Black Harvest

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Nick, Korov, Lamont and Ronnie sat at a back table in The Point, a bar favored by Special Ops personnel, active and retired. The place was busy. A bottle of vodka sat on the table. Ronnie had a coke in front of him. The others had empty four ounce glasses. Korov poured them full.

"In Russia, this is how we do it." He held up his full glass. "Na Z'drovnya. To your health." He downed the glass in a single gulp, waited to see if they would follow. Lamont and Nick held their glasses up. Ronnie lifted his coke. He never drank alcohol.

"Na Z'drovnya. Down the hatch." They drank. Korov filled the glasses again.

"Down the hatch?"

"Another idiom. We have lots of them."

"So do we."

They sipped.

"I return to Moscow tomorrow."

"What did your boss say, when you told him what happened?"

"He was impressed. As am I. We did not believe you would actually remove your CIA Director. The solution was elegant. He is pleased that the plot has been stopped."

"What do his bosses know?"

"That General Vysotsky has acted brilliantly to foil a threat against the Rodina. That the American CIA is in disarray. That one of his agents has successfully engaged with a secretive American intelligence unit and gained their trust."

"That would be you?"

Korov placed his hand over his heart and made a slight bow. He drained his glass. Nick filled it, then his own.

"Yeah, you'll probably get a medal," Lamont said.

"Maybe I have Vysotsky send you one."

They laughed. The bar was filling with men. Most of them had the look.

"This is a good place. If you come to Moscow I will show you a place like this."

"We might not be welcome."

"With me, you will be welcome." He made rings on the table with his wet glass.

"Nick. I hope we are never on, how you say, the opposite side."

"Maybe this will open a crack in the door. Our nations should not be enemies."

"But it is the way of things, is it not? When both countries want the same thing, there is trouble."

"Not if that thing is to our mutual benefit. Like what we did here."

"If Hood is right," Ronnie said, "we could be working together again. Nothing like a common enemy to make new friends."

Two hours later the second bottle was empty. Korov was singing a Spetsnaz marching song and trying to teach Nick and Lamont the words. Ronnie just shook his head. They were attracting attention. A large man walked over to them. He'd been drinking. It was the kind of bar where people drank a lot.

"Who's your Russki friend? He doesn't belong here."

"You don't like my singing? It's a good song."

"I don't like Russkis."

Nick emptied his glass. "This Russki earned the right to be here. So why don't you go finish your drink. I'm trying to learn a song."

Two more men walked over behind the first.

"Trouble, Joe?"

"Just someone who needs to leave. You're leaving, aren't you, pal? With your Russki asshole buddy here."

Nick sighed. He stood. Korov swayed a little and stood with him. Lamont stood, his arm still in a sling. Ronnie stood up on his crutches. He held one loose in his right hand.

"You're drunk. Why don't you drop it before you get hurt."

"Oh, how scary," the big man said. "Two cripples, a Russki and an asshole."

He swung. Nick blocked it easily with his left arm and hit him with a hard right twice in the face. He felt cartilage break. The man went backward over a table. His friends came in fast. Korov decked one. Ronnie took out the other with his crutch. Lamont watched. The bar erupted into a brawl.

It took a while to sort out. When it was done, the four of them were on the street. They were told they were no longer welcome at The Point. They were a little worse for wear. Ronnie's shiny new crutch was bent. It made him hobble as he walked.

"I was getting tired of that joint anyway." Lamont's eye was swelling.

"Just like Moscow," Korov said. They walked down the street laughing.