Redoubled Page 2

  As we sat around the table at Baskin Robbins, I realized this assignment would have a whole different flavor than the last time I had worked with the CIA. Before it had only been me and Ben and Jerry talking business. Now that Anya was included, and Ben had a female partner, a female perspective was added. It had the advantage of making it look as if we were having a social outing, which was good cover for what we were actually up to. Also it was nice for me to sit around and learn about those things that are important to women because I do like women, and any information that can help me understand how they think would be an advantage, especially if it helped prevent me from being killed by one of them. After Edy finished her banana split, she turned to Anya and asked her a question that I’m sure is on the minds of most American women today, and one that I was interested in obtaining the female viewpoint on as well.

  She said, “So, Anya, what do you like to carry? What are you packing right now? The department is allowing us several choices rather than just issuing us a standard firearm, and I want to compare notes with someone who actually had to use hers.”

  “I really haven’t decided. For now Alex and I have been using 9 mm Glock Model 19s that we took off our last two kills, but they’re a little bulky. What about you?”

  “Well, I’m using a Smith and Wesson .38 special, a 5-shot Lady Smith, although I’m tempted to get one of those pink .38 specials made by Charter Arms. I was almost set to do it when they came out with lavender ones, and now I can’t decide.”

  “Oh, I think they’re neat too. You can get them in so many colors now. My colors are blue and grey. But those revolvers are a little bulky and I like to keep mine in my pocket if I can. I used to carry a .25 ACP Beretta automatic, but it was a little underpowered. But I like an automatic and I like the fact it fits in the palm of your hand so now I’m thinking of getting one of those Ruger LCPs or Taurus 738 TCPs in .380 ACP caliber, which is about as powerful as your .38 special and is a little lighter and holds more rounds. But I do like the reliability of the revolver, so maybe I’ll get one for my purse and keep the automatic in a jacket pocket. I like to wear form-fitting clothes so I really can’t put the automatic in a pants pocket or I’ll advertise that I’m packing, if you know what I mean. Now Taurus does have a pink one, but it’s a little bigger and heavier, but it does carry even more rounds. There are so many choices and colors out there nowadays that it’s really hard to choose.”

  As I listened, I realized that women had the same things on their mind as men, basically, but that style was a little more important to them. So what else is new?

  Chapter 3

  Now the locations that had incidences of animal balloons showing up were in Charleston, South Carolina, around Raleigh in North Carolina and in Cleveland, Ohio. Ben said the CIA was investigating Pakistanis that were employed at all the medical research facilities in those areas but preferred to have someone working at those sites to suggest which ones needed to be investigated more thoroughly and perhaps do some independent investigations themselves. They figured that if we accepted the assignment, we should start in Charleston, South Carolina since there were likely to be fewer Pakistanis in the Deep South than at the other facilities. That supposition turned out to be false.

  By the end of the meeting at Baskin Robbins, it was agreed that Anya and I would arrange to move to Charleston and get acquainted with the surroundings. Ben and Edy would arrange to get us the necessary jobs at the local Medical University of South Carolina and a reason for being there. Because the Medical University was in the city itself, they suggested we get a place to live nearby within the city, and they would arrange separately to get their own places to stay. We all agreed to meet in Charleston as soon as all the arrangements were made.

  Neither Anya nor I had been to Charleston before or either North or South Carolina for that matter, although we had both visited Cleveland briefly. We had both been raised in the Boston area and had spent a little time in San Diego before ending up in the Cayman Islands. We had no idea what to expect from living in a city known for its history, its southern charm, its beauty and the fact that it is a very popular tourist location for all of those reasons. At first we were very happy to be exposed to a culture that was certainly different from Boston.

  I will take a little space to tell you what we learned about Charleston before continuing with my narrative. We learned that Charleston was the largest city in the South during colonial times and the local people were very proud of the fact that they had fired the first shots that had started the Civil War. We found that a lot of houses remained in the downtown area that predated the Civil War. They were all in excellent condition and were really magnificent examples of southern architecture, giving everyone an indication of what life must have been like in Charleston during its heyday. We also looked forward to meeting old Southerners and being exposed to their genteel ways.

  We decided to rent one of the houses in the old historic district of downtown Charleston so we could really absorb the flavor of the city. My background is science and math, and I was never that strong in English or history as you will probably notice as you read these memoirs. I was anxious to expand my knowledge beyond math and science and learn something of the history of the local area. So I kept my ears and eyes open and picked up enough information to get an idea of some of the memorable events in the history of Charleston, which I will try and recall and relay to you during the course of this narrative. You may have learned about some of this in school, but I really didn’t know anything about the South or its history. They either didn’t teach it to me when I was in school or I didn’t pay attention.

  As far as meeting the old Charlestonians with their genteel ways, we never did find any. After we moved into our furnished rental house on Meeting Street in the historic downtown area, complete with antique looking furnishings that seemed authentic but all said Made in China underneath, we introduced ourselves to our neighbors to see if they would be willing to associate with someone who was raised elsewhere. The neighbors on either side told us they would be delighted to because they also had been raised elsewhere. The ones on our right were from New York and the ones on our left were from Ohio. In fact almost all the people we met in Charleston were people from New York and Ohio who had moved to Charleston from those places, and people from those places who were visiting Charleston. We first approached the neighbors who lived to the right of us when we saw them sitting on their big front porch. We walked over to them, and I said,

  “Hi. I’m Alex Astrov and this is my wife Anya Astrova. We are your new neighbors.”

  The man answered with a distinctly New York accent and said,

  “Hello. I’m Steve Manhattan and this is my wife Nancy. We’re happy to meet you. Where are you from?”

  “Originally from Boston. How about you?”

  From New York was the answer, as if it wasn’t obvious by the accent. They invited us to sit and chat which we did. They were very nice, at least superficially. Maybe some of Charleston had rubbed off on them, or else they were relieved to find out we weren’t from Charleston, but were from “Off” as the Charlstonians like to refer to anyone who wasn’t born in the Holy City as the locals call it. During the conversation, Anya asked about the location of various stores in Charleston. One of those questions elicited a strange answer.

  When Anya asked, “Where do you go grocery shopping around here?”

  Nancy said, “Usually at the Harris Teeter on East Bay Street, but sometimes at the Piggly Wiggly on Meeting Street.”

  Anya got the strangest look on her face, but didn’t say anything.

  Afterwards I complemented her on keeping a straight face and said,

  “I think they were putting us on with that piggly-wiggly baby talk. But I hope not, because they seemed to be nice otherwise.”

  “Do you think they were pulling our leg?”

  “I don’t know, unless that is code for some local in-joke, you know like they call the local quick mart a piggly wig
gly because the guy who runs it gouges people. They had a place like that near where I lived in Boston, but we called him the robber.”

  We didn’t think any more about it. We did find the Harris Teeter and bought some food. The next afternoon we met our neighbors to the left. They also happened to be sitting out on their front porch so we went over and introduced ourselves as we had to the Manhattans. The man introduced himself and his wife and had a distinctly Midwestern accent.

  “Hi. I’m Bob Dayton and this is my wife Joyce.”

  We had a pleasant get acquainted discussion like the one we had with the Manhattans and then Anya asked,

  “We’ve been shopping at the Harris Teeter on East Bay Street. Are there any other grocery stores around?”

  Joyce replied, “There’s also the Piggly Wiggly on Meeting Street, but we don’t go there as much.”

  She thanked them and I said to her as we walked back to our own house,

  “Maybe there is a place like that after all. How strange.”

  Anya said, “Well if it is a real store, I’ll never go there. You know what I think about pigs, even baby talk pigs.”

  “I do,” I said, “I really do.” Pigs were Anya’s least favorite animals.

  As far as the coincidence of having the New York neighbors called the Manhattans and the Ohio neighbors, the Daytons, you have to appreciate that I’m not good at names as I’ve said in my previous narrative. I tend to assign names based on some characteristics I remember about those individuals whose names I’ve long since forgotten, or immediately forgotten if they are not that memorable.

  I learned a lot from my new but not memorable neighbors, and I will relay to you what I was able to understand from them. There appears to have been two major periods of Charleston’s history since the Civil War ended. The first hundred years or so was called Reconstruction during which there was no construction. The following fifty years or so was called Renovation during which there also was no construction but a lot of renovation. Some think this latter period is still ongoing. Within Renovation, there was the Little Reconstruction period caused by the Hugo phenomenon that resulted in deconstruction followed by reconstruction and an intensification of renovation due to the assurance of insurance. Charleston has had only a single mayor during the entire Renovation period, although there are some who claim he first got elected during the beginning of Reconstruction. Since I didn’t meet anyone who was around that long, I can’t confirm that.

  The mayor encouraged renovations of all sorts and especially welcomed people from New York and Ohio and Spoleto, Italy. He encouraged the people from New York and Ohio to come and renovate and encouraged the people from Spoleto, Italy to come and sing about the renovations. He was a spectacularly successful mayor and ended up accomplishing his life-long goal of turning the beautiful and historic downtown area of Charleston into a giant Cruise Terminal. And now local people and tourists alike can sit in all the newly renovated restaurants in newly re-renovated Charleston and enjoy their shrimp and grits while being serenaded hourly by the pealing of all the church bells from the many churches in the Holy City of Charleston and all the cruise boat tour leaders who yell into each restaurant hourly, “Only one hour until departure. Your cruise ship leaves in one hour.” It really has added a hysterical atmosphere to historical Charleston.

  Charleston had remained pretty much unchanged during the hundred years after the Civil War. It was poor and no one could really afford to properly keep up the old houses downtown or tear them down and replace them with modern structures. All that changed as people from New York and Ohio discovered Charleston and wanted to be part of the Old South and have a project on which to spend all the money they had made in New York and Ohio. They bought the old houses in the downtown area and renovated them. They were excited to be there.

  But once they finished and sat on their big front porches, they quickly became bored. There was little to do after renovation except watch all the tourists walk by. All the Southerners had left. They could no longer afford to live there because the New Yorkers and Ohioans had driven the prices of everything, including the houses, up to where the Charlestonians couldn’t afford them any longer. So as the tourists walked around and looked at the bored people sitting on the porches and thought they were looking at real Southerners; they didn’t realize they were looking at their neighbors from back home. By this time, the ones who owned homes wanted to get out because they were not used to sitting around watching tourists watching them, so they sold their houses to more people from New York and Ohio who didn’t know that the original inhabitants were long gone.

  When the new owners surveyed all the renovations that the first New Yorkers and Ohioans had made, they couldn’t believe what bad taste those previous owners had and proceeded to re-renovate all the houses. When they finished, they too became bored with sitting on their newly renovated front porches watching the tourists and so sold out to the next group. While few of the downtown houses had been improved in any way between the end of the Civil War and the mid-twentieth century, most would be renovated at least several times in the ensuing fifty years.

  So what happened to the original Charlestonians you may ask. I did. It seems that all of the Charlestonians had moved elsewhere to get away from all the people from New York and Ohio who had moved there and the tourists from those places who were visiting. Some of them had moved to Hollywood. No, they did not move to Hollywood, California, but to Hollywood, South Carolina which is about twenty five miles south of Charleston. Anya and I did end up going down to Hollywood in search of real Charlestonians. We discovered that Hollywood consisted of a barbecue restaurant and a tractor dealership. There wasn’t much to do in Hollywood, but the locals liked it because they didn’t have to deal with New Yorkers and Ohioans. They could go and get barbecue for lunch and then go over and look at the tractors. Or they could get on their tractor and drive it to the barbecue place for lunch. Or they could order a barbecue sandwich for lunch and go outside and eat it on their tractor.

  Or, best of all, they could get a barbecue sandwich and go out to one of the nearby pig farms to see where the barbecued pork they were eating had started out. Anya really liked doing this. Her first job in high school had been on a pig farm. She was in charge of shooting the pigs so they could be butchered and sold to meat packers, some of which ended up in barbecue sandwiches, the pork that is and not the meat packers in case that wasn’t clear. I had never been to a pig farm and let me tell you, it really smells terrible. I asked Anya about it, but all she said was that you get used to it. I don’t think I could. She said all the burning gunpowder lessened the bad smell and I could relate to that.

  Chapter 4

  After we moved into our downtown house, Anya and I began to explore Charleston. We walked around the downtown area and went down to the battery that is on the tip of the Charleston peninsula and looked out at Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor which had been fired on to start the Civil War. We then took a tour boat ride out to Fort Sumter and looked back at the tip of the Charleston peninsula to see where the people in the fort had been fired at from. We also walked down to the market area where there once had been an actual market but where there was now only a rather large flea market. It did have a Häagen-Dazs, which I made note of, because I was certain that Ben and Edy would want to know.

  After having surveyed all that Charleston had to offer historically, Anya and I went and ate at one of the downtown restaurants recommended by other Neuvo-Charlestonians from New York, who had read what the New York Times food critic wrote about the proper restaurants to eat at in Charleston. That critic seemed to like to review restaurants in Charleston for some reason. The Neuvo-Charlestonians never asked any locals about where to eat, even when they came across them, because what would they know about fine dining in Charleston? I mean, they didn’t even subscribe to the New York Times.

  It is my supposition that more than one of the New York Times food critics had renovated houses in Charleston and
were trying to sell them and felt they had a better chance to sell to other New Yorkers if they told them the restaurants were good in Charleston, and that they would not miss the good restaurants in New York, if they would only buy that house that one of the critics had for sale in Charleston and give the critic a big profit. Most of the restaurants they recommended were mere shadows of fine restaurants in New York, and the people who bought the line about the fine restaurants in Charleston learned that the critics’ taste in restaurants were every bit as bad as their taste in what makes a good renovation of a downtown Charleston house.

  We did go to one of those restaurants that was recommended by our neighbor from New York and were exposed to yet another tradition in Charleston, drinking only iced tea. It’s served in every restaurant and they don’t even ask you what you want to drink. They just ask you when you sit down, “sweet or unsweet?” This happened to Anya and me at that first restaurant, and I didn’t know what they were asking. I didn’t want them to think I wasn’t sweet so I said, “Sweet.” The next thing I knew I had a glass of golden colored liquid placed in front of me that was so sweet it took a while before I realized it was tea. I hate tea. When I was growing up and got sick, all my mother gave me to eat was tea and toast, and so tea to me meant I was sick and later, as I grew up, whenever I tasted tea I got sick. What’s worse, I don’t like anything sugary because too much sugar also makes me feel sick, so you can imagine how sick I got when given sweet iced tea.