Chapter 1

=== Somewhere in Alaska 2002 ===

It was nearly dark in the rusty storage container, where the little but dangerous bunch of mercenaries had taken cover. They were waiting for some hours now. Anton Simeonov switched the flashlight on. The little white spot moved over the printout of the 'Yukon-Express-Timetable'. Then he looked at his watch. Twenty minutes approximately, till their target would pass… Everyone of the group had his specific task – and he could only hope, no one would follow any own crazy ideas popping up in their minds. He had done all he could in strategically planning this operation, which should transfer some sensitive bioweaponry into the hands of a Somali warlord.
Simeonov turned up his collar. It was damned cold, and through some holes in the upper side of the container dripped rain. A beautiful day… he thought sarcastically. Just as then…

=== Moscow 1991 ===

Anton Simeonov had visited the building of the Army Headquarter countless times, of course. He knew every floor, every crack in the old photographs. He knew which day the flowers in front of the Memorial for the Fallen Heroes were changed.
This day, however, everything was different. The vase on the memorial's steps was empty; only one miserable dried flower rested. And the stone sculpture itself was not shining in the morning sun, but lay vilified with a hateful black graffito under the rainy sky. The walls of the floor where Anton left the elevator were not decorated with the framed pictures of honored officers and combat heroes anymore, but with the sickly yellow spots the missing frames had left. It looked as if someone had ripped the eyes and ears out of a face, which now stared dull and dead.

And he himself was different, yes… He tore at the collar of his not too well fitting civilian coat. It had been a long time since he had worn civilian cloths. Automatically, he reached for his head, when he passed the main gate. No, there was no uniform cap anymore. No uniform, no rank. General Anton Simeonov had ceased to exist! Only some with awkward haste spoken words, not even a hand shake, and even less a 'thank you' had finished his career several minutes ago.

And this, after he had risked health and life many times over for this country! No, not THIS country, he corrected himself in his thoughts. The one that was before; the one now carefully wiped out of history, regarded like a shame… No thanks, no appreciation. His presence alone, his very existence seemed embarrassing for those who wanted to forget that desperately! The fact he had been amongst the opponents of the now-president Yeltzin, had only instigated the HQ more that he was a person to get rid off quickly.

It was cold and he was freezing. Moscow would see an early winter this year. Simeonov walked faster. On one hand to procure some warmth, on the other, to deal with his growing anger. He was 33 years old, the youngest officer ever promoted to the rank of general. He had been rewarded with several medals for outstanding service and bravery in combat. He had skills and knowledge – of the kind opponent countries would've loved to possess during the past era! He was NOT some sort of worthless trash, which could be thrown away, disposed of, like a charwoman just did with the old vase in front of the memorial!

In the suddenly heavy smashing rain, he nearly stumbled over the legs of an old beggar, huddling in a doorway. No, he would NOT end that way, he swore. He shoved his hands deeper in the pockets. The tram station nearby was crowded with people, just starting to disperse. He heard annoyed voices and curses. An old man spit on the ground. Obviously, the awaited tram wouldn't arrive. Whether due to strike or because something had broken down, no one knew for sure. There had been strikes everywhere recently; the workers didn't get enough money or they didn't get money at all. The grocery shops were either empty or demanded astronomical sums for their products.

So he would walk home, he decided, the better in his actual mood. Two kids ran through the crowd of people, yelling followed them. Probably pickpockets! It is an ordinary school day, Anton thought. Everything was falling apart around him, every order, every civilization… He shot a glance at the great clock over the station. One PM. It felt odd. He had always been a hard worker, and the past years had been filled with work to the brim. That from one moment to another he had nothing to do anymore, nothing to learn, prepare, decide, take care of, was a strange and nearly horrific thing. So much time of the day still left – and nothing to do!

Half an hour later Simeonov arrived at home, a nice flat in a modern apartment building. In the mailbox waited a letter from his mother, who lived in a village in the East. He took it out and stepped up in the fifth floor – the elevator was out of business, because some electric parts could not be acquired.
His apartment still looked somewhat transitional and half finished, with boxes standing in some corners. He had planned to search for a new home after the marriage with his fiancée Natalya. But first the campaign in Afghanistan came into his way, then Natalya's appointment to her so-desired journalist job in Berlin. And finally the coup d'état here in Moscow, which had put a definitive end to the old Soviet Union… Therefore, they both had postponed the marriage date further and further, and he still sat in his 'transitional home'.
And now… I might not be such a good catch anymore…

Anton smashed the door, threw his coat and boots in a corner and let himself fall into the chair near the window. Curtains were missing, too – his fiancée had promised some from her mother. However, dirt and rain made the glass intransparent for now. He leaned back, turned the letter from his mother in his hands and hesitated to open it. Reading would mean he had to answer something – and what should he say? 'Mom, the government has just put me out on the street; I'm not needed anymore, and no, I don't know what comes next'?
His mother was old and had not even grasped the full impact of the political changes. Living a bit far off in the village she still held high the ideals from the Great Fatherland War. She believed in the moral superiority of the Soviet way vis-à-vis the doomed Capitalist order. And on her board stood several photographies of her 'brave hero son' as she liked to name him. No, Anton decided, the truth wouldn't be that a good idea!

The telephone rang. He picked it up reluctantly, not in the mood for talking. But then he recognized the female voice through the crackling interference. Natalya! She called from Berlin…
"They have extended your assignment in Berlin? … Yes, that's wonderful, I'm happy for you! … Of course you can't come back then. I understand… No, no… you cannot let pass this opportunity…" His mood sunk further. He had been looking forward to meet Natalya again, after the five months they hadn't seen each other! Why couldn't she take a little leave? Some days? Two days? A weekend?
"How I am? … O … fine. … Natalya?"
Anton could barely understand the distant 'I have to go now, work is calling' from her. He imagined she had finished with an 'air kiss', but he wasn't sure. With a frustrated sigh he threw the phone back on its cradle and stood up. In the kitchen, he grabbed the Vodka bottle he had stored there for a special occasion. Well, losing his job and rank was a special occasion, wasn't it?

=== Somewhere in Alaska 2002 ===

"Fucking hell! How long should I still sit here?"
The angry voice sounded out of the semi darkness of the storage container. Anton Simeonov shook his head. These men were trash, ordinary criminals, without discipline – and patience. Far from being an army… but well, he had to be content with what he got. And at least they had managed to free him. Again. Maybe only because without him they were plain and simply nothing; dogs running wild and barking. „Where's this fucking train, man?"
Now the angry voice was accompanied by an annoyed face.
Simeonov looked at his watch. "If the train is on schedule, we still have 15 minutes. So go back on your position."
"What if it's NOT on schedule? If these bastards knew something?"
"Go – back – on – your - position." The light falling through a crack in the container, glinted in his green eyes and on the barrel of his gun. The other man pulled back. They all knew, Simeonov hated it, when he had to say something twice. Only some weeks ago, one of the men had paid with his life. The time when he had pondered about killing personally was long over…

…

Natalya Verenkova looked out of the car's window and tried to discern the surroundings through the ongoing snowstorm. How far still to the railroad? Something hard hit their car – probably the trunk of a tree or a boulder. Her companion, US- Customs officer Alex Brooks, surely drove as fast as he could, given the circumstances. Would they make it in time to catch the train and, more important, would they be able to stop Anton and his men?
Don't call him that, the woman reprimanded herself. This man has nothing in common with the Anton Simeonov you knew once. Nothing but the name. He is not your fiancé, he is not your lover. He is a criminal, a dangerous terrorist. The one who killed your son and many other people. He has to be stopped.
Natalya closed her hands to tight fists. She had told this herself many times. But she hadn't succeeded completely in closing her mind from this special part of her past. She had crossed the path of Simeonov again and again. Sometimes out of pure coincidence, other times she had been assigned to the task, and her superiors thought her best for the job because she knew the asset. It was like a curse. She could not forget him, she could not get over him. And despite she knew the day of yet another confrontation would come, HAD to come, she was afraid of it sometimes…

"…Hey, are you okay?" asked her companion.
Natalya nodded. "Just a bit hungry."
Brooks grinned all over his boy's face. "I'll invite you for dinner, as soon as we've kicked this bastard's ass!"
She gave him a short, half-forced smile, sincerely wishing it would be more heartfelt. Alex Brooks was a nice guy, a good guy, honest, brave, open, and handsome on top of all. Certainly the sort of a man women would love. However, there was a little evil thorn in her heart showing Natalya clearly that she was not one of those women. A black shadowy demon hindering her from simply reaching past "liking someone" or even "having sex" to "loving someone". In all those years it had never worked, not even once. Not even with Alex. And the worst was, she knew exactly why it did not work! She hated Anton - very fervent sometimes - and still some part loved him, wanted him, despite everything he had done. She could not run away from herself, from what they were for each other.…

=== Moscow 1986 ===

"O I just cannot believe it!" Natalya jumped up again, took her girlfriend's hands and danced with her over the podium of the empty lecture room at the University. Her summer dress with the big flower print moved graciously around her silhouette. "He invited me to the dance this evening! Galina, isn't it wonderful, amazing? I never thought he could pick me! The most gorgeous guy of the whole Academy! I think I'm the luckiest girl in the whole world!" She laughed, and her girlfriend with her.

Natalya had literally adored Anton Simeonov since she had seen him for the first time, when she watched the parade of the Military Academy, just like many of her friends. She had been barely 17 then, and this young cadet was as unreachable as one of the Western movie stars her sister loved that much. Then life separated them for nearly two years, but she met him again at her first year at the Moscow University, where she studied journalism. And she fell in love again, even more then at the age of 17. He was intelligent, smart and with a kind of sinister humor; he was tall and good looking - and she could imagine him very well marching in front of his men into a battle and saving the day. She just loved everything on him; he was her perfect dream prince. And even her mother, who behaved very reserved when she heard Natalya had a boyfriend from the Military Academy (- she had connections to the dissident movement, but then, Natalya did not know anything-) eventually melted, when Anton greeted her with a huge bouquet of flowers and later helped her to prepare the garden for winter time...