Chapter 41

They flew into the Isle of Man, some fifty or so miles northwest of Liverpool, in the U.K. I was checking in several times during the flight. Everything was normal until about an hour before the scheduled arrival.

Linc went to the bedroom in the back of the plane. Resnokov came out a half-hour later. He had a full beard, mostly gray, and he wore an eye patch over his left eye. It was black and held in place by a narrow band that wrapped around from his left ear to the place where his hair parted over his right eye, then dipped down to his patch. He’d worked for me for a decade, and I wouldn’t have recognized the face that peered out of the mirror.

He approached his son and said, in a heavily accented English-Russian voice, “I hav de appoint-a-ment tomorrow at de Manx Bank. Vill you accompany me, pliss? I need de bodyguard, yes?”

David turned in his seat, took a moment to look over the changes to his dad and then said, “You need to wear a vest. With a bow-tie, I think. Otherwise it’s about right.”

“I zit here. You don’ mind it, yes?” said Link/Resnokov.

“Sure. I think I should distract Cap and Yar while you deplane. They don’t need to see your alter ego,” David said.

“Yes, iss good.” I laughed at his accent. He sounded like a bad Bond villain.

The plane landed and Linc hustled off the plane, while David distracted the pilots. Sergei Resnokov and his well-travelled passport passed easily through customs.

“Business, I assume, Mr. Resnokov?” said the uniformed customs man.

“Ah, yess. One or two dayss only, I am here,” Resnokov nodded and collected his passport with a new stamp.

The strange, tall man found a taxi and headed off to L’Hôtel Manx. What the business district of the Little Switzerland suburb of Douglas, one of the larger cities of the IoM, was doing with a French titled hotel, with a staff of Manx residents, I couldn’t tell you. But there it was. He checked in and said his man would arrive in a few minutes with his bags.

And true enough, his man, David, arrived a half-hour later, suitcases in tow.

He walked through the doors and Resnokov pointed to the folding suitcase stand near the door. “Dahvid, order de wodka, pliss. I hav ... uh ... how you say, головная боль... de head pain. No, de headache.”

Linc was continuing the charade and David followed along seamlessly. Maybe Linc was worried about being overheard?

David picked up the phone and ordered some ‘wodka’ while Linc reclined on his bed.

I checked out of my surveillance mode and went back to stopping in to see the twins growing in my baby factory. I was five months along, and sporting a good sized baby bulge. Little Jimmy and Alexandra were surprised when I popped into their consciousness. They couldn’t communicate with words yet, but I gave them pictures of me, Rock, and Bear. And I stretched out along their little bodies, helping them get more comfortable when they were moving inside my uterus. I introduced them to each other, when the visual part of the cortex was developing.

It was fascinating, watching and helping them grow. It was selfish, too, I guess, because they were less active, giving them a way to learn to use the muscles without the painful kicking that so many mothers seemed to ... uh... ‘enjoy.’ I still had to pee often, though. There just wasn’t room enough inside my body for two growing babes and my bladder as well. The boyz were talking about maybe fitting a toilet into the Suburban, in case I had an emergency.

Hey, I only had to pee once on the side of the road, and it was in the middle of the desert.

...

By the time I woke up the following day, Mr. Resnokov had already visited the Manx Bank and now had a briefcase with one thousand hundred-dollar bills. Red had prearranged to have the cash available when a one-eyed Russian showed up. It was awkward setting that up. I had to get the plan from Linc, pass it to Red, then pass the details back to Linc. It took two passes to get everything set up at the bank on the Isle of Man.

Linc was eager to get out of L’Hôtel Manx, now that he had the cash. For the last night, he insisted that David and he spent the night in the room, watching reruns of ‘Agatha Christie Mysterys’ on the BBC, each of them with a Glock within reach. By morning, they were fully awake and ready to get out of the room. I understood: Agatha Christie only goes so far. Resnokov and David Lincoln got an early breakfast, and took off for the airport. They went through customs and got on the SotH plane, where they waited for Cap and Yar to show up. Linc went straight to the bedroom area where he disposed of the beard and eyepatch. They wouldn’t be needed until it was time for the handoff to Rush’s associates.

“Am very ‘appy to be finished wit de eye patch,” Linc said with the last of his Russo-English.

When Cap got on the plane, something like an hour later, he asked Linc if we were done with our ‘James Bond flight.’

“You didn’t have to fight off OddJob, did you?” he asked with a laugh.

“Me?” answered Linc. “I’m too old for that crap anymore. Better ask David, here, if he had to fight off the Asian Assassins Guild.”