06 / 28 / 10 - Jean-Paul, Nadia, Silas, Walter, Xen
Some people sleep rather well on planes. Then there's Walter, and, for the moment, his laptop, pouring through all the evidence they have on hand, and it's really not all that much, at least not yet. Maybe he should have brought his personal laptop along too, passed the time with some games.
Silas slept through take-off. Slept like the dead, even. No snoring, no fussing. Just head back, out. His waking is just as gentle. His head lolls forward and then there's an upset half-grunt and eyes slowly opening. His nostrils flare as he takes in a lungful of recirculated air. "Mmmgh. How long into the flight?" he mumbles to whoever cares to answer.
Walter takes a moment, but turns his attention to Silas as the question is asked. He glances to his watch, then the laptop. "I think we're still over the Atlantic, possibly Europe," he answers, a glance out the window presenting only clouds.
Silas squints out the window and then rubs his face. He stretches and pops his back. "I take it there's still miles to go before we land?" He's just woken from a nap that lasted since shortly after takeoff.
The beep of a prioritized email draws Jean-Paul from his doze. He folds his book closed, slides it away, and pulls his phone up to read it. Shortly after he turns to glance around at the other agents, with a turned-out flash of the screen. "Isabel wants us to be productive," he says. "What did we get from Terry?" Codenames, pfft. Even as he asks, he pulls up the data to check on it.
"Basic profiles on our prime suspects," Walter remarks over to Jean-Paul. "Nothing super intensive yet but..." He scrolls through. Looks like we got distinguishing marks, basic descriptions, and... looks like one's the brains, the other's an explosives expert.""
Nadia is a dark head and half of a rumpled suit a few seats back; she unfolds from her not-quite curl, scrubs at the side of her face to unsucessfully erase lines that are the product of a half-doze, and pops her head up over the back of the seat in front of her. Moment's later, she folds her arms over it instead, and rests her chin on them. "That is at least a place from which to start," she says, the barely-banished edges of sleep thickening her accent. Hrmph.
Silas digs into his bag and pulls out a Starbucks bottle frappuchino. He shakes it up and takes a big swig. "So. What'st he plan when we land? Mission number two for me," he holds up two fingers. "...and first time I've been outside of North America."
"Right." Tone somewhat absent as he reads over the information for himself, Jean-Paul goes quiet, broken only by distracted words: "Sure, it's a place to start, but where do we go from there?" He glances over to Silas and says, "Plan right now, before we land, is get as much information remotely as we can."
"Hopefully, 'Greene' and 'Petrov' will get something we can work with tonight," Walter remarks, a glance backwards towards Nadia before he offers her a (still sealed) can of soda. "Right now, we have some interesting stuff, but nothing that screams 'lead.' We could... possibly try and get in touch with the explosive guy's kids, but that could be incredibly risky."
From the back of the plane, Xen steps into the main compartment and slides into a seat, laptop in hand as he joins the others on the team, catching the last of Jean-Paul's words. He glances over at Walter, "That's an understatement." The pilot scowls slightly as he flips open his computer, revealing the e-mails he's been trading back and forth with their contact, along with the new information that has just come in. "personally, I think the smartest thing we can do when we hit the ground is simple recon. This source we have..? Three /months/ old. Hardly what I would qualify as reliable." A dark look passes over his face. He glances over at Jean-Paul, then the rest, "I think the smartest thing we can do is verify the information he gives us for ourselves. That way, I won't feel like we're walking into this on the say-so of a recently reformed mobster turned informant."
"So let's find a lead," Jean-Paul says, dry. "Getting in touch with the kids: risky. Finding the kids: potentially useful. We should also try to get locations on Kozlov and Slavin, any known associates, et cetera." He nods to Xen, somewhat sour in his echoing. "Fair point. Could be a set-up," he adds, with a brief, narrow frown of concern. Illyana and Isabel, after all, are delicate flowers.
Does it have caffeine in it? In that case, Nadia hooks a foot up onto her seat and unfolds her arms, pushing off with her toes so she can stretch out and snag the can. She lifts it in silent thanks, and settles back down. (Nadia observes awesome in-flight safety, guys.) "Someone can do a great deal of work in three months," she says, over the sound of cracking open the soda. "But set-ups are--" she twitches slightly, and rubs two fingers over her nose.
"The good thing about him only being three months' turned is that his info is still recent. If it was three years, they'd be on to him by now." Silas stifles a yawn and swigs from the bottle again. "Man. I dated a Russian once. Shoulda taken the offered Russian lessons. Woulda been handy. I'm limited on who I can impersonate if the interactions are going to be in Russians."
Walter nods to Xen. "Yeah... we don't' wanna waste too much effort, but having a couple people on fact checking could come in handy," he agrees. "Problem is, I don't think a lot of his intel is going to be the sort of thing you can check from back in the states, or else the CIA wouldnt' even need him."
"I'm not saying he /can't/. But do you all really want to accept it at face value?" Xen sounds a little grumpier than he did before he got Intel from Old Home. He nods to Walter, then looks over to Silas, smirking slightly without much humor, "You're not the only one, Ross."
"So what else can we do before we land to give us a head start?" Jean-Paul asks with a slide of his thumb over the screen of his phone.
"Before we land?" Walter wonders, a glance towards Jean-Paul. "Well... how quickly do you think you can learn Russian?" he wonders.
Xen glances between both Walter and Jean-Paul, settling back into his seat a little, "I think the idea of finding Kozlov's kids and keeping an eye on them if they're local has some merit." He taps a finger on his lips thoughtfully for a moment before he adds, "In addition to finding out known associates, I think understanding the lay of the land would be smart. Meredev's group isn't the current one in power; maybe this is their power play. It might be smart to look at some of the other families, see if there's a possible in with any of them."
Jean-Paul tips his head to the side and eyes Walter just long enough for a very Victorian We Are Not Amused to be implied by the pause. Then he looks at Xen. "Fair point. We could check to see what Russian intelligence might have on organized crime in the area." And we won't ask why the Russians aren't working on this. Because they aren't the PCs.
Nadia nurses her soda, and while she hasn't said anything much -- she is definitely paying attention. "I know a small handful of Russian, but-- not enough to pass," she dismisses, with a flick of condensation-damp fingers. "But I think that is a good idea," turns the motion into not quite a point, at Xen, JP.
"If they're selling this thing, they'll need buyers," Walter comments. "Might be worth it to look into it from that side too. I doubt the mafia's in the war-starting business themselves."
"Yeah." Eyes narrowing, Jean-Paul taps his fingers one-two as he considers Walter's suggestion. "Not sure how, though. I mean, who wouldn't want a nuclear weapon? We could try to get Slavin's phone and tap it, maybe."
Silas is fairly out of his element with all this. So he just listens and learns and sips at his bottled Starbucks creation.
"Problem is, if they do have this nuke, Kozlov is the kind of guy who might know how to arm it." Xen makes a few clicks, bringing up Slavin's profile with a frown, "And Slavin's just the type of guy to either use it, or threaten to. Our Intel so far indicates that he's awfully ambitious. And being with the family that's not currently on top?" He glances around to the others, "That's a lot of leverage." At Jean-Paul's suggestion, the pilot nods, "Kozlov and his sons, too, when we find them."
Walter nods to JP. "Yeah... I dislike the sheer lack of intel we're going into this with," he remarks. "So /anything/ we can do to help with that is a-ok by me," he says. "Considering our source is somewhat iffy... I don't like going in blind."
"Right. So let's figure out how to get a better picture. Bugs we can't do until we hit the ground. What else can we farm out to intel besides locations and information on the local organized crime?" Jean-Paul asks. He yanks up his notebook, grabs a pen, and starts making a list, old-school. "Maybe pull more info on Meredev." (HA HA.)
"Problem is, I think there's only so much they can do from that end. Either way, we're going to be needing to do some footwork on this," Walter says with a glance back towards Xen. "Might be worth taking anyone who's skills fall in the 'sneaky' arena and have them look into some leads in person."
"Well, we should figure out the best way of tracking a warhead. It's not like you can just walk off with one," Xen says dryly, typing in a few notes into his laptop. "Maybe we should figure out some ways that we can track this from the other end. See the site it was stolen from."
"Sure, but anything they can do--." Jean-Paul breaks off with a wave of his hand. "Fair point." He tips his head toward Xen. "I mean, they aren't small, are they? I guess it doesn't have to be a giant missile, but... what's it even /look/ like? What are we looking for? Et cetera. Might be something at the site, too."
{FromRussia} Isabel: Several short buzzes catch the team's attention, followed by the hiss and static of a wide-open communication that's a little muffled. The voice that comes over the line is recognizable to at least some; "Would you like to see my invitation?" he says. There's a slight noise as of shifting and then, "I think you look better as a blonde." A few seconds later, Isabel's voice comes much clearer, much louder. "I would. Since you've seen ours."
Xen gives Walter a slight grimace, and a slight headshake that says 'You don't want ME' for that in response to the skill assessment. And then he looks down at his wrist as the wrist comm beeps into life, suddenly relaying the conversation from the bar umpteen thousand miles away. What?
Hurray for the information age!
Nadia (sucks at posing.)
{FromRussia} Illyana: Illyana's voice: "Maybe you'd like to come back with us, to where you belong,"
Nadia's expression skews from thinky-thoughtful to vaguely puzzled; she draws back, slurping at her (we'll say it's actually a) Coke as she drops back down to her seat, and digs the buzzy, muffled comm out of her under-seat carry-on. "What is--?" she says, frowning at it just as Illyana's voice comes across. What.
Xen sits in his chair, staring at his communicator as the voices start drifting in over the open feed. First, the vague voice of Meredev, followed by that of Illyana. And when Alexei replies again, his words coming across the comunicator, his eyebrows knit together at the center of his forehead. That voice sounds... The pilot glances up at Jean-Paul curiously. Is that--??
{FromRussia} Isabel: "Sufficient?" asks a voice draped in a lazy Russian accent. "I should have worn a scarf. I look good in red." There is a brief pause before he continues with precision, "I am here because we have business to complete. Business for which I am risking my /very/ valuable skin. Can we get on with it?"
{FromRussia} Isabel: Isabel's voice is low when she speaks, but still by far the clearest over the com. "We're all ears. You're a very smart man, I think. I want what you know, and I want what you think."
Walter listens in for a moment, glancing to Jean Paul. "Sounds like it's someone we know," he remarks, not having quite recognized the voice of the informant just yet, but there's clearly some inkling there, tickling at the back of his mind.
At the first burst of static and the slightly muffled words, Jean-Paul pauses. Words held, he frowns. Recognition is not immediate. Disbelief stalls it. When he goes /on/, all about his /valuable skin/, he says, "Alexei's Alexeyev. {Goddamnit.}"
Understanding lights Nadia's eyes, brightens her expression; Jean-Paul's confirmation only fuels this. "Good," she declares, "at least then we are dealing with a known quantity. This is better," is paired with a nod, before she hooks the strap of her communicator over her hand and sips at her soda again.
"Son of a bitch," comes the curse from Xen, quick on the heels of Jean-Paul's confirmation. "Well, that would /explain/ why they're so quick to turn over the information from a three month old informer."
Walter gives a nod back towards Nadia. "I hate to say it, but Nadia's right. We know him, we know how he thinks, how he works. I think we can trust his info a little more, considering how he tends to act entirely in his own self-interest. He's a rat, but a reliable rat."
Looking down at his list, Jean-Paul goes back to scratch a line through 'information on Meredev'. Then he scratches another. "No. We can trust his information to have been given in the spirit of self-interest. That does not mean we can trust it." He lifts his chin and then activates his comm to send a quiet word or two back to Isabel and Illyana: "Alexeyev, huh? We got it." Then he flicks it off. "Right. Well. That's one item off our list. What else?"
{FromRussia} Illyana: "And perhaps what your reasoning is why we should trust you."
{FromRussia} Jean-Paul: Alexeyev, huh? We got it.
"Like I said," Walter remarks. "More, not completely. We should still check after him, but we don't need to dedicate quite the resources to it." He scratches at his cheek a bit, frowning in thought. "I could start looking into the Nuke angle. See what I can find out about how those things need to be transported, since I doubt it's as easy as just loading it onto a truck and driving. Or we could get analysis on it, either way." A pause as he runs his fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. "Hopefully it's not that easy."
"I still think that this is better than if we did not know him at all," Nadia adds with a hitch of a shrug, her communicator a-swing briefly before it is caught back up with a snap of fingers. There is something vaguely disgruntled in her expression as she looks up toward Walter again, but she masks it with another slurp of soda. Mm, caffeine. "Usually when governments transport things that are very big and very dangerous, there is quite a bit of -- trappings. Convoys, many people. But even if it is something done in secret, there should be a record /somewhere/, yes?"
Xen isn't quite do quick to turn off the communicator on his wrist. It remains on long enough for Dmitri's next words to come in, leaving the pilot to settle back into his seat. He looks around at the others, "Well, we should get confirmation, if possible, from the Russian government about the item that is missing." There's a wry smirk, "I don't hold out hope that they'll admit to anything missing, however. But perhaps our friends at the CIA can inquire through unofficial sources since our countries get along so famously well now?" His voice is dry, dry, dry.
"I doubt we'll find a truck manifest that reads 'One box. Contents: Nuclear warhead,'" Jean-Paul aims dryly at Nadia. "But if we can find whatever they were using for transport, get more information on how it was taken, it might put us on the path. Looks like that and investigation into the mafia-types are our two main routes of information gathering, yeah? We should see who else runs with our mafia boys." He tips his head at Xen again, all 'good point'.
{FromRussia} Isabel: A quick buzz acknowledge's Jean-Paul's answer, but the feed continues. Dmitri's voice wonders, "I am curious to know, your option apart from trusting my information is -- what?" There is a brief pause, another sound as of shifting, and then he adds, "Very well. Here is what I know. I know that there is a particular object missing from a very particular place. I know that our ... mutual? ... employer is very interested to recover said object. I know the principal engineers behind its absence, names you have. More to the point, I know their primary places of operation within the city. I know their network and I know their contacts. As to what I think?"
Walter nods towards Nadia. "No argument from my end," he agrees. He nods towards Xen, giving a bit of a smile. "It'd be a start for checking in after his intel, certainly. So, I guess our main points right now are to look into the warhead, check after Dmitri's intel, and check up on the mafia?" He considers for a moment, stopping to listen to the comm, his eyes pointing towards it as if it might improve his hearing to /see/ it emit noise.
"Sounds like we have plenty of ground to cover," Xen follows with, in agreement. "The other concern is, we have only one native speaker. It's going to be difficult to find to talk to folks without standing out like a sore thumb."
{FromRussia} Isabel: Dmitri's voice is sadly a little muffled as he says, "They are canvassing for buyers. They will take the highest bidder. But not just the highest bidder. Successfully getting this particular item beyond our borders will be a... A bonus. Slavin is an ambitious man, even a reckless one in pursuit of gain. I would hazard a guess that he is not just looking for a buyer. He is looking for a splash." The note of his voice is one of disapproval. "They are keeping the mutant they used in the theft alive somewhere safe. As I told your comrade, I do not know what that means. But I strongly suspect it is at one of the properties under the organization's immediate control. There are several apartment buildings within St. Petersburg that could fit the bill, but I'm reasonably certain he is not held at the ordinary operations center. I would have seen or heard tell."
"Unless we are buyers," Jean-Paul says after Dmitri's muffled little addition.
Walter listens in on Dmitri for a moment before turning back to the others, a scan of everyone before his attention /snaps/ onto Jean-Paul, eyes wide. He grins at that. "That's just crazy enough to work," he says.
{FromRussia} Isabel: "Someone who will use it, you mean? What if the splash isn't the highest bidder?" A brief pause, and then, "Good," Isabel says, quiet in the drop of her voice. "I want a list of addresses, and anything you know about the men occupying them."
{FromRussia} Illyana: "And will you be in a position to hear who the buyer is quickly, if they find one?"
Jean-Paul considers briefly, then activates his comm again: "Any way he can get us in as would-be buyers?"
{FromRussia} Jean-Paul: Any way he can get us in as would-be buyers?
Xen nods to Jean-Paul, a little grimly, "Crazy, yes. But, it is possible." His blue eyes look between those in the sits, his face quite grim as he splits attention between the comm and the conversation in the plane. "If we choose to do that, we will have to be /extremely/ careful. We will be walking a razor-thin wire." And as Jean-Paul activates his comm again, Xen's jaw clenches reflexively, even with his agreement on a course of action.
"Now we are buying Russian nuclear weapons?" Nadia asks, head tipped /slightly/ to one side. But only just slightly.
{FromRussia} Isabel: "You shall have it." There's a bit of a pause and a very muffled tapping, and then Dmitri adds, "A good possible thought, but risky. I am not in a position to offer Slavin a new contact ... and it may be that he already very nearly has what he is looking for. You would have to find away to plant yourselves on your own. I will hear of it right away. They will need me to work the numbers and, if the buyer is not Russian, to speak for them in French, in English, in Arabic -- I may have been here a very short time, but I am useful."
"Might be worth it just so we can shove it up Al-Sahra's ass next time we run into them," Walter jokes, briefly. "But, Xen's right, if we do this, we have to be /ridiculously/ careful. If it works, it's brilliant, if it doesn't, it might just be the dumbest move we've ever made." He looks back towards Nadia. "Might help us avoid having to know Russian, though."
{FromRussia} Isabel's voice is low. "How is he feeling out contacts? It's not as if one can turn up the cash and resources to move something of that nature overnight. He has to have been building this for awhile. Who does he deal with that fits the profile? Anyone /you/ know?"
{FromRussia} Illyana: "What's the current highest bid?"
"On our own," Jean-Paul repeats in a murmur from Dmitri's words, and listens attentive to the answers to Isabel's question. He says, "Maybe we can get Intel to set up a cover for us. Something on that scale will be -- larger."
{FromRussia} Isabel: "No. As I said, I am not in a position to offer him new contacts. It would draw suspicion if I abruptly found one. He is calling in favors in government, and in a few other ... families, of the organization. People with relationships outside our borders. People in the Middle East, fringe groups, that kind of thing. Some drug trafficking connections in South America, I know there has been talk -- but only talk, as yet." Dmitri names a violent number.
{FromRussia} Isabel: "That wasn't quite what I was asking." The sound of a low breath carries over the com. "Not all of them can be air-tight," Isabel mutters. "Where are the holes? Those open to bribery or threat? The most likely names."
{FromRussia} Illyana: "And he can't know all of his buyers personally, after all."
"We shouldn't get married to the idea just yet. It's entirely possible even pursuing it will blow our cover and get us neck deep in trouble," Walter remarks, turning in his seat to look back at Xen. "Anyone got a plan B, incase this doesn't work out, but doesn't self-destruct?"
"Do you?" Jean-Paul asks, mild.
{FromRussia} Isabel: "Mm." The sound of fingertips drumming against the table carries across. "Understand these aren't men I have come to know well. I have made myself useful, but not ubiquitously so. These are men who live dangerous lives. To suborn them successfully would be valuable. To fail would be disaster. I can give you names, but..."
"Nothing concrete yet. We haven't even set Plan A in motion," Xen replies, meeting Walter's gaze. "Let's not get /too/ ahead of ourselves yet."
Walter shakes his head. "Nope, not right now, at least. At least nothing so easily summed up. If we get on the inside, that's pretty much instant intel, but we might want to have stuff running in the background too, gather our own intel, so we're not just stuck with what the mafia's feeding us as 'clients.'" He considers the group for a moment. "Course, we don't really have the manpower to split ourselves that many ways." He frowns, then turns back around, looking out the window, tapping at his jaw, staring off into space as he just listens in.
{FromRussia} Isabel's voice grows clearer again. "Don't worry, Meredev. We're not going to ask you to stick your pretty little neck out anywhere but in the pass of information to us. And if /we/ get caught, you have rather large problems anyway. Names, and we'll do the legwork. You can remain quiet as a mouse, and so terribly useful."
With a nod of his head to Xen, Jean-Paul makes another note. "Isabel will prioritize and we can work from there. What did he say about the mutant being used for the theft, anyway? He had some idea of where he might be? Or suspected?"
"He said they're placed him in a "safe" location. Which could mean a number of places around Saint Petersburg where they have holdings." Xen taps his lips thoughtfully for a moment, opening Dmitri's old e-mail, "But, he said that he's not likely to be in any of their usual haunts. Maybe we look at their holdings and find out which locations would potentially be the most secure? Those are the most likely locations."
{FromRussia} Isabel: "It is your mistake to make. I will give you the names by secured email after we are finished here, along with the other names and the addresses you requested. And I will of course inform you as soon as I have new intelligence. You mentioned a secured method of immediate contact...?"
"Right," Jean-Paul says with a scratch of pen over paper as he makes a note about holdings and haunts. Teeth catching at his lower lip, he stalls out.
"I heard 'alive, and safe,'" Walter remarks, a somewhat distracted nod towards Xen. "Sounds like a plan, and something we can get analysis working on. My vote, other than working on getting in as buyers, is that we look into the kids. It's entirely possible their dad keeps close contact, which might make them good intel sources, or at least a good place to run into him."
{FromRussia} Isabel: "It's a mistake you called us here to make. And I think you know as well as we do exactly what could happen if this doesn't get cleaned up, and fast." There is a pause. "I did. Things seem to have changed a touch since then, though, no? Tell me, Meredev. If you are so very concerned about crossing the wrong people, why are we here?"
Slightly blank, Jean-Paul says, "Or we could try his house."
{FromRussia} Illyana: "I'm surprised you're so eager to work with us in particular again."
Nadia catches a breath at JP's look, half-snorts a sip of soda and masks it behind the press of her hand, a drop back into her seat.
"His house, he can set up defenses. Not that it'd be a bad idea, but wherever his kids are living might be more neutral ground." Walter considers for a moment. "Does our intel say how old the kids are?" he asks, looking back to the laptop, skimming the information.
"Adults," Jean-Paul says.
Walter considers. "Ultimate call is Iz's, I guess, but I think the kids are a lot more likely to be safely approachable," he remarks. "Might even be able to ask them questions, if we do it right. The man himself? If we get within 30 feet of him, he'd better be laying on the ground and we'd better be holding cuffs."
{FromRussia} Isabel: "These men, these men are clever, but reckless. They wish to make a splash. They wish to become very large and very mighty. But there is an English saying. It begins 'the bigger they are'. The benefit of my bargain is my skin and my savings, and when the roof comes crashing down upon this little organization and its particular hubris, I get out /intact/. Intact and well-fed. Unless, of course, my employers are inconveniently ... irradiated." A slight pause. "Why? I didn't know it was you, but I'm hardly bothered. If it weren't for you, I would never have had the opportunity to make the bargain in the first place. I would no doubt be rotting in prison like a few others whose names you know."
{FromRussia} Isabel: The sudden scrape of a chair against the floor is clearly audible over the coms. "All right," comes Isabel's voice. "You know what we need. Tonight. I trust you can figure out how to work this."
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Jean-Paul's silence speaks volumes. Easily translatable volumes.
Nadia's head reappears over the top of her seat, but once more she holds her tongue.
Xen says what the others will not, "I think the kids will be our last way in, Walter. If this guy has any brains at all, he keeps this kind of stuff out of his family life. The only way to use them will be as leverage." The pilot turns and gives Walter a carefully level look, then raises an eyebrow, "How do you feel about that kind of blackmail?"
Walter looks back towards Xen at that, broken from his cloud-watching. A glance at the expressions on the faces of the others brings a frown to his face. "It was an idea," he says, giving a shrug. He scratches at his head. "I don't sleep well on planes," he offers as an excuse, sheepishly.
"It's easy to latch on to one idea and become blind to other, more likely possibilities," Jean-Paul says, /relatively/ mild, really, with words blunt rather than bitchy. "We have a list for Isabel, anyway, and it sounds like she's wrapping up. We can talk when they finish."
Xen simply offers a nod, nothing more. He looks down at the comm on his wrist as he hears chairs sliding back from tables, and then to Jean-Paul as he speaks up. "Agreed. Plenty to discuss."
{FromRussia} Isabel: Something sweetly-toned and Russian carries over the line, before a smooth-voiced retort in the same follows. "I will have your information within the hour, Ms. ... Greene," says Dmitri. "I look forward to working with you, Mr. Meredev," says Isabel.
Walter gives a nod towards Jean-Paul, looking appropriately chastised. "I think I'll try to get a bit of sleep in before we set down," he decides.
Brainstorming on the plane. Guest appearances by Isabel, Illyana AND DMITRI.