she reclined on the couch but the pistol remained clutched in her hand.

  * * *

  The following morning, Reanna awoke on the couch and still no Jim. If Jim was hurt, the best place to look for him was at the hospital. She showered and put on clean whites and left for the hospital. She walked directly to Emergency then the admitting office and with the clerks, searched the records for Jim but came up empty.

  With reddened eyes, Reanna proceeded to the OR’s employee lounge, took off her jacket and poured herself a cup of coffee from the coffee station. She was still early for work so she sat down at a table to think.

  This wasn’t like Jim at all. Something was wrong. She assumed he was probably okay but not knowing was tough. She felt helpless.

  She reached over to the counter and retrieved the morning newspaper from the short stack that was delivered every morning. She laid the paper out flat on the table while she held the cup in her right hand and sipped her coffee. She perused the first page then turned the page. Her eyes shot wide open and she said, “No, no,” as she slammed her cup down on the table splashing coffee as she did a double take at a mugshot of Jim with the caption, ‘Jim Wilson, local businessman caught breaki
ng and entering at the Sleep Tight Motel.’

  “No, no,” she said, shaking her head as she slapped the paper back down on the table. Her cheeks were burning. This couldn’t be true. She’d go to the station and get him.

  Another nurse walked into the lounge and said, “Reanna, there’s a telephone call for you at the nurses’ station. I think—”

  Reanna jumped up from the table, ran to the nurse’s station and saw the black telephone off the hook lying on the counter. She grabbed the phone and said, “This is Reanna.”

  “Carl here—“

  “What happened to Jim? What’s going on?”

  “Calm down, Reanna. Jim couldn’t make a telephone call from the jail until this morning. Knowing he only had one phone call, he called Mac’s twenty-four-hour number. Mac called me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Mac said he would handle this with the police commissioner and Jim should be released shortly. What was he doing at the motel?”

  “Um…I don’t know. All I know is that he didn’t come home last night. I guess we’ll both find out today. I’ll be here—available to get Jim.”

  “We’ll see, I’ll let you know. Talk with you later.”

  “Thanks, Carl,” and she hung up the phone, sat down at the desk, her shoulders slumped forward. She couldn’t believe this.

  Chapter Eight

  Reanna received a telephone call from Jim when he was released. Reanna was relieved and quickly drove to the police station to pick him up. She saw Jim standing on the front steps when she arrived and she pulled up by the curb. Jim got in and said, “Let’s go, let’s get out of here.”

  Reanna, with a huge grin, leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. Although she felt like celebrating, she immediately sped away. She looked at Jim, “Welcome home, sailor. What happened?”

  Jim placed his hand on her thigh and shook his head, “I found a box of forty caliber bullets in the motel room. I was also able to decipher a telephone number from a notepad. Then I called the number.”