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"Yana had already had a "small" something to remember, though she'd be happy to forget the semi-soft little pink pistol that he believed was a powerful Kalashnikov of love. She opened the packages and thanked him for the crotchless rayon panties in faded primary colors, each embroidered with the name of a different month, the vibrating dildo with cables to be attached to a car battery, the picture of the Comrade General himself wearing only polished marching boots and her panties on his head and autographed with the words, "Please to be returning any time you wish," and the liter of Old Trotsky. She could use the vodka to remove his taste from her mouth and to help forget the Comrade Marshall.Because of their researcher status at the Activity, Yana and her beloved Batschka did not have to apply to a waiting list for an apartment. They were immediately assigned to a dreary, unpainted, concrete-walled, two-room apartment with a bathroom down the hall. The building sat on Gloomye. We know Trudeau isn't his target but that doesn't mean that someone else, who's staying here, isn't. We can check the other hotels in the area. Maybe Davenport didn't give his wife the exact location of where he was heading."Just then there was a heavy hand on Bahn's shoulder and he turned in his chair and looked up at the face of a lanky man, with a head-full of blonde, unkempt hair and light-blue eyes, who looked to be in this early forties. His most notable feature, as he looked down at Bahn, was his friendly, though crooked, smile."Hamilton Bahn?" the man in the grey tweed sport-jacket asked."Yes," Bahn replied, standing now.The stranger held out his hand, stating, "I'm Lester. Sam Lester with the FBI." Yes," Bahn said, smiling in recognition and taking his hand to shake it. "We talked earlier today. Please have a seat."Lester took a chair and sat, smiling now at Kit."I'm sorry," Bahn quickly offered, "this is Kit Cassidy with the RCMP." A Mountie, eh?" Lester said to her, taking.
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