This is the follow on from my first fanfic The Flight of Aires. Please read the first one or this won't make much sense. Thank you all who have read my previous book and bothered to comment so kudos to you guys. Have made this one a K+ rating as it may get a little bloody.
Chapter One
Avenging Angel
Conrad Puserif is no stranger to conspiracy.
For the Russian, dead bodies in the closet are an everyday occurrence and the former spy had added a large number of them to his own conscience during his time. Conrad lived and worked in the city of Edinburgh in Scotland where he worked for Itexicon in the bio-weapons division, he also doubled as the head of Itexicon's activities in Scotland. Unfortunately this made him a person of extreme interest on my list. After following the evidence trail all the way to the north Conrad's name had come up in the files. Conrad Puserif worked for the KGB during the Cold War until his partner caught him selling secrets to the British Secret Service and the CIA. His escape from Russia was long and bloody, racking up a body count of at least twenty five KGB agents and one plane pilot. He was granted asylum in the UK and settled in Scotland, Itex soon recruited him and bought all the secrets he had gathered from the Russians, he was rewarded with a cosy flat and a well paid position at Itexicon's Scottish office.
And just two weeks ago he signed the plane ticket to ship the Flock to the other side of the world. And he was going to tell me where they were.
Conrad opened the door of his luxury flat and reached up to the number pad to deactivate the alarm and turn on the lights. His fingers brushed against the broken plastic and as he stepped forward the remains of the keypad scad across the floor. The hairs on the back of Conrad's neck prickled and he reached up over the top of the door frame for his gun, nearly nineteen years in the KGB had taught him enough when it came to coming into a room with a deactivated alarm.
"I know where you keep your gun Conrad." The grown man's hand returned to his side as the cold voice came from the armchair next to the window.
"Its you." He licked his thick lips, his English slightly flecked with a Russian accent. His hand returned to his side, the 9 mm he had hidden in the door frame was gone.
"You might cover a wide range of people who want you dead Conrad." The dull click of a pistol being cocked punctuated his sentence. "But in all sense of the word I am who you think I am."
"I would have thought you would have gotten enough information from the other men and women you have butchered. How did my predecessor die?" Conrad edged backwards toward the door. The silhouette in the chair shifted and a bright red dot appeared on the man's heart.
"She fell out of her taxi on the motorway, very messy." The laser dot moved across the man's body like a surgical tool wielded by a surgeon, picking out the targets on Conrad's body with anatomical precision.
"I don't know anything about them, I assure you!" Conrad's hand closed on door knob.
"Wrong." With the silencer attached the only sound Conrad heard was the click as the bolt sent the bullet into his left thigh. He screamed out in pain but the laser levelled on his forehead reduced him to low whimper. "Would you like to revise your answer?"
"I...don't know!" He spluttered.
"You'll be astounded how accurate I can be Conrad." The silhouette stood next to the crippled man on the floor. Conrad howled as another bullet reduced his foot to pulp inside his Armani loafers. "Is that your final answer?" The hot muzzle of the silencer pressed into Conrad's forehead.
"Wait! The Devil's Backbone! Somewhere in Virginia! Their there, all of them! Please don't kill me!" The pressure lessened from the weapon.
"Are you sure Conrad? Really sure? Because the last six on my list said the same thing." The person behind the weapon cocked his head like a child examining a new toy.
"I swear to you!"
"That's good. Thank you for your assistance Conrad." The final shot of the gun bored through Conrad's left eye and reduced it to pulp. Death was instant and painless, despite the hole in his leg and foot. The boy stood up and moved away from the body as it began to bleed into the thick pile carpet. He took a phone from his pocket and hit the only number that was stored on the speed dial.
"Aires!" Jeb Batchelder's exasperated voice was high and tinny down the cheap phones receiver. "Where are you?"
"Edinburgh, I've got a location. The Devil's Backbone in Virginia."
"How...Aires, you haven't been.." He didn't get to finish the sentence.
"I'll meet you at Glasgow airport, I want a jet waiting for me there for Virginia." Aires looked over his shoulder at the the cooling body. "Try pulling some strings Jeb, its what your good at." The handset snapped shut and the boy walked silently onto the balcony and into the night, slowly becoming a speck on the skyline, then vanishing altogether, leaving the room and its previous incumbent to rot in the cool air.