A big apology is in order for the long delay in getting back here... no explanations really--just got sidetracked with other work and projects.
The plane touched down with a gentle bump and Lauren looked for an escape route. But the bedroom she was locked in, despite it's luxurious touches, was still nothing more than a prison. Throught the tiny window of the plane, Lauren saw the silver case containing her nemesis being offloaded and carefully shunted into a large six wheeled truck.
"Well, if I can't break out here," she thought, "I will have to try another time. I just need to stay alive." So resolved, she waited, and then stood demurely as the cabin door turned and opened. As she expected, three large men with AK47s stood at the door. Behind them, Hao Chin smiled and dangled a set of thick metal handcuffs.
Putting her hands up at shoulder height, Lauren staggered forward, the stilletto heels of the maid's outfit pitching her forward, and almost onto her nose. "Bloody Hell," she stammered. "How can anyone WALK in these things?"
"Boris expects YOU to do that O'Rourke," said Hao Chin. He caught the comely crimelady and spun her around. Lauren almost pitched forward again, but Hao Chin caught her wrist, and slipped a handcuff around it, cinching it too tight.
"Oww!!!" protested Lauren. Hao Chin ignored her, however; and popped the other bracelet around her opposite hand. He pulled Lauren's struggling body against hsi own corpulent form and squeezed her plump breast with one hand.
"You've lost, O'Rourke. And this makes us even for Seville, Copenhagen and Queen City. Enjoy your servitude bitch. I'm sure Boris will see it drag on as much as possible." Hao Chin snoothed down the front of Lauren's red dress, his hand lingering just at the crotch for a moment as he felt the sexy woman one last time.
Lauren shot a hard, cold look at Hao Chin. "You'll regret this Chin. I'll get meself free, an there's not a country, not an island, not a piece of ground anywhere on this earth where you can hide. You're a dead man."
Chin laughed, but it was weak and without mirth. A look of uncertainty hinted at his features until he mastered it. Then he pushed Lauren into the guards. "Take her to the truck," he said in flawless, though accented Russian. "And keep 2 guns on her at all times."
Lauren smouldered, but held her tongue, at least until the van started. The silver case containing White Owl unnerved her, but she was made of stronger stuff and studied the men with the guns. They could have been carbon copies of one another or rather granite for all the dialog they offered. So Lauren tried her own. "GRU?" she asked the one who appeared to be the leader.
"Nyet," he replied. "Spetsnaz"
"Crap" thought Lauren. Special Forces were always hard to deal with; their loyalty was fierce and they were brilliant and chancy fighters. Like Lauren, they seldom knew when to lie down and quit. But if Boris has hired them, he'd passed some serious money to the Powers that Be. That meant he was reorganizing--possibly stretched really thin. This would be knowledge Lauren could use.
After a long period, the truck stopped and the cuns once again prodded Lauren to alight on a cobblestone courtyard of a large dacha overlooking Lake Baikal. The bright sun was high, and Lauren blinked then stumbled forward into a palatial estate. She watched again as the sarcophagus containing White Owl was carried into an office just inside the foyer. Already Lauren had spotted 5 security cameras and three laser points at the windows and door. Additionally she had plotted at least 2 escape plans and was calculating the odds of each when the door to the office opened and Lauren was motioned (at gunpoint) into the office.
The office rivalled Lauren's though the decor was more tasteful and subdued. A large photograph of Red Square, illuminated by fireworks hung in the corner, and White Owl's case leaned against it. Across the room at a mahogany desk, though sat Boris.
"Velcome Lauren," he said, with a broad smile across his arachnid like features. "I am much appreciatink your gift of Vhite Owvel and of your own serwices to my humble cause."
Lauren strode daintily across the room and lay herself across the table in what she hoped was a seductive pose. "It was my pleasure, Boris honey. But you didn't have to bring me clear across the world for your little joke."
"Oh but I did! You see, you are nefer leavink! You haf heard old Russian prowerb, 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer?' Vhat closer place than to haf you actually under my vatch, hey?"
He chortled and said, "Come, ve have wodka to celebrate, yes? I haf maid fetch it for us." He picked up a brass bell and shook it, giving a melodic tinkle. Nothing happened.
"Hmm, I vonder vhat happened?" he growled. He shook the bell again. No answer.
"Ahhh I am beginnink to understand. The maid job vas chust filled." He pulled a nasty looking pistol from a drawer in his desk. "By YOU O'Rourke. You'll find the wodka in the cabinet, so get to it."
Scowling daggers, Lauren held her ground. "No."
to be continued