Read chapter 9 of Realtor Revenge to see this chapter of Spy Games from Raven's point of view.
***
Spy Games
Chapter 20
The Russians showed up in what looked like a corporate AN-148. Even though the Antonov airliner was designed to hold up seventy-five passengers, when this highly modified VIP version landed at the small Merryville airport, it only discharged ten people ... five men and five women.
A large man wearing enough gold to open a jewelry store was the first to poke his head out the aircraft door. He looked left, right, up, and down before descending the gangway. Once on the tarmac, he beckoned the next three men to follow him. While one stood guard at the bottom of the airstairs, the others did a quick search of the surrounding area, looking for possible threats. Once the four lead men deemed the area secure, the last man emerged.
I immediately recognized their leader, Alek Popov. He was a major player in the shady world of Russian politics and organized crime. He was also the man who put a price on my head for fucking and then tying up his wife, daughter and housekeeper. Fortunately, neither he, nor any of the women in his house, had seen my face. Unless I did something extremely careless, there was no way he would know the man he was willing to spend a million dollars to have slowly tortured and killed would be his host for the next seven days.
The five men had a short conversation and then one of them called up to the aircraft. I initially thought the first woman to descend the gangway was Kira Popov, Alek's twenty-one-year-old daughter. She had the same slim fashion model body, refined features and platinum blonde hair as Kira. But when her twin, triplet, quadruplet, and quintuplet followed closely behind, I surmised that the five young Russian women were not related to any of the men and most likely not automotive engineers.
While I greeted the Russians on the tarmac and handed them the keys to their rental vehicles, Flanagan watched their entrance from a well-hidden roof top. Instead of his usual sniper rifle, he was armed with a camera and telephoto lens with sufficient power to determine the sex of a mosquito at two hundred yards. His high-resolution digital pictures were immediately transferred to the Company for identification. A half hour later, we had the names and sordid history of each of the men ... all members of Alek Popov's personal security detail. None of the blonde beauties came up on the Company's large data base of miscreants so we assumed they were brought along to help pick out the hundred or so houses they would purchase.
Despite their obvious differences, I planned to treat the Russians pretty the much the same as we did the Chinese. A welcome to Merryville party the night of their arrival, a plant tour the next day, followed by lunch with the city council who would approve their tax-free status. Once the formalities were complete, I assumed they would spend the rest of the week buying houses while further inspecting the details of the car plant.
My plans for Raven were also the same. We would continue to invade her sleep with creepy noises and Janis' pleading cries for help when the sun was down, and I made the same offer to the Russians as I did with the Chinese.
"Tell your men that they should take full advantage of whatever help my realtor can provide during their stay in Merryville," I told Popov during our meet and greet dinner. "Absolutely nothing is off the table."
"That is a very generous offer," he replied. "She is a very appealing woman. However, I gave my men strict orders to keep their stallions out of the local mares."
"May I ask why?"
"It is a security precaution. With the proliferation of DNA testing, I don't want American pussies carrying around the identities of my employees. But don't worry about my men's wellbeing," he said while gesturing towards one of the Russian women. "As you can see, I have brought along all the entertainment they will need."
The Russians showed very little interest in the car plant. They dutifully walked the plant floor as Mayor Stuffit showed them the facility but, according to Raven, when the tour was done, they had no technical questions and didn't express any desire to return later in the week.
As the week drew on, the Russian men proved either sufficiently self-controlled or scared of their boss to obey his directions. While they were unable to keep their eyes off Raven, their hands, lips, tongues and dicks spent most of their house hunting trips on or inside the walking talking sex toys so generously supplied by Popov.
Since the Russian men seemed to have nothing better to do than buy houses and corrupt the next generation of Russian women, we were able to sell them the required hundred homes in only four days. Which meant they had that Friday off with nothing on the schedule. Me being their unofficial host, Alek Popov insinuated that it was my job to entertain them.
"Entertaining the women is easy," Janis said when I asked for suggestions. "Take them shopping. But I have no idea what Russian men like to do?"
"Drink heavily and invade neighboring countries," I answered.
"Then I suggest we divide and conquer."
At 8:00 the next morning, Janis and I picked up the five Russian women in a rental van. Yeah, I was taking a chance having Miss Moorehead with me. If any local recognized her, the news would be all over town before lunch. To prevent that from happening, she wore dark sunglasses and kept her blonde locks covered in a scarf until we were well out of Merryville and in the next county.
It was a two-hour drive from Merryville to Nashville. I wouldn't call the Russian women fluent in English, but with my help as an interpreter and Janis' natural charm, the five Russian ladies soon considered Janis a kindred spirit.
Janis had done her homework. She knew exactly which stores she wanted to patronize and had called ahead, ensuring we got the royal treatment.
The first clothing boutique we visited was in a mall adjacent to the Grand Ole Opry concert hall. The manager and two assistants met us at the door and immediately escorted us to a roped off area where they had prepositioned several outfits in the appropriate sizes. Even more impressive was what the attractive store manager called the "wallet seat" ... a comfortable leather chair located in the extreme corner of our section.
"Why is this called the 'wallet seat'?" I asked as I sat in the recliner and accepted a glass of whiskey.
"It is reserved for the powerful, generous gentleman who brought these lovely ladies to my store," she said. "I naturally assumed that is you."
Giving her my warmest smile, I retrieved my wallet from my trousers, pulled out a credit card and handed it to her. "No limit. Give them whatever they want. And please pay special attention to the American lady. She deserves it."
While repeating the process at a shoe store in the same mall, one of the Russian girls approached me to show off her newly purchased cowgirl boots.
"I cannot thank you enough for your generosity," she said in Russian while giving me an excuse to admire her well-formed legs. "None of us have ever been treated this well before today."
"It is my pleasure," I replied in her native tongue. "A woman of your charm and beauty deserves to be pampered like a princess."
She blushed at the complement, adding a hint of color to her otherwise porcelain skin tone. "Is it permissible to ask a personal question?"
"Asking is always allowed."
"Is Janis your girlfriend?"
"She's more like my personal assistant."
"If she is your assistant, why haven't we seen her before today? And why would you employ Miss Hardwood at all? Janis is much more personable than Raven and just as beautiful ... if not more so."
"Yes, that is a fair question. One I have been asking myself. Let's just say that I am in the process of making a personnel change. Raven Hardwood is on her way out, soon to be replaced by Janis Moorehead. But that can't happen until I finish my current project."
