Sakharov the Bear (Michael Gresham Legal Thrillers Book 5) Page 24

  Which is when I'm shocked to find Marcel sitting at my dining table, eating a hamburger and humming.

  He looks ravenous. His clothes are at least two sizes too big.

  "What—what—"

  "Relax, Mikey. There was a trade, warm bodies for warm bodies. I just happened to be one of those. And Verona. She's at home waiting for your call."

  "Oh, thank God! I've been sick with worry. But I called the Embassy and they told me something was in the works. Russell told me the same thing when he talked to them on the phone after being released. But I didn't know; I had no idea it would be so soon. My God, it's great to see you!"

  He stands and gives me a hug. Which is totally not Marcel. He just isn't a hugger but this time makes an exception. I'm sure he's only doing it for me.

  "So," I begin, "let's book some air back to the USA."

  "No can do," he says. "I've made my decision. I'm stopping off in London, where I'm going to find a nice flat to call home."

  "You're really leaving me?"

  "Yes and no. I can still handle major cases. I'm only a phone call away, Mikey."

  "Sure."

  A sadness overtakes me. I have been afraid it might come to this and now it has. There has been way too much loss. However, every morning, early, I have called my children and caught up with them, and with their nanny and grandmother. All is well at home; I am needed there and I have two incredible kids who miss me and love me.

  "Mai's going home in the morning. That had to be."

  "Sure, she's a married woman with a family. You can't walk into that, Michael. By the way, Russell called the room and I answered. He and Anna were boarding a government jet and heading back to Washington. Antonia was allowed to go with them. So all is well with those three.”

  "I know Mai’s married. Let’s just leave it at that. And I’m really relieved to hear about Russell and Antonia and Anna. It couldn’t happen to nicer people. So here we sit, but you’re going a different direction.”

  "But there's a certain Verona Sakharov hoping you'll come to her now that she's been freed. She didn't beat me over the head with it but I know she cares for you. A lot."

  Then it comes to me. I glance around the room. Two suitcases.

  "Will you do something for me, Marcel?"

  "Yes. Anything."

  "Will you book two tickets to Chicago, first flight out tomorrow?"

  He looks puzzled. "No can do, Boss. I'm not going back. I told you that."

  I grin at him. "Who said anything about you?"

  I call down to the concierge. "Come get my bags, I'm not staying tonight but I'm not checking out tonight either."

  A look crosses Marcel's face as it sinks in.

  "I suppose you want me to have dinner with Mai Yung tonight and answer all the questions she has about you."

  I look up from my suitcases, zippered shut now and ready to go.

  "Yes. Tell her whatever you want about me. Just be sure to embellish it so she sees how much she's missing by not going home with me."

  "She already knows that, Boss. We all do."

  Then we hug again and a knock comes at the door.

  "Ready?" Marcel says, smiling ear-to-ear.

  "Ready. I love you, brother."

  "Love you too, Boss. Give the little guys a hug from their godfather."

  "Done. Tell Mai—no, don't tell her anything. Just tell her thanks for coming."

  "Done."

  "I'm gone."

  "I know."

  Ten minutes later, I'm in the backseat of a green-and-yellow taxi, wondering about Verona. Will the real Mrs. Sakharov travel to the U.S. with the temporary Mr. Sakharov? There will be sightseeing and the holding of hands, hopefully followed up with much talking, love-making, and delicious sleep. Who knows where that might go? Maybe it takes on a life of its own, or maybe it’s done in a week and everyone goes home alone.

  Sakharov the Bear has said his farewells to Danny, the love of his life, to Mai, the love of his youth, and to Russia, a heartless old woman with too many scars to ever be beautiful again.

  Chapter 42

  It is a mild day in early January down at the Port of Long Beach when the Cadillac SUVs with the black windows come roaring up the quay, dodging pallets and containers as they come, red lights flashing, sirens wailing—four of them plus a half dozen black-and-white patrol cars. They screech to a stop at a collection of several dozen shipping containers that have waited for so long to be claimed that little sprigs of Johnson grass and yellow flowers have sprung up around them in the cracks and crevices of the platform. It was a long journey just coming here. Russell Xiang, in the end, provided the numbers on these containers only when he and Anna Petrov were safely back in the U.S. with their families.

  The police and ATF and FBI and hazmat techs jump out of their vehicles and run to the containers. Power shears open the locks and the doors are swung wide.

  It is time to begin. The inventory must be taken. First out:, hazardous materials. These are thermos bottles marked SARIN. The shipping container itself isn’t marked at all, contrary to law.

  Other containers are cracked open. KALISHNIKOV say the crates of automatic weapons.

  And on it goes.

  By nightfall a fence has been setup around the find, spotlights beam in on the containers while crime scene techs, ATF, and hazmat experts open everything and add every piece to their inventory. The feds want it so the FBI winds up in charge.

  The containers are loaded onto huge flatbed trucks just after midnight.

  By dawn the area is clear and policed. Hazmat crews have done their work and the area is considered safe. Not a shred of evidence remains to proclaim that a deadly civil war never got started, all for a lack of armaments.

  Not even a stray nut, bolt, or staple.

  Later that day it comes over the news: the United States and Russia are proceeding with arms reduction talks. Whatever differences they had are apparently resolved.

  And in Washington, D.C. Antonia Xiang delivers a healthy baby boy. His name: Michael Gresham Xiang.

  THE END

  Also by John Ellsworth

  THADDEUS MURFEE SERIES

  Thaddeus Murfee

  The Defendants

  Beyond a Reasonable Death

  Attorney at Large

  Chase, the Bad Baby

  Defending Turquoise

  The Mental Case

  Unspeakable Prayers

  The Girl Who Wrote The New York Times Bestseller

  The Trial Lawyer (A Small Death)

  The Near Death Experience

  SISTERS IN LAW SERIES

  Frat Party: Sisters In Law

  Hellfire: Sisters In Law

  MICHAEL GRESHAM SERIES

  Michael Gresham

  Michael Gresham: Secrets Girls Keep

  Michael Gresham: The Law Partners

  Michael Gresham: Carlos the Ant

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  USA TODAY Bestselling Author John Ellsworth practiced law while based in Chicago.

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  Acknowledgments

  The Russia
n Federation, Moscow City Court, and Moscow City Jail could not have been more accommodating to me as I asked questions and sought and was granted access to the areas I needed for this book. Special thanks to Col. Rivili Veretsmov, Angja Buzzsuc, and Dimitri Spasskaya of the FSB and city police.

  Thanks as always to Cheryl Hopton for editing efforts and Laura Keysor, Noel Harrison, Mark Matlock and all the rest of you who helped put this one together in a readable format. I couldn’t have done it without you.

  Special thanks to cover artist Nathan Wampler for the most beautiful cover I’ve see in a long time. Thank you all.

  Most of all, thank you to Debra, who labors beside me as these things take shape and who always is there with just the exact answer no matter the question.

  John Ellsworth, California 2017

  Copyright © 2017 by John Ellsworth

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  This book is a work of fiction. Nothing you read herein is real or based on any real person, place, or event. The use of names that might be the same as a real person is strictly coincidental.

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