Grip - 13. Chapter 13

Max’s Dacha the next morning

Max was making breakfast, standing at the island that divided the kitchenette from his living room, looking at the high leaded windows that overlooked the wooded stream that flowed past his small cabin. Getting him out of Chungking Mansions had become a priority for Jae after their long afternoon stuffed into the broom cupboard. Max hadn’t complained, just trusted that Jae could negotiate a good price and he’d been moved into the two-story dacha in the space of a week.

Ikea had sorted out the rest.

He twiddled the fork in the pan, scrambling eggs as he watched the news on a wide-screen television that Jae had brought back from an excursion to an electronics. Something’s didn’t really need explanation, especially when the name under it read SONNY and the instructions were all in Mandarin.

It looked set to be a rough day in the Moscow Oblast, they were predicting a snow storm. He was surprised that snowstorms, like typhoons, had their own warning system. But in a city where severe snowstorms could turn streets into arctic tundra, a serious storm was a dangerous event.

They were advising that inhabitants of the Moscow Oblast stay inside their homes.

Of course, looking outside his window at the dark and threatening clouds he couldn’t quite picture it being that dangerous.

The doorbell jangling for attention had Max muttering a curse. Sure enough, people get told to stay inside and then found some excuse to… He juggled the pan, the egg beater and the door handle as he wrestled the heavy iron door open to let a snow covered and damp Jae into the dacha. He came in, all damp and shivering, as soon as Max threw the dead bolt open.

“It’s snowing already?” Max asked in surprise.

“One side of the road,” Jae replied as he shook himself off and peeled off the heavy woollen coat he was wearing. He tucked his moto helmet onto a shelf and grinned in a lopsided fashion at the eggs in the pan Max was still holding. “Oh you shouldn’t have, honey…”

“Shut up,” Max grumbled as he returned to the gas stove, setting about making extra eggs. “What the hell was so important that it couldn’t wait?”

Jae put his glasses on and hopped onto the settee, putting his feet up on the faux rattan coffee table he’d helped Max pick out on their Ikea run. “Nothing, just was up here doing some business and heard the red alert. I have a healthy Asian dislike of snow, so thought I would seek shelter at the Angleski embassy.”

“Coffee?” Max offered.

“Tea,” Jae answered. “I don’t like coffee.”

Max fished in the cupboard for the Korean tea he’d picked up in case of Jae’s impromptu visits. “So what, does it really snow that bad?” he asked nodding to the screen.

“It can do,” Jae folded his hands behind his head as he relaxed. “Black alerts are the worst ones, though. Back home of course we have the typhoon alerts. One to seven tell us when they are approaching, alerts eight, nine and ten are for intensity once they get here. Now they can be really bad.”

Max looked worriedly over to the glass lattice doors to his small roof top garden. It wasn’t actually much of a garden at all, more like a three meter square nook with snow covered potted plants, but Max quite liked it.

The door jangled again, and Max again found himself wrestling it open. Pleasantly surprised by Mrs. Cooper standing there with a box of bagels so soaked that her mascara had ran and she dripped on the carpet.

“Sanctuary?” she asked from beneath the largest fox fur shapka hat he’d ever seen.

Max smiled and gestured for her to come in. Returning to his kitchen and increasing the batch of eggs again.

“Jae?” Mrs. Cooper looked surprised to see the Korean sprawled across the settee and very much at home in the cosy wooden dacha with it’s tempting fire crackling in the hearth.

“Welcome to the Angeliski embassy,” Jae greeted, flipping the channel on the TV until he found the music channel. “Dry towels, and a good food free for all.”

She slipped off her sodden coat, putting it on a coat rack, doing her best to dry out her hair when Max handed her a towel. She gave him the bagels in exchange.

“Since it’s breakfast,” she replied. “Though there’s something uniquely thrilling about going to the grocery store in a Lamborghini.”

“Show off,” Jae called. “you get it painted yet?”

“A nice pink with a pearlescent finish,” Mrs. Cooper confirmed, sitting down at the breakfast bar and pouring herself a cup of coffee. “The body shop guy nearly had a fit when I rolled in and asked for it. What is it with you boys and exotic cars? I don’t know why you think a car like that can’t be pretty in pink.”

Max winced, imagining his XKR in a light shade of pink. “It’s just wrong.” He stated.

“You’re the one who likes your car boring. Black and Orange… ohhh…. Sony Ericsson special.” Mrs. Cooper smiled. “And don’t even get me started on the red and white pocket-rocket you drive Jae…”

“Leave my scooter out of this one,” Jae said firmly. “I get teased enough for driving a girly bike, I don’t need it to be pink as well.”

Mrs. Cooper snorted disdainfully at him as she wrapped both hands around her coffee cup, “I still can’t get over Coop just giving me back the car like that…”

Jae sat upright, a worried look on his face as he leaned over the back of the settee, “gave it back? I thought you said…”

Mrs. Cooper winced a little, “I might have given you the wrong impression on that, sorry Jae.”

“Not half as sorry as I am,” Jae muttered. “What does he want in return?”

“He says he wants to put things right,” Mrs. Cooper said, her lips pursed as if she was considering how her own words sounded as she said them. “But you know Coop, he’s an asshole…”

“Vindictive, manipulative,” Jae shook his head. “He’s after something, you know that.”

Max, who’d remained quite up to this point making eggs looked up, “why not just tell him no, and leave it at that?”

“You don’t understand,” Mrs. Cooper replied softly.

“Historically,” Jae interceded, “She’s never been able to just say no to Coop.”

The snow was now hammering against the window, as an uncomfortable moment of silence passed between the three of them.

“I can handle him,” Mrs. Cooper insisted.

Max sighed as he dished up the eggs, pulling the freshly toasted bagels out of the toaster oven. Sliding a plate across to Mrs. Cooper, he waggled a second at Jae.

Jae reluctantly gave up his comfortable sprawl across the settee to join them at the breakfast bar. Sniffing suspiciously at the eggs before liberally adding a copious amount of salt.

“I think,” Max said, trying to be diplomatic and aware of Mrs. Cooper’s temper flashes. “What Jae is trying to get at is how do we help?”

“You don’t,” Mrs. Cooper said flatly. “You stay out of it. I’m a big girl, I can look after myself.”

“And your ten cats?” Jae smirked.

“I don’t need barbed comments from you, thank you very much!” Mrs. Cooper threw him a harsh glare. “Look what ever is between me and Coop, that’s between he and I and isn’t anyone’s business.”

“Right,” Max said, quickly surrendering to the angry look in Mrs. Cooper’s eyes.

“And I have four cats, thank you very much.” Mrs. Cooper tucked into her eggs. She realized the other two were exchanging a look and she hammered her fork down. “Look,” she snapped testily. “I told you both to stay out of it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Max protested.

Jae just continued to smirk, “so you know the race schedule for the next few weeks is going to be pretty heavy. Max, I’m going to want you out practicing the grip. Khimki has a number of snowy roads that should give you a bit of play room to test that XKR out on snow racing. I don’t know how that expensive car of yours will do… the weather’s going to get pretty bad for the next few months, and I doubt they have a lot of snow on that wet little island of yours.”

“Where’s this big race going to be?” Mrs. Cooper cut in.

“Tonight at the MKAD beltway,” Jae replied consulting his PDA. Glancing at Max he set it down, “Ten lane freeway, no traffic lights and runs completely around the city. Though god alone knows how we’re gonna keep the GIBDD Militsiya at bay.”

Mrs. Cooper nibbled on her eggs as she looked thoughtful, “they’re the ones with their own cars, right?”

Jae shook his head, “yes and no. Some members of the Traffic Militsiya have their own cars but a number of them have private cars… meaning there’s no way to tell what the patrol car’s going to have under its hood. I know there’s a rumour or two floating around of a Porsche Police Interceptor… but I’ve never seen it.”

“You’re going to need someone out there watching your back,” Mrs. Cooper said after a hesitant pause. “I could shadow you piggy,” she decided.

“Piggy?” Max asked around mouthfuls.

“The Lambo,” Mrs. Cooper waved to the window with her fork. “My little piggy, I want to teach the local byk police officers a thing or two about Italian engineering.”

“Tuner to Exotic in three point five,” Jae teased.

“Three point Seven,” Mrs. Cooper complained.

“Lamborghini Gallardo LP560-4,” Max grinned. “An 11.2 second quarter mile…”

“You know being a know-it-all really isn’t an attractive quality of yours,” Jae gestured with his fork.

Max bit his lip, sucking in his breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t notice I’m doing it.”

Jae’s eyes sparkled as he leaned forward on the breakfast bar.

“Was I interrupting something by just dropping by?” Mrs. Cooper inquired, noting the sudden predatory look in Jae’s eyes. “Do you boys want to be alone to snuggle in from the cold?”

Jae barked out a laugh as he straightened up, and Max’s eyes went very wide at her implication.

“What about Boomer?” Mrs. Cooper asked.

“W-what?” Max spluttered.

“For the race,” Jae clarified. “If you touch him for sex, you’re dead meat.” He turned back to Mrs. Cooper. “Dealing with Boomer is always a puzzle, it can be tricky, frustrating and you are never sure what the right answer is supposed to be… he’s just won a big race, so he’s going to be riding a high, but I don’t know if that’s going to make him smart or stupid.”

“Race high making him too cocky,” Max said.

“It could be dangerous in the snow,” Jae scooped up his plate and began to.

“That’s why they call it Grip racing,” Mrs. Cooper dangled her fork before abandoning the last of her eggs. “And he’s going to have to learn how to drive on it, how many months out of the year are we buried under the stuff?”

“So he’s in then?” Jae looked back over his shoulder.

Mrs. Cooper shook her head, “let him sit this one out, we can give him a chance to prove himself where it counts. Besides he should watch up the Grip Master…”

Max winced at the pretentious nickname. “Great, but I don’t need babysitting. I need to race this one on my own, guys.”

“Suit yourself,” Mrs. Cooper said with a shrug.

Jae’s glasses flashed in the light as he ran the water for the dishes, accepting the ones Max passed to him, looking lost in his own private thoughts.

* * *

Later that Evening

Mrs. Cooper fished through her handbag looking for her keys as she worked her way through the Moscow City parking lot heading for her Pajero. She’d had another long day, this time wrestling with the wondrous verb ‘to be’ which always seemed to cause ESL students so many problems. They hadn’t bothered to study or do the homework she’d assigned them, and naturally blamed her because they didn’t understand. She’d told them to quit their bitching and proceeded to treat the thirty something office workers like the six year olds they insisted they were.

Irritated and tired, she didn’t expect the black car to be sitting across the rear end of her Pajero, neatly blocking her in.

“Great,” she intoned, feeling her hackles rise as she stalked towards the new model Mercedes, intent of giving the driver a piece of her mind about being so inconsiderate.

She drew pause when a middle aged Russian man slipped out of the back of the car wearing a cream coloured wool coat and smoking a noxious Russian cigarette that he flipped away as she approached.

“Good evening Mrs. Cooper,” the man said in a thick accent. “Your documents, if you please.” He extended his hand.

It was common for foreigners to have to present their passport and residence card to bored Militsiya looking to make a few extra roubles out of harassing foreigners in metro stations, but there was something startling and dangerous about the man before her.

FSB.

“What is this about?” she asked, not really expecting an answer as she pulled her passport out of the pocket of her bag, making sure the residence card was in place with it. If there was anything amiss with her documents she’d have to spend an uncomfortable amount of time in a cold police station while it was sorted out.

The man accepted her passport into his hands, immediately pocketing it.

“You can’t…” she began, realizing that to challenge the man was probably a mistake.

“Where is your husband Mrs. Cooper?” the man asked.

Mrs. Cooper felt that old chill snake its way down her spine, and she looked about her at the deserted parking lot, her hand flexing on her keys knowing there was no where to run to. She didn’t bother to play innocent, the FSB wouldn’t be speaking to her if they didn’t know something.

“I am not sure,” she replied truthfully. The truth was, really, her only recourse. “What did he do now?”

“Your husband’s location please, Mrs. Cooper,” the FSB officer demanded, his voice grated like gravel.

“He’s in Moscow, somewhere,” Mrs. Cooper said. “The FSB knows all about my history with him… you know I have no reason to protect him. You want him? The moment I see him, he’s all yours.”

The man reached into his car and produced a file, passing the manila folder across to her. “Please take a look at our, how do you Americans call it… insurance policy.”

She twitched at being called an American, but bit down her scathing reply as she opened the folder, staring at the photographs of Max, Jae and Boomer, paperwork and reports written in long Russian hand that detailed a damning list of criminal offences. A turn of the page and she was looking at Max’s sizable Interpol report. Enough evidence to extradite him, and Jae along with him. Boomer was probably looking at time in a gulag…

Mrs. Cooper swallowed.

“What exactly do you want?” She asked, looking up.

“Your husband,” the FSB agent replied. “All you have to do to avoid any of this… unpleasantness happening to your friends is to give us the man that betrayed you, stole from you, and left you in our care so many years ago.”

“And this goes away?” She asked lifting the file.

“A clean slate in the Russian Federation,” the FSB agent promised. “Just so long as we recover Mister Cooper and what he stole from us.”

That jarred her. Mister Cooper had stolen from the FSB? How stupid was he? The first rule of living in Russia was ‘don’t poke the bear’ and what had he done? Walked up to it with a red hot poker and stabbed it in the butt.

“And in case you think of warning your friends,” the FSB agent replied handing her his card. “We will be alerting the borders to keep an eye out for them, they won’t be permitted exit if they try to run.”

He climbed back into his car, leaving the file in her hands as the Mercedes growled to life, and accelerated away, leaving her to stand in silence in the lot.

* * *

Tsvetnoy Bul’var

Jae met her in the diner at the end of Tsvetnoy Bul’var like she’d asked.

He sat in a quiet red vinyl booth, a greasy kebab untouched on a plate before him, a Militsiya patrolman hiding out of the cold a few booths away, oblivious to the conversation the two foreigners were having.

Jae had been torn away from Max’s settee by Mrs. Cooper’s frantic call, braving the cold and snow after Max had dropped him off at the nearest metro station. He’d borrowed one of Max’s warm coats and the distinctive Faux-fur hat to keep himself warm.

“So why the rush?” he asked in Korean, “and why no Max?”

Mrs. Cooper curled two hands around her coffee mug as she looked at her friend, before glancing out at her Pajero steadily being buried beneath the drifting snow that thickly coated the grey city outside.

“We’re in trouble,” she said, her own Korean thick and awkward. She’d only spent a few years there when she’d first started teaching, and her skill with the language was rusty.

Jae accepted her difficulty with the language and kept to simple words. “What is wrong?”

“Max is in trouble,” she said, handing the file across the table.

Jae adjusted his glasses as he looked over the file, carefully turning through the photographs and looking up. “I don’t read Russian.” He said pushing it back. “Can you give me a summary?”

She looked at him blankly.

“Summarize it?” Jae asked switching back to English.

“In brief?” Mrs. Cooper said, keeping her voice down. “Max’s past has caught up to him, and the FSB are willing to extradite him if I don’t give them Coop.”

“So give him to them,” Jae said, turning over pictures of himself and Max. He felt cold. “What are they planning with these?”

Mrs. Cooper looked at the series of pictures that compromised both Jae and Max, looking up at Jae’s furrowed brow. “I think they intend to release those to your family…”

Jae lowered the pictures back to the file, neatly straightening them out as he closed it. “So they’re blackmailing me as well.”

“They’re want him really badly if they’ve gone to this much trouble,” Mrs. Cooper took a long drink from her cup.

“My family can’t sustain another scandal surrounding me,” Jae said evenly. “My mother was shamed enough the last time, that could be excused as misspent youth, but I’m no longer a youth… and there would be no coming back from this…” he tapped the file with his finger.

“Is there something to this?” she asked carefully.

“It doesn’t matter if there is or not,” Jae said. “All that matters is that it appears to be true. I came to Moscow to allow my parent’s a chance to rebuild their reputations, and now I have compromised that again through carelessness.” He dipped his head a fraction as he, too, watched the snow for awhile.

“Coop’s a rat bastard,” Mrs. Cooper broke the silence after a few minutes. “We give him to them and they promised that all of this would go away…”

“Things like this don’t go away,” Jae replied. “Leverage is something that, once applied, will always remain there. We don’t matter to the FSB, once they have what they want they will simply do as they please. And turning Max over to Interpol would be quite a feather in the cap of a Militsiya chief. Boomer would still wind up in a gulag and I’ll still have to go home in shame.”

“What do we do?” Mrs. Cooper asked.

Jae chewed on his lip, “I don’t know… yet. But I think we’re going to have to figure it out for tomorrow night.”

“Why that soon?” Mrs. Cooper asked.

“Because, unless Max is willing to get out of the MKAD race, he is going to bring down the whole GIBDD on top of him. And that is going to be one hell of a mess.”

Mrs. Cooper looked worried, “he can’t back out of that race.”

“So,” Jae said at length. “As you can see, we’re stuck. They have a hold of us, and we’re running out of time.”

* * *

Across the Road

“They’re going to run,” the driver commented to his passenger as they sat in the shadows of the overpass watching Mrs. Cooper and Jae talking through the snowy window of the little Lebanese diner.

“Of course they are Sasha,” the FSB colonel replied chain smoking again. “The point is not to catch them as they are small fish. We have a much larger fish to catch, and they are just the bait for it.”

“Should we not alert the Militsiya to have them picked up?” the driver inquired.

“I do not care about a Korean goluboy and his pet car thief, nor this dinamiskta Mrs. Cooper, I have orders Sasha, and we must follow our orders.”

“I understand Colonel,” the driver stated.

“Good, then I want you to send them a message, Sasha. Make sure that they do not forget who it is they are dealing with. Then we shall see what the morning brings to our baited lines.”