Foreign Correspondence: Field Dispatches
Chapter 9
by
Mo
Disclaimer: The X-Men and Alpha Flight belong to Marvel. The movie belongs to Fox. Hotmail belongs to Microsoft. Belarus is an independent country and belongs to its citizens, mutant and otherwise. Bryn Mawr is a private women's college founded in 1885. It belongs to the women, mutant and otherwise, who have lived and learned there for the past 116 years. The Miami Herald is a real newspaper but AFAIK has never had an Adam Greenfield on staff. I do feel like Scott and Logan are a little bit mine since I've been borrowing them for so long.
Scott looked up from the papers on his desk as Jean-Paul and Laura came in. "I'm sorry I haven't been more involved in your preparation and training," he said, after greeting them. "With Charles leaving for Washington pretty much the minute we got back here, I've been up to my ears in school administration and teaching. Well, you know: 'the best-laid schemes of mice and men gang aft agley.' Sorry mine did."
"That's okay," Laura replied. "Hank and Ororo have been taking good care of us."
"They're the best. But I did want to review the mission with you once before you head out tonight. Make sure we're all on the same page and see if you need anything more from me." He glanced at his watch. "Where's Warren?"
"He's in the infirmary," Jean-Paul said. "Hank was adjusting the brace. He'll be here in a minute."
"How is that working?"
Laura answered. "It's uncomfortable but he can stand it longer than just tying them up. And it makes a much better cover story. Hank gave him a very serious official-looking doctor's letter saying it will impede his recovery from the accident if he takes it off. And Hank says it should even work if they X-ray Warren in the airport - the bones of his wings will just blend in with the structure of the brace and they'll have no idea." She paused a moment in thought. "Of course it has no real medical purpose. But I think it's unlikely that any medical professional is going to be questioning him about it - if anything he'll get asked at Airport Security or Customs. And even if a doctor did look at it, a Belarussian doctor wouldn't expect to be familiar with American medical appliances."
Warren walked in right then. He was moving somewhat awkwardly and the metal and padding of the brace showed at the opening of his shirt collar. "Well it sure looks genuine," Scott said. "And genuinely uncomfortable. I, for one, would believe you'd suffered an injury. How long can you tolerate it?"
"I've been wearing it longer each day. I'm up to 10 hours a day now. I should be able to keep it on all the time, except when I'm alone in the hotel."
"Good. Okay, let's go over your identities."
"We've been through this a million times, Scott." Warren sounded weary.
"Not with me, you haven't. I thought we agreed you're doing this as an X-Man. Following orders."
Laura put her hand on Warren's arm. "Of course he is," she said. "We don't have a chance of getting in and out alive unless we do this as a team. We all know that." Warren nodded, a little reluctantly. Laura continued, "I'm Lara Martin, nee Lysenko. I live in Cote St. Luc, western suburb of Montreal, with my darling husband Jean-Paul." Northstar smiled at her. "My family immigrated to Canada from Belarus when I was four. It's my first time back, showing Jean-Paul my homeland and showing him off to the relatives."
"And the relatives? They're the names Adam Greenfield gave you?"
"Yes, he got them from Kolya. They are key contacts in the underground mutant rescue network. Non-mutants who are hiding mutants and helping to get them out of the country. We have a code word so they'll know we're connected with Kolya. But they show up in Lara's address book as distant cousins and so forth."
"Good. Okay, I probably don't have to remind you of this, but I'm going to anyway: those people's lives are worth nothing if they are found out by the Belarussian authorities. If any one of you is captured, whoever's left free *must* call Adam Greenfield right away. He'll call your contacts and warn them to disappear. And then you abort the mission and the rest of you disappear, too. Out of Belarus as quickly as you can." There was a long pause while they all thought about the implications of leaving one of the team behind. Scott continued. "Jean-Paul, were you able to get any additional contact names from Sasha?"
Northstar shook his head. "No, he really knows nothing about Kolya's rescue activities. He started the whole operation after Sasha got out. According to Adam, Kolya really wasn't looking further than rescuing Sasha. He'd planned to leave with him, but when he found out what was going on in the camps he felt he just couldn't leave, that he had to do something about it. It still kind of blows my mind - not the Kolya I remember."
"I know. How does Sasha seem to you, Jean-Paul? You hadn't seen him for a few weeks. Do you think he's any better?"
"Vraiment? No, I don't see it. Not yet, anyway. It was nightmarish talking to him. He couldn't concentrate on anything I was saying - I had to ask all my questions several times. And he just kept gripping my arm and asking me again and again to promise we'd get Kolya out safely. Mon dieu! I hope we find him; I hope he'll be willing to come with us. I hate making a promise like that when I don't even know if I can deliver, but he just wouldn't let me go until I did. They've been best friends forever - they're like family to each other. And Kolya risked his life to rescue Sasha. If he doesn't get out safely, I'm afraid Sasha is going to feel like it's his fault. He's in such bad shape now, I can't even imagine what that would do to him."
Scott sighed. "Let's all hope it doesn't come to that." And then, "I assume you're using Alpha Flight's house in Cote St. Luc as your address?" "Yes, that seemed to be the easiest way to come up with a checkable address. The phone number is listed under 'J-P Martin' and if anyone calls there, they will get a recorded message in Laura's voice saying that Jean-Paul and Lara are unavailable," Jean-Paul answered. "In three languages," he added.
"Let me see your passports." Laura and Jean-Paul passed them over to Scott, who looked at them, ran his fingers over each page and whistled. "Damn these are good!"
"They ought to be," Jean-Paul said, laughing. "They're real." Then, in answer to Scott's questioning look, "I keep telling you - when you're a government agency you get cooperation. The Passport Office was only too willing to work with us."
"That is an advantage. So, what did we do for yours, Warren?"
"Well, mine's real, too," he answered. "It's just not really mine." He handed over a U.S. passport. Scott opened it. It had Warren's smiling face inside and identified him as Stephen Essex. Mr. Essex appeared to be well-traveled; the passport was worn and the pages of entry and departure stamps were almost full. "Bobby doctored it for me."
"He did a good job of putting your picture in. It doesn't look tampered with at all. All those years of forging fake ids to get into bars underage left him with some fungible skills." He looked up at Warren. "So what happens when the real Stephen Essex looks for his passport?"
"He won't. He's a Worthington Industries executive. No overseas trips planned for the next few weeks and he'll be kept much too busy at work to go on any pleasure trips. His passport will be back before he even knows it's gone." Warren pulled out a leather card case and handed a business card to Scott. "I have his cards, too. And made a bunch of appointments by sending letters on his stationery. I'm going to be meeting with Belarussian software companies, discussing plans for Worthington Industries to move software maintenance offshore. If any of them have read up on the company they'll know that Warren Worthington III was revealed to be a mutant. If it comes up I'll just tell them how glad I am that the mutant bastard is out of the firm now and that the stock price is rebounding since he left." He was trying for a light tone, but the bitterness underneath showed through.
Scott knew Warren well enough to realize he wouldn't want an expression of sympathy in front of the others. "And what if any of these Belarussian business people call Stephen Essex's office?"
"They'll get his admin assistant, who's a friend of mine and knows what to say. She's the one who got me his passport in the first place. And, no, she doesn't know what I'm doing in Belarus, although she sure gave me an earful about what a crazy idea it was for me to go there. She thinks I'm visiting Pyotr. Which, of course, I will be if I can. I'm hoping he's going to be able to help us."
"Me, too." Scott turned to Laura. "Any luck getting further information on his whereabouts?"
"No, not really, but that number you had me call? You know - the one in the email you got the other day? Well, they definitely know Pyotr. They weren't willing to say much over the phone but they led me to believe they'd tell us more in person. And then the woman on the phone started in on this seemingly unrelated discussion of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. It took me a few minutes to realize what she was getting at."
"That's good, Laura. Real good. So they know him and they know he's called 'Colossus'. And they aren't saying anything more, so they know to be cautious. It sounds like a promising contact."
"Better than that, Scott. The phone number - it's one of the ones of my 'distant cousins' that Adam gave Jean-Paul. They not only know Pyotr, they know Kolya. There's some connection between the two of them. Maybe if we locate Pyotr he'll even know where Kolya is."
"That would be great." Scott gave Warren back the passport. "Okay, so how are you going to meet up with the Martins here?"
Jean-Paul spoke this time. "We'll be on the same flight. Mr. Important Executive there will be up front in Business Class while my blushing bride and I will suffer in the cheap seats. But we'll meet up at the luggage carousel. Warren, excuse me - Stephen - will be struggling to pick up his suitcase, given his recent injury. I'll offer to help. We'll chat in line for Customs, discover that he doesn't speak Belarussian or Russian, so Lara here will offer to help him get a cab. Then we'll find out we're in the same hotel and we'll share the cab."
"Good. Oh, and Stephen - remember this: Lara here is Jean-Paul's wife. For the whole time you're on this mission. That clear?"
"He'll never appreciate you like I do," Warren said soulfully to Laura, who laughed. And then, seeing Scott's stern look, "Okay, okay. I'll be in character starting from when we head out for the airport tonight. Really."
Scott nodded. "I know you will," he said solemnly. "I know you all will. I don't have to tell you how dangerous this mission is. Or how important. Remember: I'm here to offer any assistance I can. Call any time. We can send in reinforcements if needed, if you think it can be done unnoticed." He looked at the three of them, grim determination on three faces. "Godspeed to you all."
***
"Cyclops? It's Northstar."
"Jean-Paul? Are you okay? Where are you?
"We're all fine. I couldn't call before. We're in Vilnius now. All three of us. Pyotr, too. "
"Is Kolya with you?"
"No, he's still in Belarus. He's okay. We'll get him out, but it's going to take a little doing."
"What was wrong? Why did he stop calling Adam Greenfield?"
"The Belarussian authorities found out about his contact with Adam. He was afraid they were monitoring calls to Adam's room. Kolya's been on the run, Scott. They pretty nearly nabbed him. He and Pyotr were with a family named Sudak. The parents are mutants and there are four kids - the older two have come into their powers already. They were trying to get them out of Belarus. Pyotr had Russian documentation for them. They were this close to all leaving and the parents got picked up."
"What happened to them?"
"Nothing good, that's for sure. Who knows if they're even still alive? But they knew about Adam. That's why Kolya couldn't call there any more. They'll have gotten Adam's name and number from them."
"And the kids?"
"They're here. With us. We'll give you the whole story when we're back - it's long. But we got them all out. We split up and left through different checkpoints.
"Warren brought Seryozha - he's the eldest - under the guise of him being some sort of hot-shot programmer going to work for Worthington temporarily. You should have seen Laura - she was amazing. She convinced the border guards that she and I are adopting the youngest two. We had the flimsiest of documentation but she snowed them totally. Pyotr had some story to go with Natasha but they didn't buy it at the border. He ended up transforming into organic steel and just picking her up and barreling through. They shot at them but he was able to shield her."
"Thank God you all got out. How are the kids?"
"They're a mess. Well, who wouldn't be? Scott, we need to get them out of here. It's too close and there's no long-term arrangements for mutant refugees to stay in Lithuania. Can you pull some sort of strings and get them visas to come to the States? If not, we can make arrangements with the Canadian consulate."
"I don't know. We'll try. I'll talk to Charles. We'll either take them in here or the Saskatchewan outpost. I'll get back to you. Where can I reach you?"
"Centrum Hotel, Vilnius. Ask for Adam Greenfield's room."
"Okay. All of you?"
"Yeah, a little crowded, but there isn't an empty hotel room in the whole city. So, we'll manage."
"Poor Adam. I bet he doesn't know what hit him. Well, just remind Pyotr not to transform in the room."
"Believe me, we thought of that."
"I'll call you back as soon as I know anything. Oh, and Jean-Paul? Good work. I'm so glad you're all okay."
"Moi aussi."
"Hey, tell Adam thanks for me. And tell him we'd love to have him visit - either here or the outpost - when this is all over."
"Thanks, Scott. I'll tell him that."
"Oh, and tell him I promise we'll give him a room to himself."
"I'll pass on the message, copain, but that may not be necessary."
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