From Russia with LoVe-

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Veronica Mars.

CHAPTER ONE

"Coming to the FBI party tonight?"

Veronica Mars looked up from her computer screen. Peering over the wall of her cubicle was Jasmine Avila, Veronica's friend, roommate, and fellow intern in the FBI's Criminal Investigative Division for the past nine weeks. Besides the dark pantsuit that was standard uniform at the bureau, Jasmine was wearing a huge grin.

"The FBI party?" Veronica pretended to be confused, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. "And this whole time I thought we were working for the NSA. I just can't keep all these damn letters straight!"

Jasmine laughed. "FBI, as in 'Fucked Beyond Imagination' party. All the interns are meeting at O'Rourk's Pub in Foggy Bottom after work. It's Friday night and this is our last weekend in DC, girlfriend! We've got to live it up, party down, make some noise-"

"Get jiggy with it?"

"You know it."

"I'll be there. I just need to finish up a couple things before the weekend officially kicks off."

"Don't be too late. I need you there in case those mouth-breathers from Cyber Crimes try hitting on me again."

Veronica smirked. "What, all that talk of de-fragging your hard drive didn't totally turn you on?"

"Seven o'clock. Be there. And wear something nice!" Jasmine commanded as she continued down the row of cubicles, presumably to spread the word among their fellow interns.

Veronica smiled and turned back to her monitor. Although she missed Neptune, in truth she was going to be sorry to leave the FBI. When she had arrived nine weeks ago, the bureau had placed her in the Criminal Investigation Division's public corruption unit. The special agents in her squad handled everything from bribes to embezzlement. Veronica felt especially lucky she'd been assigned to Assistant Director Jack Krieg. AD Krieg had made a point to give Veronica some actual investigative work, reviewing her methodology and offering advice whenever she ran into obstacles.

Veronica's email notification dinged. Speaking of AD Krieg… his note was brief. "See me immediately."

Well that sounds ominous, Veronica thought.

The CID was housed on the fifth floor of the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Weaving through the maze of industrial gray cubicles all identical to hers, Veronica wondered what was so urgent. She paused in front of the door to Krieg's private office. Carefully, she patted her hair to make sure no strays had escaped the professional twist she'd pinned up this morning. Veronica knocked on the AD's door and quickly straightened her jacket.

"Enter." Veronica didn't hesitate, even though she had butterflies in her stomach. Krieg didn't sound happy.

Fleetingly, Veronica wondered how many years it takes the average agent to escape the cubicle jungle and land an office with real walls and even a window. Unlike her tiny metal desk covered in decades of graffiti, Krieg's desk was huge and made from some expensive wood like mahogany or teak.

It's not about size, Veronica, she reminded herself. She closed the door and stepped forward.

Usually Krieg's desk was spotless, but tonight he had a file spread open. As she approached her supervisor, Veronica's eyes flicked to the dossier photo sitting on top of the file. Her heart rate ratcheted up a notch when she saw her own smiling face looking back at her. Why was Krieg reviewing her file?

"Sit."

He gestured to chair nearest Veronica. She immediately did as she was told, but sat forward in her seat anxiously. The shades were drawn over the window, and the only light came from Krieg's reading lamp. A man sat in the dark corner behind Krieg's desk. Veronica didn't know him, and he made no move to introduce himself. They stared at one another for several seconds before Veronica turned back to AD Krieg.

"Sir, you wanted to see me?"

Krieg looked up from Veronica's file and sighed. He appeared unhappy as he removed his reading glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Ms. Mars, you've been with us for two months. During that time, you've demonstrated an exemplary talent for investigative crime fighting. Am I correct in assuming that given the opportunity, you would be interested in a career with the Federal Bureau of Investigation?" Krieg replaced the glasses on his nose and glared fiercely over the rims.

Veronica was confused. "Sir, are you offering me a job? Or is this an interrogation for the Committee on Un-American Activities? I swear I did not have sexual relations with that woman."

Krieg's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Veronica. I'm being rude. You've been doing an outstanding job for us here. In fact, if it hadn't been for the report I wrote raving about your potential with the bureau, this idea probably wouldn't have been suggested in the first place." Krieg gave a mirthless laugh and rubbed his hand over his bald head in obvious anguish.

"Sir?"

The man in the shadows spoke. "Ms. Mars, we are planning a sting operation and we need your help. While AD Krieg has been highly complementary of your work, he is reluctant to send an intern into the field without any formal training. And I would be inclined to agree with him, if it weren't for your impressive record as a private investigator."

Krieg gestured to his colleague. "Veronica, this is Assistant Director Keller with the organized crime unit."

Organized crime. They dealt with some serious shit on a day to day basis. This could be a hell of a lot more dangerous than catching IRS agents trading tax credits for free swag and hookers, thought Veronica.

"What exactly do you need me for?" she asked.

Assistant Director Keller leaned forward and asked, "Do you know a Gorya Sorokin at Hearst College?"