Skill Set by Vernon Rush Page B

thought.
     
     
 

CHAPTER
12
    “Yo, Danny Boy. . .you better come take a look at this. . .” Frankie was illuminated by the glow from the computer screen. The folding paneled doors on each side of the electronic equipment sheltered the glow from being seen through the second floor windows. The rest of the townhouse remained dark.
    Daniel hurried to Frankie’s side, adjusting his glasses as he peered at the screen and read the Cyrillic characters of the Russian language. “Just as I thought. She was murdered. This is a message to some higher-up dude confirming the task was completed as directed.
    So now we have to uncover the hidden clues without exposing ourselves to anyone. . .especially Isaac. Think we can do it?” He slapped Frankie fondly on the shoulder.
    “Hell, yes. But not right now. I need a beer and a slice before it gets cold. We can make plans while we eat and get cracking early tomorrow. Soto isn’t going nowhere, nohow. . .By the way, I can’t believe you still remember your Russian alphabet!”
    “Actually, it’s almost identical to the Belarusian which my grandmother taught me as a child and I just never forgot it. . .comes in handy now, you might say…”
    Daniel nodded in agreement with his old friend and took off his suit coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He realized with surprise he was hungry as a bear himself - a Russian bear, probably. He chuckled as he popped open two Budweiser's and handed one to Frankie.
    The two friends poured over the intercepted e-mail messages for several hours, with Daniel scribbling translations feverishly and dictating his versions to Frankie who typed them into the Trackers ’ code and ultimately saved the documents in a computer file especially for that purpose. They both dove-tailed pages from the Director’s file into the one they were building, getting events chronologically arranged for more efficient conclusions.
    After eleven-thirty, Daniel threw his pen down on the mass of scribbled legal-pad pages, tilted back his chair and stretched his arms toward the ceiling.
    “That’s enough for tonight. . .besides, I think we know where these clues are leading us..” Frankie nodded and hit the key to close and save the file. “Do you want me to forward this transcription to Foxhound?”
    “Nope. I think something like this needs to be presented in person as soon as possible. Like now.”
    “ Jeez, Danny! It ’s almost midnight!”
    “And closer to eight A.M. in Russia, or about that, right?”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah. . .” Frankie made a scowling face at Daniel then grinned as he stood up and arched his back, rubbing it with his fingers. “ He ’s gonna be mad as hell when we wake him up. . .”
    “Not as mad as he would be if we didn’t notify him of these details…” Daniel tucked his shirttail in more tightly and pulled out a comb to freshen up his hair. “And I imagine we both smell like garlic, so it’s brush teeth time. I’ll wait to call him as we are going out the door. . .”
    The two friends were cleaned up and ready in a matter of minutes. Daniel kept the pages of the transcription under his arm in a nondescript navy blue folder as he dialed Foxhound ’s private number on his cell. A few muffled words later and they were quietly out the door, locking it behind them as they moved down the hall like two shadows you might not even notice if you had seen them in the dark of night. But then no one did, or so they thought. They were so accustomed to not being noticed around their townhouse, they inadvertently let their own guard down. They were so intent on preparing their words to impress Foxhound with the necessity for urgency they didn’t notice the silent figure motionless by the side of the dumpster at the corner of the building complex. When they got in their car and its lights came on, the figure in the shadows slid downward like an acrobat folding up into himself. His head was tucked down into his arms and covered with a knitted