Suzie’s House 540 : Change of Plans

Demyan found a seedy motel for the night. He liked it just as well as the five star hotel he’d stayed in when he first arrived in the United States. The queen sized bed looked like a good place to stash someone. Or maybe even leave someone to be found. Or simply to spend the night.

Once he had to give up his travel plans, he’s told himself he’d get a good night’s sleep before calling the law man. He wanted to let his quarry stew at least that long. But the one stewing was himself. Near midnight he broke down and placed the call.

“Hello.” The voice sounded hollow. Like in a tunnel. Or maybe on speaker phone. Well, it wasn’t like anyone listening in – even another law man – would make much difference. Demyan could always get the presidential pardon.

“This is Roger Hunter? Yes?” Demyan knew quite well that wasn’t the man’s real name. It was in researching it that he discovered… nothing. A disposable phone paid for with cash and connected in Madison. Nothing more. No home address, not even email. Not until one of his special contacts informed him of the law man’s job did he know anything. And still, all he had was a vague connection to the FBI.

In order to reach this man, Demyan could only rely on this number.

He had wanted to tie up this loose end before going home. Once he went home, it could be a while before he might return. The quarry might slip the trap.

“Yes. This is Roger.” The law man sounded bored.

“We should meet.” Demyan cut to the chase.

“Yes.”

Demyan breathed a sigh of relief. He had counted on the law man’s determination to capture him. Now was simply a matter of…. As he paced the thin, gray carpeting, his phone beeped Ivanovich’s ringtone. This he could not put off. If Ivanovich called himself, then Demyan must dance.

“Excuse. I must put you on hold. An important call has come in,” he said apologetically. He didn’t wait for a response before switching.

Ivanovich made it very clear in some very earthy Russian that missing the flight home had not been an option. New tickets were issued, and Demyan had better be on the plane if he did not want to see his enfeebled mother killed. All of this took mere minutes and no comments on his part.

It couldn’t be helped. If Ivanovich called, Demyan ran. It had always been that way. It always would. But still, he could offer one last slap at the law man still waiting on hold.

“I wish to turn myself in,” he said firmly, trusting his acting skills.

“Name your police station. I’ll meet you there.”

“No. There is a rock quarry not far from your town. Do you know it?” He gave specific directions to the very place where he’d intended to kill the man the first time. What more fitting place to finish the job, had originally thought. “And need I say, come alone?”

“No need to say it.” The law man’s voice dripped annoyance.

“Good. I may be a bit late. Please, be patient.”

Demyan looked at his phone thoughtfully for several seconds after he hung up. Some instinct gave him the impression the prey thought he could really take down the hunter. Pity, that. He hadn’t the time for it at the moment. But later, in a few months when he was allowed to return….