Lenny checked his watch again. “The extraction team hasn’t had enough time. We’re not going to make it.”
Serge glanced furtively over his left shoulder. The cops had picked up the pace, too, walking as fast as possible, still trying to look nonchalant, approaching that critical moment when everyone chucks the charade and starts running and pulling guns.
From Serge’s right side, five men with bandaged feet hobbled as fast as they could.
“Now!” yelled Ivan. They broke into a hobbling sprint.
“Now!” yelled Serge. The pair made a run for it.
“Now!” yelled the police sergeant. The cops pulled guns and charged.
Serge and Lenny burst through the exit doors and ran out to the empty curb. “They’re not here yet!” yelled Lenny. Suddenly a black, windowless van skidded up in a fire zone. The sliding side door flew open; Serge and Lenny dove in. The van took off.
Five Russians ran out on the sidewalk, looking around, soon joined by panting police officers.
Ivan scanned the parking lot. No people, no movement…wait, over there. A black van slowly pulled out of the parking lot and disappeared around a corner toward the interstate.
“To the Mercedes!”
“Thanks for picking us up, Mom.”
“You know I’m always happy to give you a ride home.”
“Mom?” said Serge. A Chihuahua bounced up from somewhere and landed standing in Serge’s lap, facing him. Serge jerked his head back. “What the—?”
The dog barked.
“That means Pepe likes you,” said Lenny.
“Who’s your friend?” asked the driver.
“That’s Serge,” said Lenny. “He’s…my new employer.”
Serge and the dog were having a staring contest.
“That’s nice.” The driver looked up in the rearview at Serge. “Thanks for giving Lenny a job. He’s a good boy. So what do you do? Work at the harness track?”
Lenny spoke preemptively. “No, we were just out for some fun today.”
The van accelerated down the middle lane of I-95.
“Lenny, you haven’t called for weeks, you haven’t shown up,” said his mom. “You know how worried I get.”
“Any mail?” asked Lenny.
“A little. I put it in your room.”
Serge looked up from the dog. “You live with your mother? You never mentioned anything.”
“I’ll explain later.”
“What’s to explain?” said Serge. “Either you live with your mom or you don’t.”
“Lenny, you’re not ashamed of me, are you?” asked the driver.
Lenny turned around. “Yeah, Serge, I, uh…I live with my mom. But only until I get a little older, you know, until I’m ready.”
“You’re forty-two,” said Serge.
Mom looked in the rearview again. “So what is it you do, Serge?”
“I run my own new-economy entrepreneurship. Involves a lot of driving.”
“Like traveling salesmen?” said Mom. She put on a blinker for an exit ramp. “Lenny, that explains why you were gone so long. You should have told me.”
Lenny leaned over and kissed her cheek again. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
The van pulled up the driveway of a single-story concrete ranch house next to the interstate ramp. White, baby-blue trim. The lawn was overgrown, a big teardrop oil stain in the driveway. Three people and a dog headed up the walkway. Lenny’s mom unlocked the front door and they went inside. Serge looked around the living room filled with religious paintings, crucifixes, ceramic Madonnas, votive candles and a Ouija board.
“Serge, don’t waste your money on a hotel tonight,” said Mom. “You can stay in Lenny’s room.”
“Why, thank you, Mrs. Lippowicz,” said Serge. “Let’s see your room, Lenny.”
“Well, it’s not really my
“What are you talking about?” said his mother. “You stay here all the time.”
They headed down the hall. Serge stopped in the doorway. “Bunk beds?”
“Mind if I have the top?”
Serge set his briefcase on the dresser and walked over to the closet. “Let’s get started.”
“Get started what?”
“Checking out your stuff.”
“I still have most of it.”
Serge opened the closet door. “Wow, you’re not kidding.”
He started taking down boxes. Lenny lit a joint and went over to the window and exhaled outside, where a Mercedes had been parked a half block up the street for the last ten minutes.
Vladimir leaned over the backseat and pointed at the van in the driveway. “What are we waiting for?”
“I told you,” said Ivan. “We have to be patient. We can’t just rush in there like we usually do.”
“Why not? It’s just some old woman’s house.”
“That’s what a safe house is supposed to look like,” said Ivan. “The doors are probably steel-lined and booby-trapped. All kinds of sophisticated surveillance electronics.”
“I wonder what’s going on in there?” asked Vladimir.
“Probably some big strategy meeting,” said Ivan.
“My turn,” said Lenny, sitting cross-legged on the floor and drawing a card. “‘Remove wrenched ankle.’”
Bzzzzz.
“I’m tired of playing Operation,” said Serge.
“How about Hot Wheels?”
