SCENE 23 CHICAGO

 

The weather was highly reminiscent if you grew up in Eastern Europe during winter months, perhaps in Vienna, Warsaw, Moscow, Budapest, Sophia, Kiev, or even Kharkiv, though Anna would say even worse.  It was bitter cold, cloudy, and also very windy and generally unpleasant.

Therefore, the senior agent complained now that his larynx was starting to freeze, and his California cheeks assumed a bright red puffiness, and the pretty young cadet from the old country steppes momentarily felt she was back at home in her stylish plaid scarf wrapped around her cute shoulders and reddened face.  

Since living for nearly a month in California, however, she had come to the conclusion that the cruelty of frozen earlobes, burning toes, and frostbit fingers was no longer a condition she would ever accept freely again, and please don’t say another word about the “seasonal charm” of multiple layers! It was outright frigid, she looked like a fat ball of wool with a red nose, and suffered no less than the Californian himself. 

Arthur did again try to remind her that he hadn’t always lived in sunshine, spending his formative years 15 miles outside of New York City, where it could get down to the “lower teens” in winter, and had, moreover, spent six icy winters of college in the frozen tundra of Wisconsin, where it got into the “-20 below (with wind-chill factor)” in January, but Anna did not seem much impressed. Maybe, he hoped, she hadn’t yet fully made the Celsius to Fahrenheit conversion and could not readily assess his true frozen weather resume, but he rather doubted it.

Regardless, the two slipped into an upscale bar mostly to escape the wicked wind on the street, chilling them like slabs of Alaskan cod caked in ice blocks.  They hugged while huddling close in their cozy booth toward the back of the busy restaurant, and Anna was first to speak.

“Arthur dear, you promised to explain what we’re doing here after we landed…We are in Chicago, Illinois, now. Why?” demanded the cadet with her semi-tough, straight-to-the-point, Slavic assertiveness.

“Well, you know it is good practice sometimes, dear,” Arthur quipped back, “not to know where you’re going until you get there… All agents know this.”

“Well,” retorted the unamused Anna, “We are in a Siberian wind tunnel now, Dr. Ravin! Tell me why here in this hell hole, dammit?”

Arthur took a sip of his hot Irish coffee, sat back in the booth, and gazed around the room, not because he thought they were being followed, which did not trouble him much, but more for some breathing space to think about how he would answer.

“Honey, I have some upsetting news to tell you Anna, and I’m sorry to spring it on you this way, I’m afraid there is no good time to tell you, but we were ordered from Central to act immediately.”

“What happened? Tell me?” said Anna, bracing herself for something not good.

“Well, remember what Q told us two nights ago regarding your relative?”

“Uncle Fyodor?”

“Honey, he’s been missing for three weeks, no one in his family has any idea where he is, and we think he is either being held captive in a Russian Prison, or worse…”

“You mean dead?” Anna asked incredulously.

“We’re working very hard to get more information, baby, but we simply cannot say where Karenikov is at the moment, I’m very sorry.”

Anna’s mood grew somber for a moment as she processed it. She had no real memory of her uncle at all, or of his wife and family, but she knew her father was close to him when they were young, and that this would come as a shock to him.

“But then, what does that have to do with why we are in Chicago?” wondered 00A.  “My uncle lives in Russia.”

“It’s a fair question dear. The answer is that we’ve been redeployed for this reason.” Ravin said in his more serious tone.

“But why Chicago?”

“We believe Karenikov has a stepchild who is attending graduate school here.”

“Really,” Anna suddenly perked up, “What’s her name?”

“It’s a “he.”  Vasily Vasilikov” Ravin said, “ever hear of him?”

“Never,” said Anna, “who is he?”

“Well, our information is that Vasily is Karenikov’s nephew on his wife’s side from a previous marriage, but is like an adopted son to your uncle.  He is 28 now, and apparently has a brilliant mind, studying here at the University of Chicago—and majoring in linguistics, international diplomacy, and cyber security.  We don’t clearly know his loyalties yet, and that’s where we come in.”

“How?” asked Anna, intrigued by this turn of events.

“Well, we understand he’s quite a lady’s man.  American girls flock to him apparently, he’s quite handsome and well-spoken.”

“Hmmmm, that could be interesting,” replied, Anna with a shade of dazzle in her face, “and where do I come in, honey?”

“Not assigned yet, my love. We are told to get settled in the 5 Star Hotel they’ve reserved for us downtown, The Palmer House, hang tight, and find someway to enjoy ourselves for a day or two until word comes from headquarters. Oh, and did I mention the hotel has first-class room service, double jacuzzis in every room, and one of the best restaurants in Chicago, on company expense? I think we might find some ways to pass our time OA, don’t you?” he said, with that classic little Arthur Percival grin while he gazed sensuously into her eyes and squeezed her warming up hand.

Maybe it was his dimples that gave him away, Anna smiled.  She liked this part of the job (that is, of course, “after first successfully completing an assignment, writing her field report, and submitting it on time as required” she added to herself, in case anyone was listening! You never know with these people, she remembered cynically, referring to the mental technologists of the Hatchery.).  Besides Anna’s history of attracting young men’s interest for her looks back at the University, she had been an excellent student, and would be one here as well, she knew. But it seemed the initial wait, holed up in a fancy hotel, would offer her some of the other pleasantries of field work she hadn’t expected this time, and far be it for her to appear ungrateful, she purred to herself inaudibly like a naughty kitty cat.   

 But she also had not forgotten the friendly warnings of her female colleagues the day before in their apartment: “Arthur is in some danger now, my dear, or will be soon.  You both will.”   Still, she reasoned, we can enjoy ourselves a little, and keep our eyes in the game, like “walking and chewing gum at the same time,” right? She laughed at how “American” she was becoming.

They grabbed a cab back on the windy street, and were at the Palmer Hotel in ten minutes. “Oh my” smiled Anna walking through the lobby, “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen such an elegant and charming hotel in my life!” As they waited in the small line to check-in, Ravin took both her hands in his, and very lovingly said, “Now Agent Anna, you must decide the best order of three things…”

“What are these three things, Double 09?”

“Well, one is a special full body massage with Arthur’s’s Advanced Hand, Finger, Lips, and Tongue Technique…” said the misbehaving senior agent.

“And…?” smiled a now happy cadet.

“Another is a hot bubble bath with New Hanpshire Sweet Birch bath salts in our private double jacuzzi…”

“Ok. Good. And…?” smiled a now very happy Ukrainian woman doctor.

“And the third is a four-course dinner that I’ve taken the liberty to order for us served in our room whenever we like, including the roast lamb, scalloped potatoes, Waldorf salad, a bottle of fine Champagne, and their famous chocolate dessert tray…”

“Hmmmm,” said the now extremely pleased emerging secret agent, “let me think. Well…I say, bath, massage, dinner!”

“Consider it done, my darling” nodded her American mentor, and turning to the hotel desk, said “Reservations for Gerald Encasse, please.”

“Yes, sir, Dr. Encasse” said the hotel clerk. “We have your suite ready on the 28th floor sir. Do you or Mrs. Encasse need some help with your bags?”