We'll Always Have Paris Ch. 03

"Sure it's not the Iron Crowbar?" asked the guest. "Killing him would take care of a lot of your problems."

"It's not him." said the Director. "We've checked into him as thoroughly as we possibly could. And we don't think it's his wife. But we got word that the Iron Crowbar said that the Guardians are smarter than he is. And indeed, some of my people think they are working around the Iron Crowbar, making it look like he's the one, while they stay behind the scenes and release embarrassing information that inflames the Public and harms our plans."

"So what now?" asked the guest. "I'm getting word that he's starting to catch on to me, my presence. And his God-cursed wife and sister are a real threat to me."

"Yes, which is why I called you here." said the Director. "I told the Iron Crowbar's wife to keep her bastard husband in line. But she hasn't; in fact, she's helping him against us. So... it's time to teach the Iron Crowbar an unforgettable lesson."

"Going to kill him? His wife?" asked the guest hopefully.

"Not yet." said the Director. "We're feeding his people information, using a rogue agent from the Iron Crowbar's past, and we'll be drawing the bastard into a trap. We're going to hurt him first, and then force him to give us his sister so we can kill her."

"You think you can make him betray his family?" the guest asked, skeptically this time.

"Oh yes." said the Director. "He and his sister despise each other. She was even working with Westboro against him. Oh yes, the Iron Crowbar will betray his sister and give her to us... especially after he sees what we are willing to do to the people he loves..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Friday, September 14th.

The Japanese Consulate in the City had asked Laura and me to come to the exhibition of ice hockey between teen national teams being held at the City Arena. And there was the additional reason that Police Commander Cindy Ross had been invited to sing the Canadian National Anthem before that nation's game against the Russian Federation, which we wanted to see. So we headed over.

We were watching from the entrance where the Zamboni would come in. I was wearing a suit and blue tie, and Laura was wearing her favorite blue and white dress. Cindy was wearing her semi-formal uniform and Medal of Valor. Callie was with Cindy, and wearing a light blue dress and high heels that caused many eyes to look in her direction.

Behind us were the Russian children that were there to sing the Russian Anthem after Cindy performed the Canadian Anthem. When, much to my surprise, I heard young voices saying "Iron Crowbar! Iron Crowbar!" in English (but not much else in English), I realized it was the Russian kids. Their adult chaperones, who did speak English, said that the children had been told about me and knew of me. I wondered if it was the adults that were truly behind the knowledge of me, but I put that into a compartment of the mind as I greeted the kids.

It's amazing to me: the deeply corrupt American Lamestream Media tells us that we have to hate Russia and the Russians... but Russian children are just like their American counterparts. And the Russian kids, like American kids... wanted selfies with Your Iron Crowbar.

So I obliged, and a number of photos were taken. Then they corralled Cindy to take pictures with us. Laura made sure to stay out of the way so that her photograph was not taken. And it meant that I didn't have to just stand there and be bored as all the official diplomatic- and goodwill-speak went on. Of course, I did notice Lilly Wargrave's exceptionally lovely legs as she was introduced to the crowd.

Then it was 'go' time. Cindy walked out onto the red carpet in front of 20,000 people. If she had a case of nerves, she did not exhibit it. She did exhibit her beautiful singing voice:

"Oh, Canada! Our home and native land!

True, patriot love, in all our sons command..."

As she sang, I felt someone brush my arm. I turned to see a young Japanese man, an aide to the Consul. "Sire," he said, "will you and your wife please come this way?"

I followed him back into the tunnel under the stands, which reminded me of going through Wildcat Stadium on the way to examine the body of the deceased Coach Willy 'Speedy' Gonzales. Laura joined us after we were out of sight of the children. We came to a door, and the aide waved us in with a deep bow.

Inside was the Japanese Consul, who bowed low, and another man, a Caucasian... literally. He was the Ambassador of the Russian Federation to the United States. Two aides, who were clearly security for the Ambassador, were unobtrusively off to one side. I bowed in return of the Consul's bow, as did Laura.

"Ah, Commander Troy, Dr. Fredricson," the Russian Ambassador said jovially in good English as we were introduced. "Thank you so much for coming. I apologize that this ceremony must take place in this setting and in such privacy."

"I think we understand, Ambassador." Laura said.

"President Putin has asked me to give you these gifts," said the Ambassador, "as a token of his appreciation of your helping Mr. Kurchikov in Paris." One of his aides handed him a couple of objects.

"How is Mr. Kurchikov?" asked Laura.

"He is doing well, making a full recovery, thanks to your medical ministrations." said the Ambassador. "And he is doing much better than his poor brother did. President Putin also appreciates your solving that case, Commander, but he appreciates most the fact that you removed Sergei Molotov's worthless head from his shoulders."

"Oh, that was my immense pleasure to do." I replied with great sincerity.

"Dr. Fredricson," said the Ambassador, "you were a respected adversary in the days President Putin ran the KGB. He offers this as a token of his esteem." The Ambassador opened a box he'd just been handed, displaying a large gold medallion.

"This commemorated the women who were named Heroes of the Soviet Union or the Russian Federation, most of them posthumously in the Great Patriotic War." (Author's note: that's what the Russians call World War II.) "Very few of these medallions exist today, and Mr. Putin thought you were worthy of this one as a woman of exceptional capabilities."

"I'm honored." said Laura as she accepted the medallion and a small framed citation.

"And for you, Commander," said the Ambassador, taking another box from his aide, "President Putin has tremendous respect for you and your abilities. Your service to the Russian Federation has been inestimable." He opened the box, displaying the medal inside.

You've probably seen photos of Russian generals and politicians wearing a medal that was gold star hanging beneath a red drape. That medal was the Gold Star of the Hero of the Soviet Union. After the fall of the USSR, the Russian Federation created a similar medal, the Gold Star of the Hero of the Russian Federation.

The gold star was the same, but the drape was three vertical stripes of white, blue, and red, the colors of the Russian Flag. It could be awarded to Russian Citizens, but also to foreigners who were deemed to have rendered great service to Russia.

I remembered Jack King once saying that Mr. Putin would either send assassins to kill me or give me a medal. (Author's note: 'Case of the Black Badge', Ch. 6.) He was prescient, and it turned out Mr. Putin had sent me a medal. And not just any medal: it was no less than the Gold Star of the Hero of the Russian Federation.

After handing me the box with the medal inside, the Ambassador handed me a framed citation, written in Russian, proclaiming me to be a Hero of the Russian Federation. Not exactly something on my bucket list, but crossed off nonetheless.

"Thank you, Ambassador." I said, shaking his hand. "Please express to your President my gratitude for his thoughtfulness and generosity." It's good to be diplomatic at times like this.

"I will do so. And he is very grateful to you." said the Ambassador. "And now, let us go watch the children play hockey, yes?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We got back to the rink just as the Russian Children's Choir was filing onto the red carpet on the ice rink. I showed Cindy and Callie the medal, and they gasped in surprise.

"Well, Laura," I said, "if the Press ever finds out about these awards, they will accuse us of colluding with the Russians to get Chief Griswold elected Sheriff."

Laura laughed out loud, and agreed. We paused to listen to the Children's Choir, who sang beautifully:

"Rossíya — svyashchénnaya násha derzháva,

Rossíya — lyubímaya násha straná.

Mogúchaya vólya, velíkaya sláva —

Tvoyó dostoyán'e na vsé vremená!

-

Sláv'sya, Otéchestvo náshe svobódnoye,

Brátskikh naródov soyúz vekovóy,

Prédkami dánnaya múdrost' naródnaya!

Sláv'sya, straná! My gordímsya tobóy!..."

Finis. For now.