OXYGEN Part 14
“Oh, shut up and let me finish. You can shout at me afterwards.” – Neil Gaiman. Used without permission.
“Hi Olga.” Sue Jacken had been called in early to interview the young Ukrainian woman. Sue had a tough mind and a soft touch, and she could gently get information out of people that might have otherwise been forced by the interrogation equivalent of a crack over the head with a 2 x 4. “I’m Agent Jacken. May I get you some water or coffee, or a soft drink?” Sue had known a few agents who went with several Mountain Dews to kick off their day. She told herself it was the cold carbonated equivalent of coffee.
“Tea?”
“We have tea.” Sue stuck her head outside. “Nikki, could you bring a cup of tea for Olga?”
“Do I look like a galley slave?” Nikki tossed off, but she smiled. “Sure, no problem. You covered?”
“I’ve got java juice flowing through my veins, thanks.”
A few moments later, Nikki appeared with a cup of tea. “Don’t say I don’t love you,” she joked with Sue.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sue said, smiling. She handed Olga the steaming beverage. Despite her being clad in a sweatshirt and jeans. Olga shivered. Sue turned her attention on Olga. “May I call you Olga, or do you prefer a different name?”
“Olga. My name.”
“You must be very frightened,” Sue said softly. “I thought we’d talk for a little bit before the Ukrainian translator gets here.” Sue just wanted to comfort and calm the girl. The Ukrainian translator, Todd Brzitzky, had sworn a few times upon being awakened, but said he’d be there as soon as he caught a fast shower. “I’d hate to offend any of you ladies,” he explained. Todd had worked with them a few times before; he was a terrific translator and taught Russian, Polish and Ukrainian at Cal State Long Beach. And he was decidedly nonthreatening. He was of average size and had a soothing voice. Even when translating for suspects, he could lull them into a comfort zone that frequently caused them to reveal more than they might have wished. In the meantime, Sue would try to get as much information as possible from the very shaken and scared Olga.
Olga began sobbing again. “I know this is going to be hard. Take your time, drink your tea, and try to relax. You’re safe here.”
“They look me. They kill me,” Olga wept.
“Not here they won’t,” Sue said, using the voice she had to often use with her own children, especially when dealing with the matter of their father. “We’re trained to take on bad people. I’m sure it was very frightening to have guns firing on you and to have Allen racing up the freeway. We’re trained how to handle that.”
“They find me. They kill me.”
“Not if we can help it. We can protect you. Where are you from in the Ukraine?”
Olga gave her a puzzled look. “Where did you used to live before coming to the United States?”
“Kiev.”
“I’m told it’s a lovely city.”
“Hard. Can no make money. I come for make money for family in Kiev,” Olga said softly.
At that moment, Todd Brziztky bounded into the room, hair still wet, radiating energy. “Todd, this is Olga. Olga, this is Todd, and he speaks Ukrainian.”
Todd grinned, placed his coffee on the table and turned to Olga, and his voice turned gentle. He began to ask questions, very slowly at first, in Olga’s mother tongue. Todd, as was proper etiquette, used first person in both questioning and translating responses. “I’m from Kiev. I have three little sisters and one little brother. I came here to make money. It’s hard to make money in Kiev. I worked in my family’s store.”
Sue made notes and continued with her questions.
“I saw on a flyer a phone number, to come to America. I call this number. A woman answers. I say I want to go to America to get work. She takes my name and my phone. I get a call back two days later.”
Outside, Nikki and Allen watched.
“Todd knows when to go at ‘em hard and when to treat ‘em with kid gloves,” Nikki commented.
Todd continued. “The man who called me is Andrei. I don’t have a surname for him. He tells me I can get good work in the United States. My family is poor and our store does not make enough money for my family to live on. We only eat once a day. I want to help my family, so I talk to him.”
“Olga, more tea?” Sue asked quietly.
Olga was calming down. “Yes. Thank you.”
Sue motioned to Allen and Nikki. Allen got up to make another cup of tea and opened the door to hand it to Olga.”
“Sue and Todd here, they’re good people and they want to help you,” Allen said.
“You lie like a sonofabitch,” Todd said, grinning at Allen.
“Thanks. I had no idea you held me in such esteem,” Allen laughed, closing the door quietly.
“Andrei told me to come to an apartment to get my plane ticket. I was excited. I was going to America, and best of all, I was going to Los Angeles. To us, Los Angeles is like a dream. Andrei said he had a job for me.” Olga began to cry again.
“What job was that?”
“He took me to a house. I could not see. There was a cloth over my eyes. I stayed there for I don’t know how long. There were other girls. The men that came made us do what they liked. I did not like this job but Andrei said I had to work to pay for my plane ticket. They gave me drugs when they wanted me to be sleepy. I would pretend to be asleep, but I was awake, I knew what they did to me. Then one day, I’m told I have another job. I hoped it was a better job. I dance in the club. Many men pay me to dance. But Andrei still takes my money. He says I’m not done paying for my ticket. After work, they drive me to the house. I always have my eyes covered. I am so scared. I know they came to kill me because I got away before they could find me. They know where I am.”
“We will protect you.”
“How?”
“We have places called safe houses,” Todd translated from Sue. “They are places where agents are always on duty, where they keep you safe from people that want to hurt you.” Sue rose. “Excuse me for a moment.” She stepped out. “Has Colby come in?” she asked Allen.
“Granger’s slacking. It’s like six am and he’s nowhere to be seen,” Allen said. “I can wake him up if you want.”
“I need to ask him about the safe houses, and those are his detail,” Sue explained.
“Hell, I’d be happy to kick Colby’s ass outta bed,” Nikki said slyly.
“You wanna deal with him? Be my guest,” Allen offered.
“Nah, I’ll let you take it. Granger I can handle. If his wife’s sleeping, that’s not something I wanna face,” Nikki said.
Sue continued to write, nodding encouragingly at Olga. “The more we know, the more we can help you. And your friends,” Todd said to Olga. “Did Andrei take your passport?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a visa?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s a document that permits you to stay in the US for a certain period of time.”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you see Andrei often?”
“No. He has assistants. They are the ones who take my papers.”
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Tracey Goldstein was finding programming Droid apps to be total monotony. She’d sold two already. However, after two decades of high level intelligence work and corporate security and espionage, it felt low rent.
She just wanted the trial to be over. Joel and Cindy were planning their wedding for next year; Tracey hoped the damn trial would done long before that. Much as the safe house had a beautiful view and was comfortable and roomy, she wanted her own place. Cindy and Joel wanted theirs as well, and Leo wanted to move on, meet people, and get a real job. The four of them were rubbing each others’ last nerves raw. If she had to get a job writing games or phones apps, she’d take it. She was more than done with living under surveillance 24/7.
At least right now, the other three were off doing whatever it was that they did when they were away from the house, always with a guard shadowing them. She was angry that energy meeting papers which she’d been allowed access were never going to go public in her lifetime. The people, she felt, had a right to know, but she wasn’t a politician, and there wasn’t one with enough spine to agree with her.
Her mobile went off. It was an FBI exchange. Probably one of the freaking guards telling me that Joel went off the radar again, she thought irritably.
“Yes?” She answered cautiously.
“Is this Dr. Goldstein?” The male voice at the other end of the line sounded familiar.
“Agent Granger?”
“She gets the car, the vacation, and the case of Creamettes. Listen, we have someone here who’s important to a case and needs to go into witness protection. The house you’re at has 5 bedrooms – “
“The house I’m at is a glorified prison, and we’re all ready to kill each other. The last thing we need is another person who’s been deemed to require 24/7 babysitting.”
“The other houses in the area are full. We really need to do this, and we’ll try to have her out in a few days. By the way, do you speak Russian or Ukrainian?”
“I do speak Russian, although I haven’t brushed the dust off of it in a long time. My grandparents were Ukrainian on my mom’s side and I only know a few words. Why?”
“The young lady’s first language is Ukrainian, but her Russian’s decent.”
Tracey groaned. “Great. This is all I need. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of waiting to find out what the verdicts are so that maybe, just maybe, I might have a normal, boring life, in my own normal, boring home with a normal, boring job. And a cat.”
“You want a cat?”
“I’d prefer the cat to another person in witless protection, thank you,” Tracey responded acerbically.
“How about both? I’ll get you a cat if you’ll just accommodate us on this. Any particular type of cat?”
“Yes. Go to the shelter and pick the least adoptable cat there.”
“The least adoptable. Got it.”
“You’d better be serious about the cat, because I sure as hell am.”
“I’m definitely serious. I’ll leave for the shelter now.”
“So what’s the name of the person who’s about to be thrust into our little family melodrama?”
“Olga.”
“That her real name?”
“That’s what she says.”
“Fine. If she’s clean, quiet and stays out of my way, she might not get killed.”
“Appreciate it, Dr. Goldstein.”
Tracey clicked off without saying goodbye, you’re welcome, or screw you. Sometimes silence said it like nothing else.
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“Charles Eppes,” Charlie said into his mobile as he headed out on the 10 Freeway.
“You’re not gonna believe this.”
“Colby? What’s going on?”
“We have a young lady going into witness protection out by your buddy Dr. Goldstein. Dr. G was not happy about this, but we’re full up in all seven SoCal counties. Only way I got her to agree to it was to bring her a cat.”
“A cat.” Charlie was puzzled. “I know Tracey likes cats, but –“
“My instructions are to find the least adoptable cat in the shelter and bring him to her.”
“Do you have a cage?” Charlie asked.
“For a cat? No. The Bureau doesn’t get a lot of calls involving cats.”
“What shelter are you going to?”
“There’s one on Jefferson near Slauson.”
“I’ll stop at Petco and meet you at the shelter. The cat’s going to need toys, food, a catbox, and a cage.”
“Thanks. I’ve had weird requests before from witnesses, but this one is possibly the weirdest.”
“Tracey had a cat when she was married. That bothered her more than anything about going into hiding, giving the cat away. Fortunately, her neighbors were willing to take him in.”
“She was married to a CIA dude, wasn’t she?”
“She’d prefer it if you didn’t bring that up. She’s a bit touchy these days.”
“I noticed.”
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Charlie met Colby in the waiting area of the shelter.
“I knew life with the Bureau wouldn’t be 9 to 5, but this wasn’t in the Quantico playbook,” Colby said, rolling his eyes.
“Have they chosen a cat?”
“They said they know exactly who they have in mind. Thanks for picking up the cage and stuff, man.”
“Not a problem. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be the one to take the cat to Tracey,” Charlie said. “We...our friendship’s been strained for a long time now. We’ve started the slow process of becoming...well, less suspicious of each other, and I think if I bring her the cat, it might expedite things.”
“I never got the impression she was suspicious of you,” Colby said to Charlie. “What I get from a lot of interviews we did with her was that you asked her a favor, which she agreed was necessary. She also knew she was going to have to pay for it, but the price was a little higher than she’d anticipated.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“She’s never said she grudges you, Charlie.”
“I know. I’d almost feel better if she did.”
Colby laughed. Charlie shrugged.
“Jewish guilt. What can I say?”
“Here’s your boy,” announced a young Hispanic man and another employee, both trying to keep hold of a large, yowling, hissing, spitting orange tom. “His name’s Elmer. You sure you want him?”
“He’s perfect,” Charlie announced.
Colby gave Charlie a strange look. Charlie said, “Trust me on this one.”
“Well, we trust your math, might as well trust this. Good luck.”
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Elmer let his opinion of Charlie be well known throughout the drive out of the city, heading for the cooler environs of the Malibu coastline. Charlie had popped his earbuds in as a preemptive strike, figuring that Elmer would not be shy in expressing how he felt about his captor. Elmer, in that regard, did not disappoint.
Charlie warily picked up the carrier as the large tom extended well sharpened claws to grab at him.
“You know, your manners could stand some improvement,” Charlie remarked as he parked the car along the Pacific Coast Highway. It was late afternoon in the fall, and only the most dedicated beachgoers remained on the sand. He followed the trail down to the safe house and was stopped by one of the guards.
“Hey Charlie.” Charlie couldn’t recall the guard’s name but had seen him in the office. Apparently, the guard remembered him.
“Hi. Tracey requested a cat.”
The guard stared at the angry creature. “That’s no cat. That’s a jaguar. You sure he’s legal?”
“If he isn’t, the shelter wasn’t saying anything about it.”
The guard pressed the talk button on his walkie. “Dr. G? Charlie Eppes here, with what he claims is a cat.” He let go of the talk button. He heard Tracey’s voice. “Who is it again?”
“Charlie Eppes, with a cat that would really like to make a meal of his hand.”
“Send him in.”
The guard gave Charlie a sympathetic look. “I don’t know who I’d less want to be around right now, her or him.”
“It’s definitely a draw,” Charlie agreed, climbing up the concrete stairs.
