Shadows in the Night
Miroslav Ivanovich shot his boss in the heart. Twice.
The office door locked itself automatically.
Rushing footsteps approached the 40th floor office of Alexander Kuryakin, just-deceased Deputy Director of Sector 8, Internal Security Intelligence of the Soviet Empire.
In a smooth, continuous motion, Ivanovich shot out the water front floor-to-ceiling windows, fired his carbon-silicon rappel at the heavy wooden desk, and jumped.
The rope uncoiled from the miniscule hand held rappelling device, Ivanovich braked as he dropped almost 400 feet, near ground level, stopping with a sudden jerk. He used his momentum to jump off the wall into a diving roll, landing in front of the Executive Entrance.
The lone guard didnt have time to react. Ivanovich slapped the Kalashnikov M1-Laser away and smashed the mans nose with his elbow. He took the gun, shot out the legs of the two approaching guards with some low power shots, chucked the weapon disgustedly and ran towards the river.
Zara Petrova, immaculate in her evening riding gear, nursed an intense headache as she walked into ISI headquarters. She needed a double shot of vodka, but it had to wait.
The Director General drawled as he chewed through a sandalwood flavored toothpick.
Ivanovich must have gotten burnt out. It happens sometimes, specially with the young, talented ones. He identified his direct boss as the cause of all his problems and killed him.
It cant be that simple sir, Ivanovich has been our best field agent in the recent years. He loved Kuryakin like a father.
Perhaps. But I have no choice. His status has been changed to Traitor. He is to be executed on sight, effective immediately. You. The old man paused and looked intently at the chewed up toothpick, Find out what you can, and comes to that, kill him.
Zara Petrova stood alone at the end of the dim hallway. Now she had two headaches.
Ivanovich slid down the gravel covered riverbank. He stood motionless, observing the dock, hoping to steal a boat. Suddenly, a gunboat approached in total silence.
He ran away from the dock, always in the shadows. At a busy intersection he blended into the city crowd. He had to leave St. Petersburg as soon as possible. He needed fake papers. He needed to run into an old friend.
Zara ordered immediate surveillance and monitoring of all outbound public transportation. She issued an alert to monitor all known informants and agents within the city. She delegated a team of analysts to comb over Kuryakins files and communications. Finally, she set out to speak to Kuryakins wife.
Ivanovich got off near Nevskiy Prospekt, he walked away from the main boulevard into an alley. He winded his way through alleys towards a beautifully gas-lit street lined with stores. He stopped near the mouth of the alley and lit a cigarette. He gazed at a corner cafe across the street. Mikhail Sorokin sat at his usual table, evening paper in hand. His jacket rested casually on the table. Do not approach. Area under surveillance.
Ivanovich backtracked, moving away from the zone of surveillance. He climbed up a low brick wall into an empty lot. Across it he walked into another alley. He decided to reach the main road and hail a cab.
At the end of the alley, a tall figure blocked his path. Without looking back, Ivanovich knew what was coming. The man in front edged closer.
The order is shoot to kill comrade, but I figure kicking the shit out of you would be good practice. Hear youre the best, after all.
From behind, two shadows approached nearer. They enclosed him in a tight triangle. Close quarters tactics, do not allow free movement.
Nano-devices in their blood streams activated in unison, their shadows moved with predatory instincts. Something twitched at his back, Ivanovich crouched and threw the rushing man overhead, turning around tightly, he swept his leg hoping to take out the other man. But the second agent at his back was quicker, he leapt up and came down with a hard right punch, Ivanovich barely contained the thrust of the hit, he blocked but he was pushed back, losing balance. The first man kicked him from behind savagely. Ivanovich writhed in pain for a split second, then turned his mind away, the pain was a dull scream of agony, far, far away. Mercurial, he stepped forward and jabbed the man in front of him. One. Two. He slid left at the blink of an eye, and as expected, the first man came into the void with another hard kick in the air. Then it was a matter of experience over hot blooded youth. Ivanovich moved back in and swung a hard right uppercut at the flailing kicker, following with a hard left hook, breaking his sternum. He pushed the man to the floor and swung his elbow swiftly back at the second man, pivoted on a dime, stepped back and brought the mans face down on his upward knee.
The third man moved in closer and hit him with a brutal punch on his left kidney. Ivanovich screamed, the pain was too much to contain. Drunk on enhanced neural chemistry, movements augmented by nano devices, they edged closer and grappled. The man was fast, they exchanged two hard right hooks. The man closed in and unleashed a flurry of swift jabs, battering Ivanovichs ribcage. Ivanovich swayed back, back, almost falling, allowing his attacker to come forward a bit. He sidestepped and in one continuous motion used all his remaining strength to crush the man against the wall. The mans nose broke apart with a sickening crunch, blood dripped down the mildewed wall. Ivanovich whispered into his ear, Arrogance isnt a part of this game, cadet. Next time, for a kill order, shoot to kill.
Ivanovich staggered away, his chest felt like someone took a cheese shredder and went to work on it.
Somewhere nearby, a phone clicked on.
I know youre there Ivanovich. I need you to come in. I know why you killed Kuryakin.
Why should I trust you?
Because I ordered the hit-squad not to kill you. The hunt has been called off, youre clear to come in.
Palace Square, in front of the Alexander Column. Half an hour. Dont bother with a sniper squad, youll only be killing tourists.
The Palace Square was filled with tourists. Ivanovich walked slowly, always covering himself among tourists, towards the Alexander Column in the middle of the square. Zara Petrova stood right in front of it. Tall, statuesque and stunning. She wore a red leather trench-coat. She was rubbing her hands to keep warm. Her breath condensed into flickering mists under the soft lights of the column.
Near the column, he walked very close to Zara, he caressed her cheek with his left hand, they stood cheek to cheek as he whispered in her ear.
Dont move, I have you covered.
Dont ever change Vanya. She whispered back.
Just get to it Zara.
Kuryakin was smuggling information out to our rogue little republic up north. Our analysts came to that conclusion. We always suspected someone high up was doing it, just didnt know who. Anyway, I went to inform his wife, but she wasnt home. And then reports started coming in about a squad picking her up for transport. Shes vanished.
So?
So no one admits anything, but Im certain a mercenary squad transported her out to safety. Kuryakin must have had a deal made in case of his death. He knew the net was closing around him. Everything fits.
Rubbish. You forget I spent the last two years near the eastern border. For the border patrol and agents, sometimes looking the other way is what puts enough food on the table. Things are no different here. You think everyone here is a true patriot? Our little rogue republic up north, when were they ever a threat to us? We know they have their little spy games within our borders, we have always known that.
I agree. Dont be naïve though Vanya. They sell information to our friends across the ocean.
What of that? So the American Empire knows we have 1500 missiles pointed at them to go-off instead of 1000? As if we dont know similar information about them?
We are going around in circles Vanya. Kuryakin was a traitor and would have become an embarrassment to ISI. You executed him as a patriotic officer of the empire. You did the right thing. Your status has been changed to Active and you will come in for briefing Monday. Then youll take a long vacation.
Thats not why I killed him Zara. He suspected there was an internal investigation on some of the senior officers and he confided in me. He knew he was going to be arrested sooner or later. I knew he was going to be made an example of, if arrested. Sure he traded state secrets, but who doesnt these days?
Zara stiffened under Ivanovichs grip.
Thats not your call to make Vanya!
Shut up. I killed him because he had terminal cancer. He wouldnt have survived the trial. I couldnt let him go through it. So arrest me comrade Petrova. I am not a patriot, neither am I a good agent.
There was a coldness between them now. Without a hint of emotion she whispered through her teeth.
You have shown great patriotism by executing a traitor and risking your life. You will come in for a briefing on Monday. You will get back to work as an agent of ISI, Comrade Ivanovich.
She stepped back, turned and walked away slowly, shrouded within the night mist.
