Page 106
Story: Secret Weapon
32
NINE
Blok Novak had aged in the years since I’d last seen him, but his taste in women had gone the other way.His companion today couldn’t have been more than twenty, and she towered over him in a pair of platform wedges that would leave her crippled if she stumbled off a kerb.
He’d also taken up golf.
Which was both a good thing and a bad thing.
Good because a substantial amount of business got done on the golf course, and for some reason, men felt free to run their mouths as long as they were knocking tiny balls around a patch of grass.
Bad because I’d picked up a golf club precisely once in my life, and that had been to rearrange the skull of a Polish shipping magnate who’d somehow ended up on the general’s bad side.Golf wasn’t big in Siberia.
Oh, and the Northlake Club was a private golf course, which meant we couldn’t simply walk in there anyway.
When Novak turned into the club, I carried on past, then pulled our Porsche over a short distance down the road.Yes, our Porsche.I’d discovered another perk of working for Blackwood this morning—the accessories.Since this was a last-minute gig, Emmy had requested three pool cars from the LA office, but when they got stuck behind a pile-up on the freeway, she’d offered the keys to the 911 in the garage instead.Alex had reluctantly folded himself into the passenger seat while I slid behind the wheel, trying to look indifferent about the situation.Grinning like an idiot would have done my reputation no good whatsoever.
And the car wasn’t the only bonus.Ana said that if I needed more clothes, I should take anything I needed from the closets in the house.Apparently, they were communal, a repository for the overspill from Bradley’s all-too-frequent shopping sprees.Plus Emmy and I were roughly the same build, and most of the outfits had been bought with her in mind.Sure, I was two inches taller, but when the label said Ishmael, I could make do.Back in the old days, whenever I’d swung by a mall, Rad had said I was trying to buy happiness, but that wasn’t the reason.I’d always known happiness was an unachievable goal.My designer habit…it was more of a reaction to circumstance.Growing up on Base 13, I’d only ever been allowed to wear practical clothes, cargo pants and T-shirts and thick, drab coats, and putting on a pair of well-cut jeans and a silk top was my way of giving General Zacharov the middle finger.
And as for Darla’s fashion sense… Urgh.But there was a reason I dressed her in outlandish muumuus.Not only could I hide all sorts of goodies underneath, but people also tended to remember her flowing outfits rather than the person wearing them.They were a modern-day invisibility cloak.
But today, I’d picked out a pair of navy-blue capri pants and a pale-pink cashmere sweater that would be warm enough for the California winter and fit in well with Novak’s middle-to-upper-class cohorts.Alex had gone with chinos and a grey polo shirt that strained across his biceps.
“We should find somewhere we can see the course,” I said.“I brought binoculars.”
“But we won’t be able to hear what goes on.”
“No, but if we can see who he meets, that’s better than nothing.”
“Let me make a call.”
We found a parking space that overlooked one corner of the course, and I wanted to climb over the fence, but there was a steady stream of people meandering past.Damn joggers.Alex said we should sit tight, and thirty minutes later, an SUV pulled up beside us.A grey-haired man got out carrying what looked like…two pairs of sneakers?
When Emmy said she’d find a solution, I’d expected somebody to deliver a parabolic microphone or a James Bond-style drone, not fucking shoes.And even though she’d told us the guy’s name was Gerald and his daughter worked as an admin assistant at Blackwood’s LA office, I still slipped a gun under a folded jacket on my lap while Alex wound down the window.
“Are you Gerald?”
Alex’s American accent wasn’t perfect, but when he put his mind to it, he managed to sound as if he hadn’t just taken a wrong turn out of downtown Moscow.
“Indeed I am.And you’re a friend of Emmy’s?”He didn’t wait for an answer.“I understand you and your wife want to play a round of golf at Northlake?”He held out the shoes.“You might want to borrow these.”
“Do you have clubs?”
“In the trunk.How are you enjoying your vacation?”
“It’s been pleasurable so far.”
“Good, good.Follow me, and I’ll sign you in.”
As the stranger walked back to his vehicle, Alex passed me the shoes, but before I put them on and started the engine, I had a hundred questions.
“Golf?We’re meant to play golf?”I glanced down at the shoes, and they weren’t even my size.“Doesn’t Blackwood have tiny drones?”
“Yes, but it’s too windy for those to fly today.Also not good for golf, but…” He shrugged.“It doesn’t matter if we’re over par.”
“Do you even know how to play golf?These shoes are too big.”
“Mine are too small.And I used to play golf most weekends.”A grimace.“My ex-wife wanted to join a country club, so we joined a country club.You can play?”
NINE
Blok Novak had aged in the years since I’d last seen him, but his taste in women had gone the other way.His companion today couldn’t have been more than twenty, and she towered over him in a pair of platform wedges that would leave her crippled if she stumbled off a kerb.
He’d also taken up golf.
Which was both a good thing and a bad thing.
Good because a substantial amount of business got done on the golf course, and for some reason, men felt free to run their mouths as long as they were knocking tiny balls around a patch of grass.
Bad because I’d picked up a golf club precisely once in my life, and that had been to rearrange the skull of a Polish shipping magnate who’d somehow ended up on the general’s bad side.Golf wasn’t big in Siberia.
Oh, and the Northlake Club was a private golf course, which meant we couldn’t simply walk in there anyway.
When Novak turned into the club, I carried on past, then pulled our Porsche over a short distance down the road.Yes, our Porsche.I’d discovered another perk of working for Blackwood this morning—the accessories.Since this was a last-minute gig, Emmy had requested three pool cars from the LA office, but when they got stuck behind a pile-up on the freeway, she’d offered the keys to the 911 in the garage instead.Alex had reluctantly folded himself into the passenger seat while I slid behind the wheel, trying to look indifferent about the situation.Grinning like an idiot would have done my reputation no good whatsoever.
And the car wasn’t the only bonus.Ana said that if I needed more clothes, I should take anything I needed from the closets in the house.Apparently, they were communal, a repository for the overspill from Bradley’s all-too-frequent shopping sprees.Plus Emmy and I were roughly the same build, and most of the outfits had been bought with her in mind.Sure, I was two inches taller, but when the label said Ishmael, I could make do.Back in the old days, whenever I’d swung by a mall, Rad had said I was trying to buy happiness, but that wasn’t the reason.I’d always known happiness was an unachievable goal.My designer habit…it was more of a reaction to circumstance.Growing up on Base 13, I’d only ever been allowed to wear practical clothes, cargo pants and T-shirts and thick, drab coats, and putting on a pair of well-cut jeans and a silk top was my way of giving General Zacharov the middle finger.
And as for Darla’s fashion sense… Urgh.But there was a reason I dressed her in outlandish muumuus.Not only could I hide all sorts of goodies underneath, but people also tended to remember her flowing outfits rather than the person wearing them.They were a modern-day invisibility cloak.
But today, I’d picked out a pair of navy-blue capri pants and a pale-pink cashmere sweater that would be warm enough for the California winter and fit in well with Novak’s middle-to-upper-class cohorts.Alex had gone with chinos and a grey polo shirt that strained across his biceps.
“We should find somewhere we can see the course,” I said.“I brought binoculars.”
“But we won’t be able to hear what goes on.”
“No, but if we can see who he meets, that’s better than nothing.”
“Let me make a call.”
We found a parking space that overlooked one corner of the course, and I wanted to climb over the fence, but there was a steady stream of people meandering past.Damn joggers.Alex said we should sit tight, and thirty minutes later, an SUV pulled up beside us.A grey-haired man got out carrying what looked like…two pairs of sneakers?
When Emmy said she’d find a solution, I’d expected somebody to deliver a parabolic microphone or a James Bond-style drone, not fucking shoes.And even though she’d told us the guy’s name was Gerald and his daughter worked as an admin assistant at Blackwood’s LA office, I still slipped a gun under a folded jacket on my lap while Alex wound down the window.
“Are you Gerald?”
Alex’s American accent wasn’t perfect, but when he put his mind to it, he managed to sound as if he hadn’t just taken a wrong turn out of downtown Moscow.
“Indeed I am.And you’re a friend of Emmy’s?”He didn’t wait for an answer.“I understand you and your wife want to play a round of golf at Northlake?”He held out the shoes.“You might want to borrow these.”
“Do you have clubs?”
“In the trunk.How are you enjoying your vacation?”
“It’s been pleasurable so far.”
“Good, good.Follow me, and I’ll sign you in.”
As the stranger walked back to his vehicle, Alex passed me the shoes, but before I put them on and started the engine, I had a hundred questions.
“Golf?We’re meant to play golf?”I glanced down at the shoes, and they weren’t even my size.“Doesn’t Blackwood have tiny drones?”
“Yes, but it’s too windy for those to fly today.Also not good for golf, but…” He shrugged.“It doesn’t matter if we’re over par.”
“Do you even know how to play golf?These shoes are too big.”
“Mine are too small.And I used to play golf most weekends.”A grimace.“My ex-wife wanted to join a country club, so we joined a country club.You can play?”
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