Our Proof Positive
Chapter 17
We waited several days while sitting on painful pins and needles for Jimmy’s corroborating evidence of Hans Vogel’s identity as that of Vlad. We believed they were one and the same person. We continued to receive sporadic reports of his sightings from our sources that geographically ran from A to Z: Azerbaijan to Zambia. Some of them were absolutely hilarious, preposterous reports, also running the gamut from A to Z: absurd to zany. None had any merit whatsoever in our opinions, but we had to read through them nonetheless.
The photograph of Vogel finally arrived and Pet put it through facial recognition software upstairs, comparing it to old photos of Vlad still on file. The physiognomy of the faces in the photos turned out to be almost identical to one another based on physical features and ethnic origin. The analysts give it an 85 percent probability that Jimmy’s photo was that of Vladimir Booskowsky. The experts hedged their bets knowing the system had a built-in margin of error of minus/plus six percent.
We believed we had our man and the receipt of Vogel’s latent fingerprints a few days later confirmed the fact. Jimmy had applied a ninhydrin spray to obtain the prints from various porous surfaces in Vlad’s house. The amino acids formed by minute sweat secretions on one’s unique ridges resulted in a purple stain visible to the eye. It was then a simple matter of taking photos of the latent prints. It was a preferable technique to that of fingerprint powder which involved messy applications which would alert Vlad to a break-in.
They were an indisputable match for Vlad. While a polygraph exam could be defeated, the whorls and loops of his fingers didn’t lie. They told the truth as to Vogel’s true identity.
Three days later, Pet and I had our marching orders to proceed to the Seychelles to finish our job and Vlad. This was the part we’d been waiting for, but I had some butterflies in my stomach not knowing the dangers we might be facing to bring him down. My cozy cocoon in Moscow was beckoning me to stay put and safe.
But my macho persona and self esteem left me no choice except to go and take my chances with the unknown. It was a choice Hobson’s choice, but I couldn’t punk out at the last minute. What would Pet think if I backed out at the 11th hour? More importantly, how would Jersey react to my ignoble act of coitus interruptus? So, I simply couldn’t pull out at this point.
We made our travel plans that called for arriving in Victoria on separate flights. She’d go via Istanbul and I’d take a flight to Nairobi and then onward to the Seychelles. It was simply a matter of taking reasonable security precaution if someone was looking over our shoulder. I didn’t think that was likely, but that’s the way things were done in our business. I didn’t know if Pet could score travel reward points, but I could and had racked up many over the past few years. Perhaps even enough to cover a tropical vacation with Pet in the future. I guessed I shared Jersey’s affinity for all things Pollyannaish.
We both were booked into the Sea Breeze hotel on the beach road outside of Victoria. In this case, we decided to stay at the same place, although in separate rooms. Our thinking was based on personal safety concerns rather than intimacy. The close proximity to one another might help if one of us got into trouble. I thought it was merely a matter of good tradecraft. We would easily blend with the many tourists staying there and our comings and goings would go unnoticed.
Pet and I eventually hooked up, figuratively speaking, at the hotel bar before dinner. We each suffered from the effects of jetlag, although we both reveled in the beauty of the island. The view from the bar at sunset was magnificent, showcasing the deep blue of the Indian Ocean. It was a romantic setting and I hoped things might gel between us.
Earlier, I’d dropped off my goodie bag at the embassy and sent off a short cable to my mother, a.k.a. Jersey Briggs, telling him I’d arrived safe and sound. I also added a couple of lines telling him how magnificent the island was just to piss him off. He’d be envious knowing it was me, rather than him, luxuriating in a tropical paradise.
I’d also removed my DSS issued 10 millimeter Sig Saur automatic pistol from the bag and tucked it down the front of my trousers as I typically did on such occasions. It was faster and easier to retrieve that way, although my colleagues always teased me about shooting off my given name.
The Sig had a magazine that carried three times the number of rounds and greater stopping power compared to my old Smith & Wesson six-shooter. The one I first started using with the outfit in my misspent youth. Pet had her own piece which she’d brought along, although I didn’t know its pedigree. The local authorities wouldn’t make a fuss if they discovered the weapons since we both enjoyed diplomatic immunity. However, the killing of Vlad might be a wee bit more problematic if we got caught red-handed.
We dined together at the balcony restaurant and watched the sun fade from the sky. The stars at our latitude were brilliant and I’d never seen anything quite like them before. We both ordered the langosta that was caught daily off the coast.
“Pet, here is to you and our adventure,” I said as I lifted my glass in a toast. “This is a delightful spot and I especially enjoy your company. It’s a great perk in both instances.”
“Thanks Dick. I’m enjoying myself too. I’ve never visited a place so charming and gorgeous. And I want you to know that you’ve been a great partner. I have to admit I expected to be working with an unsophisticated, drab apparatchik with no sense of humor and bad teeth. It’s funny how we tend to prejudge people and things. Isn’t it?”
Okay, touché Pet, I chided myself. I then made my clumsy move and wished I hadn’t done so.
“Pet, I’m going to ask a personal question and hope you don’t mind. It’s a little unprofessional, but I’m going to take my chances and ask anyway. Are you in a serious relationship with anyone?” I reached across the table and awkwardly put my hand on hers.
“Oh Dick, God, I’m flattered by what you’re leading up to, but I’m afraid I can’t reciprocate in the feelings.” She put her other hand over mine and it appeared we were playing some sort of kid’s game at the table.
“I think you’re a handsome, likeable guy and really appreciate you as a good friend. But you see I’m gay, a lesbian if you prefer, and simply not attracted to men. Staying with the old joke, some of my best friends are men. It’s true in my case.”
“I’ve been aware of my sexual orientation since I was a teen and was never conflicted with any guilt or doubts about it. Men would constantly hit on me and I’d rebuff their advances. My supposed good looks were more of a hindrance than a help.”
“I’ve dated women off and on over the years, although I’ve still not met the love of my life. The sexual components of these relationships were satisfying; however I’ve never experienced the deep emotional part that is so important, at least so far. I’m still optimistic though,” she laughed.
My world had crumbled and my tumescent ardor shrank to nothingness. Perhaps she was bisexual, but didn’t press the question. I wasn’t having much luck with my questioning and didn’t want to dick things up again.
“Pet, I’m such a fool and apologize for asking the question in the first place. I sincerely regret putting you on the spot.”
“Dick, there’s no need to apologize or be embarrassed. It’s just me. That’s the way I was born and have no qualms about who or what I am. I’m contented and happy with myself just as I am.”
I kept up a good front and face during the rest of the evening, although I was heartbroken. However, the awkwardness between us started to fade and I felt a little less like a dick. But my dream date had just turned me down for the prom. Perhaps I’d put too much of my ego into my fantasy. Perhaps I needed a cold shower and a good dose of saltpeter too!