nt

From his current position, Jacques can tell that the young women in the cabin down the hall are giving better than they're getting. As such, there is no reason for him to get involved.

Whatever they are, they aren't your average tourists, that's for certain.

The train suddenly lurches as the brakes are applied heavily. Now what? Jacques wonders. He's starting to wonder if any of this is coincidence...

"Ah yes, the cyborg monkeys. All hail our augmented simian overlords."

Peter grins.

"Well, would you be interested in a job, Anatoli? I'm not making any promises, but I bet I could convince them that an assistant gearhead in the region would be a good idea."

"It does beat getting shot at and running the risk of imminent arrest. Tell me, you guys think you can clear up a couple of parking tickets?"

Anatoli grimaces and holds a hand up to his bandage.

"A doctor with sterile utensils might also be nice too. Your friend did a good job, but I can't say I liked the conditions in which she had to operate."

Traffic begins to build on the highway and a few minutes later, the rig passes the sign for:

NOVOSIBIRSK 25km

(Edited by Dieter at 1:48 pm on Feb. 8, 2005)

"So tell me about this place. Is it a shithole? Are the cops as dirty as the ones we already dealt with? Is the mob heavy up here?"

"Novosibirsk retains a bit of civilisation thanks to the airport. The mob's relatively active, but that also means most cops are paid off, so overall unpleasantries are relatively rare. I've carved out a bit of business with the cops in keeping their guns working; in exchange, they mostly leave me alone. I figure it's as safe as we're going to get for some time."

Quote:

Quote: from admiralducksauce on 9:41 am on Feb. 9, 2005
"So tell me about this place. Is it a shithole? Are the cops as dirty as the ones we already dealt with? Is the mob heavy up here?"

Anatoli chuckles a bit at Artis' line of questioning.

"Yeah, it's a shithole...but that's not saying much. Anywhere east of Prague is a shithole as far as Western standards go. Novosibirsk is a haven for the Russian mafia as most of the government is either run entirely or financed by the Odessa Syndicate. Nothing goes on without their consent...not one building permit, telephone line, or lightbulb replaced until the boys in Odessa give the order."

A motorcade of black Mercedes SUVs led by a police escort takes over the left lane of the highway, accelerating past the rig with impunity.

"There, you see that? That's the Odessa Syndicate. Sasha says they've got some contract with a firm in Moscow that makes bullet-proof cars. It's funny that they even have a police escort. Who the hell would actually start any shit with them? Even if they did, it would you'd probably need a cannon to knock out one of those things."

Peter chuckles.

"It takes a cannon to knock out THIS vehicle here, and advertiser's propaganda notwithstanding, an armored car isn't going to fare half as well. If you're going for religious dogma, try this: On the 8th Day, God created the .50 BMG. And it smashed through many a light armor, and he saw that it was good...besides, push comes to shove, fuck over the tires. Works every time."

Jacque looks out his cabin window, watching Red Army soldiers taking up strategic positions around what appears to be a railroad crossing. Blue flashing lights of SMP policecars line the roadway which runs perpendicular to the tracks. It seems that whatever the train is stopping for cannot, in any shape or form, be good.

Quote:

Quote: from Gatac on 10:15 am on Feb. 9, 2005
"On the 8th Day, God created the .50 BMG. And it smashed through many a light armor, and he saw that it was good...besides, push comes to shove, fuck over the tires. Works every time."

Anatoli seems a bit unnerved about returning to life on being under fire.

"Er...If it is not to much to ask. I would prefer to serve your company in the comfort of cosy deskchair and cubicle and NOT in Russia."

The flashing lights outside reveal quite a panorama. SMP and Red Army units everywhere, and their attention seems to be focussed on the train.

It seems not too much of a stretch to guess that all of this may have something to do with the sushi-slicing action of his new ladyfriends in the badly-damaged cabin. Though whether they are actually after the ladies or their attackers is hard to know for sure. Of course, the latter two did seem to have badges, though one never knows for sure if they were real or fake...

Jacques decides to sit tight and observe.

"You and me both. At the very least, we can extradite you to somewhere warmer and then you can go rogue."

Moten, upon seeing the armada of army personnel heading his way, quickly wraps his arm around the shoulder of the obviously sauced and fuzzy SMP chief and guides him towards his (hopefully armored) limo, motioning for Brian to follow him and get in the front passenger side door.

Quote:

Quote: from Punkey on 1:25 am on Feb. 10, 2005
Moten, upon seeing the armada of army personnel heading his way, quickly wraps his arm around the shoulder of the obviously sauced and fuzzy SMP chief and guides him towards his (hopefully armored) limo, motioning for Brian to follow him and get in the front passenger side door.

His guard seems a bit uneasy with the help given by Moten, but the Chief is appreciative as his gait appears to be more of a stagger as they approach his limousine.

"Ah. Thank you, comrade. You are...fine...man."

One of his guards opens up the backdoor of the limo, taking hold of him and sliding the drunkard into his seat before gesturing for Moten and Brian into the vehicle.

"Can I...get drink...for you?" inquires the Chief, grabbing a bottle of vodka and pouring himself a round.

Glancing around the limo's interior, Brian leans against the door and then pushes up against the glass.

Light armor, probably ballistic glass...although this car is 30 years old if a day.

----

Carla sees the situation unfolding outside the train as it nears the crossing. Self-preservation being in her blood, she tries to lift the window which barely budges.

"A little help, here!" barks Carla to Ayumi.

After much heaving and cursing on both ladies' parts, the window appears to be either unable to open or painted shut. However, it's nothing a steel-toed boot couldn't handle. The pane shatters as Carla's foot goes through. A cold wind fills the cabin with Carla looking out the opening. She sees the crossing, 100m and closing.

"Grab your crap and let's get outta here!" yells Carla.

Ayumi's already got her coat on and is slinging her backpack over her shoulders. The two agents climb out the window, jumping down into the softpack snow about 70-75m from the railroad crossing.

As they collect themselves, Ayumi spots three Red Army soldiers (~50m away) walking towards their position. It looks like they're in a skirmish line.

Hearing the crack and tinkle of breaking glass, Jacques looks out a nearby window. There, he sees the dangerous duo clambering out the broken window.

Hmm... It appears they've decided to flee, rather than face 'Russian justice'...

Intrigued, Jacques collects his bag and starts making his way toward the rear of the train, peaking out windows periodically to check on the women's progress.

Drinks poured, the Chief formally introduces himself (albeit a highly intoxicated and slurred manner) that he is Chief Inspector Andropov.

"You are probably...wondering...what is going on here. I'll tell you...but first another drink."

The vodka he pours is smooth, that is to say the vodka is to kerosene what diesel is to kerosene. Remarkably, the booze seems to help with Moten's layman skill in Russian. It must be the vodka talking.

"One hour ago I received a report from Moscow saying that there were Western agents posing as passengers on my railroads. Normally, I would just have another drink, smoke a cigar and maybe send a few of my men to investigate. But when I heard of other incidents in the region, I had to hit the panic button. Three..."

Andropov stops speaking, swaying heavily from side to side. He appears to be in the early stages of alcohol poisoning, staring at Brian and Moten with a glazed-over look on his face. Without missing a beat, he continues where he left off.

"Three members on the local police department in Krasnoyarsk were killed in a botched raid early this morning. Two of your comrades were involved but not hurt during the raid. Shortly after the raid, a man engaged the KPD and your comrades in a gun battle in/around the area of the raid. Several men were injured. Your colleagues were then issued orders to find the people responsible for the shootings during the raid. Just an hour ago, those two men were found dead in an old sewer network near the crime scene. At about that same time, a report from a train conductor on the eastbound train describing a violent disturbance had me very worried. As you know, this sort of this is very rare considering the penalty for such infractions is a minimum of eight years hard labor in a state-run uranium mine. I....."

Again, Chief Andropov's posture begins to waver. This time though, his speech become unintelligible as his eyes roll back into his head. Moments later, he wakes up.

"Yes, where was I? I was compelled from my superiors and the Kremlin to have all trains heading east and west to be stopped with all passengers and luggage being searched and identified. I thought I would spare my men the embarrassment of having you pull out your badges."

Peter scoffs at the mention of such pipedreams.

"Just being somewhere hot and sunny isn't enough. You need lots of money, too."

"I have about $250K in a bank in the Caymans. I would just like to have the opportunity to use it. I don't want some crazed hitman to put a bullet on my head while I'm lounging on the beach in the middle of my third Margarita. That's not the buzzkill I'm looking for."

Two messages arrive in Peter's SATCOMM Inbox.

[color=blue:2b461f9abc]
From: Fly-By-Night Air
Re: Ivan

Reservation for one set on Flight FBN-27. Drop-off at location Zulu-91 at 23:15. GPS Coordinates are attached.

----

From: Home
Re: Status report

Nightengale requests sit-rep ASAP.
[/color]

Peter looks at his SATCOMM, smiling.

"Looks like you've got a seat, Anatoli. We'll get your jaw fixed up, and then you'll be out of here. Not bad for the people you tried a steal a truck from, hm?"

He types a short report for Nightengale.

Approaching Novosibirsk. Cargo safe. Agent teams Moten/Malory and Yokozaki/Manotoc have confirmed movement to to Novosibirsk, but no recent contact. Intel places Agent Spiner on the same course; according to train schedule, we might be able to intercept her. Witness claims that Spiner is travelling with a woman he identifies as 'Elena', whom he says is ex-military. Spiner's disposition and long-term goals remain unknown.

The bleak skyline of Novosibirsk comes over the horizon. Smokestacks belch black, acrid exhaust into the air. Traffic becomes stop-and-go on the highway into the city. Even the Odessa Syndicate's motorcade is being held up.

Peter's SATCOMM chimes with a new message in his Inbox.

[color=blue:43e434dec0]
From: Home
Re: Status Report

Good afternoon. Nightengale requests status report on missing Hummingbird. [/color]

----

Inspector Andropov has a constitution of Rasputin. Now into the third round of Russian Rotgut, Brian feels his SATCOMM's silent alert system buzzing in his coat.

Outside the train, Ayumi and Carla plan their next move. Both of their SATCOMMs chime with the sound of an incoming message.


(Edited by Dieter at 12:42 pm on Feb. 11, 2005)