Belated Response to Challenge #107: Space
A classroom
by Joylee
pre-series
Surveillance
As the last of the beginning Russian students vacated the classroom, Jack picked up the handouts for his Russian Literature Seminar and carefully positioned them along the first bench just inside the door. The hundred seat circular auditorium was far too large for the class, but Professor Belov was arthritic and disinclined to shift.
“Sbaseeba, Zack.” Murmured the professor.
“Nozhachita” Jack responded, seating himself directly across from the handouts. He had carefully calculated the angles and determined this position had the best line of sight.
Belov limped over. “I have something for you. From a contact in Vienna.”
“Thanks, Professor.” Jack pocketed the envelope. The Professor's contacts ran to other elderly White Russians, but Jack respected the old man who had been fighting Communists since Lenin's day and humored him.
Just then Jack's target appeared. A tall brunette bending to pick up handouts off the low bench. Her skirt rode up, revealing her garters.
Belov noted Jack's shift of interest and followed his gaze.
“That skirt is barely decent.” He tsked. Then he took in Jack's positioning of handouts and seating choice and smirked. “That is the objective, da?”
Jack muttered defensively. “If she minded being checked out she wouldn't wear that skirt.”
“Pravda.” The Professor agreed. “But why the long range surveillance? Make contact! Laura!”
He waved the girl over. “You know Zack? Zack misses class often for work. You maybe could help him keep up?”
Jack had an A minus in the class.
Laura smiled. “Of course, Professor. Do you need last week's notes, Jack?”
“Da.” Supplied Professor Belov before Jack's brain could unfreeze. “After class you get chai and go over notes.”
“Uhn, sure.” Jack managed to get out.
The Professor started class. It was only natural for Laura to sit next to Jack.
That afternoon Laura browsed a bookstore. While there she informed the proprietor, “I made contact today. Bristow bought me tea and we chatted. He found an excuse to get my phone number without my having to offer.”
“Finally.” Breathed her handler.
“Yes.” She added tartly. “Had you told me Professor Belov was a double agent I would not have wasted your time, and mine, reporting on his contacts.”
“Belov? He's not one of ours.” Her handler frowned.
“Then why did he go out of his way to introduce me to Bristow?” Laura wondered.
“Who knows what goes on in the mind of a Czarist counter-revolutionary.”
Later that month Professor Belov also reported on the progress of the courtship. “Bristow is smitten. They will be married within the year I am certain.”
One of his audience objected. “I do not see why you are so set on Bristow. We have found nothing in Rambaldi's work describing the father of the Chosen One.”
“Bristow is a dedicated patriot who will imbue his daughter with the same spirit.” Belov argued. “He will counterbalance Derevko's influence and insure that the 'greatest power' the Chosen One brings to desolation is Communism.”
“But...” As the argument continued, candlelight reflecting off the Rambaldi eye carved into the table top seemed to cause it to wink.
by Joylee
pre-series
Surveillance
As the last of the beginning Russian students vacated the classroom, Jack picked up the handouts for his Russian Literature Seminar and carefully positioned them along the first bench just inside the door. The hundred seat circular auditorium was far too large for the class, but Professor Belov was arthritic and disinclined to shift.
“Sbaseeba, Zack.” Murmured the professor.
“Nozhachita” Jack responded, seating himself directly across from the handouts. He had carefully calculated the angles and determined this position had the best line of sight.
Belov limped over. “I have something for you. From a contact in Vienna.”
“Thanks, Professor.” Jack pocketed the envelope. The Professor's contacts ran to other elderly White Russians, but Jack respected the old man who had been fighting Communists since Lenin's day and humored him.
Just then Jack's target appeared. A tall brunette bending to pick up handouts off the low bench. Her skirt rode up, revealing her garters.
Belov noted Jack's shift of interest and followed his gaze.
“That skirt is barely decent.” He tsked. Then he took in Jack's positioning of handouts and seating choice and smirked. “That is the objective, da?”
Jack muttered defensively. “If she minded being checked out she wouldn't wear that skirt.”
“Pravda.” The Professor agreed. “But why the long range surveillance? Make contact! Laura!”
He waved the girl over. “You know Zack? Zack misses class often for work. You maybe could help him keep up?”
Jack had an A minus in the class.
Laura smiled. “Of course, Professor. Do you need last week's notes, Jack?”
“Da.” Supplied Professor Belov before Jack's brain could unfreeze. “After class you get chai and go over notes.”
“Uhn, sure.” Jack managed to get out.
The Professor started class. It was only natural for Laura to sit next to Jack.
That afternoon Laura browsed a bookstore. While there she informed the proprietor, “I made contact today. Bristow bought me tea and we chatted. He found an excuse to get my phone number without my having to offer.”
“Finally.” Breathed her handler.
“Yes.” She added tartly. “Had you told me Professor Belov was a double agent I would not have wasted your time, and mine, reporting on his contacts.”
“Belov? He's not one of ours.” Her handler frowned.
“Then why did he go out of his way to introduce me to Bristow?” Laura wondered.
“Who knows what goes on in the mind of a Czarist counter-revolutionary.”
Later that month Professor Belov also reported on the progress of the courtship. “Bristow is smitten. They will be married within the year I am certain.”
One of his audience objected. “I do not see why you are so set on Bristow. We have found nothing in Rambaldi's work describing the father of the Chosen One.”
“Bristow is a dedicated patriot who will imbue his daughter with the same spirit.” Belov argued. “He will counterbalance Derevko's influence and insure that the 'greatest power' the Chosen One brings to desolation is Communism.”
“But...” As the argument continued, candlelight reflecting off the Rambaldi eye carved into the table top seemed to cause it to wink.