Southern Fried Spies

Chapter 2: Meet the Family

Chapter 2: Meet the Family

Vincent dropped to a seat on the large, flowered sofa. “Cartoons. Always a good choice.”

Nikoloz prowled the room, eager to see what a typical American family was like. More family photos on the wall, some of these including a woman who must be the deceased wife and mother. She had been an older, even lovelier version of the daughter. A bookshelf with popular reading material, much of it geared toward younger children. The top shelf held a stack of board games of the sort American families were touted as playing together. He spotted Monopoly, Parcheesi and something called Risk, along with a checkers set and a stack of playing cards with a rubber band holding them together. The television set was a larger model, one of the new color sets.

He heard an unfamiliar noise and paused to locate the source. Above his head, in the wall. There: the ventilation grill. Something large moved behind it, making another crackling sound as the shaft buckled under the weight.

“There is a child in the ventilation system,” he reported. “I suspect it is Dr. Yarborough’s son.”

“Billy!” The doctor came in and stood beneath the grill, putting a hand to his head. “How many times have I told you—?”

A muffled voice came from inside the ventilation shaft. “I’m not Billy. I’m Agent 29-X and I have two suspects under surveillance.”

Dr. Yarborough grimaced. “This is what comes of having above-average children, gentlemen. My son thinks he’s a spy, and my daughter Margaret—”

“Daddy!” An exasperated feminine voice sounded from the doorway. “I told you my new name is Sunflower!”

“My daughter has dropped out of classes and become a hippie.”

Nikoloz shared a glance with his partner. What were they getting themselves into?

Vincent rose, extending his hand to the young woman. “Vincent Lowe. We’re colleagues of your father.”

Dr. Yarborough rubbed his brow. “They are going to make certain that you children are safe while I finish my work.”

Margaret—or Sunflower—shoved her long hair back behind one ear. “I’m not a child, Daddy. I’m nearly eighteen.”

She shook Vincent’s hand, giving the automatic giggle young ladies gave at first sight of the man. Nikoloz introduced himself, and she shook his hand absently, still staring at his partner. Nikoloz was well accustomed to the effect the man had on the opposite s*x (and on many of his fellow men as well). Vincent was the typical All-American boy: blond hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders, and trim waist. He’d admitted to Nikoloz once that he had actually played American football while he was in school. Nikoloz’s wiry physique and plain brown hair just couldn’t compete.

The voice from the ventilation shaft came again. “I’m not a child, either. I’m a super-secret agent for an international spy agency. I can keep all of us safe, Evil Overlord. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

“Get out of that dam-darn ventilation system, son. This instant.” The doctor turned to Nikoloz, a long-suffering expression on his face. “I’m sorry about this. I know it’s going to be chore keeping up with them.”

The ductwork behind the wall crackled and buckled as Billy crawled away. Shortly, he appeared in the doorway: a gangly youngster dressed in a black shirt and trousers, covered with spider webs. He held a small tape recorder and a variety of objects hung from his belt. Nikoloz spotted a flashlight, a loop of cord, an old telephone receiver, and a Swiss Army knife. “I have recordings of your voices,” he told Nikoloz, narrowing his eyes behind the round lenses of his eyeglasses. “The Agency will soon identify both of you.”

“I am Nikoloz Donauri and my partner is Vincent Lowe. We have said this.”

“You’re obviously a KGB agent here undercover while you plot to overthrow the government.”

Dr. Yarborough grabbed one thin shoulder and propelled the boy out of the doorway. “Go wash up. You can have milk and cookies if you can make yourself presentable.”

“Super-secret agents don’t eat milk and cookies.” Billy shuffled out of the room, not without casting a suspicious glare at Nikoloz.

“Milk and cookies sounds good to me,” Vincent said, starting toward the kitchen.

“We just finished lunch,” Nikoloz reminded the man.

“Yes, but we forgot to order dessert. I’ll bet Millie makes a mean pie.”

Dr. Yarborough chuckled. “She does, at that. Margaret, do you want a snack?”

“Sunflower! I was coming down to get a Coke. I’m really busy, Daddy.”

“Honey, you can listen to your records any time. I want to talk with you both. These men are here—”

“We don’t need babysitters.” The girl rummaged in the refrigerator, came out with a glass bottle, and headed for the door. “Nice meeting you.”

“That went well.” Dr. Yarborough sank into a chair and dropped his face into his hands. “Help yourselves to whatever strikes your fancy, gentlemen. I can make coffee if you’d rather have that.”

Nikoloz had already spotted the percolator and coffee tin. “If you don’t mind, I will make it.”

“You just sit there and relax,” Vincent added. He’d found the cookie jar, and was pouring a selection onto a plate. “We’re perfectly capable of fending for ourselves.”

Nikoloz glanced out the window as he filled the percolator. The daughter sat in a swing depending from a huge oak in the back yard. She was smoking—and it didn’t look like a tobacco cigarette. He wondered if he should inform Dr. Yarborough. He would discuss this with his partner in private, perhaps.

Billy appeared in the doorway. He had changed into clean clothing, but now wore a trench coat over his black shirt and trousers. “I have decided to keep an eye on my suspects,” he said, taking a seat across from his father. “Don’t try to slip anything into my cookies or milk.”

Vincent grinned. “I was thinking about it, but you’re just too alert for me.”

“A good secret agent never relaxes.” Billy took a handful of cookies and a glass of milk. “I have been trained to withstand your methods of interrogation, so it will do you no good to try to drug me.”

“We’ll keep that in mind, won’t we, partner?”

Nikoloz set the percolator onto the burner. “Why would we try to drug one of the children we are going to be guarding?”

“Trust me,” Dr. Yarborough muttered around his palm, “I’ve thought about it.”

Vincent sat next to the boy. “What made you decide to become a super-secret agent, young man?”

Billy gave him a pitying glance. “I was recruited because of my mind, of course. I’m a child prodigy.”

Dr. Yarborough heaved a sigh. “I wonder what it’s like to have a normal family. Maybe a son who likes to play baseball and read comic books.”

Nikoloz’s communicator vibrated within his jacket. “I need to see what options they have discovered,” he told the doctor. Billy glared at him suspiciously as he shoved out of his chair and headed for the front porch.

Once he closed the door, he pulled out the device and hit the transmit button. “Donauri here.” He leaned against the porch railing, trying to breathe normally in the thick air.

“We have a safe house in Atlanta. You and Mr. Lowe are to relocate the entire family to this address. Dr. Yarborough will have a team guarding him as he finishes his work. You two will have back-up as well, so you can guard the children. It’s possible that F.I.S.T. may try to kidnap them and use them as leverage to obtain the serum.”

Once he’d taken down the address, Nikoloz stowed the communicator in his pocket again and spent a few minutes relieving his frustration with some well-chosen Russian phrases. Headquarters had no idea what these two children were like. This was not going to be the easiest mission they’d ever had.

He strode back inside to give his partner the bad news. The doctor reacted predictably.

“I will not relocate. I’ve told you my reasons. Take the children and keep them safe, but leave me here.”

“I’m afraid you must come,” Nikoloz said, pouring a cup of coffee for the man. “Your entire family must vanish. Whoever is after your formula may move in on this location once they realize that the children are gone.”

“We’ll recreate your laboratory,” Vincent added. “You’ll have whatever you need to continue your work.”

Nikoloz thought of something. “We can have a team here at the house, to pack the rest of your belongings.”

Dr. Yarborough rubbed his forehead. “I’ll have to consider it, gentlemen. I’m just not certain it’s the best solution.”

“We can let you have until tomorrow night.” Nikoloz finished his coffee and rose. “If you could give us directions to the nearest hotel—”

The doctor chuckled. “That’d be the Motel 6 halfway back to Savannah. You two can stay in our mother-in-law’s cottage.”

Nikoloz started. “Your mother-in-law lives here as well? We will need to relocate her, too.”

“It’s a slang term, partner,” Vincent said, clapping him on the shoulder. “He’s got a spare room somewhere detached from the house.”

“Over the garage,” the doctor said. “It’s yours while you’re here. There’s only one bed, but the sofa is quite comfortable.”

Billy followed as they collected their luggage from the rental car. Nikoloz hoped there were no convenient ventilation shafts in the garage. He also hoped Margaret didn’t use the “mother-in-law’s cottage” to store her drugs. He hoped he would become accustomed to this blasted heat—or humidity. Dr. Yarborough led the way up the outside stairs and showed them the amenities of what turned out to be a small apartment, missing only a kitchen.

“We usually eat dinner around seven o’clock,” the doctor said. “Billy, get down from there and come with me. You have homework, young man.”

Vincent closed the door after they left, locking it carefully. “We’re really stuck with those two? Couldn’t you request guard duty with the doctor instead?”

“I was not given an option. Do you think the boy has a mental illness? He seems to really believe he is an agent.”

“I think he’s a very lonely little boy with a very vivid imagination. I was much the same at his age.”

“You thought you were a secret agent?”

“No, I was a cowboy, but the principle is the same.”

“I do not understand.”

Vincent tossed his suitcase onto the bed. “You never played ‘Let’s Pretend’ as a child?”

“We worked to keep the orphanage clean and efficient. And then I was recruited into the KGB. I did not have time to play.”

“Damn, Kolya, that’s horrible. Every kid deserves a chance to play.”

“Soviet foundlings do not have the luxury. We must work to repay the State for taking care of us.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” Vincent dropped to a seat on the plaid sofa. “Makes me want to tuck you in bed and feed you animal crackers and hot cocoa.”

“I do not think I would like that very much. I prefer coffee or tea.”

“You are the least romantic man I have ever met. You know that, right?”

Nikoloz set his suitcase on the dresser and sat next to his partner. Was he missing something? He was horribly new at this relationship business, after all. “What is romantic about cookies and cocoa?”

“For God’s sake, man, it’s the thought that counts. I was thinking I’d comfort you for your rotten damn childhood…but now I’m starting to think you deserved it.”

Ah, it was merely another of Vika’s attempts at humor. “I do not think my childhood was rotten. I learned a good deal from the State school.”

Vincent snorted. “If you’d been a normal kid, you’d have had an imaginary playmate. Mine was a cowpony named Ed.”

“You had an imaginary horse? And you say I had an unusual childhood.” Nikoloz leaned back against the cushions and propped his feet onto the coffee table. “I will let you and your horse check the apartment for surprises.”

“It’s your turn.”

“Vashu mat’. I swept the hotel room for bugs on our last mission.” Nikoloz put his hands behind his head.

Vincent shoved to his feet. “You’re really annoying when you’re in ‘mission mode,’ partner.”

He pulled the electronics equipment out of his suitcase and swept the room. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said.

Nikoloz sat up quickly. “F.I.S.T. has found us already?”

“Not likely.” Vincent reached over his head and pulled a tape recorder from the top of the bookshelf. “Secret Agent 29-X strikes again.”

He tossed the little recorder to Nikoloz and continued checking. Nikoloz rewound the tape and hit “record” He recited several nursery rhymes in Russian, then switched the machine off. “That should keep him busy for some time.”

Vincent held up a Super8 camera. “Now we know what the little weasel was doing while his father showed us the apartment.” He flipped the camera off. “Nothing else scans as electronic.”

“He could be in the walls at this very moment.” Nikoloz studied the little portable camera. It was one of the newer models, larger than what an actual spy would use for surveillance but small enough for an amateur job. “I admit that I was looking forward to some free time tonight.”

Vincent raised his eyebrows. “If the kid was in the ventilation system, we’d hear it creaking. We’re safe enough.”

Nikoloz thought for a moment, then switched on the television. He turned the sound up.

“You want to watch soap operas?” Vincent’s face fell.

Nikoloz set down the camera and tape recorder. He took his partner’s hand and spoke loudly. “Yes, let us just sit here and relax. It was a long drive and I am quite fatigued.”

He put a finger to his lips and tugged Vincent toward the bathroom. Vincent caught on quickly. A mischievous expression crossed his face. “If I nod off,” he said just as loudly, “don’t wake me up. Drama always put me right to sleep.”

They tiptoed into the bathroom and Nikoloz closed the door quietly. He looked around carefully. There was no ventilation opening in the small room—only a space heater in one corner for the winter. He spoke quietly. “I believe we should be safe in here, even if the child is able to hear or see us in the main rooms.”

Vincent shuddered. “The thought of that little creep watching us in the bedroom makes my skin crawl.”

“I thought you identified with the boy.”

“The warm feelings are wearing off. I was planning to have my way with you later on.”

Nikoloz looked up at his partner and raised an eyebrow. “Later? What is wrong with now?”

Vincent glanced around the bathroom. “It’s a little cramped.”

“I thought I would teach you another of those techniques you constantly wonder about. The ones I learned in the KGB.”