Between the Seconds

by M0rr1gan

 

When Georgi Silkin first saw the receptionist at Trax Corporation, she crawled inside his head and would not leave.

Not literally, of course, but he was fascinated by her sultry elegance. When those dark eyes peered coyly at him from behind her graceful glasses, he was lost.

Georgi tried to make his tongue, which had suddenly become leather, work properly, "Miss...?"

With a sunny smile, she set aside her pen and knit her fingers together, "Washington. Elaine Washington."

Her voice was husky, like some film diva from the 30s.

Georgi offered a business card, "Well hello, Elaine. Aaron Miner, from Gulf Coast Cybernetics."

Elaine studied the card, "And you've come all the way up here to Grosse Pointe from Biloxi? Whatever for?"

Georgi leaned conspiratorially on the counter above her desk, "I have a meeting with Mr. Gary Monroe. I'm supposed to tour your facility and we're going to discuss some co-operative ventures."

Elaine rose in a graceful rush. The more Georgi saw of her, the more smitten he was.

She was tall, as tall as Georgi at least, made more so by the black pumps she perched atop. She wore a black silk suit with gold pinstripes, beneath it a red blouse. A slender gold chain gleamed within its collar, while rings of the same metal twined her fingers. She had done her midnight tresses up atop her head in the French style so her earrings could set off...

Well, her ears weren't exactly delicate, but they were well formed.

"Let's see if he's in, shall we," Elaine laughed, rapping on the eight-paneled rosewood door to Monroe's office.

Georgi's heart nearly missed a beat as he watched her long legs scissor, cased in black hosiery.

A male voice called from within, "Yes?"

Georgi thought he had heard a snore choked off by the single word.

Elaine pushed the door open, "Mr. Monroe? There's an Aaron Miner from Gulf Coast Cybernetics here to see you?"

"Aaron," Gary crowed, zooming out of his office.

The rest of the day was a blur for Georgi as he fought between his duties touring the Trax facility and remembering Elaine Washington. CLIK-CLIK-CLIK, another roll of picture shot with the camera hidden in his briefcase, then his thoughts tumbling unbidden to Elaine's luscious legs or graceful neck.

The sun was slanting below the horizon when Georgi had finally used up all the digital photography reels hidden within his brief case and peeled his existence off of Gary Monroe's.

"So see you tomorrow mornin', then," Gary laughed, pumping Georgi's hand.

Georgi pointed at him, "Nine o'clock sharp. I just have to know about your biological interface hardware."

Monroe laughed some more, "Well, we'll just have to see what we can do then, Aaron."

Out of the corner of his eye, Georgi spotted Elaine Washington on her way to her car, a gleaming, midnight blue Lexus.

"Listen, Gary, this is some kinda set up you've got here. First rate facilities, smiles on everyone's faces. Helluva place to work."

Gary glanced at the ranks of low buildings, "We want our people happy. They're the best and brightest in the field, and you treat the best like the best."

"Salary, benefits, alla that stuff, hmm?"

Gary nodded, "You bet. And you know what that gets us?"

Georgi shook his head.

"We're the industry leader in productivity. So little lost time we might as well not have any. Jesus, Aaron, half of our engineers come to work on Saturdays because they want to."

"All because you pay them what they're worth?"

"Because we pay them what we want them to be worth," Gary replied emphatically.

Georgi nodded at Elaine Washington as she pulled out of the parking lot, "Including receptionists? Even Miss Washington?"

Gary glanced at the vanishing Lexus, "Elaine? Elaine is...special."

Georgi elbowed Gary jovially with a conspiratorial wink, "She certainly is special. A provider of 'executive services'?"

Gary forced a laugh, "No, Elaine's interests don't run in that direction.

He gave Georgi's hand a final pump, "Nine o'clock, Aaron?'

"Nine o'clock."

Elaine Washington filled his mind as Georgi drove off to his hotel. Yuri, Marco, and Sabina were waiting for him. Georgi loosened his tie and finally relaxed.

"Cursed Americans," he gasped.

He threw Marco, who was a slightly built blonde man, the brief case.

"In there. Where's the vodka?"

Yuri replied in Russian.

"Speak English, dammit Sergeant Brezkov. American prisons are supposed to be like hotels compared to ours, but I'm not going to find out just because you forgot to speak the native tongue."

"Sorry, Colonel Silkin," Yuri Brezkov replied meekly.

Georgi gulped down a glass of vodka, "And that's another thing: for as long as we're in this accursed town, I am Aaron Miner, from Gulf Coast Cybernetics. You would do well to remember just who you are.

He poured a second water glass of Stolichnaya and turned square to his team. Marco already had the camera case unbolted and was loading the digital image reels into their mainframe.

"So? Who are you?"

With some pride, Yuri retorted, "Sergeant Yuri Brezkov, of the Glavnoye Razvedyvatelnoye Upravelnie..."

"Not in Russia, you clown! In America!"

"Oh," Yuri squawked. Then he spoke anew, in a west Texas twang, "Curt Strange, a systems analyst for Gulf Coast Cybernetics."

Georgi nodded and met Sabina's eyes, "And you, Sergeant?"

Sabina tossed her hair. She was not an attractive woman. The Red Army had made her hard - like an axe. She spoke in a coy cracker drawl, "Rachel Morrison, a software designer at the same company."

Georgi nodded.

"Marco?

Marco's watery eyes never strayed from the computer screen before him, watching images of Trax Corporation's cybernetics labs flash by.

"Sergeant Patchkin, you'll have to speak..."

"Raphael Soderberg," came another Texas twang.

Georgi set his glass down and leaned against the frame of the door leading to their suite's bathroom, "Alright, let's get our assignments down..."

"Who's she," Marco asked.

Georgi glanced up. Elaine Washington smiled out of the monitor.

"That," Georgi sighed, "Is the executive assistant to Mr. Gary Monroe. Her name is Elaine Washington. I want a full work up on her."

"Why? D'you think she's our way in? That Monroe's swimming in the secretarial pool?"

Georgi shook his head, "I'm not sure. There's something about her..."

Yuri and Sabina exchanged a knowing glance.

"Alright, alright, you two. Let's just get to work."

By nine thirty the next morning, Georgi was waiting outside Gary Monroe's office, staring professionally at Elaine Washington. She wore a navy pantsuit and white blouse today, with her raven's wing tresses held up in a pony-tail by a turquoise ring.

"She's magnificent," Georgi thought.

Every time he tried to concentrate on the day's espionage, his thought's turned instead to Monroe's regal receptionist.

"This is not good," Georgi muttered to himself in Russian.

Elaine looked up and smiled, "He shouldn't be much longer, Mister Miner. The brothers don't like long meetings."

Georgi noticed that her lipstick and eye shadow matched the blue of her suit, "The brothers?"

Elaine smiled, showing teeth like small pearls. Well, not that small.

"Mr. Monroe's family owns Trax Corporation. His two brothers, Grant and Gerald, work just down the hall. They try to get together once a day."

Her words were musical.

"Like they're doing now?"

She laughed and nodded. Those giggles captured him.

Georgi plodded through the day, and then plodded back to the hotel room. He heard Yuri and Sabina raising a ruckus as he pushed the door open.

"What's going on here," he snapped.

"We're watching...OH! Did you see that?! We're watching the game," Sabina explained, cramming another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Georgi poured another water glass full of vodka, "What game?"

"He was offside! He was offside," Yuri shouted, waving his hands at the flickering screen.

"You're watching hockey," Georgi yelped, "We're supposed to be unlocking the secrets of Trax Corporation, and you're watching the hockey game?"

"Red Army is winning," Yuri offered, sotto voce.

"What's the score," Georgi asked before he could stop himself.

"Red Army four, Detroit Red Wings two," Sabina yelped.

Georgi shook his head, "How did you get the hockey game?"

Yuri and Sabina sat blinking at him, "This is America, Colonel."

Sabina nodded and finished, "You can get anything here."

Georgi rolled his eyes and looked over Marco's shoulder, "Have you been watching hockey all day, too?"

Marco shook his head, "There's some fascinating things going on in there, Colonel...Mr. Miner. They seem to have solved the direct neural interface problem."

Georgi laid his arm across Marco's bony shoulders and turned to face Yuri and Sabina, "You see? This is a day well spent. The GRU can be proud of Marco here."

"We haven't been watching hockey all day, you know," Yuri offered absently.

Without taking her eyes from the TV screen, Sabina waved a folder at Georgi.

"What's this," he asked, taking it from her.

"You wanted a full work-up on your girl-friend, Miss Washington," Yuri replied around a gulp of coffee, "There you are."

"Really," Georgi cried, flipping the folder open. He felt the weight of a day lost start to lift. Color photos the size of a sheet of typing paper that depicted a goddess come to Earth stared up at him.

There she was.

Elaine Washington.

Poised.

Elegant.

Flawless.

She wore the navy pantsuit, to which she'd matched her lipstick and eye shadow, so they must have been taken today.

"Who took these? You, Yuri?"

Yuri nodded, "Yes, sir."

"They're exquisite," Georgi gasped.

Yuri and Sabina exchanged another doubting glance.

"You know she doesn't exist, don't you," Marco mumbled.

"What!? Then who's this," Georgi barked, tapping the uppermost photo.

"That's Elaine Washington."

"Right...so what do you mean, she doesn't exist?"

Marco swivelled on his chair, "I cracked into their computer today, like I'm supposed to, and while I was in there, I sifted their personnel database."

"And?"

"She's all over in there. She's been with Trax for close to six years."

"But outside the personnel database," Sabina added, "She doesn't exist. No driver's license, no social security number, not even a home address."

"What? How can that be?"

Sabina shrugged, "She's got some sort of secret."

Georgi scowled down at Yuri, "Sergeant Brezkhov."

Popcorn dribbled from his mouth as Yuri looked up, "Yes, Colonel?"

"You dodged the Mujahedeen for ten years. D'you think you can follow this woman home from work tomorrow and surveillance her there?"

Yuri nodded at the folio Georgi held, "A pretty woman like that? My pleasure."

It was not Yuri's pleasure to shadow Elaine Washington into a Detroit neighborhood so rough-looking that Yuri would cheerfully run back to war-torn Chechnya just to get away.

Still, he was a professional, so he'd persevere.

He had a half-dozen fibre optic cameras in place, and was busy splicing telephone lines when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey!"

Yuri spun around and almost managed to duck the haymaker that was coming. Almost. Had he been one of the GRU's Spetsnaz, the beating that followed might not have been as severe, but the tall, lanky man with close-cut blonde hair who pummeled him mercilessly was closer to the special forces than Yuri was.

"I dunno who you think you are, pissant, or why you're screwin' with my phone line, but you sure as hell are gonna regret it!"

"Regret it," Georgi asked, scowling down at Yuri as Sabina plastered butterfly dressings on his swollen eye.

Yuri glowered up at him, "Yeah. I haven't been beat on this badly since basic training."

"Why did he beat you up?"

Yuri groaned and shifted the ice pack on his other eye, "He said I was messing with his phone lines. He stopped me before I got the tap in place."

"Were you?"

"No! Just this Washington woman's."

"But you put the fibre optics in place," Marco called, "So we can see into her apartment?"

"Yes, god dammit," Yuri snapped, "I wouldn't want to deny you your thrills while the rest of us are out in the field, getting beat up."

"And what did this man who beat you up look like," Marco asked, as though he hadn't heard Yuri.

"Oh God, how many times do I have to go through this? He was a little taller than me...maybe a hundred an eighty centimeters, but not as heavy. He was fit, with really short blonde hair. So what?"

"Would you say he was lean, then?"

"Of course! Would you give it a rest?"

Marco chewed on his pen for a time, then used it to point at the monitor's screen, "So, would you say that he looked a lot like this man, then?"

They all crowded around the monitor, which did indeed show a tallish, lanky man. He was athletically built, with corded, whiplash muscles and well-formed ears. He had the most peculiar, coy, dark eyes.

"What is this," Georgi asked.

"It's the live feed from the cameras Yuri placed."

Georgi wheeled on Yuri, "That explains it then. You got the wrong apartment."

Yuri stiffened, "No sir, Colonel Silkin. I did not. I placed surveillance video equipment to monitor the apartment I saw Miss Elaine Washington enter."

"Maybe its her boyfriend's house," Sabina offered, "Or her lover's."

Georgi wiped his hand down his face. Elaine Washington became an alluring mystery for him. She preyed on his mind and haunted his thoughts.

He was in the deadliest jeopardy now.

Georgi had made a mistake, the sort of mistake that led to exile. Not exile in an Old Testament sense. In fact, Georgi could take some small pride in that his mistake was rather special. It had been very bad, but not so bad that his life was forfeit. No, Georgi's punishment was, in many ways, worse than maximal demotion: he'd been sent to America with two hockey-crazed pavement artists and a spaced-out number cruncher for company.

If he played his cards right, and pulled off the infiltration of Trax Corporation, he might get to go home.

Provided he could somehow exorcize Elaine Washington from his mind.

Just inside the main building of the sprawling Trax Corporation complex in Grosse Pointe soars a magnificent, sun-drenched atrium, fashioned from some sun-drenched transparency. A veritable forest grew within, and, beside a doughty plant that cascaded its emerald abundance almost to the gleaming marble floor, Georgi spied Elaine, quietly reading.

Oh she was splendid, he thought.

Georgi glanced at his watch and ran over the schedule for the day's drama in his head, happily concluding that time existed to speak with her.

Adopting a jaunty smile to which had many a maid melted, he sauntered across the atrium. As he went, his eyes drank in her rapturous form. She wore a plum colored suit, of some iridescent material that shimmered in the radiance the dome overhead admitted. The golden necklace gleamed at her throat, the ring amid the pages of her book, those bottomless dark eyes behind her aristocratic glasses.

He luxuriated in the aetheric bouquet her graceful body gave off: long legs, ebon tresses, well-formed ears. Her perfume was subtle and marvelously feminine, at once both captivating and strangely powerful.

As soon as he glimpsed her book, Georgi had his opportunity.

He stooped and gestured at it, "I see you enjoy reading Nabokov."

Elaine's smile took a moment, but when it appeared, the sun itself paled, "Mr. Miner! How are you?"

"Very, very well. And you?"

To make her point, Elaine took a delicate bite from a bagel, "Just having my lunch."

"And reading."

"Well, Mr. Monroe keeps me quite busy, so I don't get that many chances through the day. Have you read Nabokov?"

"Not for a long time. May I sit down?"

Elaine scooted along, pulling her lunch bag with her.

"Many things have impressed me about Trax Corporation, Miss Washington, but none so much as you."

Elaine's smile was polite but cold, "That's wonderful, Mr. Miner, but I'm afraid..."

Georgi quickly turned the conversation to safer topics, "I'd be very interested in your...shall we say 'inside view' of Trax Corporation."

Elaine closed her novel but marked the page with a single, immaculately manicured finger, "My inside view? What's that supposed to mean?"

Georgi held his briefcase with both hands and stared off into space, "Well, down at Gulf Coast Cybernetics, we think of ourselves as a family business..."

"In the cybernetics industry? Its so new, its not even regulated yet."

Georgi smiled, "Yet Trax has been in business for over a hundred years."

Elaine smiled, setting Georgi's heart alight, "Actually, its close to two hundred. Trax started business as the Monroe Track and Chain Company in Wales before 1800, as a foundry. 90% of our output is still manufactured steel components of one sort or another."

"So how did Trax get into the cybernetics business?"

Elaine sighed, "Well, like Gulf Coast, Trax is a family business. It has been owned and operated by the Monroe family since the beginning."

"And what are they like to work for," Georgi asked, "None of that 'chasing around the desk' business, I hope?"

Elaine smiled in a strange way, both confident and superior, with a delectable hint of slyness, "There's little chance of that, Mr. Miner."

"Why? Is Mr. Monroe married?"

"Married," Elaine laughed, "He's probably the most eligible bachelor in Detroit."

"So, you mean you two have never...?"

Elaine smiled again, "What brings you here today, Mr. Miner? You've surely wormed everything possible from Gary this week. What more could you need to know?"

Georgi wanted to recoil from her abrupt manner. Swiftly, he covered, "Oh, we're just finishing up today.

He slapped his briefcase.

"Signing papers, that sort of thing. K-hem. Uhm, Miss Washington, I hope you don't consider me too forward, but I'd like to ask you something I've been meaning to all week."

Elaine smiled innocently, like a little girl who'd stolen a cookie, "Yes?"

Georgi felt his heart race and sweat start on his palms. The sun suddenly seemed very warm. He cleared his throat savagely, "Uhm...that is...would you care to get together for a cup of coffee, perhaps? I've passed a Starbucks on my way here every day...?"

Elaine smiled her pearly smile once more, "You mean a date? Mr. Miner, would that not constitute a conflict of interests?"

She seemed to be on the verge of laughter.

Georgi patted his case once more, "A few scribbles and that's impossible. What do you say?"

Elaine thought for a moment. Then she removed a gleaming silver case from her blazer's breast pocket. From it, she took a business card.

"May I borrow your pen?"

Elaine could have borrowed Georgi's heart had she asked for it, but he proffered only his fountain pen. Elaine jotted something on her business card and returned it with the pen.

"It sounds like fun, Mr. Miner. I'll meet you there at six."

Georgi clutched the card as a drowning man might claw a life preserver close.

"I would be delighted," Georgi gushed, sweeping her hand to his lips. Elaine giggled.

Georgi paid no heed to how Elaine's knuckles were reddened. He felt as Edmund Hillary surely must have upon attaining the peak of Everest, or Jim Ballard when the first images of the Titanic swam up from the depths.

Unfortunately, Yuri and Sabina did not share his rapture.

"You made a date," Yuri bellowed.

"You're going out on the town while we run the gauntlet of their corporate security," Sabina growled.

Georgi held a pair of neckties up next to his collar to choose a color, "Do I have to remind you two that I am still your commanding officer?"

"Come on, Georgi. We're military intelligence, not the KGB. Has the GRU ever done that sort of thing?"

Sabina rolled her eyes and tried a different tack, "We're not in Russia any more, Colonel. You can't play the Romeo of Rostov here, you know."

Georgi selected a tie and began fastening it around his neck, "I can hope, can't I. Besides, insubordination is still insubordination, isn't it?"

"So we get shot at by Trax' hired thugs while you squire some bird around town," Yuri bawled.

"Shot at? Yuri, we're the GRU. Didn't you serve in Afghanistan? Do you think any of these decadent Americans, especially their rent-a-cops, can hold a candle to the Mujahedeen, who, I shouldn't have to remind you, never even scratched you in five years?

Pride silenced Yuri's protests.

Georgi donned his good cuff-links, "Besides, its not squiring. Its just a drink."

"Colonel," Sabina began, "Our best chance to get rotated back home is to pull off this thing with Trax. I don't like the United States one bit. I just want to see my husband in Sverdlovsk again, and it would be quite a shame if my best chance of seeing him were to be ruined in this manner."

Georgi stopped to think. Successfully penetrating Trax was his ticket home, too. He could almost smell the summer grain growing ripe in the fields around Tabolsk.

But Elaine Washington was the sort of woman men dreamed about.

Well, that Georgi Silkin dreamed about, anyway.

"It'll be just a few hours. I'll even meet you at Trax later."

He left Yuri and Sabina staring ruefully at each other, thoughts of just how Georgi had romanced his way through the Red Army plainly in their minds, and took the Detroit metro bus to his appointment. Georgi liked buses, and the journey let his anticipation build to a fine point.

The club...was that the term?...maybe 'bar' was better...the bar Elaine Washington has invited him to was called Flynn's. It was a rough looking place, but respectable.

"This is the proletariat's place," he muttered with equal parts revulsion and respect, "God help me, but this is the sort of place the working man deserves."

On his way to the door, Georgi had to pass a deeply shadowed alley. The dark held few terrors for Georgi, and neither did the garish, nickel-plated revolver that a wild-eyed youth thrust in his face.

"Gimme your wallet, honky, or I swear to Christ I'll let daylight through your skull!"

Georgi glanced up, "But its night out."

"Do you want me to kill your white ass," the gunman nearly screamed.

"Just my ass? No. Have you been waiting in that alley all day?"

Georgi felt the pistol pressed against his forehead.

"Alright, asshole, that's it."

With no more effort than scratching an itch, Georgi swatted the pistol aside and punched the gunman on the point of the jaw with the same fluid motion.

"You should really pick someone other than a combat veteran to try to rob, you know," Georgi explained, raining blows on his would-be assailant.

"Have a nice night," he told the unconscious form he left just within the shadows of the alley.

He studied Flynn's eagerly. It was a two story building with huge bay windows, like eager smiles, and a balcony overlooking the street. Flynn's was a wedge shaped building, with the main entrance - ground floor - and the balcony - second floor - at the point. Georgi peered in the windows, noting the widely spaced tables, polished wood, and gigantic pool tables.

"It's not much, but its clean," Georgi muttered, stepping inside.

The 'rockin' blues' bludgeon of George Thorogood and the Destroyers struck him across the face. The air was as thick as wet cement, equal parts smoke, stale beer stink, and human sweat.

Georgi caught the elbow of a passing waitress and asked, "Pardon me, ma'am, but I'm looking for Elaine Washington. Can you tell me if she is here?"

The waitress raked hair from her eyes, "Lainie? Yeah, she's here."

Georgi beamed a matinee-idol smile that was famous - infamous, really - in Russia and queried, "Where might I find her?"

The waitress chewed her gum horsily and looked Georgi up and down, "And who might you be?"

Georgi proffered a business card with a flourish, "Aaron Miner. Gulf Coast Cybernetics."

She studied the card, "You're the boy from Biloxi?"

"Boy?"

She returned his card, "Elaine usually sits up by the door to the balcony. You can look there."

Georgi smiled and nodded, "Speceba."

The waitress watched him go, "Speceba?"

Georgi climbed the stairs and surveyed the second floor. It was more peaceful here, mostly couples enjoying a quiet - quieter - drink. The doors to the balcony were open, thinning the atmosphere slightly.

Then he spied Elaine by the open portal, and words failed him. He was sure they would have failed anyone.

She'd let her hair down, so it fell like the tresses of a Boticellian masterpiece past her shoulders. Gone also were her librarian's glasses and business suit. In their place, she wore a navy cable-knit sweater and ankle-length denim skirt, from beneath which peeked an adorable pair of Baby Jane loafers. A bejeweled copper comb glittered within her hair, bronze rimmed amethysts from her earlobes.

She sipped from a glass of opaque black beer and peered around, trying to ignore the lascivious stares from the single men seated nearby.

"Miss Washington," Georgi called.

She smiled slightly and stood, "Mr. Miner? Hi!"

Once more, Georgi swept her hand to his lips, ignoring its peculiar bruising,

"Aaron, please. We're not working now."

"Alright, Aaron. You can call me Elaine."

As they sat, Georgi asked, "The waitress downstairs called you 'Lainie'."

"Who? Kathy?"

"I didn't catch her name."

"It was probably Kathy. We've known each other for years."

Georgi shrugged out of his overcoat and looked around, "This is an interesting place. It sounds like you come here often."

Elaine smiled and took another delicate sip of beer, "What makes you say that?"

Georgi set his cigarette case on the scarred table top and signaled the nearest waitress, "Your friend..."

"Kathy?"

"I suppose. She called me 'the Boy From Biloxi'. Have you been filling your friend's ears with stories from work?

Elaine removed a cigar from her purse and unwrapped it. Georgi recognized the brand.

He gestured at it as she clipped the ends, "Cuban?"

"Mm-hm. I've got a friend who works for one of the Canadian airlines. She brings me a box whenever she's in town."

Georgi proffered her his flame, "It's a trifle uncommon to encounter a woman who enjoys Cuban cigars."

Elaine sent a blast or aromatic smoke against the ceiling, "I'm an uncommon sort of girl."

And so began a dialogue that lasted long into the night. They worked through several glasses of beer and many more cigars. Georgi found himself in a sort of rapture he could scarce comprehend, as his fascination swelled into love. He simply couldn't get enough of her manner, her way. He found himself asking silly questions just to hear her speak and telling the silliest jokes just to hear her melodious laugh. Long past midnight, Georgi did as all gentlemen should, and walked his new lady friend home.

"This is not the best of neighborhoods," he laughed, "Why, a man I met here in Detroit told me he was beaten up very badly not far from here."

A faint shudder - not from the cold blowing in off Lake Eerie - seemed to sweep over Elaine. She stood a little taller, a little straighter. She seemed -

- harder.

"It happens," she answered flatly, "You have to be able to look after yourself."

"And does a delicate flower such as yourself know how to look after herself," Georgi laughed.

So captivated was he by the way her skirt swished and swayed about her shapely legs, by the expectant, impatient way her breasts bounced beneath the blue sweater, and by the way the water-born wind whipped her locks wildly about her head that he only half heard her answer: "Try me and find out."

They came to her apartment building and perhaps the most awkward moment any man and woman could spend together.

Should Georgi offer his hand, a gesture that lacked presumption and warmth?

Perhaps he should kiss her, but if he did, where? The cheek, to show his affection but keep his distance, or on her full, thirsty lips, where he ached to touch her but which would be frighteningly presumptuous.

What if she asked him up? What protocol should he observe?

Dating in America was very different than romancing the wives of his fellow officers back in Russia.

Elaine stood with her hands folded, peering coyly at him through her bangs.

Georgi smoothed his hands down his sides, "Ah...well, Elaine, I must thank you. I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

She smiled bashfully.

"Would you like to come up? For a night cap? I could make you an espresso...?"

Georgi felt like someone had poured a thousand gallons of ice water through him.

"Uhh...I would love to, Elaine."

She paced sultrily to the building door and jangled her keys in the lock.

"Awright mutha fukka, now yer dead!!"

A hydrogen bomb went off inside Georgi's skull and the asphalt rose up to hit him in the face. He heard someone shriek, "Aaron", but he had no idea who it could be. A second explosion bloomed across his hips and his legs disappeared.

"I'll fukkin' teach ya ta fukkin' punch me, ya fukkin' shit fer brainz honky!"

The blows came furiously now, piledrivers that ground him into the pavement.

"Ya...

CRUNCH

"...gotta...

KRANK

"...fukkin'...

WHANG

"...learn...

RUNCH

"...dat...

KUNG

"...when I fukkin'...

CHOOM

"...tellz ya...

POW

"...ta gimme ya gawd damn wallit...

WHAM

"...I fukkin' mean 'Right now', honky!"

"Yeah, man! Git 'im, Latrelle!"

"Git his wallit, Latrelle!"

Georgi would have felt his pockets being torn open, had he been able to feel anything below his kidneys. He did feel boots crashing into his ribs, though.

He made out the black man who had tried to rob him earlier through a red haze as the thief - Latrelle - and his two friends fled.

"Ahh," was all the sound Georgi could force past his lips.

"Aaron," Elaine shrieked, stooping over him. She swept her hair aside and nearly - nearly - sobbed, "Aaron, are you alive?'

"I...unh...I can't feel my legs."

"I'll call a doctor."

He seized her hand, "No doctors. No police."

"What," she yelled in a most unfeminine way, "Aaron, you've just been beaten nearly to death! What am I supposed to do!? How can I help?!"

Elaine was staring intently after the fleeing thieves. Her anguish seemed partly affected.

"I need...I need to get to a phone."

"A call? You need to make a phone call," Elaine snarled. Her voice had lost its musical quality. It had grown harsher, more guttural.

"Yes."

She half rose. Georgi clung to her hand. She sighed and glanced about, "Can you stand?"

Georgi fumbled about to no avail. From the chest down, his body had become as unfeeling as the asphalt he lay upon.

Amidst much unfeminine grumbling, which Georgi was in too much pain to take notice of, Elaine gathered Georgi up in her arms and bore him inside. Blinded by pain, Georgi saw no more until Elaine deposited him on her couch. As his eyes swam back into focus, he beheld Elaine Washington towering over him, not looking happy at all.

"I should call the paramedics or the police to take care of you," she snapped, "And to get looking for the men who did this."

Georgi floundered about, "You can't. I..."

"What? You must have insurance, and even if you don't, they're not going to let you die."

"It's not that. They took my wallet."

"So?"

"Without my wallet, I'm not Aaron Miner."

Elaine tipped her head back and laughed silently, "And just who would you be? Napoleon? Marcel Marceau?"

A wave of pain stabbed Georgi in the heart. His last meal and all the vodka he'd had at Flynn's came boiling up and spattered a sour, sticky mess acidly on Elaine's hardwood.

"Jee-Zuss Christ," she cursed, covering her own mouth.

Georgi blotted his mouth on his sleeve, "Elaine...Miss Washington...can I trust you?"

"I should throw you out the window after puking on my floor."

Georgi scowled and swallowed, "No, what I mean is, can I place my life in your hands?"

"You already have, when I brought you here. Unless I call a doctor soon, this might very well be where you die."

Georgi winced and nearly vomited again, "Please, Elaine, I have to know..."

"Yes," she snapped, "Alright? Yes, you can trust me."

Georgi tried to pull himself into a sitting position. He gulped down a mouthful of bile, "Elaine, my name is not Aaron Miner, and I'm not from Biloxi, Mississippi."

Elaine took a seat opposite him and rested her elbows on her knees, "Go on."

Georgi fought down another wave of pain, "Elaine, I don't have much time here. Whatever they hit me with..."

"It was a two by four."

"A what?"

Elaine held her hands a few inches apart, "A two by four. A piece of lumber made from a pine tree and measuring two inches by four."

"Ungh...whatever. Elaine, I don't have much time. I have no feeling in my legs or abdomen."

"I wanted to call someone, but you said not to."

Georgi nodded through his pain, "You can't, Elaine. You see, I cannot safely interact with the authorities..."

"What's that..."

"I'm a spy, Elaine," Georgi roared, drops of spittle spraying from his lips, "I was sent here to steal the secrets of Trax Corporation."

"Why?"

"I made a mistake. I have to call the other members of my team, who have replacement credentials for me, so I can seek medical assistance."

Elaine squawked, "You're going to have your spy friends come here?! No way!!"

"But I'll die! I can feel shock setting in right now."

Elaine stood and paced. Then came a shock more profound than any other that night. Georgi watched with a strange horror as her delicious ebony tresses yielded before the hand Elaine wiped up her face. Her entire head of hair came away, to reveal...

...short blonde hair.

The person Georgi knew at Elaine Washington turned to face him, only he saw a man now, and it was a man's voice he heard.

"Tell me your real name."

The voice wasn't really that much different from Elaine's. Just harder. Rougher.

"Ah...Colonel Georgi Gregorevich Silkin, of the Glavnoye Razvedyvatelnoye Upravlenie."

The person who was Elaine Washington turned and walked into the apartment's bedroom.

"What's that?"

"Unh...Russian military intelligence."

The person returned with a large pre-moistened napkin and began using it to wipe the make-up off his face.

"Military intelligence? I thought the KGB did Russia's spying."

Georgi's eyesight started to dim, "No, the GRU has always handled espionage against high technology targets."

The once-Elaine brought a portable telephone to Georgi, "Call your friends. Tell them its apartment 5-E."

Every movement was like an axe blow to Georgi's head as he dialed, but the call connected. As he talked, Elaine sat opposite him, removing her nail polish. Her expression was inscrutable. Was she compassionate? Enraged? Melancholy?

As a precaution, Georgi spoke in Russian, "Sergeant Brezkov..."

"Colonel!? Where have you been?"

"Sergeant, I want you to listen very carefully. I require emergency medical treatment, so I need you to bring my extra documents and come to Elaine Washington's building. It's apartment 5-E."

"Certainly, Colonel. What..."

"Sergeant Brezkov, this is an order. I will expect the team to execute it with the utmost urgency."

Georgi broke the connection and swooned across the couch.

He was woken by Elaine slapping his face. These were not the delicate slaps he could expect from a demure demoiselle like the maid he had fallen in love with. These were a man's slaps, a hair's breadth away from bruising.

"Colonel Silkin! Colonel, wake up!"

He beheld an illogical sight: Elaine Washington's shapely form, surmounted by the head of a hard-eyed blonde man. Georgi had seen this same man on Marco's computer screens.

"Unh...I'm awake."

Elaine sighed, "I still think I should call a doctor."

"My associates will call the paramedics when they arrive. They may have done so already."

Elaine straightened, "Right."

Georgi noticed that his vomitus had been wiped up while he swooned.

"Miss Washington, I - ung - don't believe its entirely appropriate that I continue calling you 'Elaine'. I've told you who I really am. Would you care to do the same?"

Elaine had resumed her seat and un-clipped her garters so she could roll her stockings off. At any other time, Georgi's heart would have raced at the sight of her shapely legs being bared. Right now, he wasn't even sure if his heart was still beating.

"You want to know my name?"

Georgi winced, "Well, we sort of have a bond now. Besides, you're the one who started to lose her disguise."

Elaine whip-lashed both her stockings at him, "If you're having spies over, there was no way in Hell I was going to play meek and mild around them."

Elaine grabbed the collar of her sweater and drew it up over her head. Beneath, she wore a thin linen blouse with a flat collar and embroidery down the front.

Georgi grimaced, "Well, Miss Washington..."

"Wilkins."

"Hmm?"

"Elliot Wilkins. That's the name my parents gave me, the name on my lease here."

"But not the name you're employed under?"

"No."

An ugly silence followed.

"The reason I ask is this. Shock is setting in. Do you have a blanket? If I'm kept warm, shock will be delayed and eased."

Elliot disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a comfortable looking tartan blanket, which he tucked around Georgi.

"Now, Colonel, I have to finish changing.

Elliot pointed into the bedroom, "I'll be right in there, so I'll hear you if you need me."

Georgi watched him leave through a red haze of pain.

"You're military intelligence," Elliot called.

"Ungk...that's right."

"Most of the army intelligence guys I knew couldn't tell their asshole from their ear hole."

Georgi tried to get comfortable, "Well, we are the Russian army. How do you know members of military intelligence?"

Elliot leaned into view, holding a towel over his breasts, "I was in the Gulf War."

Georgi goggled, "How can you have breasts? D'you take hormones?"

Elliot made a face and disappeared, "No way! I'm a transvestite."

"So where do your breasts come from?"

"Just a minute and I'll show you. The solvent takes a minute."

"Solvent?"

Elliot reappeared, wearing nothing but a black t-shirt and a pair of BVDs. His figure was still deliciously feminine. He held a metal tube in his teeth and a full breast in each hand. He held one close for Georgi to see.

"These are silicone and foam rubber. I got 'em from a movie effects house in California," he mumbled around the tube, which he took from his teeth so he could show Georgi the label, "This is spirit gum. I can glue my tits on for a week straight with this goop."

"Glue them on?"

"Sure. So I don't have to wear a bra.

Elaine began speaking again, "Sometimes, a girl wants to feel unfettered."

Georgi gestured at Elliot's womanly hips, "I thought you said that you didn't take estrogen."

Elliot set his breasts down on the coffee table and reached behind his back, where he began untying something. His sexy curves slowly vanished. From beneath his shirt, Elliot produced a strange garment. It appeared to be fashioned from some sensual, navy blue material, and had rigid bones sewn into it. It also appeared to have a trim of black lace and yards of ties hung from Elliot's hands.

"It's called a corset, Colonel.

He made a swooshing sound and chopped his hands at his waist.

"Sucks you right in."

"So why are you telling me all this? Showing me these things?"

"You asked," Elliot responded.

"I don't think so, Elliot...Mr. Wilkins. You see, in the trade, I have learned all about giving half answers. How to respond without actually saying anything."

Wilkins reappeared, buttoning up the fly of a pair of jeans, "So what's your point?"

"I've now met both sides of you," Georgi responded with a pained smile, "And a smart man like you...a clever woman like Elaine Washington...should be able to give those sorts of answers without really trying."

Wilkins resumed his seat opposite Georgi.

"I'm not sure, Colonel," he said with a frown, "I guess there's some truth to the saying that confession is good for the soul. You see, I only interact with the world as Elaine Washington."

"You said that the lease was in your name, not Elaine's."

"That's right, and it's the same with my driver's license and gym membership. That doesn't mean that Elliot Wilkins has much of a life.

Wilkins' eyes gleamed.

"Elliot Wilkins is invisible. People see right through me."

"But not Elaine Washington?"

Wilkins laughed once, soundlessly, "I saw to that."

"So why d'you do it? Why d'you work as a woman?"

"Well, Trax pays exceptionally well, and the opening was for an administrative assistant, not a security guard, which is what I'd been since I left the service."

"But why?"

Wilkins scratched his head, where not one of the dirty blonde hairs was longer than an inch.

"Our experiences color the way we think. You see solutions to problems in military terms. As a transvestite, I see solutions to problems in that light."

"And living as a woman is your solution to many of life's problems?"

"I don't live as a woman. I just work and have my minuscule social life as one."

"How do you mean 'minuscule social life'?"

"You went on a date with Elaine Washington tonight, you didn't go for a drink with Elliot Wilkins. See? People only see Elaine, not me."

The door buzzed. Elliot strode to his intercom and asked, "Yes?"

"Cicero's Pizza. I've got a large cheese pie for Elaine Washington."

Wilkins frowned, "But I didn't..."

"Those are my associates, Elliot. That's our cover: Cicero's Pizza."

Elliot scowled and barked, "Come on up."

"You haven't told me why you've told me all these things. I mean specifically me," Georgi gasped.

"Maybe we do have a bond," Elliot responded darkly, "Besides, who else can I tell and count on to keep my secret? Who knows how to keep a secret?"

A knock came on the door. Wilkins opened it cautiously.

"Colonel, we came as fast as we could," Yuri began in Russian.

"You," Elliot roared as soon as he spied the Russian. In a flash, he had slammed into Brezkov and the two were a furious flailing frenzy of fists falling partly down the stairs.

Marco watched them go, "Yuri'll feel that in the morning."

Sabina dashed to Georgi's side, "Colonel, what happened to you?"

Georgi gave a succinct recap of his adventures.

"How long ago," Sabina asked, pressing her ear to his chest so she could listen to the faint heart beat.

"Just over twenty minutes."

"Who's Yuri's playmate," Marco asked, "He looks familiar."

"That," Georgi groaned as Sabina injected him with pain killer, "Is Elaine Washington."

"What," his subordinates gasped simultaneously.

Elliot and Yuri continued to glare at each other in the back of the ambulance as it sped towards Bon Secours Hospital. They had almost killed each other, and needed their own medical attention. Sabina had sedated Georgi almost unconscious. The three spies jabbered away in Russian until Elliot could stand no more.

"Hey, you knuckleheads," he snapped, pointing at the paramedics, "If you keep that up, even a couple of dimwits like these two could catch on."

"Catch on t'what, Mr. Wilkins," Sabina asked in the Texas twang of her cover identity.

"And you can spare my your secret identity BS, too. He," Elliot snapped, nodding at Georgi, "Came clean about who you guys are, and why you're here."

Marco replied as himself, "So what d'you plan to do?"

They all glared at him with murder in their eyes.

Elliot shrugged, "Nothing."

"Nothing? What d'you mean 'nothing'?"

Elliot leaned back against the cabinets and half closed his eyes, "Just that. I know your secret - why he had to wait until you brought him new ID before I could call the paramedics - and you know mine."

"Cursed faggot," Yuri spat.

Before anyone knew it, Elliot had looped a punch onto Yuri's chin that left the GRU man stunned.

"Put a leash on it, shit for brains, or else you'll get really bitten," Wilkins roared as Marco and Sabina fought the two apart.

One of the paramedics leaned through from the cab, "If you four don't settle down and stop arguing right now, we'll throw the lot of you out right now.

He pointed at Georgi.

"Even him."

Silence dominated the rest of the journey.

The next day, as Georgi fought back to coherency, Elaine Washington paid him a visit. She was dressed the most casually Georgi had ever seen her, in a flannel shirt, knee length skirt, chocolate-colored tights, and patent leather flats.

"Well, how are we feeling today, Aaron," she asked, bustling into the room and flinging open the curtains. The somber view of Detroit and Lake Eerie beyond made her wrinkle her pretty nose and turn away.

"Uhm, better," Georgi responded, puzzled.

The nurse charged around Georgi's bed to challenge Elaine.

"Miss, what are you doing?"

Elaine slid in next to Georgi and carefully laid her arm across his shoulders, "I'm just here to see my man. He got hurt so badly walking me home, and I just had to be sure he was alright."

The nurse folded her arms and regarded the pair skeptically, "And just who might you be?"

Elaine snuggled close to Georgi, "His fiancee, silly.

She took Georgi's right hand, "Oh no, honey! Look! They took your ring!!"

The nurse rolled her eyes and left. Elaine sprang up as though Georgi had just burst into flames.

"Well, I haven't done that before," she groaned.

"Miss Washington...Elaine? Is that you," Georgi hissed.

Elaine stared down at him, "None other. Now, be straight with me...how d'you feel?"

Georgi shifted as best he could, "They sewed my liver back up. I still can't feel my legs, although the doctors say my spinal cord is only bruised."

Elaine sighed, making her bosom heavy provocatively, "How long are you going to be in the hospital?"

Georgi frowned, "They haven't told me yet.

He looked up an met her eyes. There was an odd energy in his shadowy, Slavic orbs. Elaine had seen it before, when Elliot and some friends - other, ex-servicemen - had gone hunting in upstate Michigan, and their dogs had cornered a magnificent stag. Georgi Silkin's eyes showed the same spark, the same willingness to fight to the last.

"Why are you here," he asked flatly.

Elaine perched primly on the sideboard, "To do the right thing. The Detroit police now have five witnesses to your mugging last night. On top of that, the Monroe brothers have the DPD under a lot of pressure to find the men who mugged an important business associate of theirs. Trax Corporation has a lot of influence with local government, you see."

"Five witnesses? Only you and I were there," Georgi remarked, puzzled, "And I didn't see that much."

Elaine smiled and ticked the names of the witnesses off on her elegant fingers, "First, it was my date who was nearly beaten to death.

Georgi jumped as Elliot Wilkins' harsh voice snapped from Elaine's appetizing lips, "An' I saw most a' what happened when I was takin' out my garbage.

Elaine resumed speaking, "As for the other three...well...your people are real pros. It didn't take much for them to focus on different parts of the story they heard from the two of us and use their aliases to swear out a statement.

Elliot's voice came again, and Georgi marveled at how complete the change was between his and Elaine's: how words were chosen differently, strung together differently, even pronounced and emphasized. Even the posture and body language of the person before him changed, subtly to be sure, but no less profoundly. As much as could be possible without another personality forming, Elliot Wilkins and Elaine Washington were two entirely separate people, and Georgi was not at all sure which one represented the truth: the world-weary ex-infantryman or the bright, sparkling beauty.

"That character Curt Strange and I agreed," Elliot began, "That, if they ever catch the little punk that did this to ya, either me or...

Elaine spoke once more, "Elaine would identify him for the police. Not only can't any of the four of you do it, but you won't be able to."

Georgi frowned profoundly, "Why is that, exactly?"

Elaine stood and took Georgi's hand. Then Elliot squeezed it, just hard enough to hurt, "Because the four of you are done here. There's nothing more for you to do at Trax. Your surveillance there is over. As soon as you get out of the hospital, you'll all be returning to Russia."

Georgi tried to rise, but Elliot pushed him back down. He contented himself with snapping, "We're no where close to being done!"

Elaine spoke silkily, "Yes, you are. You see, Colonel, I like you. I feel...free, after confessing my little ruse to you last night. You have done more for me than any of my friends ever have, and I'll always be grateful for that."

Georgi's eyes flashed, "We have nothing, you know. In Russia. If there is to be any hope for my countrymen, we have to make up the ground we lost."

Elaine leaned back, "That doesn't change the fact that what you and the others are doing is stealing, even if its for a good reason, and I can't allow you to steal from the Monroes. They, too, have done so much for me."

"Just what have they done for you, exactly?"

Elaine smiled wistfully, "They gave a transvestite ex-infantryman without any prospects a job, for one thing."

"They know?"

Elaine laughed, "Of course, silly."

She folded her arms across her chest, "Now then. I'm going to make some assumptions. I think I'm in the neighborhood of the truth, but I'm sure someone at the FBI or those nice boys in Langley would be willing to point out where I've made a mistake.

She began pacing back and forth across the room, working her thoughts out.

"You came here for information on something specific, or else you would have been here all along and no one would know you were here. That narrows things down considerably, and, since I post all the paperwork on our government contracts, I know what we're just about ready to make available, what things you would be interested in. How'm I doing so far?

Georgi nodded slowly.

"Because there's only about two dozen projects you could be interested in and which involve cybernetics, I can hazard a good guess as to what you're after. Knowing that, and from the impression I've gotten from you and your assistants, I'd say that you know as much as we do, so there's no reason for further espionage. D'you agree?"

"You can't say that. You don't know anything about the trade."

Elaine leaned on the foot of the bed so Georgi got a good look at her cleavage, "No, but I do know about keeping secrets, and, like I said, someone in the alphabet soup would probably be willing to set me straight.

She stood up, "Anyway, your three friends can write their reports or something until you get out of here. Then you're all on the next boat back to Borschtland."

"What if I'm in the hospital for a long time?"

"Then their reports should be masterpieces, shouldn't they? I'll entertain them if I have to, so long as there's no espionage directed against Trax. I'll give you the names of our competitors if you like, but we're the industry leader, so I doubt you'll learn much from them.

Elaine circled around the side of the bed and laid her hand atop Georgi'd nearly burst liver just hard enough to make him wince. She leaned in and hissed in his ear, "I'll know if your people get up to anything, and then all it takes is a few phone calls."

"What if something were to happen to you," Georgi growled, "For daring to dictate terms to us?"

Elaine seized the front of his hospital gown, but it was Elliot who returned the growl, "I dare many things, Colonel. D'you really think I don't have the audacity to squeeze some Russian spies? If you think you can protect yourselves by taking a run at me, then come on. Bring it."

A nurse poked her head in instants after Elaine had released Georgi's gown, moving away from him as though the nurse had interrupted them kissing.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Miner? I keep hearing strange voices in here," the nurse asked, sounding puzzled.

Elaine draped herself over Georgi and chirped brightly, "Why everything's just fine. I don't know what it could be that you're hearing."

The nurse retreated, shaking her head. Elaine rose to leave, "There are many diversions here in Detroit. Maybe your people won't want to leave."

"Ha! Don't bet on it.

"One thing, Elaine," Georgi called as she was halfway through the door, "When your police find the little rat who did this to me, you tell Curt Strange."

"And if they find him after you've gone home?"

"I'll leave your name at the consulate. Tell the Defense Attaché. Either way, a darker justice will deal with him."

After issuing her ultimatum, which had frightened Elaine more than she cared to admit to herself, she could have been felled by a feather to see Yuri Brezkhov swagger up to her in the Trax atrium.

"Uhm, Miss Washington," he drawled in a west Texas twang, "I'm Curt Strange. I believe you know my boss, Aaron Miner?"

He offered his hand.

"Ah...good...afternoon, Mr. Strange. How do you do?"

They shook hands gingerly.

"Ah, Miss Washington, there are some matters in connection with Mr. Miner which we should clear up. Do you have a few minutes?"

'Here we go', Elaine thought, following Yuri outside. She carefully kept Yuri just in front of her as they left the building and ambled between the colossal global cedars carefully cultivated in Trax' ornate lakeshore garden. They pair looked as though they'd just come from a funeral, Yuri in his black suit and Elaine in hers, both relieved only by a white shirt. They both even wore black neck ties.

"Is this a secure place," Yuri asked.

"You see those," Elaine responded, pointing to a pair of microwave antenna masts just to the east.

Yuri nodded.

"They put out so much interference that we can't even listen to a portable radio out here."

Yuri nodded. They sat upon a low stone bench. Elaine crossed her ankles and watched Yuri remove a fearsome little pistol from within his jacket. It was little more than a grip and a trigger affixed to two stacked lengths of half-inch pipe.

Yuri worked the action, so two huge bullets, each as big as the end of his thumb, fell out the back of each length of pipe.

"You see this?"

Elaine nodded.

"We call these clubs. They're non-magnetic, home-made guns. Punishment weapons."

He held up one of the massive bullets.

"We load each barrel with one of these. Cut down .80 caliber soft-point big game bullets.

He reloaded the gun.

"One pull of the trigger fires both barrels."

Elaine felt a chill and hugged herself, "What do you do with that?"

Yuri smiled, "Simple. I walk up behind you, press both muzzles to the crown of your head, and fire...

"BANG!

Elaine nearly leapt a mile.

"...blowing your face right off. You're punished.

Elaine began to shiver uncontrollably as Yuri dismantled the club.

"I was instructed to do precisely that, Miss Washington."

"Why? By who?"

"I think its better that you don't know who. As for why...well, you don't squeeze the GRU. You don't dictate terms to us. My instructions were to send a message."

He began throwing components of the club into the bushes.

"But you're not..."

Yuri shook his head, "No. We're not robots. Judgement and...PHEW...I guess creativity are important so the GRU can accomplish its goals."

"So you've decided to ignore your orders to punish me?"

Yuri nodded, "I'd like to...my jaw still aches from our first meeting, but no, no club for you."

Elaine felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking this is the end of it, Miss Washington."

Her heart leapt into her mouth, "What do you mean?"

Yuri grinned evilly, "Well, we're quite partial to the Red Wings..."

'This has to be the stupidest idea I have ever had', Elaine thought darkly as she clattered down the hall towards the dressing room of the yet-again-victorious Detroit Red Wings, trying to stay balanced atop her sexiest, least practical pair of four inch heels.

'I mean who am I trying to kid? They're gonna take one look at me and think 'man in a dress' straight off.'

She had little confidence in how convincing her corset and latex wrought curves within the slinky, sausage-casing silk sheath - a sensuous sable color - she wore would be to the amorous athletes within, or how appetizing her fishnet-stockinged legs could possibly be.

'I mean, I look like a whore who put on her paint dead drunk,' Elaine groused, pausing to examine the gaudy, abrupt harlot's face she'd donned earlier in a gleaming steel fire hose cabinet.

All too close nearby, she could hear the Red Wings' noisily celebrating another complete victory over their new-found rivals, the Colorado Avalanche.

Elliot luxuriated in the sheer maleness that throbbed in the air, and wished that it was he, not Elaine, who was about to brazen into the warrior's lodge, but Elliot could never have worked up the courage to even make it this far. That was partly why Elaine existed at all: she was so much braver than he was.

She and Yuri had very carefully chosen the day to make their overture. It had to be a Red Wings win after a brief losing streak. It had been rare luck that the win had come against the hated Avalanche. Such a win would put the Red Wings in a celebratory mood.

It had been a bit of an ordeal, because it meant going to ten games as Elaine Washington. Elliot's season tickets lay unused on the dresser in 5-E. Looking like a horny hooker during all those games, and braving the dubious neighborhood outside Joe Louis Arena so attired, was frightening. She's had two solicitations already.

Of course, Elaine took some small comfort from the knowledge that few, if any, of Detroit's working girls had a trio of Russian spies literally watching every move they made, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

Elaine listened for the Red Wings' immortal coach, Scotty Bowman, to wind down his post-game speech. That was the instant, the crucial moment for her to act. Bowman's authority would end, and the players would not have yet started to fill the aether themselves. She could fill it, and take control of the room.

And Bowman was winding down.

Elaine's heart beat BOOM - BOOM - BOOM within her chest.

A chill, acid sweat started on her flanks.

Her mouth had gone dry.

She listened for the sound of Bowman's office door closing. That was the hole she wanted to fill.

STEP - Step - step - clunk

And now it was time.

Elaine exhaled like a grounded fish breathing its last and pushed the door open.

Dozens of eyes fell upon her, and she knew what they saw, what she hoped they saw: an easy woman, somewhere between street-walker and escort, someone who just oozed sex, who could be counted on to bed her man with creativity and passion, yet you could be proud to take home to mother.

A wave of panic erupted in her heels and threatened to explode from the top of her skull, splattering brains, bone, and artificial hair in raven's wing black across the walls, floor, and the entire victorious team.

But it didn't.

The panic did spin for a while, like a wheel of fire between navel and nipples, threatening to make her swoon. As gracefully as she could manage, to prevent such a disaster, Elaine leaned against the door and turned impish, lascivious eyes on the sweaty players.

"Hello guys," she purred, hiding behind action, "You looked great out there tonight!"

She couldn't believe these words were coming from her mouth.

"Who are you," snapped one of the players - snapped only in the sense that the words were abrupt, not that they were cruel. Elaine's classy tramp facade made sure of that.

"My name isn't important," she purred once more, the first honest words she'd uttered in hours, "What is important are your fans, and how badly they want to see you."

She began to strut around the room, swaying her hips seductively, skimming her hands silkily along the shafts of fibreglass hockey sticks.

"What are you talking about," queried a compact, brutish looking Red Wing, "we're forever out in the community, pressin' the flesh with the fans."

"Yeah," barked another, "This's Hockeytown, USA."

Elaine could hear how the seductive spectacle she'd made of herself took the edge off their words. Their minds were at war within their skulls. One part of it wanted to goggle and drool at her carefully-crafted, barely concealed charms, while the other, intellectual part wanted to protest her doubts about fan loyalty.

She smiled simply - stupidly, "I don't see any of your fans in here. Why is that?"

"'Cause they never come in here!"

"Yeah. Security heads 'em off."

"But you'd have no trouble with your fans dropping by the dressing room after a game, would you," she pressed, leaning on a stool such that her cleavage and upper, gartered thighs could be seen.

"If they wanna come an' hang around with a buncha sweaty hockey bums, shit yeah," the brutish fellow bawled.

Then one player, a tall, dark haired fellow with an undefinable European accent, asked the question she was sure they all wanted to ask.

"What about you? You a fan?"

To a man, every stomach in the room was subtly sucked in.

Elaine smiled wolfishly, "Oh yeah."

Every face took on a hungry cast. She had them on the hook now.

"Yeah?

She stood and swayed to the door, "You have no idea, but I'm not nearly as big a fan of yours as these folks are."

With a flourish, she whipped the door open to reveal Yuri, Marco, and Sabina, in their finest and grinning from ear to ear. Elaine leaned on the wall next to the fire extinguisher and pouted in that seductive manner that always made Elliot's blood race, "Now be nice to these folks and maybe I'll show you just how big a fan of yours I am."

She winked and ducked outside.

When the three Russians visited apartment 5-E two days later, they found Elliot Wilkins fairly frothing at the mouth, alternating between swigging on a bottle of Michelob and hurling Elaine's possessions into a refrigerator box. As soon as he saw the trio, he whirled and almost threw the half-empty beer bottle at them. Instead, he spewed a beer-soaked spout of vitriol.

"You bastards?! What the fucking hell d'you think you're doing here?"

Sabina blushed, "We came to thank you."

"Thank me?! Thank me for what? Embarrassing myself in front of the fucking Red Wings? Jesus Christ, I was like some Christly drunken prom queen in there.

He pointed menacingly at them.

"I was sure as shit the lot of 'em were gonna gang rape me! D'you know what that sorta fear is like?!"

Sabina thrust her chin forward, "Well, actually I do..."

"Okay, maybe you do, but that whole experience was one I coulda done without."

Marco gestured at the refrigerator box in his spacey way, "So what are you doing? Moving?"

Elliot swigged down the last of the beer, "I'm not, but Elaine is."

It took a few seconds for the truth to register on the three Russians, by which time Elaine's lingeré drawer had been emptied into the box, a silken cascade of frillies and frothies.

"Wait a minute," Yuri snapped, "You're giving up on the life you have?"

Elliot shrugged.

"What will you do? If you're not Elaine anymore, then you don't have a job."

Elliot emerged from the bedroom with his arms full of shoes, "I don't know Curt -

- he was sticking to their aliases still -

"- but its gonna be interesting, seeing as how Elliot Wilkins hasn't worked since he demobilized after the Gulf War. Maybe I'll try that trekking company in Nepal.

He dumped the shoes into the box and scowled at the three with a mixture of disappointment and heartsickness.

"I took my vacation in Nepal last year. Hiked up to Everest base camp and had a riot. But you know, I couldn't tell anyone about it.

He slapped the refrigerator box.

"D'you know why? Because I have no friends. Elaine has lots, but no one would believe she hiked around Nepal. She had to tell people that she'd gone to Maui and laid on the beach in her bikini for a week."

"So what's your point? You're sad that Elaine has a life and you don't," Sabina snapped sardonically.

Elliot fumed, "Life? She's taken over mine!"

Marco commented eerily, "You let her."

"What!"

"What?"

"What did you say?"

Marco swallowed moistly, "You said that you have no friends, but that Elaine has many. You feel that Elaine has taken over your life."

Elliot nodded warily, "Go on."

"How can she do so unless you let her?"

Elliot fell silent, so Sabina took up the thread of conversation, "We know about living your legend, how your cover identity relates to you...

She gestured sharply at him.

"...to who you are."

"And?"

"It sounds like you don't," Yuri laughed, "And now, because you haven't taken the time to learn, a good person is going to die."

Elliot knew that the Russians were very willing and quite capable of killing to further their goals or to protect themselves. With all three of them here, they could do away with him and no one would ever know anything about it. Elliot wished he had more friends even more, now, and blanched with fear.

Yuri smiled humorlessly, "He thinks we're going to kill him."

He glanced at Sabina and Marco, who also smiled.

"Aren't you?"

"We said we were here to thank you. Now it seems we have to teach you a few things as well."

"What?"

The Russian consulate in Detroit was a complete surprise to Elaine, for it had the look of one of the huge consulates in New York or Los Angeles,. Or even of an embassy. When Yuri Brezkov had appeared at her door and presented her with a gilt embossed invitation to the reception of the Russian ambassador to the United States at the Detroit consulate, she was expecting a dour cement pillbox, or some entirely American office building.

Instead, she was reminded of the Kremlin in miniature. Sabina had explained, "When we were looking for a new headquarters for our consulate in New York, we found an old Catholic church that was for sale. In Brezhnev's day, there was never a shortage of money, so some renovations were done."

Sabina had explained this as they sat side by side in the pedicurists' chairs, being pampered by Korean ladies who spoke very little English.

The Russian woman had grown serious, "You see, through all your life, you have kept Elliot and Elaine separate.

Elaine shifted uncomfortable and got a streak of burgundy nail polish down her little toe for the effort.

Sabina smirked conspiratorially and touched Elaine lightly on the arm, "Elaine became the place where you hid all your little secrets.

Elaine shifted again.

"Your dirty desires."

"Now just a minute..."

Sabina reclined in her chair and continued as though Elaine hadn't said a word, "And why not? You were always two different people."

"Well, yes, but..."

Elaine and Elliot had their separate lives.

Sabina touched Elaine's arm again, "And Elaine had more fun, didn't she? Because she could be anything and everything Elliot wasn't. She was your fantasy. You could live out your dreams in her shoes."

  

  

  

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