NERVES OF STEEL

CHAPTER 58- NO END TO US

                   Nikolai slid into the car with casual ease, leaning back in the passenger's seat. Clarice was the one driving.

      "Step on it." He said.
      "Why? Are we being chased?" She asked, looking into the rear view mirror. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, eyes flickering his way.
       "No." He replied. "But all the better to be cautious."

        Clarice waited for him to fill her in as was the usual norm with her other colleagues but after a few minutes of silence. She gave up waiting.

        "Well?" She began sharply. "How did the talk with Lewis go?"
       "Productive."
       "Thank goodness. Atleast I was proved wrong this time."
       He looked at her, confused. "What the hell does that mean?"
       "I honestly have no idea why Russo would want you to go. This is usually my job.....to go undercover."
         She was jealous, wasn't she? Nikolai thought. He might as well play along.
           "After your reaction last night, I for one, wouldn't trust you with missions anymore."
          She fell for the bait just like he had anticipated. "What are you saying? Are you calling me incompetent?"
         "Oh never, Miss Basil." His voice turned taunting. "Take it as a compliment for how adorable you looked last night flailing around like a scared cat the moment I had you cornered." Nikolai stopped, watching her knuckles turn white around the steering wheel. "I never thought the so much talked about agent could look that helpless."
         Clarice shot him a deadly glare. "You're a pathetic loser, you know that?"
         "Am I?" He grinned. "Or maybe you're just mad you couldn't put me down fast enough."
        "You just don't know when to shut up do you?"
        "Not when I'm having so much fun. It would seem brains didn't do you much good in my case."
        "I could still—"
        "Gulp down your pride and take it from a pathetic loser, Clarice. You'll need more muscle work if you're going to survive in your line of field."
         Clarice laughed. "Funny. I don't remember you walking away unscathed either." Her eyes locked with his and then to the small bandage plastered over where her knife had cut him. "Aww, the bandage suits you, hun. Atleast now you wouldn't look so hideous."
          Nikolai frowned, her words hitting him right in his ego but he braced up in the next second.
         "Ah yes. A reminder of your cute little attempt at defiance that went horribly down the drain. Trust me, if it had been a real deal, you would have been dead. But not to worry I intend on keeping the memory forever."
         She hissed. "Yeah right! Keep, my ass."
         "That too, if you're offering."
          Clarice gasped at his response causing him to chuckle. Such a jerk!

                 The dark room echoed with Morozov's panicked breathing that evening. Russo had successfully seen to the capture of the overseer, Head of the National Defense Council. His hands were bound behind him, his shirt torn from initial struggle. His eyes darted from Felix back to Russo. Shit! That fool Lewis. This was all his fault. The General wasn't dead! And for him to have h as him captured, means one thing alone- He knows!

     "You turned out to be quite easy to find, Morozov." Russo began. "Why is that? Runt of the litter, perhaps?"
      "I have no idea what you're talking about. This is madness."
      "Is it? It's time to talk, Morozov."
      "You're making a mistake, Russo. I—"
      "Russo? Not General?" He corked an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
      "Lewis will—"
      "Lewis?" Russo interrupted, his lips curling into a humorless smile. "Sadly, Lewis isn't here to save your sorry ass. Right now, it's just you and me and you're going to tell me all I need to know. It's the only way to save yourself."
      "I'll never talk." Morozov spat, defiantly.
      "Was expecting that line. They always say that. Until they scream." Felix chuckled, heartily.

             Too hearty for a situation like this. Russo turned around and met his gaze. Just what kind of a psycho might his friend turn out to be? He was instantly as thrilled as he was surprised. Turning back to Morozov, Russo couched down in front of him as he pulled a knife from his belt, swirling it between his fingers.