The Derevko Journals

Mariapurt wrote:
Why did Irina make hersilf beaten? I mean, setting the trap, it didn't really matter if the bllood was faked:smiley:
Because she wanted to be sure that the driver would see her wounds when he stopped. Also by doing this, she continued to heighten the loyalty of her men to her.

But, why would that guy, Vasiliy, make a deal just because of Irina - i mean, that's not the ancient world, and he'd have any woman, just by paying. Or did i miss smth?
He agreed to the deal, that is he paid the $500,000 without quibblinjg if he could have Irina that night, thinking she was Khasinau's woman, not a prostitute off the streets.

spazzo47 wrote:

Lots of Alliance stuff here and we're just a few years from Syd's getting involved. I wonder if Irina is going to see Syd on a mission. I keep expecting her to see Jack, but now I'm thinking she's going to spare Syd for a loss and Kasineau is going to get upset about that. Also interesting that she went this long without the Alliance even hearing "The Man".
Most of what she did was done on the quiet. The Man was not bandied about in criminal circles; she eliminated several crime cartels, i.e. the K-Directorate for one. She absorbed many of their members into her own business and don't forget, Khasinau was her front man.

And then there's Galina, and, I just don't know what to make of that relationship. I like to think she's more than just a booty call, But then again, the shipper in me won't entertain that thought.

It is what it is! :rolleyes:

:cool:
 
Glad she didn't deal in drugs.
Her relationship with Galina is very interesting to say the least. Is she falling for Galina or just using her as an outlet.
thanks for the pm.
 
Because she wanted to be sure that the driver would see her wounds when he stopped. Also by doing this, she continued to heighten the loyalty of her men to her.

She could fake the blood by some lipstick or smth - the driver would not see any difference. And, i really don't see how she'd up the loyalty by putting herself into too much danger:smiley: And she eventually could - yes - do it by herself, -but what being beaten for???
 
1995
Irina is 44


Friday – April 21, 1995

It was dark by the time I had Grigor drive me to Shermetyevo International. I was waiting outside the terminal for my man Dimitri. He was supposedly going through customs inside having arrived about six, nearly an hour ago. Still no Dimitri. I stepped out of my car and leaned against the passenger side door. Both Grigor and I watched the people coming and going.

I studied my hands—the long powerful fingers, my manicured nails which were painted a bright red. My hair was coifed in swept up do not a hair out of place. I had a meeting to go to and if he didn’t come soon, I would be late. Since I called the meeting it wouldn’t do for me to be late.

“Grigor, how long will it take you to get to the meeting?” I glanced at the gold Rolex on my wrist. It was a minute or two after seven. Traffic leaving the airport did not look light.

“It will take an hour, Irina.”

I sighed. Dimitri had no time left. I opened the passenger door.

“Irina, he’s here.” Grigor pointed.

I turned to see my man coming through the double doors. I waved and he saw me. He ran over. I shoved him inside and followed. “Get going!” I rolled up the window between Grigor and me. I wanted him to pay attention to the road and not to what I was saying—or Dimitri was saying.

“Well? What did you learn? Did you see her?”

“Who is she?” Dimitri asked.

I stared at him coldly. He flushed. “Answer me,” I said quietly.

Dimitri reached inside his coat pocket and brought out a picture. “This is the best I could do. I was pretending to be a tourist, so I couldn’t get her to pose...naturally.”

I snatched the picture away from him. “Credit Dauphine?” He had taken a picture of Sydney as she walked by a sign. “What is it?”

“A bank. She works there.”

“Does she?” I sat back with the picture in my hand, frowning. A bank...Sydney worked at a bank? I thought she was going to UCLA to be a teacher. I put it in my purse and pulled out an envelope and handed it to him. “Thank you. Here is the agreed amount. I will see to it her friends get the picture.”

“Spasibo,” he said tucking the envelope into his inside coat pocket.

“I have to leave you out at the next corner,” I leaned forward and opened the window. “Grigor, the next corner.”

Grigor pulled the Mercedes up and Dimitri exited with his bag touching his head in a salute as we drove off.

I put the window up between Grigor and me again. Traffic was heavy and I didn’t want to talk. I pulled the picture out of my twenty-year old daughter. She was very pretty and...I stared at her...very buff. She looked a bit muscular, especially shoulders and legs. “Working at a bank?” My eyes narrowed as I tried to remember where I’d heard the name Credit Dauphine before. I stared at the picture...as I began to put it together.

Sloane...that bastard recruited Sydney for SD-6!

*****

Monday – May 29, 1995

Project Five! I was approached today while walking from the car to my home. Two men met me in the hallway outside my door. I was surprised because no one other than Katya, Khasinau and Galina knew where I lived. I would have to have a long talk with the my sister.

“Irina Derevko?”

“Da,” I said, clutching my shoulder bag. There was a gun in it, but I was armed with more than just it.

“We are here to offer you a position with our group.”

“Now why would I want to join you?”

“We are a loose band of six men and two women with one goal, Rambaldi’s endgame.”

I stared for a moment and then unlocked my door. “Come inside. I do not want to talk about this in hallway.”

“Of course,” and they followed me through the door shutting it behind them.

“Tea?” I offered.

“No, we do not want to stay long. I want to present our offer and leave. Do you know Project Five?” The older of the two asked.

“I have only heard about it.”

“Have you been approached before this?”

“Nyet.”

“Good, because if someone did, they were not us. We have another group who is trying to interfere with out goal—the Covenant. Do you know them?”

“Da! However they have not talked to me either.” I indicated they should sit.

“No, we cannot stay. We simply want to know if you are interested. Our plans are long range and we are getting key people in place.”

‘And you picked me because...”

“You are the mother of The Chosen and The Passenger.” The older man said, “Are you interested.”

I was flabbergasted. “How did you know that?” I said.

“The manuscript.” He answered. “Are you with us?”

“Yes!”

“When we are ready to move, we will get in touch with you.” He nodded and left, followed by the younger man.

I stared at the closed door for a long, long time.

*****

Wednesday – June 21, 1995

Karl Musser, my contact in Berlin, called me about a man named Oscar Mueller. It seems the man is a modern day alchemist who has a manuscript of Rambaldi’s detailing some kind of weapon designed four centuries ago. He was in the midst of building it or trying to, because so far he’d been unable to interpret the script that went along with the drawings.

“I don’t know much, Irina, but there is some interest by the German Military Intelligence. I thought you should know.”

“You earned a bonus,” I said. “Can you give me an address?”

“Yes.” Karl gave it to me.

I thanked him and buzzed Khasinau, who entered my office minutes later. “We have a lead on another Rambaldi manuscript and design of some sore of weapon. I want the man watched. German Military Intelligence has an interest, so we must get to Muller first. If necessary, we’ll move him to another location.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Perhaps, but I want to know what it is he thinks Rambaldi designed.” I stood. “I want you to go to Berlin now.” I handed him the address. “Call me as soon as you find out anything. If he is low on money, tell Muller The Man will give him money to complete the experiment.”

“Yes, Irina.” He left.


Thursday – June 22, 1995

Khasinau called and said Oscar Muller had disappeared. No one knew where he’d gone or when. I told him to do a thorough search: checking with family, friends and those who worked in the same field. It was possible he was kidnapped or else decided too many people were interested in what he was doing. It was possible too he was killed. That was the theory Khasinau put forth, but I seriously doubted it and told him so. I thought he had simply gone underground because too many people were asking too many questions. I told Khasinau to come home, but called Musser and told him to keep close watch for Muller if and when he surfaced again. He was to tell only me and no one else. He said he would. I think the scientist will come back, especially if he needs money.


*****

Tuesday – September 26, 1995

Last night after I went to bed, I met Julian Sark. Actually the young man was attempting to burglarize my apartment when I awakened. I heard a noise in my living room. Getting out of bed quietly, I took my Glock 9mm from my nightstand drawer along with a flashlight, and went to the door leading out into the great room.

The door swung open silently. I had the hinges well-oiled. I saw a shadowy figure going through my desk. Bracing my gun against the flashlight, I slipped into the room and came up behind the busy figure. I tapped him on the shoulder, turning on the flashlight, as he turned, catching him in full face. He put his hand up and tried to jump back.

“Don’t move.” I hissed.

“You’re naked,” he gasped, staring at me.

“You’re caught,” I said back. “Sit in chair.”

He did as he was told, staring at me in some sort of shock. He looked to be just a boy, but then I assumed he was someone who wouldn’t age, at least for a long time. He was blond with steel-blue eyes. His face was smooth and clean-shaven, another clue that he wouldn’t age fast.

Keeping the gun trained on his head, I reached into the desk and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Put these on, but put your hands around arms of chair first.”

“Are you going to call the police?” He had a charming English accent. He did as he was told. He wouldn’t leave without dragging the heavy chair with him.

I smiled. “We’ll see. I won’t be but a moment. Wait while I put on robe.”

“I’m not planning to go anywhere,” he called as I walked back to my bedroom.

I pulled out the red silk robe Galina had given me and put it on, tying the sash as I returned. “Now then,” I said pulling up a chair. “Suppose you tell me why you thought my home was an easy target?”

“Just swooshing through the apartment house. I’m hungry and needed any money I could find.”

I cocked my head, looking at him in astonishment. “What’s an Englishman doing here in Russia? We are not most hospitable nor are we richest. Certainly you could find places with money in your own country.”

He shook his head, “No, because I was born here. My Mum or Dad shipped me off to bloody old Ireland to be raised. I don’t know who my parents are. I thought I’d come over and do some checking. However, I ran out of money.”

“So you decided to burglarize me.” I stared at him, thinking. “How about a job?”

“Who’s hiring? Not many Irishmen can find a job in jolly old Russia.”

I laughed, “Right. Well, for starters, I’ll hire you.” I took the key to the handcuffs out of my pocket and unlocked them.”

“You?”

“My boss is looking for bright young men who don’t mind dirty work.” I motioned for him to come to the kitchen. “Sit, while I see what I have that you might eat.”

“Anything! I’m starving.”

“How about scrambled eggs and toast?”

“Have you some tea?”

I laughed. “Of course.” I put on the tea kettle and pulled out some black bread, putting two slices in my new American toaster.

In ten minutes he had scrambled eggs, toast, butter and jam as well as a cup of hot tea. He said nothing while eating. He ate so fast that I fixed him two more pieces of toast. He’d obviously not eaten for some time.

While he was finishing, I went to the bedroom and made a call on my cell. Anton answered on the fourth ring. I made arrangements for Sark to stay with Anton tonight. He would come over and pick him up.

“Bring him into the office tomorrow to see Khasinau, but not until ten. I’ll have time to talk to Alexander.”

“Yes, Irina.” He hung up.

I glanced at my watch. I still had time to catch a couple of hours more sleep. Anton would be here soon, especially since he rented an apartment from me on the third floor.
I warned him not to tell Sark that I was the big boss.


Wednesday – September 27, 1995

Sark was hired by Khasinau. He would be trained by Anton to be one of his enforcers, but I told Alexander that I thought the young man would not want to stay in that position. He was intelligent and would be a fast learner.

“Do not tell him who I am. He thinks I work for you.”

“Very well.”

I was talking with my broker when my door opened and Julian Sark waved. I motioned for him to come in and sit. I finished with Karl and hung up.

“So did you take the job?”

“Yes, but I’m supposed to work for Anton. I thought I’d been working for you.”

I laughed. “Now why would you think that?”

“You’re the boss—the real boss, not this guy Khasinau.”

“What made you deduce that?” I was surprised he’d made that appraisal so quick.

“Come on, Ms. Derevko, I’m not stupid. You call Anton up in the middle of the night and he jumps. Khasinau hires me today. No one has one clue as to who I am. You...on the other hand, are the one who pays the bills and who, I understand, is well liked. Khasinau is all right, but you’re the boss—the pakhan as I understand your underworld cohorts think of you.”

I laughed. “You are a fast learner, Mr. Sark.”

“Call me Julian.” He grinned. “Can I bypass Anton and come straight here?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, but I want to see how good you are. Don’t be impatient. You’ll be working hard the next few months. I’m not buying a pig in a poke.”

His face registered shock. “I beg your pardon?”

Again I laughed. “Sorry, but that slipped out. I lived in the U.S. for ten years and still tend to let slip phrases I learned there.”

“Ten years?” He said. “Doing what?”

“I was a spy...and an assassin.” I definitely didn’t want him to think I could be someone who could be fooled.

He pursed his lips and whistled. “You got away, that’s evident.”

“Yes.” I stared at him. “How much Russian do you know?”

“Very little.”

“You’ll be taking a crash course in conversational Russian the next three weeks. Apply yourself. How well you do in each task will tell us where your position will be in this organization.”

He nodded and left the room.

*****

Wednesday – November 1, 1995

I called Julian Sark into my office. I’d received several reports from various members of my staff about his work and learning habits. So far, it was all positive. He’d applied himself to the learning of some rudimentary Russian and had even continued his studies of our difficult language. He was good with guns and automatic weapons of any kind, but not very good with knives. I didn’t mind as I didn’t know many who were, with the exception of Katya and me.

Galina said Julian was good with figures and had gone with her on procurement raids. He’d been good and was well liked by her staff.

He’d flunked the torture test according to Anton who the administrator of simple pain inducing torture. Julian was handsome and vain. He didn’t seem to care to have his face messed up or anything else on his body. I wasn’t happy to hear that. Anton said that he liked Sark and he thought he would work out just fine as long as he didn’t get caught. He laughed. I didn’t.

Julian came into my office and sat down. I leaned back in my executive chair and stared back. He began to look uncomfortable.

“Well,” he started, “am I in?”

“Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

I leaned forward elbows on my desk and stared hard. “It means we cannot have you out in the field where you might get caught. You didn’t do so well with Anton testing you.”

“I didn’t see any reason to get bloodied for nothing.”

“I see, well, in this organization, field work means you might have to get bloodied. So you will be my assistant, but will not go on any our operations.”

“Assistant?” He seemed pleased. “Do I have an office?”

“Perhaps later, but for now I want you to see Boris in communications. He’s going to train you with COM Links and how they are used. In essence you will be our mission handler. So I want to know how well you do learn. Boris is a hard taskmaster, but he’s excellent.”

He stood. “I will be the best.”

*****

1996
Irina is 45


Wednesday - April 17, 1996

Khasinau, Sark and I arrived in Cape Town yesterday. We are here to become a thorn in the side of The Alliance once more. We’ve not robbed them for a year. We have them under our watchful eye though. I like to keep track of my competitors and what they are up to as much as possible.

Last week, my contact in London, Ilya Prokopev, called me. The Alliance has their headquarters in England’s capitol and they had a meeting. They were going to buy some stolen conflict diamonds in South Africa. Somehow a man who worked for the diamond mines, he didn’t specify who, had diamonds to sell. The Alliance was going to buy them.

I like diamonds. I decided to interrupt the sale and make off with both diamonds and money. Galina would draw up the mission and make sure I had all that I needed when we arrived in Cape Town. We wanted the job to be quick and profitable. I knew I could sell the diamonds to the Chinese for twice what the Alliance would pay the man offering them.

Julian was to be our handler. Khasinau and I would wear tiny COM Links. Julian would have access to satellite feed over the area. I don’t like surprises. I wanted to be sure we had clear sailing going and coming.

This morning we picked up the SUV, a Ford Explorer, which my men had arranged for us. Inside I found a sniper’s rifle and two Glock 15s. I gave one to Khasinau. He drove out of town and we headed for a tiny town called Riekenpo where we find the man with the diamonds. Morris Carson was the Alliance’s man and he had the money. Their meeting was set for late afternoon. I wanted to be in place before they connected.

“Julian, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Irina.”

“Good. Alexander and I are leaving Riekenpo now. We are following diamond man. I’m sure Carson will be along soon. Give us heads up when you see the other car.’

“Righty-o,” he said.

I laughed.


Three hours later we were in place. I was wearing lightweight khaki pants and shirt. On my head I had a bush hat. Khasinau was similarly dressed. The sun was hot and I was sweating heavily. The place almost seemed deserted, but for the small shack where the diamond salesman waited. He had two burly bodyguards with him, watching from outside. I had situated Khasinau in the back of the shack about 25 meters away. He was hiding behind some heavy bush. He had one Glock. I had the other along with my rifle which had a scope and silencer on it. I was behind a small rise or ridge about 50 meters away with a clear view of the shack. The diamond man’s car was parked next to the shack.

“Irina, are you there?” It was Sark.

“Da!”

“Car approaching from the south. He’s about ten kilometers out.”

“Keep him in sight. I don’t want him to jog in a different direction.”

“Are you sure of the Intel?” He asked.

“It’s not your job to ask,” I said.

“Roger that.” He answered.

I snickered. He was so young.

I moved up to the top of the ridge and took a prone position. In the distance I thought I saw dust which seemed to move. It was Carson. Ten minutes later, a silver Mercedes 500 drove up and parked. I was impressed, but not awed. The Alliance always put their men in nice cars. The two guards standing at the door.

The door to the shack opened and a man, about six foot, stepped out. He was dressed in riding clothes and also had a bush hat. Morris stepped out with a briefcase in his hand. The driver and another man stepped out of the car behind him. He’d brought his own body guards.

“Alexander,” I said, touching my COM Link.

“Yes, Irina,” he answered immediately.

“Carson came with two others.” I said. “Can you get closer? I’m not sure I’ll be able to take four down...at least not without the two men inside hearing a little noise.”

“Give me two minutes.”

“Irina,” said Sark who was in Cape Town. “There’s no one around the area. It’s clear.”

“Ummm,” I answered while sighting the rifle.

“I’m in position,” said Khasinau, slightly out of breath. “There’s no window in the back so they didn’t see me.”

“Good. Let’s do it.” I pulled the trigger once, twice and three times. Khasinau ran swiftly around the shack and dropped the fourth stunned guard and burst through the shacks’ door. I heard two shots, while running toward the shack. I pulled my Glock.

I pulled my Glock looking at the guards on the ground. I didn’t have to worry, they were dead. I hurried inside just as Khasinau was looking into a satchel on the desk. He looked up startled. Carson was on the floor in front of him, a bullet through his heart. I didn’t see the diamond salesman. He must be on the floor behind Alexander.

“Irina!” His right hand was down inside.

“The diamonds,” I held my hand out. He nodded and handed me the satchel.

I knew he probably had ideas about taking a diamond or two, but I’d forestalled that by holding my Glock loosely by my side. I was aware also that he was still not comfortable working for a woman. He was greedy too. I would have to be careful of him.

“The money?” I asked holding onto the satchel.

“Here!” He opened Carson’s briefcase. “Negotiable bonds, each worth ten thousand dollars.

“How much?”

He quickly counted them. “A hundred million dollars.”

“Not a bad day’s work. The Alliance seems to work in same numbers...one hundred million,” I said. “Let’s get out of here. “Sark, how are we doing?”

“Fine. No one close to you and Khasinau.”

“Good. We’re leaving.”

I sat in the back of the Explorer with the diamonds while Khasinau drove. I wiped my face. It was bloody hot. I decided to see what kind of diamonds we had. I put my hand in the satchel and drew some out. They were beautiful even though uncut. They would be even more beautiful once they were cut properly and set. I knew that when I sold them, I would get my price.

I picked out one that might be the largest. It might cut down to three or four karats, but only a jeweler would know. I would have to find a diamond cutter who would do the job properly. Perhaps someday I’d be able to give it to...Sydney.

Today is her birthday.

***

Saturday – May 11, 1996

There’s hell to pay. The Alliance is trying everything to find out who took their diamonds and their bearer bonds. I doubt they will learn anything as the only people who know about the robbery are Ilya from London, Galina, Sark, Khasinau and me. I had decided that the less people knew, the safer I would be. I wasn’t about to let The Alliance learn about The Man...at least not for as long as I could keep it a secret. The only one I worried about was Ilya. He was in London where the Alliance was located.

I called Julian to see me in my office. I had a job for him to do.


Sunday – May 12, 1996

I watched the plane take off. Sark was on board with a mission to complete on his own; at least that’s what he thought. I had to know how he’d react in the field. Anton stood next to me, passport and ticket in hand.

“Just make sure he doesn’t see you.”

“Yes, Irina.”

“Watch only. Don’t interfere even if he’s caught.”

Anton smiled. “I don’t think young Mr. Sark will get caught.” He liked Sark, even though he’d been sorry when Sark could make it through the torture test.

“Yes, I agree, but I want to be sure.” I was serious. “Your flight leaves in twenty minutes, Gate 23.”

***

Thursday – May 16, 1996

Ilya Propenkov is dead. Sark returned and told me it had gone off without a hitch. “I shot him when he was sleeping. He didn’t feel a thing!”

“Good. I appreciate your doing the job for me.”

“Da,” he answered smiling, “and tell Anton he’s too big to hide.”

I laughed. “I wanted to know if you could do a clean job and the report said you did it well.”

“Anytime,” he answered and left.

I was pleased. I’d rid myself of the one person who might betray The Man, although he was one of my original men from the KGB. I hated having to do it, but if Ilya were caught by The Alliance I don’t know whether he could withstand what they would put him through. They were as tough as I was. The job had netted me one hundred million in bonds and another hundred million plus in saleable diamonds which I sold to China.

My contact there was my teacher friend Ling Soo Ahn. He arranged for the buy. There was no hassle. In fact, no one there even knew The Man. Ling had been the intermediary with the Chinese Minister of Finance.

*****

Thursday – July 4, 1996

I’m in Amsterdam today. I finally had time to come to find a diamond cutter and jeweler. Khasinau told me that there were several good men in Rotterdam and I know he thinks that’s where I am, but no. I don’t trust him fully and it is less so almost every day. He makes me wary of him and of his motives. I can’t believe I’m being so paranoid about him, but I’ve just got this intense feeling of distrust. I will be careful.

I have the name of an old jeweler who is retired. I don’t think anyone I know, including Alexander, knows about Oscar Borger, one of the best diamond cutters to have been in the business. He’s retired now, but I know he will do the job if I pay him enough. I called his home and gave him the name of the person who had referred me. He said he would see me tomorrow at his home and gave me the address.

I arrived at 8:00 p.m. I was prompt. That is one personal habit I believe in...to be on time when an appointment is made. Oscar opened the door and I entered a small but comfortable living room.

“You said you had a proposition for me?” He obviously didn’t want to waste time either.

“Yes.” I reached into my purse and brought out a handkerchief. I opened it and handed it to him.

He said nothing, but took out his jeweler’s glass and studied it and then motioned me to follow him which I did. We traveled down a short hallway to a room in the back of the house. He flipped on the light switch.

“Sit.” He indicated a chair in front of a worktable which he immediately went around and sat down on a high stool. He put the jeweler’s glass away and brought out a larger magnifying glass.

“What do you think?” I said, hardly daring to breathe.

“Where did you get this stone?” He asked.

I stared into his face with a smile. “Do you care?”

“It came from South Africa.” He stated without questioning. He studied it some more then looked at me. “What do you want?”

“I want it cut properly and mounted in a ring.”

“This will be at least 8 karats. That’s a large ring.”

“It’s a gift.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Name your price,” I said.

“One hundred thousand dollars.” He said and the look on his face told me he didn’t think I’d pay it.”

“I’ll make it two hundred thousand if you start tomorrow.” I answered.

He gaped at me. I really think he thought I wouldn’t pay. He looked at the stone again and then me. “Who are you?”

“A diamond fan...and,” I paused, “I’ll pay cash.”

“Done.” He said. “I will need a phone number. I think I’ll have it done in a month...”

“A month? A month?” I was surprised. “Why so long?”

“Because I must be precise when I do the cutting. A mistake and it will be worth nothing and I’m sure you would not want that to happen.”

I stared and then nodded. I wrote my private number to my cell phone on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “A month then.” I left before he could say anything more.

I sat in my car and made a phone call. I liked Oscar Borger, but not to the extent that I trusted him fully. That was a temptation, that diamond, and he might be sorely tempted to do some investigating. He was going to be paid well for the job. However, he would be watched...and his phone tapped.

No one crosses me.

***

Thursday – August 1, 1996

It’s been four weeks to the day. Oscar Borger called me this morning to tell me he’d finished the cut and mounting. I could pick it up tomorrow. The cell phone was disposable and non-traceable. No one could put a trace on it.

“Good. We’ll have the cash.”

I called my man in Amsterdam for a catch-up report on my jeweler. It was negative for any odd phone calls and meetings with people who looked suspicious.

“I have photographs if you want to see them.”

“Da.” I answered. “I’ll be in Amsterdam in six hours. Bring everything you haven’t sent to me.”

Six hours later I was seated at a booth in a bar at my hotel. Grigor and Anton sat at a booth behind me. I was on my second iced vodka when my contact entered and sat down. He had a manila folder with him.

“Let me see the folder.” I put out my hand which had a roll of thousand dollar bills in it.

He put the folder in my hand after relieving it of the roll of bills. “You have everything.”

“I’d better and don’t leave. I may have some questions.” I opened the folder and took out a stack of photos and three pages of printed material. I went through the photos one by one and on occasion asked who they were or if he knew them.

“Who is this?” It was the next to last photo of the stack.

“I think it’s a neighbor of Borger’s.” He said. I glanced at him and saw that he wasn’t nervous or stressed.

“I don’t think so,” I said quietly. I’d seen the face before. I looked at the back of the photo and saw that the date was just two days ago. Interesting.

“Is everything okay?”

“Good. Thanks.” I dismissed him and he left.

Moments later Anton and Grigor were opposite me in the booth. They stared at the photo that I held up in front of them. “This man I’ve seen before and he wasn’t Borger’s neighbor.”

“What you want us to do?” Anton asked.

“We’re going to see Borger tonight sometime after midnight.”

I was dressed quite differently than the last time I called on Borger. My hair was hidden by a black fisherman’s cap. Grigor was assigned to wait by the car which we parked in the street about a block away, behind Borger’s house. Anton and I made our way quietly to the rear and I tried the door. Locked. I did remember he had a security system which seemed old.

However that didn’t faze me. I picked the lock, opened the door, and smashed the alarm box. It gave a short squeal before dying. I thought the noise might bring Oscar out and it did. We both saw the light coming down the hall. I wasn’t sure whether he thought he was being burglarized or if there had been some other kind of noise producing incident.

“Hands up,” rumbled Anton, as the kitchen light came on.

Oscar’s hand froze on the switch. Anton was pretty big all around—height and weight. He was an imposing sight for any elderly man.

“What do you want,” he said weakly.

“The diamond ring.” Anton growled, waving his gun.

“I don’t know what you mean?” Now his eyes focused on me. He didn’t recognize me yet. I don’t think he would connect a slim tall robber with the woman who visited him a month ago. He thought I was Anton’s back up. At least that’s what I hoped he would think.

In two strides, Anton had the old man by the neck and shoved him into the chair closest to him. He handcuffed the left wrist to the chair arm and held the right hand out flat on the table. “How important is your hand?” He said.

“What? Wait? I haven’t done anything.”

“Where’s the ring?” Anton brought the butt of his gun down hard next to Oscar’s hand.

The old man gasped, flinched and sweat beaded on his face. “I—I...no, please...I need my hand.”

“You have five seconds,” Anton snarled. His hand gripped the other’s wrist hard. “Tell me.”

“Please, please...they’ll kill me.”

“Who?” Anton asked knowing I was definitely interested.

“These men...they said the diamond belonged to them.”

“Did you give it to them?”

Oscar shook his head. “They said they would pick it up when my client came for it.”

“...and you take the money.”

The old man shook his head. “They said the money probably belonged to them as well.”

“The ring?” Anton persisted.

“It’s in my workshop.”

“Finished?”

“Yes, yes.”

Anton unlocked the handcuff and pulled the old man up to his feet. “Where is the workshop?”

I stood back as they went by and then followed my gun in my hand. I checked each room we passed and Oscar opened the workshop door. Anton shoved him inside. I followed, but stood in the doorway, my ear cocked for any unusual sound.

“Get it,” ordered Anton.

“In my safe,” cried Oscar.

“Open it now.”

The old jeweler was shaking badly as he twisted the dial on the ancient safe sitting in a corner of his workshop. He finally opened the door and reached inside. Anton gripped his wrist quickly making sure there was no gun on a shelf. Oscar pointed with a finger at the box sitting on the top shelf. Anton withdrew it. He checked the contents, grunting his satisfaction.

“Money,” Anton said to me.

I tossed the brief case I’d been carrying. Anton caught it in mid-air and slammed it on the work table. He opened it to show Oscar two hundred thousand in cash. “There’s your money.”

“Wait,” cried Oscar. “They’ll kill me...”

“Then run, old man, run,” said Anton, who turned to leave. I had entered the hall first. Anton touched my back. “Here.” He gave me the box.

We slipped out of the house and ran for our car. Grigor saw us coming and started the engine. I got into the rear seat, Anton in front.

“Nicely done, Anton. You’ll get a bonus for this.”

“The ring looked genuine, boss.”

I opened the box and whistled. It was gorgeous. I took it out and instinctively ran it across the window. Nothing. “Turn around. Now.” I snapped.

“What?” Anton said as Grigor turned the car around.

“This isn’t my diamond. Hurry before he gets away.”

Two minutes we were at the back door. Grigor drove around to the front of the house as Anton and I barreled into the kitchen and then down the hall. There was a light coming from behind a door. I bet it was his bedroom.

Anton kicked the door open. Oscar screamed in fright.

“You cheated me,” snapped Anton. He reached for the old man’s suitcase, dumping the contents on the bed. Clothes and money cascaded onto the bed. No diamond.

“The old man,” I muttered.

“Don’t move,” Anton snarled and roughly ran his hands over Oscar’s body. He stopped when he patted his inside coat pocket. “A box.”

“Give it to me.” I said. He did and I opened it. Another beautiful diamond ring was inside. I walked to the mirror over his clothes chest and ran it close to the edge where it wouldn’t be noticed. A large scratch appeared as the diamond, the real diamond, cut the glass.

“Kill him,” I ordered.

Anton quickly broke his neck.

“Lay him out on the bed and hang up his clothes. I want this to look like he wasn’t running and that he died in bed. I don’t think The Alliance men will look too hard at him if they think it was a peaceful death. I’m going to the workshop to make sure the fake diamond is placed inside.”

We both worked fast. Oscar had not closed his safe. He’d been too scared. I placed the fake diamond ring in the safe and closed the door, locking it. I checked the room over and saw nothing out of place or strange. Meanwhile Anton had undressed the old man and put him into a pair of pajamas hanging in the closet. When I entered the bedroom, he was just finishing hanging up all the clothes Oscar had packed.

It was nearly four in the morning when we finished. I decided we would return to Moscow immediately rather than wait another day. I was not going to give The Alliance any clues to my existence. Oscar Borger learned it wasn’t wise to fool The Man.

I laughed as I rubbed my thumb over the top of the 8-karat diamond ring.

*****
 
KATYA AND SYDNEY

Sydney stood in the drenching rain hanging onto Isabelle with her left hand, the umbrella in her right. She was looking toward the exit from the parking structure. A black Lexus sedan pulled up in front of her. Sydney put Isabelle in a child’s seat, making sure she was buckled in properly before entering the front seat. She grinned at the driver, her Aunt Katya.

“Nice timing. I just exited the terminal.”

Katya smiled. “For once airline was on time.” She disengaged the gear shift and pulled away. “Sorry about rain.”

“Not a problem. Isabelle needs a change of weather as do I. Sometimes the beach can be boring.”

Katya laughed and signaled a left turn at the Airport’s exit. “So, care to tell me what’s so important that you need to see me in person?”

“I just did, that’s all. I’m reading Mom’s journal for 1996. Did you read that one?”

“Nyet.”

They drove in silence for awhile and finally Sydney sighed. “Then you don’t know about this ring?” Sydney held her right hand out for Katya to see.

“I remember the ring. I cataloged it. What about it?”

Sydney related everything she’d read about the ring and how it happened to be hers. “She wrote that she wanted to give it to me someday as a birthday present.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Katya said, but felt she knew what Sydney was telling her. The ring was the result of several lives being lost. Rishka certainly could leave a trail of blood behind her.

“Yes, I know...but there are times I—I wish she hadn’t been so damned cold about what she did.”

Katya pulled into a courtyard and parked the car. Sydney took Isabelle, who was asleep, and they entered a lobby with a concierge, who nodded at Katya as they walked across to the elevator. Moments later they were in Katya’s large apartment. Sydney put Isabelle to bed in the guest bedroom while Katya made tea. It was ready by the time Sydney returned.

Katya smiled, “You’re pregnant?” She noticed the slight pooch of Sydney’s stomach as well as the plumpness of her face and breasts.

“Yes. We’re having a boy.”

“Good.” Katya poured the tea and motioned to a plate of biscuits. She sat down across from Sydney.“Now about Rishka...”

“I just feel odd about wearing this ring now that I know its history.”

“Sydushka, you have to stop thinking about bad things and go with good that you know. Rishka loved you and Nadia. You were her daughters. When she learned about Nadia, she was in a rage. I didn’t see her then, but she called to tell me Nadia was dead and it was Sloane’s fault.”

“Do you think things would have been different if Nadia had lived and we both confronted her?”

“I frankly can’t say. Rishka had become driven in her quest for ultimate power. I think you should read journals and after that, ask me if you still don’t know.” Katya poured herself more tea.

Sydney sighed. “Can we go shopping tomorrow?”

Katya smiled, “Of course and you want to go to G.U.M. don’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Sydney stood. “Thank you for being willing to put us up for a few days.”

“Sydushka,” Katya stood, walking around the table. “You are the only family I have left. I would never say no.”

Sydney kissed her aunt and left the room.

“Rishka, Rishka,” muttered Katya smiling, “what you have missed.”

*****

Friday – September 13, 1996

Tonight I attended a function at the British Embassy. It was a dinner and ball, thrown to honor someone in the Embassy. However, I wangled an invitation from the Deputy Ambassador who I caught in a serious lie. He was having an affair with a married woman whose husband was a high official in the German Embassy. I told him he would be given the proof, if an invitation were sent to the Moscow Import/Export Company. The President wanted to attend the function in order to meet important people. I handed him the envelope at the front door. He was checking the guest list. He looked grateful. My escort was Julian Sark on this occasion.

He was dressed in a tux and in spite of his youthful looks, did manage to look important. I was dressed in a long, red satin gown with spaghetti straps. It clung to my body like a glove. It had a slit up the side to the middle of my left thigh, showing off my leg. However I never go unarmed anywhere. I carried a small clutch bag in which I had a small derringer. I left my stiletto at home this night. I wasn’t expecting to have to use one on this occasion.

“You know who we’re looking for,” I said, holding Julian’s right arm as we walked into the ballroom. There must have been a hundred or more people milling about, drinking and talking.

“Yes!” He gazed to the left and I went right. We moved away from the doorway so as to be inconspicuous as we tried to find our target.

“There,” I said nodding toward several men who were chatting while sipping their cocktails.

I was looking at Kalman Janos from Budapest. He was the Defense Minister for the Hungarian government currently in power. He was a powerful man in his country, but had made a few mistakes in his past. Kalman would pay for those mistakes sooner than he thought.

Julian was to make contact with him and bring him to me. “Make sure he has a drink. He’ll need it.” I said heading for the pre-arranged room. “I’ll get one on my way.” I spotted several waiters with trays of glasses filled with champagne.

Fifteen minutes later, I stood staring at a picture in a small waiting room just off the stairs leading to the living quarters of the Ambassador. I heard footsteps behind me and turned around as Janos and Sark entered. Obviously Janos didn’t know what to expect or who he was meeting.

“Minister Janos,” I said holding out my hand.

“Mr. Sark said it was important.” He bowed over my hand and kissed it.

“Yes, it is. We need some information.”

Sark stepped in, “how many machine guns are you planning to buy from Slovakia next week.”

“What? How did you find out...?”

“I have many informants, especially if the money is right.” Julian said.

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“In October 1956 during the uprising you gave information to the new Premiere Matyas Rakosi’s government regarding the freedom fighters who were gathering in protest. That information eventually led to the Russian tank invasion of the country in November.”

He turned pale. “What are you talking about?”

“I am telling you,” said Sark, “that we have the proof that you betrayed your countrymen. It was in the KGB archives and I have it now. You will do as I ask, or your countryman will learn the truth.”

“I was young...I didn’t know what I was doing...” He protested.

“Yes, you knew, because you were given money as well as food.”

“Please, I...” He stopped because seeing Sark’s hard cold stare, he knew it was useless.

“You will do as I say. I want to know how many guns you are planning to buy. Secondly you will buy them from me,” Sark said. “How many, Kalman.”

“I’m not sure.”

Sark gripped Janos’ right hand and pulled it up and around his back forcibly. The other man grunted with pain. “Do not lie nor fool with me.”

“One hundred thousand rifles.” He gasped.

“I will contact you in three days and bid on supplying them. You are not to say anything. If word gets out about our meeting, I will publish the facts in Budapest’s biggest newspaper. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, I understand. You’re hurting me.”

“I’ll do more than that if you don’t do as I say. Trust me.” Sark said, releasing him. “You will hear from me. Count on that also and I will send you a bid which you will except.”

Janos nodded, leaving the room while rubbing his arm.

“Good work, Julian,” I said, standing up. “Let’s go.”


Monday – September 16, 1996

What a bitch of a day. Now I have a terrible headache from everything that happened. I bid on the guns for Hungarian Defense Minister. He refused the bid, said it was too high. I couldn’t kill him, because I wanted to supply those guns. I sent Sark to Budapest with instructions.

“He doesn’t think I have proof of his duplicity. This is a copy. I have the original. What’s more, he is a stupid man.”

“How far do you want me to go?” Sark was pleased he was being given a field assignment.

“Far enough to make him understand I was not kidding. Be careful. I think he will have guards. I am sending Anton to grade you on the job. This is a test of your abilities. Don’t fail me and do not refer to your boss as Irina...you work for the Man and he thinks it’s Khasinau.”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Good and good luck,” I said, waving him out of the room.

A headache began almost as soon as the door closed. I leaned back in my chair and thought about the Hungarian idiot. I couldn’t believe he was so dumb. Sark would soon change his mind.

Galina and Khasinau came in after lunch. They had a new proposition for The Man to look at, something The Alliance was up to now.

“They are going to take possession of a hundred kilos of cocaine. I thought you might be interested.”

“We’ve already tackled them with their diamonds and the ring. I do not want their attention re-focused. And besides, I don’t like drugs nor do I want anything to do with them. Both of you know that.” The headache seemed to go a notch higher.

“Irina,” said Khasinau, “it could mean a couple hundred million. If we processed it and sold it ourselves we could maybe triple that amount...maybe more.”

The argument raged and the headache got worse. I was screaming at them both to stop talking to me about drugs or anything to do with them. Galina stopped and quickly left the room. She knew I meant what I said, but Khasinau wanted to argue.

“I said no!” I screamed at him. I picked up a chair and threw it against the wall, barely missing him. The chair broke into several pieces. “Svolach! Get out before I do something I’ll regret. OUT!” I threw the other chair toward him as he ran for the door. He was through it as the chair hit the wall next to him.

I slumped back in my chair, exhausted. My hands were shaking. I decided to leave for the day. The rage inside me was not subsiding. I had to get away.

I paused at Maria’s desk. “I’m leaving. Tell Galina to call me in two hours.”

“Yes, Irina.” Maria said. Her ears were red and I knew she’d been able to hear everything I said to my friends.

Grigor was waiting at the door and followed me out to the garage. I took the back seat and he drove me home in fifteen minutes. It was early in the afternoon and the heavy traffic had not begun to clog the streets.

“Go to your family, Grigor. I won’t need you again.” I hurried up the steps and down the hall to my apartment.

An hour and a half later the phone rang. It knew it had to be Galina. “Ti nuzhna mne” and I hung up. The headache was blinding me with pain. I wasn’t sure if it was just a headache or something more.

Thirty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I stood, hesitating for a moment, to regain my balance, before stepping to it. “Galina?”

“Da,” was the answer.

I opened the door and she stepped inside. She put her arms around my waist. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” She whispered.

“Headache! It’s a terrible one. Worst one I’ve had since I can remember.”

“Let me give you a body massage.” She led me to the bedroom.

Thirty minutes later she was working on my feet. I lie naked on my bed with a bath towel under me. She had stripped down to panties and bra. She was using Aloe oil and cream which smelled wonderful. Her hands moved slowly, caressingly over my legs and thighs. By the time she reached my neck, I was half asleep. I was aware she turned me over, but that was about it.

She began again with my feet, working up my body. She worked on my abdomen a long time, but I think she was more interested in the dark patch between my legs. She said nothing and neither did I. That wasn’t what this afternoon was about. Her hands caressed my breasts, but didn’t linger there too long. She did each arm and hand. Finally Galina was at my head.

By this time, my headache was beginning to subside, the pain ebbing away as her hands roamed over my body. She was indeed what I needed. I sighed.

“Irina?” There was a question in her voice.

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I want to sleep.” I turned over on my left side and drifted off, finally relaxed the headache subsiding.


RUSSIAN TRANSLATION
Ti nuzhna mne – I need you.
Svolach - Bastard

*****
1997
Irina is 46


Monday – March 16, 1997

I flew to Switzerland this morning. I needed to see my banker and have my regular dental appointment. It is a six month habit I’ve had since being in the U.S. I established regular check-ups when my doctor told me it was a good health habit. When I taught at UCLA, I had a medical and dental plan. There were times, of course, when I couldn’t be checked, especially during Kashmir. Going to the dentist is no fun.

This time I was also going to visit Bank Cial of Switzerland also. Karl Schwartz had been promoted back to the head office and no longer handled my account in Moscow. I didn’t care for the man now in charge and I wanted to change back to doing business in Switzerland.

I took a taxi to the bank where Karl was now situated. He and I had a long discussion about my money in the Moscow branch.

“I don’t like the man who took over. I’m not sure I can trust him. I want to transfer my money back. Will there be a problem?”

Karl frowned. “Franz is a good banker. Why don’t you trust him?”

I wasn’t sure how to put it, but then I decided to be blunt. “He has too many political friends and especially GPU friends. SO far, I’ve not been scrutinized by government agents or the police. If they ever suspect I have more money than I should, there could be trouble.”

“Why do you think he’d cause you a problem?”

“Just one question by the Ministry of Finance regarding Russians with large bank accounts and they would be asking me questions.” I crossed my legs. “Transfer it back here. You can do it electronically can you not?”

“Yes, I will take care of it now.” He walked to the door. “Come with me to our electronic dispatch computer.”

We walked to another office. “Type in your account number and password. It will allow me to access the account in our branch. How much do you have now?”

“About two hundred million,” I said. “Just remove all but a million for now.”

Karl sat in front of the computer, made the necessary adjustments and hit the send key. He sat back and waited. Two minutes later the transaction had been made. He handed me a deposit slip. “Here you are, Irina.”

“Thank you. I trust you will allay Franz’s query with a reasonable excuse?” I said, he nodded, and I left. I’m not sure how much of the story Karl believed, but I didn’t care. I wanted my money in a safe place.

***

Friday – April 18, 1997

Today I made a crucial contact. I have someone in the Federal’naya Sluzhba Besopasmosti who will act in my interests. He is a deputy chief and into child pornography here in Moscow. I had one of my men follow him for a week. The report he made sickened me. I called his office and asked him to meet me for lunch, saying I had some important information to give FSB.

We met at a sleazy bar in the industrial district, my choice. I had both Grigor and Sark to back me up. I think the FSB man thought I was a whore who had something important to tell him. Fool.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” I said, shaking his hand, but barely able to be civil to him. “I represent someone who is interested in obtaining information from an excellent source, and we’ve picked you to be our informant.”

“Wait a moment,” he snarled, “what is this? I thought you were going to give me information.”

“Yes, well,” I slid a manila envelope over to him, “here it is. But as I said, we want you to work for us.”

He opened the envelope and took out the pictures. His face went white as he recognized himself and the 10 year old he was caressing. “How...how...”

“Never mind how, just know that The Man is now your boss. When he says jump you will do it, or else these pictures will be sent to Pravda and Izvetsia, as well as your boss and your wife. All television stations will be sent the video. I seriously doubt you will escape the wrath of mothers and most everyone else who sees them.”

“You can’t...”

“I won’t, but you will agree to work for The Man.”

Sweat was pouring off his head and down his cheeks. The collar on his shirt would soon be soaked. “Yes!” He wiped his face. “You won’t...”

“Nyet, as long as you cooperate.” I stood. “You will be contacted every time my boss wants to know anything. This is Mr. Sark,” I touched Julian’s arm, “...and he will the one you are contacted by most often. Here’s the best thing about the agreement, you will be paid when the information is correct and useful...paid well.”

“How much?” He was surprised.

“That will depend on your reliability and information obtained.” I smiled. “Be a good agent and you may be able to retire sooner than you thought.” I stood. “Oh and one more thing, give up your alternative sex. If you do not, Mr. Sark will visit you and permanently terminate our deal.”

I walked out followed by Grigor and Sark.

I put the manila envelope in my safe when we returned.


*****

Wednesday – April 30, 1997

Our agent in FSB has passed on some information. There is a new criminal organization called FTL that is trying to move in on other small criminal groups in Taipei, Thailand, and Viet Nam. Obviously they are oriental in make-up. I have notified Ling Soo Ahn to forward anything he has on the group to me at once.

He sent me a long encrypted email yesterday in response. I am calling a meeting of the major staff today.

Later: Khasinau, Sark, Galina and I met this afternoon. I told them about FTL. “We will have to keep our eye on them. When The Man expands activities into that area we will probably have to eliminate them.”

“We could do it now,” said Sark.

“Nyet. We will wait.” I looked at my agenda. “Have you gotten any reports on any other criminal groups we should watch?”

“Irina, I’ve heard some rumors about a group called K-Directorate. It supposedly is made up of ex-KGB agents and thugs.”

“Who’s in charge?”

“I don’t know yet,” Galina said. “I’ll poke around.”

“I’ve heard of them also,” said Khasinau.

“There is another group I want tagged also, The Triad. They are operating mainly in the Balkans, but so far have not been enough of a problem to cause the police to look into their activities. However, that could change whenever they get their act together.” Sark looked smug as though he knew he was the only one who had found them.

I made a note and leaned back in my chair. “Three major problems for the future. Can we infiltrate them? I mean can we send trusted men or women to join them?”

“That might be difficult,” said Khasinau. “I suggest we have them watched peripherally
with agents located close by. Here in Moscow is easy, but the Balkans and the Far East might be more difficult.”

“If we can get someone inside, it would be better. I’m interested in Milo Rambaldi and anything to do with him. It seems everyone in the world who believes the scientist was a prophet wants whatever they can obtain. I want us to get everything we can. The more information and the more artifacts we can lay our hands on and keep will mean we will be in control of the entire situation.” I saw them glance at each other. I wondered just how much they believed.

“We have several pieces which I believe are parts to a machine he designed. The problem is that we don’t have the design nor do we know what it is.” I looked at them. “As soon as we have a clue as to what he designed, we will move on all of them.”

“At once,” asked Khasinau.

“Nyet, but perhaps two at once is feasible.” I looked at Sark. “We’ll see what happens.”
“Galina, do you have the information yet on guns being sold by The Alliance?”

“Nyet, but our contact in London says she has some news. Do you want it by email?”

“Neither. I’m going to fly there for a couple of days. I pick it up in person. Notify Lucinda that I’m coming. I’ll contact her once I’m there.”


Thursday – May 1, 1997

There was a big parade today in Moscow. I’m glad I flew out to London late last night and thereby missed all the, as Americans would say, hoop-la. I arrived late, but had a reservation at the Clarendon and checked in at almost 4:00 a.m.

I didn’t wake up until nearly 3:00 p.m. Good thing I put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. I still had an hour before I met Sark and Sasha whom I’d sent on a mission elsewhere for Khasinau’s benefit. Until I had the package, I wasn’t telling anyone. I ordered lunch from Room Service, showered and dressed, before my food arrived.

Standing in front of my mirror before I dressed, I thought I looked good for a woman who had just turned 45. I had no wrinkles except for some so-called laugh lines about my eyes. I didn’t have any gray hair either, but then I didn’t expect any because our family didn’t show gray early either. My body was well-muscled and hard. I worked out most every day as well as running for five miles too. I had to take care of myself if I was going to live in a world where I had to be vigilant as well as being able to react instantly, whether physically or mentally.

I called Lucinda after I ate and arranged for a time to meet regarding her information. If it was about Rambaldi, she would get a nice bonus. It was my feeling she was going to tell me about the old scientist. I put on the shoulder holster and jacket to cover it. The jacket was specially made to cover the bulge under my arm.

The phone rang. It was Sark who said he and Sasha were in the lobby. I told them I would be down immediately. “Is everything set?”

“Yes, Irina. The messenger boarded the plane as we were told. His plane will be landing shortly. We do have plenty of time to get to the ambush point.”

“Does The Alliance expect him?” I checked my gun and stuffed the silencer in my pant’s pocket.

“Yes, but Sloane sent him without protection. He is by himself.”

I frowned. “Maybe it means The Alliance will send someone to meet him.”

Sark smiled. “We can handle them, but it is early evening. He just has to take a taxi from Heathrow.” His cell phone rang. “Yes?” He looked at Irina, saying, “Thanks.”

“What?”

“He just left the airport and will be at the contact point in twenty minutes.”

“He’s in our cab?”

Sark nodded. “Shall we?”

I chuckled, thinking about Sloane’s reaction when he learned the artifact had been stolen when his messenger was mugged. He would be furious.



Friday – May 2, 1997

I met Lucinda Howard at Piccadilly Circus this morning. It wasn’t crowded with tourists, so I could talk with her and keep my car waiting.

“What information do you have?”

“The Alliance is expecting a delivery of a Rambaldi manuscript today from the Balkans. One of my informants has told me it is coming by plane.”

“Is there a messenger bringing it?”

“I’m not sure. I got the impression it was coming by mail.”

I stared at her in surprise. The Alliance would allow something as valuable as one of his manuscripts to be mailed? Or perhaps they thought it would be safer to do so. No one would suspect it. “Where would it be taken from the plane?”

“To the Post at the airport.”

“I want that package.”

“I figured you would. There is one man at the Post. I think I figured a way to get it.”

I was pleased she’d gone ahead and made plans. It showed iniative and that was always a bonus in my book. “Go ahead.”

She outlined the plan and I agreed that it would work with the least amount of trouble. She did have a couple of men who would watch the passengers just to make sure there wasn’t a messenger.


I flew out of Heathrow as soon as I had the package. Now I had two artifacts stolen from The Alliance. I bet there was going to be hell to pay when they learned they’d been hoodwinked twice in one day.

Lucinda’s plan had been so simple it was impossible for it to fail. Two men, hired by Lucinda, caused a commotion outside the Post. The man, who had brought the package into the sorting room, ran to see what was going on while I was waiting to buy stamps. I went through the gate and grabbed the package, disappearing out the rear door, and back inside several yards along the building. I had my ticket in my jacket and presented it at the proper gate.

The package was the size of a book and when I returned to my apartment, I opened it to find a manuscript with more diagrams. I still could not make out what the writing was. I wondered if it was in some sort of Italian language of the past. If so, I was not going to learn what it was about.

I stood at the window staring down into the street. I might have to ask Viktoria to come to Moscow. She might be able to help.

***

Monday – May 26, 1997

Viktoria called yesterday to say she was coming as I requested. I had Grigor pick her up this morning and bring her directly to my office. When she entered the door, I rushed to her and gave her a hug. It had been months since I’d seen her

“Viktoria!” I stepped back. “You look good.” She was dressed smartly in a daytime silk suit of an Italian design. The color was a pale green which went easily with her shoes which must have been dyed to match the suit. “In fact, you look too good to be here in Russia.”

She laughed. “Oh Irina. How can I ever thank you for giving me the post in Rome.”

“Ah you have a lover?”

“Yes, but he’s at home. I didn’t want him to catch sight of you. Then all would be lost.”

“You are full of it, my dear,” I said, moving behind my desk and sitting. “Come here. I want to show you something.” I reached into my locked drawer and brought out a copy of one page of the manuscript.”

She leaned over my shoulder to look. “I’ve not seen that kind of writing, but it looks Italian. Have you had it checked out?”

“Not really. I wanted your opinion first.” She was wearing a touch of perfume. It was nice.

“I could take this to someone at a University who specializes in lost Italian languages, especially any from the previous five hundred years. Italy did not become a country until the middle of the 19th century. Any language prior to that was usually indigenous to the state.”

“Can you take a copy this someone for reference?”

“Sure.”

“How soon can you return?”

She glanced at her watch. “Tomorrow. The return flight to Rome has already left.”

“Then stay with me tonight and I’ll see to it you get to the airport in plenty of time to make the flight.”

Later this evening, we went out to dinner. Viktoria talked about Italy with the same enthusiasm as Katya. I had spent some time in Tuscany and as a result, had purchased an apartment in Florence. That was a lovely city with so much history and art that it seemed to pour out of every citizen’s pores. However, I let her ramble on about Rome and the Romans and especially her Roman.

She did not give me his name, but I knew it. I don’t allow my agents to be compromised, so every liaison or relationship is thoroughly investigated. If there is anything suspicious that man or woman is eliminated. Fortunately the man she was involved with was single and a businessman.

It was eleven when we returned. I sent her off to sleep while I made this entry. I would have to wear a nightgown tonight as she was sharing my bed.

*****

Monday – June 30, 1997

Viktoria called me today. The writing is from the sixteenth century and still is somewhat undecipherable. Her informant was a professor of Italianate languages and he pinpointed the area – Firenze (Florence) and about the time of the Medici.

“He can’t decipher it, Irina. Whoever wrote it, devised his own code.”

“Perhaps it is written in an ancient language that goes further back...perhaps to the time of the Roman Empire.” I rubbed my chin, thinking. “Ask him to try that era. Is he sure he cannot break the cipher?”

“Yes, he tried. He really has been a good sport about this. He’s curious as to where you obtained it.”

“From an outside source. I don’t want people to get too interested in this. Destroy the copy if he cannot decipher it.”

“Yes, Irina, I will.” She hung up.

I sat back in my chair mulling over her words and wondered why Rambaldi was so secretive. What the hell was that old alchemist up to? What secrets did he keep and why all the secrecy about his work? This was getting very interesting and based on the immense interest that his work had generated, I knew the one with the most artifacts, and especially those written in his own hand, would be ahead in the game and the artifacts themselves were worth millions...perhaps even more. I was going to obtain as many of these that I could, no matter the cost.

*****

Monday – September 22, 1997

A break-through! Viktoria called to tell me the professor had identified the language. She was sending me a book which might help me translate what was written. I smiled and being proficient in encryption codes, I thought I would be able to learn what the manuscript said.

Viktoria said that the book would arrive within the week.

***

Monday – October 13, 1997

I’ve cracked the code. It took me three weeks, but I’ve got it! The manuscript is about the brain! It’s written without any drawings, but there is a companion manuscript out there somewhere that goes with this one. I’ve got to get my hands on it. What he’s talking about makes me think he’s on a search for the secret of immortality. Moy boje, it is mind- boggling. To live forever...I have to get other manuscripts when I can. Still, I do have to be careful. There are too many others after the same thing although I don’t think they know his purpose.

*****

Wednesday – December 17, 1997

The year is almost over. It is snowing in Moscow, but all is well. We finally have a mole inside K-Directorate. It took us a year of being extremely patient. I want to know how much they know about Rambaldi and if they have any of his artifacts. However I’ve been patient so far and I can be patient some more. I do not want to lose the inside contact because I’m in a rush.

Khasinau is being too nice again. I think he wants me in his bed. What is wrong with these men? They seem to think because a woman has no lover or husband, that she is on the lookout for one. I’ve told him too many times to back off. If he doesn’t I’ll have to do something about it. Still I have to be careful. If he ever suspects that Galina and I are more than employee and boss, there could be trouble.

Do I love her? I have asked myself that many times, but I don’t think I am in love. She makes my body sing with desire and I know she loves me. I like being with her when it’s possible. But there is no love on my part, I know that, only a deep friendship and she’s never pushed me or asked me about my feelings. Perhaps she does know and accepts what part of me she does have.

Galina is in my bed now...waiting.

*****
 
1998
Irina is 47


Thursday – April 16, 1998

This day turned out to be a bit worse than I thought it would be. It’s been almost a year since I tweaked The Alliance.

Khasinau, Sark, Anton, I, and two other men were in Turkey, along the Iraqi-Syrian borders, near Cizre. A contact of mine informed me that The Alliance was selling guns that had been stolen from an armory near Ankara. They were selling them to the FTL, who were planning on selling them to the Kurds in northern Iraq. I wasn’t sure why The Alliance didn’t sell direct, but perhaps they were not aware of the deal between the other two.

Anyway we flew by helicopter to Sirnak, landing a good twelve hours before the deal was going down. Our plan was to get ourselves to their meeting place, a small town called Cizre, and ambush both The Alliance and the FTL. I wanted the money and the guns. I tentatively planned to sell them to the government of Armenia. They were willing to pay my price without question.

The truck was waiting for us when we landed having been rented by my contact in Istanbul. Anton loaded two satchels into the back where he and the others including Sark rode. Khasinau drove and I was in the passenger seat. According to my informant, there was five truckloads of guns coming. My guess was that the FTL would send the money with one of the five men who would drive the trucks.

“We are going to take out whichever group comes first,” said Khasinau. He checked the map and handed it back to me. “Look for a large barn like structure near a rock fence. I’ll have Anton reconnoiter before we commit.”

We drove in silence for ten minutes, and then I saw it. I pointed. “There.” The road turned north just at the far edge of the building.

He nodded and stopped the truck. “Anton, check the buildings.”

The big man jumped out and disappeared behind the rock wall. Fifteen minutes later, he was back. “All clear. No one is there.”

I nodded. “Go.”

Alexander drove the truck to the rear of the building, as close as he good get. It was hidden well since anyone coming from either direction would not see it. Inside the building the six of us stood in a circle. Khasinau gave instructions and we dispersed. I was sent to the top to watch for the first group. Because of my experience with a sniper rifle, I would be the one to take out the drivers of trucks that were in the rear.

Once we were in place, all we had to do was wait. It was dusk before we heard anything other than our own breathing.

I looked out the small aperture overlooking the road. A large, dirty sedan was coming from the direction we’d come. Six men stepped out when it came to a stop. The FTL group had arrived. I stayed quietly at my spot because I didn’t want them to hear me and I wanted to keep a look out for The Alliance’s men. I trusted Khasinau and the others to take care of our first visitors.

Five minutes later, the six men were lying side by side, dead. My men began dragging them out of sight. Khasinau had the large satchel, checked what was inside and nodded to me. “Five million,” he mouthed. I nodded. If the next part went as easy as this one did, we would be on our way to Armenia soon.

It was an hour later when I heard the grind of the engines from the opposite direction. I called to Khasinau, he nodded and the men who had changed clothes went outside, one man to each waiting truck and each was armed with an AK-47. I didn’t think Alliance men would suspect anything.

I turned to the aperture and looked out in time to see headlights heading this way. “Coming,” I said to Alexander who was below me. He went outside the door with the satchel in one hand his automatic weapon in the other. I checked the sights on my rifle, using the man furthest from me as a gage. The trucks entered the dirt drive leading to the old structure.

Two men got out of the first truck. Khasinau went to meet them. The other trucks were waiting on the road. I knew they were not going to move until the headman gave a signal. Khasinau spoke to the man in front of him and handed him the satchel. The other checked it over carefully and then turned waving to the other trucks to enter the yard.

It took two minutes for my men to take the trucks. Khasinau shot the man with the satchel and retrieved it. I came down to the floor and walked out.

“Get those men out of sight. We have to leave now,” I said, waving my rifle toward the bodies.

Suddenly without warning one supposedly dead man rose up and fired. The bullet hit me in the chest and I fell backwards crashing to the ground, the breath knocked out of me. The Kevlar vest I’d been wearing protected me, but I felt as though I’d taken a bullet. I was going to have a helluva bruise tomorrow. However I was glad I’d worn it, otherwise I would be dead.

“That was close, Irina,” said Anton after checking me over just to be sure I wasn’t bleeding.

“Yes, but I’m all right.” I patted his arm as he helped me to my feet. “Alexander, get the men in their trucks and let’s get out of here now.” I bent over, hands on my knees, to catch my breath. That had been too close and I was in some discomfort.


We had to be careful how we traveled. The Alliance would soon find out they’d been robbed again and they would pull out all the stops to find us. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t have access to a satellite. That’s why during the daylight hours, we would not caravan. One truck would not be suspicious. They would be spaced out with other traffic whenever possible.


Friday – April 17, 1998

We holed up today in a wadi which was deep enough that I don’t think anyone would see us, either by plane or by satellite. The men and I took the time to sleep. It had been a hard drive last night, stopping once to put gasoline into the trucks.

My chest was painful and there were times when I thought I’d really been shot, but fortunately Alexander was driving. I spent most of the night leaning against the door trying to get some sleep, but couldn’t. The roads were rough and not paved well. However the men were doing a good job and I didn’t really want to complain.

When the sun went down, we continued our way toward Armenia. I had a satellite radio and I made contact with the government representative. “I have the weapons. There are at least five thousand rifles and one truck is carrying nothing but ammunition. We should be there early morning in two days if nothing impedes our progress. Do you have the money in cash?”

“Yes.”

“The Man is expecting two million for the rifles and another million for the ammunition. Is that correct?”

“Yes. We have it here in cash.” Alexander handled the negotiations. He turned and nodded to me. “Good, then we’ll meet at the arranged meeting place.” He broke off the connection. “We will probably be there a half a day ahead of time.”

I nodded. “Good. Let’s move.”

Sunday – April 19, 1998

I slept fitfully for about four hours as we made our way through the mountains and past villages and towns that were small and inconsequential. I saw one gas station, but doubted the cleanliness of its gas. We stopped to pick up gas cans that were dumped by my helicopter and emptied them into the tanks of the trucks. Our food was dry. Power bars, jerky, fruit, nuts and water. We ate while driving.

My chest still hurt and the rough road wasn’t the best thing for it. I slept fitfully during this night and when we finally stopped, I could barely move. I am not old I thought to myself, stretching my body and wincing when my chest objected. Of course, I’d not had my usual workout and no running. I would have to wait until I returned to Moscow.

“We are here, Irina,” announced Khasinau, looking around. “Where should we park the trucks?”

“In the forest.” I pointed in the direction of a forest of trees a short distance away. “Galina checked and said that it was pristine, which means, no one lives there. All we need to do is keep out of sight.” I went to the front of our truck and looked to my left. “That’s the place to watch.” I pointed to a hill that had a couple of pine trees on it. They would provide shade while we waited. If our client tried anything, we would be ready.

“I want you there until six,” I glanced at my watch. “I’ll have Sark take over then and I’ll finish the watch at noon.”

“What’s the plan if we’re...ummm, compromised?

“We go to Plan B. However, I do not expect any problems. The Armenian government needs these weapons.” I turned to take over the driving. Khasinau took an AK-47 and made his way up to the hill and the two trees.

We settled in to wait after finding the right spot for the trucks. I had the men back the trucks into the forest. If there was any trouble, I didn’t want bullets striking the merchandise. Of course, I didn’t expect any. I trusted Gregorian. I’d dealt with him before about other matters and he had not disappointed me.

At six, I sent Sark up to relieve Khasinau, who immediately climbed into our truck to get some sleep. The men gathered around a blanket and played cards. I sat in the shade of a pine tree a short distance away and am writing in my journal. In about twenty minutes, I fell asleep.

Someone kicked me lightly in the thigh, I awakened, my gun in my hand. It was Alexander. “It’s your shift,” he said.

I closed my book, tucking it in my pants behind me, and moved off toward the hill, passing Sark on his way down. “No sign,” he said with a wave of his hand.

Gregorian and his men were slightly early, but nothing suspicious. They were in a truck which we would drive to Yerevan’s only piss-poor airport. It was big enough for my helicopter. He would take the guns and ammunition to an arsenal located near the capitol city also.

As requested he paid in bearer bonds, three million. All in all it was a very successful week.

The Alliance lost their money and men. The FTL lost their guns and men. I took the FTL’s money, five million, and the guns were sold to my friend in Armenia and I made another three million.

I love big business.


Saturday – July 11, 1998

Katya is coming for dinner. I’ve amassed a large fortune and I need some financial help. She has to do this for me, because I trust her more than anyone. Karl Schwartz has told me that my money is not making money. It sits like a clod of dirt not going anywhere. I fixed her favorite dish and bought some pastries I know she likes. Two bottles of French champagne ought to help her make up her mind.

The doorbell rang and I buzzed her into the building. I poured some champagne in a couple of glasses and as soon as I finished, my front door buzzer let me know she had arrived. I hurried to the door and opened it wide. She stood there, a bright spot on an otherwise dreary day. It was raining and had been doing so for four days.

“Katusha,” I bent down slightly and kissed her on both cheeks. “Come in.”

I took her coat and laid it carefully over the chair in front of my desk. “Come, I’ve some champagne.” I handed her a glass. “To sisters.”

“Rishka, you want something.”

Katya knew me too well. I sighed, but sipped the champagne. She finished hers with a couple of swallows. “There’s plenty. Why not sip instead of swallow. You’ll get tipsy later rather than now.” I poured her another glass; then led her to the sofa, indicating she should sit down.

“Tell me, what’s happening?” I knew everything, but I wanted to know how much she would tell me.

“I’m still with SVR; they have me stuck in financial department. I’m looking into some options.”

“Covenant?”

Katya stared at me for a minute, “Yes, how did you know?”

“You told me last time we were together.” That was poor memory.

“That’s right I did.”

“Well, did you?”

“Not yet. Why?”

I took her empty glass and filled it. Returning to my end of the sofa, I said, “Because I need someone to manage my money.”

She grinned, “Yes, sure...I can set up a budget for you, if that’s all...” She looked at me and saw a bemused expression on my face. “Wait, you don’t need a budget. How do you mean manage finances?”

“I have lots of money sitting in a Swiss bank that needs investing.”

“How much?” She took a sip of her champagne.

“Three hundred million...”

Katya stared, dribbling the champagne down her blouse. “Govno, where did you get it?”
She brushed the droplets of champagne away, still unable to take her eyes off me. “Rishka, what bank did you rob?”

“No bank, just some business deals.”

“Rishka,” her voice was accusatory, “you are not telling me everything.”

I slid closer. “I can’t, as long as you work for SVR and are contemplating joining up with Covenant. Look, Katusha, you can invest my money in stocks, bonds, real estate and whatever else will make money. I’ll pay you. The bank can handle transactions. You can’t reveal what you don’t know. There may come a time when you will want to get out of whatever it is you commit too. Then you’ll handle everything.”

“It sounds as if you are expecting to make more money.”

“Da.”

“Is Khasinau in on this also?”

“Da. He and I are partners.” I was not going to tell her I was The Man. It was only a matter of time before word got out that the new pakhan in Russia was The Man, but I didn’t want it known ‘he’ was really a woman.

“Does he want me to...?”

“Nyet! Let him do his own investing. This is between us. No one, absolutely no one is to know you are working on my investment accounts. What about it? Will you do it?”

She handed me the champagne glass. “Da. What will you pay?”

“Ten percent of whatever you make plus a salary of one thousand Euros per month.”

“Rishka!” She yelped with pleasure. “When do you want me to start?”

“Yesterday!” At last, Karl would be happy someone was looking after my money.

RUSSIAN TRANSLATION
Pakhan - boss

*****

Monday – October 12, 1998

The Man is doing well.

Katusha has invested wisely and my millions are making more money, which she is investing as well.

My organization has increased its blackmail book and I have been able to use information for profit: selling what I learn to others. I don’t like to have too many employees knowing about me or the money I have.

I have appointed Anton in charge of the numbers business in all of Russia, at least the western half. He has a well-oiled machine that operates now in nearly fifteen of the largest cities.

Julian Sark is working out quite well. He’s now my enforcer with Anton’s promotion. Of course, he uses slightly different tactics as he is not as strong, but with a couple of hired hooligans, he can make calls on those recalcitrant men or women who are not forthcoming with the information.

I’ve made Grigor and his wife managers of another apartment building I purchased. It took me time to get the necessary clear title. They are going to handle my building as well as the new one. I’ve increased their stipend so that they can save something for their old age. Grigor has insisted he will be my bodyguard and driver as well. I won’t object.

The Alliance has been stymied also. Word was out on the street that there was a hundred thousand for any information leading to the men who robbed them in Turkey. I wish them luck, because not one of my men would talk.

I won’t antagonize them anymore for a while. I’ve turned my attention on K-Directorate who has been busy gathering Rambaldi material and artifacts. My mole inside has kept me apprised of their plans and acquisitions. They have been dealing in drugs, which makes them very dangerous, especially to the young people of Russia. Drugs are one criminal activity I won’t participate in...ever. Khasinau thinks I’m an idiot.

Caught dealing in drugs here is an automatic death sentence. I am no idiot!

*****

Friday – December 18, 1998

There is a full moon tonight. The city is blanketed in snow and its beautiful looking out my window. It glistens in the moonlight and those still out are silhouetted against the stark white.

The year is almost over and it has been a good one. I’ve picked up several pieces of Rambaldi memorabilia and a couple of minor manuscripts. Studying them has led me to the conclusion that he was working on immortality. Was he successful? I don’t know. I need more information. I know there must be more manuscripts. However, I have to be patient.

Financially I am becoming wealthier every day. Katusha has done marvels with the money. At her insistence, I’ve moved some of my money to the Bahamas. She says that real estate is a good investment, but I’ve told her not in Russia. She agreed and I’ve since acquired several apartment buildings and invested in two construction companies.

However sitting around, watching my money at work, is not my idea of being in business. I need action and I sense that Khasinau and Sark are as restless as I am.

Soon it will be Christmas in the western world. As I write, I cannot help but wonder what Sydney and Jack are doing. Sydney is 23 now and in graduate school getting her Masters degree. The trouble is that she is also working for Arvin and his Alliance bosses. I wonder if she knows who he is and what he is as well as who she really is working for now. I doubt it.

Sloane has also been collecting Rambaldi artifacts. I’m not sure what he has. However he is in America and I’m here. I cannot find out how much he knows. I will have to be careful for the present.

*****

1999
Irina is 48


Wednesday – March 24, 1999

I’ve received some Intel from our K-Directorate mole. I know it would pay off if we were patient and not be in a hurry.

K-Directorate makes most of its money by distributing drugs in Russia and Eastern part of Europe. They have purchased a large cargo of cocaine and it is being shipped by freighter coming from Columbia. It carries other cargo, but somewhere deep inside the bowels of the ship is the cocaine.

Checking the routes through shipping news, I learned it would be making a stop at the Canary Islands, before going on to the North African ports of Casablanca, Algiers, Tunis and then to Istanbul. It will cross the Black Sea and stop at its eventual destination, Odesa. According to the published manifests it carries mostly coffee beans and assorted woods.

Checking further, I noticed it also carries a few passengers. There are three already on board, probably K-Directorate men guarding their unlisted cargo. I saw that there was room for ten passengers. Using my computer, I booked passage for Khasinau and me as brother and sister, who will leave the ship in Istanbul. We will board in the Canary Islands. Sark will board in Casablanca while Anton and Grigor will climb aboard in Algiers. Thus the scattering of travelers boarding probably will not look suspicious to K-Directorate men. At least that is what I am hoping for and everyone will be using aliases with different backgrounds.

I figure the five of us should be able to handle the raid. Weapons were sent yesterday to Rabat in a box which will be loaded onto the ship. Inside, of course, are the weapons we will need. The box is labeled ‘farm equipment’ and does have the tools inside. A contact I have in Algiers has made sure the examination will be cursory only. The customs officer will be well-paid.

The freighter is in the mid-Atlantic. We are leaving tonight.

***

Tuesday – March 30, 1999

We are pulling into Algiers to unload and load. Everything is going along fine. Sark is playing the role of an English travel author researching freighter travel. He’s made friends with the chief officer and a couple of men who are waiters and clean our rooms. We see the Captain but he’s not communicative, so Sark has conned the chief officer into showing him the ship.

Khasinau and I have separate staterooms as befitting a brother and sister who are taking a leisurely trip around the world. Traveling by freighter we’ve seen more than we would on a luxury liner and, of course, we struck up a conversation with Sark. The three men whom we know are guards for the cocaine are as non-communicative as the Captain. We nod pleasantly, but keep our distance.

When the ship docked earlier, we hung over the side watching the loading and unloading process. Standing in the doorway of the warehouse were Anton and Grigor, each carrying a bag. They were chatting, but more of an inquisitive way, than that of being friends. I didn’t see the three K-D men.

Sark strolled by heading for the freighter’s aft hold. “Those K-D men are in the hold with the Captain.”

I looked at Khasinau. “Why would they be there now?”

“We may have underestimated cargo.” He said softly, but looking around anyway to be sure no one was near.

As we watched, we saw the Captain leave the ship with a satchel. That was the second time I’d seen him go. I thought it had something to do with the manifest and cargo either coming on board or leaving. However coupled with the information Sark passed along, I beginning to think there is more. I think K-Directorate is selling cocaine along the way. If so, the Captain is a part of the operation. He’s gone off ship to pick up money before the white powder is off-loaded. We might get lucky and have some money to show for our efforts.

What the others didn’t know was that I plan to dump the cocaine into the middle of the Mediterranean.

At dinner tonight, the new guests introduced themselves: Anton is a salesman for a small ladies underwear company. He looks very comfortable talking about his goods. He offers any of the men present a free sample for their wife or girlfriend. He is on the way home to Odesa where the factory is located. He was asked by Alexander why he was not flying.

He blushes then says, “Our company is very small. I have not much money to fly.”

The K-D men grunt. I smile. Alexander nods.

Grigor tells them he is on vacation. “I want to see big desert when I was little boy, so I go. It is very big, lots of sand.” He grins. His English is terrible, but just understandable.

As usual, I am in a plain, but comfortable dress. I have not worn pants since boarding the freighter. I am wearing makeup and lipstick, even nail polish. I hope I look like a traveler. My conversations talk about the places I’ve seen. I want the K-D men to think I am a simple woman with no secrets. So far they’ve ignored me as well as Alexander. Perfect!
We will strike tomorrow night.


Wednesday – March 31, 1999

Sark is up on the bridge. He was given instructions before we left Moscow and will let us know when we reach the spot. It is night and we’ve just finished dinner. I changed clothes to my usual costume when I am on a job: black pants and shirt, short fleece jacket, boots and gloves. I also have a Kevlar vest on under my shirt. I’ve pulled a Greek fisherman’s cap over my head, tucking my braided hair up inside. I have an AK-47 which Anton removed from our crate last night after Sark told him where in the hold it was.

Each of us has been assigned a job. Anton is to take care of the cook and the two waiters; Sark will take care of the chief officer and he is to hold the Captain for me. Grigor and Khasinau are going to eliminate the crew. I’m to take care of the radio man. I look at my watch the second hand has reached twelve. I leave my stateroom.

In less than a half hour, we are in control of the freighter. The K-Directorate men are dead, as are the crew. I killed the radioman before he could send any signal. Sark was marching the Chief Officer down to the forward hold. We know that’s where the K-D men were with the Captain yesterday.

I met Khasinau at the stairway leading to the bridge. I moved up the steps with him following. The Captain’s quarters were just off the bridge. There was no one on the bridge. I knew the Captain was still in his room. Khasinau walked to the wheel and stopped the ship. I knew if everything had gone as we’d planned, there was no one alive in the engine room.

We waited on each side of the doorway. The Captain would be out of his room in less than a minute when he realized the ship was stopping.

The door opened, and the Captain snarled, “What’s wrong. Why did you stop the...” He stopped as Khasinau and I pointed our weapons at him. “What the hell is this...?”

“Don’t move. We’ve taken your ship.” Alexander said.

I moved to where he could see me. “I want what’s in your safe.”

“frack you,” he snarled.

Alexander hit him on the side of the head, knocking him against the wall. “Respect is needed. Answer question.”

“frack you too!” He said angrily.

I pulled my knife from the calf of my boot. “I don’t have a lot of time to waste, bastard.” I cut off his left ear.

He howled in pain, unbelieving at first, looking at the ear resting on the floor. He clapped his hand to his head, as blood spilled from between his fingers. He looked stunned. I now pointed at his other ear.

“That one is next, followed by your nose. Now open safe.” I shoved him back toward his cabin.

The Captain stumbled inside. There was a safe next to his bunk. Khasinau took him by the back of his shirt and forced him to kneel in front. “Open it,” he roared.

The man, visibly in pain, and shaken by the sudden loss of his ear, opened the safe, but only after he’d tried three times. He was shaking so much from fear and anger. Alexander bent down to look inside.

“You won’t get away with this. They’ll hunt you down and kill you.”

I smiled and put a shot in his head. “Not if they don’t know what happened.”

Alexander stood up grinning. “There’s a lot of cash in here and bonds.”

I looked around for some way to carry and saw a large satchel leaning against the wall next to the Captain’s desk. “Will it fit in here?”

“Da.”

“Pack it in then.” Later we found that there was at least ten million in money and bonds. It was a good haul.

He handed me the satchel and we walked outside. It was cold and windy. The Mediterranean was not smooth, but the swells were not dangerous. Glancing over the side I saw Anton in a lifeboat. He was checking the craft to see if the motor ran and if there was enough gas. “Go on,” I said to Alexander.

“The cargo?” He asked.

“It’s going down with the ship.”

“Irina, it could be worth millions of Euros,” he yelled.

“It’s too late and we are not going to deal in drugs. What’s the matter? Don’t you have enough money?” I gripped my AK-47 tight against my body. “I don’t deal in that felgercarb and will not tolerate any of my organization too either.”

He looked like he might argue about it, but thought better of it. He climbed over the rail just as Sark and Grigor ran up.

“Irina, we did what you asked,” said Grigor. “We opened the ballast tanks to let the water in after we slashed open bales of cocaine.”

“How much do you estimate,” I asked, looking at Sark.

“More than I imagined.”

“Get over,” I said to Grigor. “You follow me, Sark.”

Anton and Sark set course for land which was at least fifty miles. It was midnight by my watch and if all went well, we would be on dry land before sunrise. I sat in the back, behind Alexander and thought about my old friend. He was getting greedier faster than I expected. I was going to have to watch him even more carefully now.

*****

Tuesday – May 11, 1999

Katya called me today on my cell. She was concerned about a loan she’d made using my money. “I was told he’d pay 10% interest on loan per week if I gave it to him.”

“So?”

“He hasn’t paid and I’m worried that he will try something.”

“Who is it?”

There was a pause on the line; then Katya said, “Ivankov, head of K-Directorate.”

I snorted, “On Stalin’s grave, what were you thinking?”

“I had a weak moment. It was the interest he offered to pay.”

“So because you are a woman you think you should have such things—weak moments?” I sighed. “Katusha, how much did you loan him?”

“A hundred million which meant ten million made in one week. Short of robbing a Swiss bank, I thought the profit worth it.”

“What collateral did he give?”

“His,” she paused for effect, “Rambaldi artifacts.”

I caught my breath, “How many?”

“Five.” I knew she thought I would be pleased. I would, except I didn’t want to pay for them. I would steal them if I could.

“Sookin sin,” I said. “Have you gone to see him personally?”

“Nyet, but I planned to go tomorrow.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Does he know who, exactly who, loaned him the money?”

“He thinks I work for a private bank with, how you say, a shady background. I’m sure, Rishka, he thinks he was going to rip us off now.”

“Did he tell you what money was for?”

“Investment in Colombia.”

“Svolach!” He used my money to buy cocaine that I dumped into the Mediterranean about a month and a half ago by sinking his transporting freighter. It had been interesting to hear rumbles from the crime gangs about one of their own—that had lost a ship carrying cocaine. The ship disappeared.

Men had been sent to the Mediterranean to search everywhere. However, no one discovered where the ship had gone. The crew had never been found. It was finally decided by K-Directorate that the Captain and crew had disappeared with the cocaine to sell. So far they had not been found and there was nothing on the criminal network advertising the fact that cocaine was for sale by an unknown seller.

I had not told Katya I was The Man and I didn’t want her to know until she was firmly in the organization as my financial manager. She was still waffling between staying with SVR and/or joining The Covenant. So far no one knew who the head of that fledgling group was. I personally would not want to work in that group not knowing who my boss was.

“So he says he can’t pay and won’t pay the interest either. He says that if I can find his investment and bring it to him, he’ll pay then.”

“He does. Did he tell you in person?”

“Nyet. It was over the phone.”

“Then you will have to pay him a visit. Would he be willing to meet?”

“Maybe...” Katya answered half-heartedly.

“By the way, where are the Rambaldi artifacts that he put up as collateral?”

“Has he asked for them back?”

“No, not yet.”

“Katusha, where have you put them?” I wanted them in my possession.

She laughed. “Someplace he’d never think to look for them...your apartment.”

“What??” I nearly leaped out of my chair. “How...how did you do it?”

“I gave them to your bodyguard, Grigor, just before you left on that trip in March. I told him to hide them.”

I blinked. Grigor did have a key as the superintendent of the apartment house. I certainly didn’t know they were there. Hell, I’d have to get him to show me where he put them and right away.

I managed to keep my voice calm. “Good. I know he would think you’d put them into a vault in a bank.”

“Probably. Rishka, what do you want me to do?” At least she wasn’t going to hand off the job to me.

“Nothing for the moment. I have to think about it. Just one thing...”

“What?”

“No more loans to anyone who is a criminal.”


Grigor drove me home and I had him come to the apartment. I wanted to know where he put those artifacts. I don’t think he realized exactly what they were since he found a shelf in one of the kitchen cupboards that had nothing in it. It was, of course, the top shelf and now it was not empty. I sent him home with my thanks.

When he closed the door, I pulled a chair over to the spot where the artifacts were, climbed up and stared at them in almost what I would call a reverence. I was almost afraid to touch them, but then pulled them out one by one and examined them.

It was midnight before I finished. Each was unique, but each was branded with the Rambaldi sign. They had been in possession of his followers. I wondered how K-Directorate was able to get them. I could imagine their previous owners had paid the ultimate price if they didn’t part with them. Ivankov was probably as ruthless as I am and didn’t hesitate to take them.

As I studied them, I began to realize they were pieces to something bigger, a machine of which I knew nothing...yet. However, I knew that in time I would.

RUSSIAN TRANSLATION
Svolach - bastard
Sookin sin – son-of-a-bitch

Monday – May 24, 1999

I sent Alexander to see Ivankov regarding the loan. I told him that he was to scare the felgercarb out of Ivankov and tell him that his mother and father were now ‘guests’. The money had now a larger price. He promised ten million a week for the loan and tomorrow he would owe double the hundred million. If he didn’t pay, his parents were his forfeit.

“Take Anton and three men to the meeting.” I said.

“That’s too many,’ he said. “I don’t need anyone.”

“Alexander, you may have been a general in the KGB, but now you are a civilian and we are dealing with a very smart man. Do you have proof?”

“Da, in here,” he said patting his inside coat pocket.

“Take the men and go.” I said, kissing him on the cheek.

He was taken back momentarily. “Da Irina.” He left the room.

I hit my intercom. “Julian?”

“On my way.”

Moments later he came through the door with a satchel. “Has he left?”

“Da. You know what to do.”

He nodded, giving me a half-salute. “Think it will work?”

“It better.” I watched him leave.


Two hours later Alexander returned with a briefcase. Inside was one hundred million in bearer bonds. He put it on the desk. He looked a bit disheveled.

“Sit, Alexander.” I said, leaning back in my chair.

“You didn’t tell me about bomb.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” I could see his discomfiture, but didn’t care.

“Well, it worked.” He smiled. “How in the world did you learn where he lived?”

“My secret,” I said. “So tell me what happened from the beginning.”

Alexander told of going to the meeting place with Anton and the three men. It was in a hotel room that had been agreed upon. Alexander had entered the room to find three men, Ivankov and two bodyguards. In deference to the agreed meeting, he had Anton send one of his men out.

He told Ivankov that he wanted the money owed as he was late paying the loan and it was costing him ten million every week. “And you are lucky I don’t compound the amount,” he added.

Ivankov said he didn’t have the money and that his investment had disappeared. He couldn’t pay.

“I suggest you re-think this. I have your parents.” I said

“frack you,” he said jumping up, however his face had turned white.

“Sit down,” I ordered as Anton had his automatic out and trained on Ivankov before his men could act. “I am sure you can pay half now and half tomorrow. That is the deal.
Just then there was an explosion that rattled the windows. We all turned to look. Smoke was rising from a building about a quarter of a mile away. Almost immediately Ivankov’s cell phone rang. I motioned him to answer. When he did, he became very upset, turning around to stare at me. I remained calm, but inside, curious.

“You bastard,” he shouted.

Although puzzled, I stood my ground as Anton pointed his weapon at him. “Did I not tell you to pay?” I thought it best to remain neutral.

“Someone blew up my apartment house,” he snarled.

“Listen pig, I do not care about anything but that money. Get it now. There is always possibility something else you value will be blown up.”

I left a half hour later with this.” He indicated the bag on my desk.

“Good job, Alexander, and thank you.”

“Do you want me to put it in the bank?”

“Nyet, I’ll take care of it. Go home.” I smiled, but my voice was firm. When the door closed behind him, I turned my chair around to the window behind me. It was a gray day but my mind was on what transpired between Khasinau and Ivankov. I had a feeling the head of K-Directorate was not too happy. He did have the money...that was something I made a mental note of for the future.

Sark knocked and entered the room. I smiled. “You did well.”

“Spasibo. Anything else need done?”

I shook my head and he left. Steepling my fingers together, I knew I had to be careful. I did not want Ivankov to find me. I would, in the future, let Alexander or Sark meet with the man. He was not happy, especially since he had to part with two hundred million in two days.

I had use for the money too! I was going to build an experimental laboratory out of the country somewhere. I also wanted to house my Rambaldi artifacts somewhere other than the top shelf in my kitchen cupboard. Then I remembered something else, the Muller Device. Could I build another larger one? Even though the small one had been stolen, I thought I could.

*****
 
:eek:hmy: OMG such an update indeed..The way you write about the missions in detail is very good..Sydney's thoughts are so naive than should be expected from an agent as herself and I would have expected Irina to write in her journal very discreetly when noone was around let alone in the middle of a day and a mission with her men around...She writes everything in it..Her distrust for Khasinau, relationship with Galina.. :blink:
 
The way you write irina's involvment with rambaldi really makes no sense to how she acted in the last episode. I got the impression from the writers that irina was obsessed with rambaldi for along time, beginning after her prison time in Khasmir and then it gets worst as years go by. Your version of how irina gets involved with rambaldi is more about how it relates to to her and her daughters with irina wanting to know what rambaldi's endgame is. Of course your story isn't finished, but its 1998, and at the rate that you are going with irina/rambaldi I don't see how she could betray syd like she did in the end. Also you write irina as caring about syd and wondering what she's doing. To me it seems like she cares more for syd than rambaldi right now. But like I said your story isn't finished, but its gonna be interesting how she goes from just wanting to know about rambaldi to being obsessed with rambaldi. I don't know if you are following the ending to alias exactly like the finale either, so I might me wrong in the direction you are taking.

Sloane used rambaldi to fill the void in his life when his baby daughter died, and I always thought irina used rambaldi to fill the void of losing jack/syd. Thats how both became obsessed with rambaldi in the writers version, but that obsession that they had had to develop over many many years, not a couple of years. Their have been discussions on the lenaoline board about if irina really saw the horizon when she was on top of that glass roof or if it was just a figment of her imagination, mainly her obesession taking over her mind. Because if you watch the scene syd hits irina with the horizon then it falls on the ground in the office and then they both fall out of the window together so how did it end up on that glass roof?Now that could of just been a mess up on the writer/directors part or it could be the latter. I know many people hate how the show ended with irina, but in many ways it made sense that she chose rambaldi over syd/jack but the problem with that was we never got to see the bad side of irina and how she really felt about rambaldi, all we saw was the good side, so seeing the bad side of irina was a real shock to people because it wasn't consistent with what she actually did on the show.
 
Irina_Derevko_Bristow Posted Today, 02:20 PM
The way you write irina's involvment with rambaldi really makes no sense to how she acted in the last episode. I got the impression from the writers that irina was obsessed with rambaldi for along time, beginning after her prison time in Khasmir and then it gets worst as years go by.
She knew about Rambaldi through Sloan which was before Kashmir. i think it was not as bad with her to start with when the SLoans and Bristows got together for dinner or whatever. It came over her slowly as more and more people were fascinated by the Rambaldi mystique. :confused:

Your version of how irina gets involved with rambaldi is more about how it relates to to her and her daughters with irina wanting to know what rambaldi's endgame is. Of course your story isn't finished, but its 1998, and at the rate that you are going with irina/rambaldi I don't see how she could betray syd like she did in the end.
I like my version better. However I've said this before, the writers were operating under the gun and had to end Season 5 in 17 episodes instead of 22. The ending made no sense and of course the fans were outraged. :mad:

Also you write irina as caring about syd and wondering what she's doing. To me it seems like she cares more for syd than rambaldi right now. But like I said your story isn't finished, but its gonna be interesting how she goes from just wanting to know about rambaldi to being obsessed with rambaldi. I don't know if you are following the ending to alias exactly like the finale either, so I might me wrong in the direction you are taking.
Well it is my story before Season 2 and during Seasons 3,4 and 5. So tell me later :grinning:

Sloane used rambaldi to fill the void in his life when his baby daughter died, and I always thought irina used rambaldi to fill the void of losing jack/syd. Thats how both became obsessed with rambaldi in the writers version, but that obsession that they had had to develop over many many years, not a couple of years.
Our real problem here was that we didn't have enough of Irina in the story line. A sentence here and there and it left too many gaps to fill in by the fans.

There have been discussions on the lenaonline board about if irina really saw the horizon when she was on top of that glass roof or if it was just a figment of her imagination, mainly her obesession taking over her mind. Because if you watch the scene syd hits irina with the horizon then it falls on the ground in the office and then they both fall out of the window together so how did it end up on that glass roof?
I'm going to have to check that out!. :eek:hmy:

Now that could of just been a mess up on the writer/directors part or it could be the latter.
Probably was the both of them.

I know many people hate how the show ended with irina, but in many ways it made sense that she chose rambaldi over syd/jack, but the problem with that was we never got to see the bad side of irina and how she really felt about rambaldi, all we saw was the good side, so seeing the bad side of irina was a real shock to people because it wasn't consistent with what she actually did on the show.
I remember that Lena Olin was asked to evaluate her part (IRINA) in the show. What did she think of her? She said she didn't think Irina was really evil. Of course, that's before they wrote season five. My favorite two episodes were The Telling and Maternal Instinct. :D

sydneymicheal wrote
Irina is extremely wealthy.
As I said before, she made lots of money as The Man. Sloane told her he'd sell all his Rambaldi artifacts and DNA information; that he wanted out...he just wanted Emily. So even he knew by this time she was wealthy enough to buy him out. ;)

:cool:
 
2000
Irina is 49


Sunday – March 12, 2000

I saw Katya today in G.U.M. I ran into her at a kiosk. She was picking out a blouse. She looked good. We had not seen each other for a month. SVR sent her to Rome on some sort of financial mission and she was gone that length of time.

“Katusha, when did you get back?” I hugged her.

“Last night.”

“Have dinner with me tonight?” I asked looking at her.

“Time?”

“Nine!” I hugged her again. “Can you bring me an up-date?” I wanted to know how my money was doing.

“I need to tell you...I’ve seen Yelena!” Katya took a step back out of my space. “I saw her at old apartment. She’s rented it.”

“Family hell-hole?” I said.

“Da. She...she looks tired, older...”

“She is older,” I snapped. “I’m sure she didn’t mention me. You didn’t tell her anything?”

“No, of course not.”

“Is she still in town?”

“I doubt it. I’m not sure what she’s been doing, but, of course, now that KGB is gone, she can move around with impunity.”

“We’ll talk later at apartment.” I said. “Don’t forget the up-date.”

We had a good time talking about what had been happening to us. I told her Khasinau and I had moved some of our business dealings to a Hong Kong office. What I didn’t tell her was that my very good contact in Beijing, Ling Soo Ahn, had made some excellent deals for property in the city that now was under the jurisdiction of the Chinese. Good contacts was something I cultivated whenever I could. Sometimes they paid off better than my adventures did.

My money is thriving. Katya is a good manager and she has my money working in several different places: property, bonds, money markets, stock, and a couple of ventures that are long term in pay off, but will be useful when I close in on my 60th. As of this moment Sydney Anne is my beneficiary in everything I own. If I knew where Nadia was or even if she was alive, I’d include her.

Katya’s report is thorough and detailed. It took me four hours to go over it, process by process. I’ve nearly five hundred million in assets, which Katya has managed for me. I certainly didn’t think she’d do that well, but I am pleased.

I wasn’t pleased however, to hear Yelena was around. She made my growing up years a hell before she went to KGB school. Thank goodness for Katya. She sometimes stood between the two of us. I had to take Yelena’s felgercarb until I grew up past her shortness. Then I could run faster and far from her. She was his favorite, the oldest. She knew how to work him, to get what she wanted. Well, he’s gone. Maybe someday I’ll tell her how he died.

***

Tuesday – June 13, 2000

What a surprise! I certainly didn’t expect to be arrested, but today, at work, the police came in the form of Detective Inspector Petr Jankov and his partner, Detective Stephan Braginskiy. They were inquiring about the amount of money I had deposited at the Cial Bank.

“As far as our investigation has gone, we find no work that you do that would enable you to deposit over a million Euros in the bank.”

“I am a businesswoman with many interests.” I said calmly, but smiling.

“What interests?” Jankov asked. “A computer search finds no Derevko anywhere listed.”

I dropped my smile as they were not responding. “I dabble in stock market and make loans.”

“How did you get the money in the first place,” Braginskiy said.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I said and realized instantly that it was the wrong thing to say.

“Your government wants to know. We have been working case for seveal months now and frankly, you are very interesting person Irina Derevko. You travel all around world and yet you show no means of support. You have no job that we can find. Yes, you worked for KGB, but resigned in 1988. Since then, no job, but you have money and much more than average Muscovite. Explain.”

He didn’t say please which meant trouble.

“I do what I do. I invest and loan.” What else could I say. That I blackmailed, stole and killed for the money.

“That is something we’ve already heard.” Jankov said. His blue eyes were not smiling. He stood six foot two and his hair was black. Braginskiy was younger and shorter with brown hair and eyes.

“Get up,” said Jankov. He took a pair of handcuffs out of his belt.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I said calmly, but did as I was told. Antagonizing the police was not my idea of fun.

“Put your wrists behind your back.” He said.

“What are you arresting me for—having money?” I did as I was told.

He handcuffed me, saying, “For having no reasonable means of support and refusing to assist us in an investigation of a possible black marketeer.”

“I am NOT!” I said vehemently.

“Perhaps, but your reluctance to tell us makes it a possibility.” Both took an arm and propelled me out of the office, past Maria who stared for a moment in consternation.

“Call Khasinau.” I called back to her. Alexander was out on a mission in St. Pete. I expected him back later today. I was fairly sure she could contact him.

The two detectives shoved me into the elevator which took us to the ground floor. Their police car was at the curb waiting with a driver in it. Braginskiy helped me into the back seat and sat with me while Jankov ordered the driver to go to the nearest police station. There, I was put into an interrogation room, not unlike those in Lubyanka, although a bit smaller I thought. They left me sitting, still cuffed, in a rickety straight-back chair.

“Hey, take these cuffs off!” I said as they left. They didn’t turn around.

Both men laughed a little and shut the door. I was alone in a semi-dark room—there were no windows—and cuffed. After ten minutes, I sensed I was being left there to decide whether or not I was going to tell them what they wanted to know. I wasn’t. I closed my eyes and began to meditate. It was a bit uncomfortable, but I leaned back a little to relieve my arms and wrists.

I’m not sure how long I had slept, but I was awakened when the two detectives returned. They were angry, I knew. Ahhh, Alexander had exerted pressure on our special contact inside the police department. He had ordered my release without further questioning. My wrists were freed. I grunted as I moved my shoulder to arm, feeling pain in both areas of both arms. The two men left, not saying anything.

Alexander waited at the front desk. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Let’s go.” Grigor was driving and had the engine running when he saw us. “We are going to make some new arrangements. I did not appreciate the police arresting me.”

“I can have those two detectives taken care of.” Alexander said.

“No. They were just doing their jobs.” I knew it was that damned account at the Bank Cial. “I’m going to move most of my money in Cial.”

“I thought you liked to have a cash cushion?” Alexander looked at me.

“Yes, I do, but if I’m going to be harassed...”

“Get someone in the operations book to back you. How about Mikhail Khodorkovsky? You know him.”

“He’s a friend. We haven’t used anything we have on him yet and I may not have to if he helps me..” It was a good idea, I thought.

“He’s powerful enough to stop the police investigation.”

I nodded. “Hopefully he isn’t out in oilfields.”

“We won’t know until we try,” said Alexander. “Do you want to talk to him?”

“Of course.” I took the phone from him. “Leave, please.”

I punched in the number from my black book as Alexander, none too happy about having to go, and waited as the phone rang at the other end.


Tuesday – October 17, 2000

Sark has returned from Taiwan with news that the laboratory is up and running. I will send a couple of my scientists to run it. I’m flying out tomorrow to oversee the building of a larger Mueller device. Sydney as Sloane’s agent took the small one including the equipment. I’m ambivalent about her role in this matter: proud because she is my daughter and angry that she was successful, causing us to lose valuable time in learning just what the device is supposed to do.

***

SYDNEY

She put down the journal with a sigh. So her mother knew she had stolen the first working model. Given what she had read so far it didn’t surprise her. Mom was not stupid.

Sydney’s memory took her back to the fateful night she raided the laboratory by herself and returned to SD-1 with the model. It had been exciting and by the time she walked into the office with the item under her arm, her adrenalin was racing enough that she felt as though she were walking on air.

***
Thursday – October 19, 2000

I met with my scientists and they showed me some progress. They were going to increase the size by more than a hundred fold. I saw that we did have enough room. The liquid that is in the red ball is water, but something must happen to it when the machine is turned on. No one, however, has any idea what it is supposed to do. I only have Muller’s plans and nothing to tell me its purpose.

I have given the go ahead for the expenditure to build it. I’ll have funds transferred to a bank here in Taipei. They tell me it will take about two to three months or so to have it up and running. They are good men and I’m paying them a bonus if they can get it to work.

***

Monday – November 6, 2000

Sydney has clashed with K-Directorate’s agent, Anna Espinosa again. This time it was Sydney who won. I hear that she got away from Anna after almost being killed. The bullet meant for her was taken by the old clock maker. Something is going on that I do not understand. I’ve got to think about it more.

I have a new agent whom I hired on the recommendation of Sark, who met him just before he left for Taiwan. His name is McKennas Cole and I hired him because he is no friend of Arvin’s. According Cole, Sloane left him and his men high and dry after he sabotaged a pipe line. He was captured and tortured. I knew he had succumbed to the pain and given whatever information he had.

I pulled him out of prison using my connection with the deputy police chief. Cole had knowledge and I needed it. I told him I might have a job for him in the US. I wanted something that Arvin Sloane had. Mention of his name made Cole look triumphant, as though he had already been victorious over Sloane.

Meanwhile Anna Espinosa has flown out of Russia heading to South America. The reason is not clear yet. An informant in Los Angeles whose specific duty is to keep watch over Sydney has notified me that she left LAX for Argentina with her SD-6 partner, Marcus Dixon. I’ve a feeling the two of them are going to clash again, but where I do not know.

Thursday – November 16, 2000

Anna Espinosa has returned with an intriguing package. My man in K-Directorate has indicated it is a large manuscript by the old scientist, Milo Rambaldi. I’ve heard from my mole that there is a blank page in the manuscript, page 47. I wonder...The vial of Rambaldi liquid...perhaps its use is connected to the blank page. I’m going to send Cole to retrieve it from Sloane’s vault.

I’m also going to send Sark back to destroy FTL. However not until after the new year.


***

Wednesday - December 13, 2000

We’re having a mild winter. There doesn’t seem to be any snow left from the storm we had in November. It has rained though.

Sark has instructions and is on his way to meet with Ivankov and his lieutenant. This time I instructed him to tell Ivankov that it was The Man who wanted to talk with him, but that when he arrived he was to say that he was my representative. He is to offer Ivankov a hundred thousand dollars for the manuscript. I know Ivankov. He’ll decline. Sark has some cash with him to pay one of Ivankov’s bodyguards to turn on him.

I’m concerned about SD-6 because they have been close on our heels whenever we make a move. I am beginning to wonder who is selling information. Khasinau is one. He might be trying to move in on The Man. He is not happy that I won’t involve us in drugs. He is a fool. He is paid extremely well as are all my employees. Alexander is probably the only one who is not comfortable with me as the head of my organization.

I may have to do something about it and...soon.

***

2001
Irina is 50


Monday – January 8, 2001

Sark did call about the death of the FTL leader, who was gunned down in Taipei. He seems to think that the organization will be disorganized and eventually disband. I have contacted Ling Soo Ahn to recover all of their Rambaldi artifacts and send them to me.

McKennas Cole was sent to Los Angeles yesterday to invade and take down SD-6. I want the liquid in the bottle that evidently resides in his vault. He is to use any means that he can to get the vial. I’m sure it will reveal what is on that page. Cole has put together a group of mercenaries to help him. He’s promised he’ll get the vial.

***

Tuesday – January 9, 2001

Cole’s crew has been defeated. He didn’t return and I’ve heard nothing. I’m guessing he was over-confident. I need that vial when Sark returns with the manuscript. The meeting is set for 20 days from now.

***

Monday – January 29, 2001

The meeting is set up for tonight at the Petrovoskiy building between The Man and Ivankov of K-Directorate. Sark is on his way with complete instructions on how to handle the matter. He is to call as soon as it is over.

Later: Sark called. Ilyich Ivankov is dead and the new leader of K-Directorate is Lavro Kessar, who is a weakling. He accepted the offer and said he would sell the manuscript for the money offered. Sark set up a meeting to pick it up in Tunisia where Ivankov had hidden it when Anna brought it back.

***

Friday – February 2, 2001

Sark went to Tunisia to the Golfe de Gabes. The manuscript supposedly was attached to the wrist of one of their most trusted lieutenants who was on a K-Directorate yacht. He took two more of my men so he could not be surprised by the K-Directorate. I don’t think anything will happen. They are in flux now, just as the FTL was. They will either make it or not. My guess is they won’t.

Khasinau is in Rio de Janiero contacting a man who we will be adding to our roster of informants. Hopefully I’ll have the manuscript when he gets back.


Saturday – February 3, 2001

Son of a bitch! Sark didn’t get the manuscript. Someone beat him to it. He said he stood on the dock waiting for them to come to him. Instead, he says, the boat took off leaving him flat-footed with no way to follow. He had no idea who double-crossed us.

“You’re sure you didn’t see anyone?”

“No, Irina, the boat just left and headed out to sea.”

“Could you follow?” I wanted to throw something at him, but he was thousands of miles away.

“No! There were no boats at the dock and no one responded when I offered money. We were stuck.”

“Any idea who it was?”

I visualized him shaking his head. “None,” he responded. “How did anyone find out that we were coming for that manuscript?”

“I don’t know,” I said, sighing. “Very well. Come back. I’ll see you in a couple of days.” I hung up and turned to look out the window. I had an idea it might have been SD-6 or any of the other SDs. I swung around and reached for my cell. I needed intel and soon.

***

Monday – February 5, 2001

Both Sark and Khasinau have returned. No manuscript is irritating. I had a temper tantrum as Mama would say like those I had when I was young. Sydney had two or three herself, trying to see how far she could test me. She did not get her way. Mama was stern also. I did not get my way either.

I had a huge headache when I was finished throwing things at Alexander. I used the intercom to ask Galina to come to the office.

“What’s wrong,” she asked entering and shutting the door.

“My head aches. I need you.” I was slumped in my chair, watching her approach through the pottery shards and glass.

“My, my, you do have a temper. What happened?” She walked up behind me and started massaging my shoulders and neck. Moy boje, it felt good.

“They didn’t get the manuscript!” I moaned in pleasure of her strong fingers and hands massaging my body,

“Who did?”

“They don’t know. I don’t know.” I felt my voice rising as anger rose with it.

Galina pulled me around in the chair. “Stop! Don’t say another word. You can tell me later. Relax so I can make the pain go away.” She turned the chair back and began again.
Thirty minutes later, she had worked her magic. My roaring headache was but a murmur. “Can I see you tomorrow night,” she asked. “My brother is in town and we’re having dinner together.”

“Of course. Now go back to your work and thank you.” I smiled.

*

SYDNEY AND ISABELLE

Mother and daughter were in the market, picking up something for dinner. Iz was riding in the basket, her back to the items Sydney was placing in it. She was curious, looking around for items to help her mother buy. Sydney was checking her list. She was almost done.

“Mommy, mommy buy that!” Iz was pointing at a package of Doubt Stuft Oreos.

“No, Iz that’s not on my list.”

“No, no,” Iz screamed. “I want that!!’ Then she kicked her legs, striking Sydney on her pregnant tummy.

Sydney gasped; then she turned the basket around heading for the front of the store. Isabelle was screaming and kicking. At the end of the aisle, Sydney lifted her purse onto her arm and then pulled Isabelle out of the basket and headed for the front door. People were staring, but they were not upset understanding what was happening, at least those who were mothers.

Isabelle was crying, but hiccupping too, as she tried to stop, realizing they were outside the store and heading for the car. Sydney dropped her into the car seat, tightened her in and walked to the driver’s side.

Minutes later she had Iz out of her seat and down on the ground, walking her toward the house. Inside, she tossed her purse on the sink and gripping Isabelle’s hand, marched her down the hall to the stairs and up to her room.

“That was the worst thing you’ve ever done, young lady. You will stay in bed in this room until I say you can leave. You get nothing to eat tonight. No television. You will sit there and think about what you did. If I hear one peep out of you, before I say you can talk, you will stay in your room all day tomorrow.” Sydney dumped her on her bed. “Remember, not one word!”

She slammed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment. A memory flood back into her mind and she realized she had done to Isabelle exactly what her mother did to her when she had a temper tantrum. She laughed, realizing she was like her mother so much, especially when it came to raising her daughter.

Reading the journals were providing her with so much insight about Irina. Sydney had had a problem with her temper when she was young, but ‘Laura’ had taught her that it wasn’t really worth the punishment.

*

Tuesday – February 6, 2000

My contact in Los Angeles informed me this morning that it was Sydney who had taken the manuscript back to Sloane. Damn, Damn, she is becoming a pest. If I tell Khasinau, he’ll want me to do something about her. I’m not about to order her killed. I didn’t get a chance to look at it either and Arvin will be able to see it all.

I’ve sent Khasinau to buy two super-computers which are capable of five hundred million calcuations per second. Its purpose to simulate theoretical design. Maybe, just maybe, it will be able to simulate what Rambaldi’s ultimate project was. They are costing us $250 million cash, but I need that simulation. It could move me closer to the answer to Rambaldi’s quest.

Later: I ate dinner at eight, earlier than I usually do. Galina was coming over and I anticipated she’d have dinner with her brother again. I was staring out the window, sipping an iced vodka. I was contemplating Sydney and what to do with her. She and I were on a collision course and at any moment we would meet. We were on opposite sides, but still—she was my daughter, my flesh and blood.

There was a knock. I finished my drink and walked to the door, to let Galina in. “You look good,” I said.

She said nothing but kissed me hard. “Are you feeling better than you were yesterday?”

“I’m in a better mood, Galenka,” I answered smiling.

“Good, because I’m going to make you scream your head off.” She pulled me tight to her and kissed me with such passion that I responded, my heart pounding.

I took a step back and stared. There was a bulge in her pants. I’d felt it when she kissed me. “What…is…that?”

“Let’s go to bed and I’ll show you.” She pulled me to my bedroom.

She undressed me as always and took her time. She ran her hands over my body, caressing my back, buttocks and thighs as she pulled down my pants. Galina is smaller by three inches, but strong. She moved around to the front of me and gently stripped my bikini panties down to the floor. I stood silent and still as she kissed the dark patch between my legs. Her tongue caressed my clit making it shiver in anticipation.

“Into bed,” she said pushing me.

I dropped down onto the sheet, watching her remove her blouse and bra. Her skin was smooth and her breasts deliciously small. My eyes moved down to that bulge in her pants and then back up to her face. “Are you going to show me?” I whispered.

She smiled. “Moya milochka, I am going to show you more than you expect tonight.” She pulled off her boots and socks, then unbuckled her belt, letting her pants slide down to the floor. She was wearing men’s jocket shorts and there was a large bulge in the front where a man’s penis would be cupped. Before I could object, she turned off the light on my night stand, leaving us in the dark.

“Galenka, sweetheart, what are you doing?” My heart gave a little leap.

“My dear one, I am going to give you something back that you lost…in Kashmir. I know you do not love me as I love you, but I want you to have your life back. Perhaps someday you will find someone you can give your love too. Now hush. Let me do what I do best…frackin you until you scream.”

“Seychas…” I couldn’t say anymore because she put her hand over my mouth.

“Shhh, don’t talk, just feel.”

Galina let her lips do the talking, softly moving them from left to right, down my jaw to my neck, just under my ear. That was one of my erotic spots. After licking and kissing me there, she moved back to my mouth, thrusting her tongue deep several times, simulating a frack; then she moved it around in my mouth, prying into every nook and cranny she could fine. I could hardly breathe and a soft cry gurgled up from my throat as I felt my emotions take over.

She moved to my throat under my chin, kissing and licking. Both hands were working at my breasts, almost in a ryhthmic pace to her kisses. She then sucked on my right breast, taking as much of it as she could.

“Oh boje,” I whispered, feeling the core of me heating up.

“Tasty,” she whispered and moved to the left one, repeating the same activity as on the right.

I was breathing heavy and could feel my juices rolling up to my labia. I was wet, very wet already and I knew she was going to do more. She did.

Galina’s mouth moved down my center, plastering my chest and abdomen with soft, wet kisses. She added a moan or two as she was affected too by her actions.

”Umolyayu,” I whispered begging.

She didn’t respond, but kept her mouth busy working its way to the dark patch. Her hands were stroking my thighs. She was kneeling now and moved her mouth to the inside of my right thigh, licking and kissing it.

I groaned.

“Skoro, moya milochka, skoro.” She said moving from my right thigh to my left. I thought I would go crazy. I wanted her inside me, because I was ready...oh so ready.

“Seychas, umolyayu.”

A minute later, I heard her say, “Spread your legs.” I did so and felt her hands moving over my core. “You are very, very wet,” she whispered.

Then I felt her inside me, shoving hard and sliding in with ease. I gasped. That was not fingers or a hand, it was something…something like a penis. However I had no time to ruminate on that as my cunt was responding to her thrusts. Galina began to go faster as I was running up a mountain of white hot fire as fast as I could go. I was breathing as hard as I would in an all flat-out run up a hill.

I screamed as my orgasm hit sending me crashing into an emotion of fire fueled by Galina’s almost non-stop thrusts. I peaked again, screamed, and fell twice as hard as I did the first time. She fell on top of me, sweat on her face and body. I felt it as I took her face between my hands, kissing her. My legs gripped her thighs, holding her down and in me. I didn’t want to let her go. She had to stay there deep inside.

My arms hugged her to me. I felt so many emotions. She was deep inside the lips of my labia which was still wet with my cum. I tried to feel what it was inside me. I knew she had not grown a penis. It was something else and whatever it was, it had not shriveled up. It was hard and able to do it again immediately if its owner was able and willing.

“You want more, moya dorogaya devushka?” She whispered.

“Da!” My entire body responded with a delicious shudder. “I want to see!” I reached over and turned on my lamp. “Take it out.” I opened my legs and Galina pulled her instrument of pleasure out for me to see. “Moy boje,” I said.

“We call it a dildo.” She rolled across me and stood. I pushed myself up a little. She moved to me. It was slick with my juices. I took it in my hand and felt along the shaft which was a good eight inches. Hanging at the other end was two soft like balls of latex. I touched them. “What is in them?”

“I’m not sure, but tell me do they feel real?” She moved closer. I cuddled them in my hands and nodded slowly. “You had a screaming orgasm. Did this bring terror to your heart and mind?”

“Nyet,” I said softly, “only pleasure.” Perhaps she was right, I needed this to bring me back. I would soon see when I went to sleep, but first...

Galina smiled. “Would you like to try something a little different?”

“What?”

“You be the one on top.”

I was still wet and so she dropped onto the bed where I’d been, as I straddled her over her abdomen. “Slide back,” she said.

I knew what to do. Jack and I had made love in this manner many times. I felt for the magic penis and fed it into my cunt. I was on my knees facing her with it in me. I moved down until my entire core was filled with the dildo. I could even feel the latex balls move into my labia until they were very nearly swallowed. Their presence gave me pleasure I hadn’t anticipated.

Groaning, I lifted myself up and back down, slowly increasing the speed and slowly feeling the beginning of my ride up to the peak. Galina was playing with my tits, tweaking the nipples both at once and watching me with delight. I gasped as the first small spasm warned me I was getting close.

Galina sat up, but leaned back on her elbows watching me and grinning. Then she began to slowly move her hips and lower back swiveling the hard penis in a circular motion. That increased the heat in my core to the point I wanted it to happen, but still held back until I couldn’t take it any longer.

I lifted myself up and screamed, plunging down hard to trigger the orgasm. I heaved trying to get up, but I couldn’t as Galina kept moving the penis inside me. I screamed again and again. My brain felt as though it was on fire and then it was numb while the rest of my body shuddered with orgasm after orgasm, each one a little less than before. I didn’t know if I would ever stop and pleasure became pain. I gasped and lifted myself off and to one side my body heaving. I wanted to curl up and not move.

Galina leaned over me and kissed me softly. “Ya tebya lyublyu, moya osobennaya.” She had tears in her eyes.

“What is wrong, Galenka?”

“I wish you had what you really want.” She said.

I leaned up on my right arm, looking at her. Now her face was bathed in tears. “I—I don’t understand. I have what I want.”

She shook her head. “I hope you have no more nightmares...and I hope you find him again someday.”

Now I was puzzled. What was she talking about...well, the nightmares... “I feel good, but I don’t know whether the bad dreams will disappear or not. As for the other, I’m not sure I know who he is.”

“Yes, you do. Twice while I’ve made love to you, you have called for him.”

“What?”

“Twice now, at the peak of your orgasms, you have said, ‘Jack’”

I sank back onto the pillow, my mind whirling. Jack! I called his name? That was impossible. I couldn’t have. “You—you must have heard me wrong.” I said.

Now she rose up on her left arm and stared at me. “No, moya dorogaya devushka, I heard it perfectly. Jack!! Who is he?”

I sighed. I was confused. This was the first time she’d ever mentioned this to me. “He was my husband in America.’

She stared. “Your husband still?”

“I betrayed him and my daughter when I was extracted. He has divorced me by now if he knows I’m alive.”

“You still have feelings for him.” She said softly, running her finger along my jaw line. “I could hear it in your voice. He must be very good man.”

“Yes, I guess he was.” I looked up at her. “Galenka, I care for you very much. You have helped me stay sane when there were times I wanted to just...just go on a rampage. The things that happened to me in Kashmir are sometimes hard to forget. You seem to know when I am close to the edge of hell.”

Galina leaned over and kissed me softly. “I wish I could be him and have your love. Do you think he still loves you?”

I shook my head. “No. It has been too many years and there were too many betrayals. I’m sure he found out when the FBI paid him a call.” I yawned. “I’m tired. Stay the night with me and tell me if I had nightmares.” I pulled her head down and kissed her gently; then turned over and fell asleep.

RUSSIAN TRANSLATION
Soon – skoro
Now – seychas
Good - horosho
moya dorogaya devushka – my dear one
moya milochka – my darling
Umolyayu – please (I beg)`
Ya tebya lyublyu – I love you
Moya osobennaya – my special one
Moy boje – my god


Wednesday – February 7, 2001

Galina was gone when I awoke this morning. I felt refreshed and eager for the new day. I showered, dressed and fixed me some breakfast: eggs, toast and tea. I was just finishing my last piece of toast when my cell rang.

“Yes,” I said.

“Irina, it’s me.” It was Galina. “I think you’re being watched.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I left this morning about six and saw a car across the street. Two men were in it. They didn’t follow me.”

“Why do you think they’re watching me?”

“I think they may be Khasinau’s men. I’ve seen him with them just yesterday.”

“Govno.” I walked to the window with my cell to my ear. Standing back so they could not see me, I looked out. Yes, there was a car and there were two men inside. A chill went up my spine as I tried to figure out why.

“Is he in his office?” I asked.

“Not yet.” Galina responded. “Do you think he suspects us...?”

“I don’t know, but thank you for telling me. We can’t see one another for a while. You understand.”

“Da,” and she hung up.

I called Grigor to tell him to pick me up in the courtyard. When I was in the back seat I informed him that I thought I was being followed.

“I want to know who they are and why they are following me. Can you trap them?”

“Da, Irina.” Grigor sounded excited. He had been prowling around the office for days wanting to have some action. Maria, his wife, was taking care of business as I knew she would. He, however, liked going on adventures.

I had put on a shoulder holster and then covered it with my fleece jacket. It was very cold so no one would suspect I was armed. “Do you think they will follow us anywhere?”

“We can see,” he growled.

He drove the car out across Moscow Bridge into Red Square, past G.U.M. and up into the area where there were a lot of office buildings. We passed Lubyanka and doubled around the square. I used my compact mirror to check on the cars behind us. The one in question was still following.

“You do have a plan, Grigor?”

“Da, Irina. Do not worry. We will catch them unawares.” We headed north toward the warehouse district and began driving slowly as if looking for a particular address. Grigor suddenly made a quick right turn and then another into an empty warehouse. He knew the other car would have to stop and return to the small, narrow street.

“Get out,” he said, pointing to a door about a hundred paces distant. “They will find it turns and becomes a dead end.” He ran to the door and shut it quickly as I ran toward the door, pulling out my Glock 15 and flipping the safety off. I heard the car enter the narrow street and roar past the closed door. I opened the small door and looked out. They evidently had made the turn and now had to back out so they could turn around. I backed up against the wall, waiting with my gun out.

They were backing up and ready to turn down the street when Grigor pulled the car out of the warehouse and blocking the street. He jumped out and got behind the car, waiting for them. The two men argued about something and didn’t see me. I ran to the passenger side, yanked open the door and pressed the barrel of my gun against the nearest man’s cheek bone.

“Move and you are a dead man!” I growled, keeping my voice lower than usual. I could see Grigor waiting. “Why are you following me? WHO sent you? I want answers or I blow your head off.” I jammed the barrel harder against his cheek bone.

“frack,” he yelled, obviously frightened. He knew I would do it. “Tell her who we are.”

The driver was visibly shaken by the turn of events. “Look we do private investigations for people.”

“Are you licensed?”

“N...no, just do things for people they don’t want to do themselves.”

“Like spying on innocent citizens.” I said. “Who hired you? How much did he pay?”

“Comrade Khasinau. He paid us a hundred US dollars.”

“What exactly did he want you to spy on me for?”

“He said he thought his fiancée was two-timing him and wanted to know who it was.”

I pressed the gun harder. “Who am I two-timing him with?”

There was silence and the man with the gun to his head reddened. “A...a woman.”

“Just how did you find that out?”

“We saw her enter your apartment. She didn’t leave until six this morning.”

“Well for your information, I am not his finance and never plan to be married to him. Did you tell him?”

“Da,” said the driver who cringed as he said it. “He called us.”

I wanted to kill them, I was so angry, but decided they too were just doing their job. The one who I was most angry with was Khasinau. “You have two hours to leave Moscow. I am sending my men to see that you do. Come back and I will have you killed.”

I opened my cell and made a call to Sark to send a couple of our men to escort these two out of the city. Sark said they would be there in fifteen minutes. I had Grigor wait and drove to the office myself.

Khasinau was in his office as I saw his car parked in his space. I entered the outer office and paused at my secretary’s desk. “Is he in?” I pointed at Alexander’s office.

“Da, Irina,” she answered, her blue eyes widening when I took out my gun and snapped off the safely.

“Don’t come in and keep everyone else out!” I ordered.

I slammed open the door and shut it just as hard. Alexander’s head snapped up from the paper he was reading, startled. I reached behind my neck and pulled out my knife I kept there and threw it before he could react. The knife missed his ear by millimeters. My gun I switched to my right hand.

“Don’t move an inch, you son-of-a-bitch!” I covered the distance in a mere two seconds. I held the gun trained on his forehead.

“Now, Irina,” he said, visibly shaken by the knife and gun.

“What gave you the right to spy on me? Who I sleep with is none of your business! You work for me!” I wanted to hit him, but we had known each other for a long time. “Explain!”

“Irina, I—I didn’t think you were gay.” He mumbled gruffly.

“You stupid man! You risk everything you have because you want to get into my pants also? Have I not told you and told you that that wasn’t going to happen? Are you deaf? What don’t you understand? I will sleep with whomever I want to sleep with, but it will never be you...ever.

“If you want to stay in my organization and make money, you will keep your nose out of my personal life. You managed to do it quite well when I was sent to Kashmir for re-education! You did nothing to help me...nothing! We were friends when I was young before going to America. Now I’m having serious doubts about your loyalty and your friendship.” I kept the gun leveled at his forehead. “You have a choice. You can stay and be my second-in-command, or you can die.”

His face turned a little white and he nodded. “I will stay.”

“Of course you will. You like the money.” I put the safety on. “Listen again, Alexander, and listen carefully. My personal life is none of your business. Is that understood?” I saw no reason to discuss it any further with him.

“Da, Irina, and I—I am sorry.”

I wish I could believe he was, but I’d known him too long. I said nothing, took the knife out of his chair and left. “I will see you this afternoon at the planning session.” I called over my shoulder and shut the door behind me.

I can no longer trust him, although I need his expertise. There would come a time when I would have to end our business relationship.

Later this afternoon, Galina, Alexander and Sark joined me in the conference room. We had a problem. No manuscript even though we paid Kessar for it.

Our new computers had been compromised. My automatic security system wiped the data clean as soon as it had been breached. No one knew who had done it especially since the security was what I thought to be perfect. It obviously wasn’t.

“Did they get what they wanted,” I asked Khasinau.

“I doubt it.”

“Chyort, we have to be more careful. I do not like that we’ve come up short several times lately. No manuscript, we don’t get ampoule, and now someone has broken into our computers. Was there anything else on file?”

“Yes, Irina. Financial records of people who work for us.”

“Why would they want those?”

“I don’t know,” said Sark.

“Get me a list.” I motioned to Galina. “Maria can print one out.”

She was back in five minutes with a sheet of paper. She handed it to me. I looked at the names and a chill came over me. Valenko alias Calder was on it. I leaned back in my chair and looked at Khasinau. “Igor Valenko. How did he become one of my men? I can’t recall approving that hire.”

“I did. He is our contact in Cape Town. He is in the financial planning business.”

“Contact the Snowman and tell him to kill Valenko.” I sat back as I looked at Sark. He nodded and I know he would take care of it.

“Why?” Asked Khasinau.

“You know he was my handler in the U.S. I thought he was dead; he disappeared into a prison somewhere, although it wasn’t Kashmir.”

“Yes, but he didn’t stay long. They released him to me after he’d served six months.”

“Six months?” I think I was trembling I was so angry. I said nothing until I felt I was under control. “He’s a risk. If CIA learns who he is they will go after him. Kill him.”

“Yes, Irina.”

“Galina, have you heard anything out there about Rambaldi artifacts?”

“There’s a rumor that there is another ampoule of Rambaldi liquid which could reveal the facts on the one page that The Alliance cannot see. Perhaps we should try to buy it.”

“I have a better idea; we’ll steal it away from whoever has it.”

“Not a good idea. Where is it?” Asked Khasinau.

“Supposedly the Rislak Jihad, a fundamentalist group, has it and they are willing to sell. They need money to fund their revolution.” Galina said, looking at me.

“Sark you will go to buy it. Galina, get in touch with them and make the arrangements. Sark, be careful. See me before you leave.”

RUSSIAN TRANSLATIONS
Govno – felgercarb
Chyort – Damn

***

Tuesday – February 20, 2001

frack! Things are not going the way we plan them. CIA and SD-6 are becoming pests that won’t go away. Sark was compromised and taken prisoner by SD-6. I don’t know who got the ampoule. I think SD-6 got it along with Sark and maybe not. He is resourceful and if there was an opportunity to escape, he would. I know he was to pass the ampoule to Khasinau in our Paris night club.

Khasinau called me to say that last night’s meet was a fiasco. The ampoule was taken as well as the missing page. Who took it? Did SD-6 get it or CIA? What the hell was Will Tippin doing in Paris? Khasinau supposedly had him in custody. He was tortured for information without my permission. But who had him now?

“Alexander, what happened?”

“He was rescued by a girl singer, who didn’t fight like a girl.”

My heart thumped. Sydney? “Where is he?”

“My guess is that whoever rescued him, took him back to the U.S.” There was a pause. “Perhaps we can find him and take him back. We could offer him in exchange for that missing page and the ampoule.”

“Do it.” I hung up and buzzed Maria. “Maria, get me a first class ticket to Taipei with a stopover in Hong Kong.”

The intercom buzzed. “Irina, there’s a gentleman on the phone who says he is a friend...a Gerard Cuvee. Shall I put him through?”

“Da,” I answered. Now what was Cuvee after? I know he wanted to get into my pants, but that wasn’t going to happen. I picked up the phone. “Hello Gerard. How are you?”

“Good, Irina, good. I have a new project. Maybe you can help me?”

“Go on...”

“I’m the leader of the PTL, a radical group located in Kashmir and the surrounding territory. I’ve heard that you have a new weapon in your arsenal and I want it. I’ll pay for it, of course.”

“Of course. Do you know what it is?”

“Some kind of device by a German alchemist.” He paused.

“And how do you plan to use it?” I asked, knowing full well he had no idea what it was let alone know its power.

“You tell me, because if I’m going to pay for it I’ll want to know everything.”

“I don’t know yet. Damn it, Gerard, I’ve got a lot going on and one of them is to find out just what kind of weapon it is.”

“Let me come to Taipei. Maybe I can help you figure it out.”

I rubbed my head. “Very well, but I’m not going yet. My scientists have indicated that they are progressing, but it won’t be ready to set up for a few more weeks. Give me your number and I’ll call you.”

He did and hung up. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. What was I going to do about him? I wanted to put the weapon up for bid after I learned what it was supposed to do. We were spending a great deal of money to learn what this Muller device would do and had to spend more. I thought about it and knew I was not going to put my own money into it. I would have to get someone else’s money to help.

I needed someone who was in my book, someone who was vulnerable and who might be persuaded to invest. I needed someone who would not be poking around at the Taipei laboratory. I did know. He would be perfect.

I picked up my cell and called Jean-Marc Ravais, a member of the French Assembly. He was a billionaire dabbling in politics. As a young man, he had sold out his friends to the Gestapo during the occupation of France. They were all executed and he was the only one left who was alive when France was liberated.

Jean-Marc invested in the Muller device.

*****

Monday – March 5, 2001

Galina is dead. I can’t believe it. Impossible! The police called this morning saying her car was in a bad accident near the bridge last night. The car had gone off the bridge into the river. They recovered her body and it was on the way to the morgue. They wanted to know if she had family. They said someone would have to identify the body. I said I would take care of it and thanked them.

I began to cry. She was my best friend. No one had helped me as much as she had to overcome the nightmarish hell that had been Kashmir. The last time we had been together had been in February after I caught men who were working for Khasinau following me. She had warned me about them.

“Maria, will you come in here.” I used my intercom.

“Yes, Irina?” She came toward my desk.

“Galina has been killed in an accident. Go to personnel and bring her file here. Do not tell anyone about her death.”

“Oh Irina,” she began to tear up.

“Don’t...just be quiet. Wipe those tears or you’ll give it away.”

She nodded, sniffling. “I’ll be right back.”

Ten minutes later, Maria returned with Galina’s file. I opened it. “She doesn’t seem to have any family listed?”

“Oh!” Maria was concerned. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll make all the arrangements. Go back to your desk and don’t say anything. Promise?”

“Absolutely.” She left my office.

I studied the file and no where was there listed any family. Everyone evidently was dead. She had been alone. I stood and turned to look out the window. In the distance I could barely see the Kremlin, some three miles away. The bridge mentioned was just a few hundred feet away from this building. It was not close to her apartment or to mine. What was she doing in this part of Moscow at night?

I didn’t like the smell of this and called Grigor into the office. “You have a friend who is a mechanic?”

“Da Irina. He is very good one. Many people bring cars to him to fix.”

“Can he check a car that has been in a wreck and tell me if it has been tampered with?”

“I think so.”

I wrote out the information where the police had the car. I handed it to him. “Get to this address and have the car taken to his shop.” I handed him several thousand rubles. “Use this to grease the hands of the police if you have too. Tell your friend to do a thorough job and I will pay him 50,000.”

Grigor’s eyes widened. “What is wrong Irina?”

“Do not tell anyone. Galina was killed last night in an accident at the bridge.” I waved in the direction of the bridge.

“I am sorry. I like her. She was nice.” He squeezed my hand and left.

“Grigor, make sure your friend tells no one but you.”

“Da.”

***

Monday – March 19, 2001

Grigor came to my office this afternoon. He had his friend’s report on Galina’s car. I also had the report of the accident. There had been an eye witness. According to the report, Galina’s car had been traveling over the bridge when a large big rig had careened in front of her. She was unable to stop and her car careened off the side of his front wheel, sending her through the wooden railing and over the side of the bridge into the river.
So my question was why had she not hit the brakes hard?

Grigor answered the question when he came to the office. He stood in front of me. “Brakes were cut.”

“What?”

“My friend said brake lines had been cut. Galina could not stop.” He didn’t continue.

“I see... spasibo.” I nodded toward the door. He left, understanding I think. I knew instantly who had done it.

Khasinau! Revenge could wait.

***

Friday – April 13, 2001

Supposedly Friday the thirteenth is a bad luck day. We Russians might think of bad luck as being Fate. I don’t know. Today has not been a particularly good day for me.

I am at our Taipei laboratory. My scientists have the Muller Circumference up and running. It is awesome. Khasinau was almost gaping as we stood looking at it. It was huge, perhaps fifty meters in diameter. It seemingly turned by itself, but I knew it was turning electro-magnetically. There was fluid inside it, but what was happening was impossible to ascertain.

Of course my two men said they could get some of the fluid out for testing. I ordered them to do it. I would need some volunteers.

Then when we were in my office, Cuvee called. He wanted to see the ‘weapon’. I told him I wasn’t even sure it was a weapon. He insisted. I knew he would continue making my life miserable if he didn’t get his way.

“Where are you?” I asked, but had the feeling he was here on Taiwan.

“In the city. Give me your address.”

I did and he was in my office within a half hour. Khasinau greeted him as an old friend from the days of the KGB. I greeted him warily.

“Well, show me,” he said. “I want to see it.”

“Gerard, we don’t even know what it is supposed to do yet?”

“Irina, stop stalling. I want to see it.”

We entered the warehouse and headed through the passageway to the big lab. My two scientists and their technicians were busy over something at a table when we entered. They hardly looked up when we walked inside. Gerard gasped. I knew he had no idea what it was from the beginning.

“We do not know what it will do?”

“Where did you get plans?”

“Oscar Muller had them. We removed them from his care and killed him after he gave us instructions.”

Gerard was in awe. “He didn’t tell you what it was for?”

Irina laughed. “He didn’t know himself. He couldn’t even tell me one thing about the device. He did say that another scientist had devised this but never built one.”

“Who?” He snapped. “Can’t we find him and get him to tell us?”

I laughed. “He couldn’t tell us his name or where he was from—just that he found the plans in a deserted church, under the altar.”

“Where are the plans?”

I took him over to my desk that I used when in the laboratory. I pulled them out of my drawer. He looked at them and then shrugged. He didn’t know anymore than I did.

“How soon do you think you’ll know anything?”

“Wait here.” I walked over to the table where the technicians were talking to the scientists. I spoke with them and then returned. “They have removed some of the fluid and are going to start testing it on the technicians. I may know something soon.”

We returned to my office and then went out to lunch.

Tonight I saw the money spent on getting the Circumference to work go literally down the drain. Someone had broken into the laboratory and destroyed it. The water plunged through the warehouse and the connecting passageways. One door was closed, before it reached us. The flooded part of my headquarters dissipated through the drains we had fortunately built. However it took time.

In the meantime, the girl responsible was captured and knocked out by my men. They took her to the storeroom at the rear of the building and handcuffed her to a chair. She was, they said, unconscious.

I knew it was Sydney. She had done it again!

NEXT, THE GLASS CAGE ;) :rolleyes: :Ph34r:
 
McKennas Cole was sent to Los Angeles yesterday to invade and take down SD-6. I want the liquid in the bottle that evidently resides in his vault. He is to use any means that he can to get the vial. I’m sure it will reveal what is on that page. Cole has put together a group of mercenaries to help him. He’s promised he’ll get the vial.
I find it interesting that irina does not warn Cole about not touching syd/jack, because they were there and could of easily been killed. Yet irina wont tell khasinau that syd is behind all the failed missions regarding rambaldi. I can't say that I'm sorry that Galina was killed, I just can't picture irina with anyone but jack and I didn't want her around when jack came back into the picture and when irina left him in panama. I thought it was bold of khasinau to kill Galina, he had to know that irina would deduce that it was him she had no family, no enemies and if she did she would of told irina, and irina's threatening him seals that it was him. How can a man that smart be so stupid?lol An whew that was a close one when you wrote that cuvee would want to get in irina's pants again I was starting to worry about pillow talk between the two, but then you shifted to syd in taipei.
 
And i really didn't know why Khodorkovsky got to prison in the end... Lol, it appears Putin found out Irina knew him? Wow, looks like Irina's in trouble:(
 
Glad to see Sydney is such a pest and such a good agent. Poor Galina she didn't deserve that.
 
Wauw, just wauw.....that was a great chapter packed with action, sex and so much excitement 👅
I don't even know where to begin or end with my comments, so I will just sum it up THIS FIC IS GREAT, AND YOU WRITE IRINA LIKE YOU HAVE KNOWN HER ALL YOUR LIFE ;) I wish I had your talent.
I do hope you have the time to give us a little glimts into your's (and thereby Irina's) thoughts when she reunited with her daughter, but if you don't I'll wish you a great vacation - you've certainly deserved it :cool:
Again I can't wait to read about "the glass cage" time, thanks for the PM
 
Irina_Derevko_bristow wrote:

I find it interesting that irina does not warn Cole about not touching syd/jack, because they were there and could of easily been killed. Yet irina wont tell khasinau that syd is behind all the failed missions regarding rambaldi.
Why would she? He's already proven a bit over-protective and not to be trusted. She has cut him some slack for the time being.

I can't say that I'm sorry that Galina was killed, I just can't picture irina with anyone but jack and I didn't want her around when jack came back into the picture and when irina left him in panama.
Galina loves her. She is also aware Irina doesn't love her in return. Galina is bent on helping Irina overcome the nightmares she still has about Kashmir; to help her get in touch with her sexuality.

I thought it was bold of khasinau to kill Galina, he had to know that irina would deduce that it was him she had no family, no enemies and if she did she would of told irina, and irina's threatening him seals that it was him. How can a man that smart be so stupid?lol
Some men are fools when it comes to a woman they love and want. At some point, he knows Irina won't have anything to do with him, but, like most ego-centric men, he wants to believe she will eventually give in to his masculinity.

An whew that was a close one when you wrote that cuvee would want to get in irina's pants again I was starting to worry about pillow talk between the two, but then you shifted to syd in taipei.
That was a long time ago. She is placating him...soothing his ego. He learns in a few months just how loyal she is.

:LOL: :LOL: :LOL:
:cool:
 
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