Robert Thomas - The Bear - Red Star Rising

President Edwin Kiger stood looking out over the lawn of the White House from the Oval Office. He watched as crowds passed by on the streets outside the fenced grounds. One small group had a sign about the actions in the Ukraine. How fitting he thought. The door to the official office of the President of the United States opened and his chief of staff walked in accompanied by the Director of the CIA.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. President,” they said in unison.

“Please, have a seat,” the president said as he extended his arm toward the chairs before the famous desk. “I think you can guess as to why I’ve asked you both here.”

“I can hazard a guess,” Stephen replied.

“Do we have any word on what is happening with our team in Russia?”

“So far, we have heard nothing, sir. I can only think that is a positive sign.”

“I don’t know that I would totally agree with that, Stephen.” President Kiger pulled out his chair and sat down behind his desk. “I don’t always believe that no news is good news. Surely there has to be something, something someone has picked up.”

“Not at this time, sir.” The director looked toward the president’s chief of staff before turning his attention back to the president. “I think if anything had been uncovered in a negative way, we would have heard something back-channel by now.”

“And if it went off without a hitch?” Martin asked.

“Then likely hearing nothing is a positive sign. That would mean the mission was a success and everyone is on their way back without discovery.”

POTUS sat back in his chair and crossed his arms as he sighed. He was hoping for better news, hoping for some news, any news. There just wasn’t going to be any today.

“And we have recovery assets in place?”

“As close as we are able. Ground support is impossible.”

“I understand. Thank you. Keep me posted. I want to hear the minute you get any, and I mean any intel on this.”

“Yes Mr. President,” they replied in unison once again.

The sun melted into the western sky, its remnant nothing more than an orange glow blistered across the darkening heavens. Night would settle in over the Russian capital within the hour. He lifted the glass to his lips as the clear liquid filled his mouth. He felt its soft burn against his tongue. It warmed him; something he needed in the midst of this drafty safe house. But he knew it wouldn’t be much longer and this situation would be over. He swirled the drink around the glass before draining it completely. Tonight would end it all.

The crowd continued to build as the evening wore on. It seemed that a Friday night was just like a Friday night anywhere else in the world. For the first time, the place they had watched for days seemed to have a life all its own. Western music filled the club as the dance floor began to come to life and the liquor began to flow. Ivan and Polina watched from a corner booth as youth overtook common sense in the world of the young.

“They sure know how to party.” Polina rolled her glass around on its base. She had a habit of doing that, Ivan noticed.

“You don’t drink much, do you?”

“Not all that much, Ivan. I put that behind me a long time ago. Too many hangovers, too many issues.”

“I hear you.” Ivan extended his legs beneath the table. His face cramped at the effort, just like the muscles in his thighs. “Why can’t they make things for tall people?”

“There’s tall,” Polina said as she looked up to Ivan and smiled, “and then there’s you.”

“Funny.” Ivan smiled back. He felt comfortable with her. “We need to try and blend in a bit more.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Ivan winked as he grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the booth as he stood up.

“No way in hell, stretch.”

But Polina was no match for his strength. One step backward and she was up on her feet. He stooped, bending at the knees as he pulled her toward him. He began to sway, the music moving him from side to side. She thought he looked like a scarecrow flailing in the wind. He smiled again as he pulled her forward. She rolled her eyes as her feet made the edges of the dance floor, and her hips caught the sway of the music.

“Damn you, I love this song.”

The music slowed and Ivan pulled her close. He could feel the shape of her handgun in the small of her back as his hand closed about her waist. She put her hand up to his chest to keep him slightly away. But just slightly.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I’m just trying to blend in, remember?”

They stayed on the floor for another song before the booth, and their mission called them back. Another hour passed and more young Moskovites packed the club. They could tell it would be a long night. At least it felt good to be out and around people. Ivan looked up as another couple, this one a bit older closed the door behind them. Anya and Sasha slid along the wall and up to the bar. Sasha fluffed his coat as he straddled the stool. He could feel his own weapon push against his leg. He nodded as Anya ordered their drinks.

Danil slipped into the club, unnoticed by the others. He bellied up to the end of the bar, standing next to Sasha. His eyes found their targets, sitting in the same corner in the same booth they had for the past several days. The only difference was they had smirks and smiles plastered across their faces as more and more young women rolled into the club, because those women were followed by young men and both loved to drink. The take would be a good one tonight.

“They’re drinking right along with their customers,” Danil noted. “Stupid.”

“But they’re used to it,” Sasha said in almost a whisper. “This is their world, not ours. And, they know where the walls are. We’re guessing at everything we do. All the alcohol does is shift the odds a little in our favor.”

Sasha sipped his drink slowly as he began to think about the next couple hours. He noted Ivan and Polina in the corner, then not. They were mixing and socializing. They were trying to fit in. It worked for them being closer in age to the average person jumping around on the dance floor. Sweat was mixing with booze. He realized you could plop this club down anywhere in the civilized world and you couldn’t tell where you were. Youth was full of optimism; he was almost a lost cause.

Danil looked at his watch as the last hour began to close down. He slid his empty glass into the middle of the bar, tossed his money on to the wet surface and pulled his coat tightly around himself. He nodded to the man sitting next to him and hit the exit, the cold night air pushing through the door as he left. His car was just a brief walk down the street. The nondescript auto had everything they needed.

The end of the night was coming quickly as couples and the last of the desperate, single loners looked to walk out the door with someone in the late-night hours. The men in the dark corner booth began to stir and make their way out into the club as the last of their patrons filed out the door. Anya laid her hand on Sasha’s arm, giving a tug as one of the Russians approached.

“Come on love,” she said. “It’s time to go.”

Sasha wavered as if he had drunk just a little too much liquid relaxation. He looked up as a heavy-set Russian stepped to his side.

“Time to go.” His words were not as polite as Anya’s. “Do as your little lady asked.” He reached down and laid his thick hand on Sasha’s shoulder.

“I’m going,” Sasha replied. He looked up from the stool with a gentle smile. The big Russian smirked as he helped Sasha to his feet.