Chapter Two

2005 – Division

Nikita sat ramrod straight across from Amanda like she always did—like she was a spring tightly coiled and ready to explode at any moment. The usual cups of tea steamed between them, but she declined the proffered cup. Otherwise, silence permeated the room. Nikita liked to think she didn't rattle too easily, at least not a year and a half into her training at Division, but Amanda always had an unnerving presence about her. Basting in the silence made the young agent nervous, though not enough to speak first and give her companion the upper hand.

After several minutes of scrutinizing Nikita, Amanda spoke. "You do understand what Division is asking of you on Operation Harbinger?"

Her inner spring did not loosen at the sound of the frigid woman's voice. "Of course. Gain the Starlings' trust, learn the names of the diamond smugglers and their transports, and become investors in their smuggling ring. Intel only."

Amanda nodded but continued to survey her for an extra moment. "This is deep cover, Nikita, deeper than what you've done before."

"So? I've gained a target's trust before. I can do it again."

"So you have, but not with a partner. You're not completing this op on your own. In fact, you can't. The mission requires you to weave a believable intimate relationship between you and Michael."

"I know," Nikita said petulantly, glancing away to the dresser behind Amanda. "I was at the briefing too."

Amanda gave a small smile. "It's a hard thing to fake a romantic relationship with someone you don't really love." Nikita didn't respond. "I have watched Michael take a bit of shining to you during training. He really sees potential in you."

Nikita returned her eyes to the woman who she was increasingly viewing as her opponent. "Well, I have a lot of potential," she added cavalierly. She didn't like where Amanda was steering the conversation.

"Indeed. Potential for a lot of things, I imagine. I want you to know, Nikita, that it's okay to be fond of your mentor. Michael has done a lot for you, spent a lot of time with you. He will continue to guide you in your tenure here at Division."

"Get to the point," Nikita snapped. Uh-oh, she was losing her nonchalance; it was the last thing she ever wanted to do in front of the keen-eyed Amanda.

There was that gentle smile again. "To be successful in your new life, Nikita, you must always remember the difference between your cover—the fantasy you're creating—and the reality of your world. Anything you might be made to do or feel on this mission will be forged in lies. What you will have with Michael is fake. Remember that: it's counterfeit, disposable even. I hope you take what I'm saying to heart."

Nikita stared directly into Amanda's eyes and felt herself harden like cement. Who did this woman think she was, making these wild insinuations and outrageous assumptions. Nikita knew this was an op, not a honeymoon. She had never felt more insignificant, more belittled in her entire time in Division. Sure, there was more to Michael than the other agents, and she respected him more than anyone else there, but thinking so little of her, like she was some cheap floozy just waiting to manipulate the next guy, that was a low blow.

"Why are you sending me then if you don't trust me?"

"Now that's not what I'm saying at all. We trust you, Nikita. In your time here, you've excelled in nearly every field. I know you're a very capable woman." The way she said the last line, Nikita got the distinct impression that Amanda was dubious of just what she was capable.

The young agent sighed. "Whatever. If you didn't pick me for the mission, who did?"

Amanda pursed her lips and then stood up, smoothed out the creases of her cobalt blue dress, and gestured toward the row of beautiful outfits hanging on the rack. "Come, dear, let's pick out what you'll be wearing."

2011 – Banff

The lobby of the hotel thrummed with activity. New arrivals chattered excitedly as they approached the check-in desk, and ski pants chaffed with that familiar song as eager skiers prepared for a night on the slopes. Nikita's eyes scanned the crowd. In here, she noticed two Division agents, one dressed as a tired snowboarder nursing a drink by the fire, the other disguised as new guest recouping from jet lag in the gift shop. They might have been harder to pick out if their eyes weren't bouncing like pinballs around the room. Nikita kept her head low and hugged the perimeter of the room.

Oksana's plane was scheduled to land at four o'clock, and Nikita expected her at any moment. What she didn't expect was Michael to make his way into the lobby and hover just ten feet from her before selecting a chair with a good vantage, his eyes also fixed on the hotel entrance.

He was dressed in a plain white long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans. The jeans are what got to her. She had seen him in suits for such a long time, it was impossible not to smile at his casual dress. He looked so normal, so unassuming, and for a moment her heart hurt, that had his life taken a different path, perhaps he would be here in these same clothes, not anticipating a kill but rather a soak in a hot tub.

But Nikita remembered why they were here, and she knew everything would be blown to hell if she didn't make herself invisible. She chose an open chair with its back to Michael and focused her energy on catching the sound of his voice. "Target acquired. Eyes on the doors, guys."

She pulled out a compact mirror and watched the entrance over her shoulder. A short, slender blonde woman strolled into the lobby in a knee-length fur coat with her Louis Vuitton bag draped over her arm. Her close-cropped hair was slicked back away from her face and over her ears. Her skin was milk white, and combined with the platinum hair, she looked a bit like a ghost. Nikita smiled when she realized this was Percy's very own poltergeist. Oksana had that dangerous allure about her; it was easy to see in her distinctly confident walk that she was a predator despite her beauty.

Three very obvious Russian bodyguards followed her in, and though they tried to remain discreet, it was hard to hide hulking six-foot frames and tight-set jaw lines, even in ski resort wear. "Copy that," Michael said. "Move to station two."

Nikita watched the snowboarder as he moved toward the restaurant and the souvenir shopper as she replaced the snow globe she was handling and headed toward the concierge. Michael remained in his seat. "Keep your eyes open for Nikita."

At the mention of her name, she snapped her compact shut. So he expected her. Alex hadn't reported it, so he must have been hiding his suspicions. Was it his gut, or was he just getting a feel for which missions she took on? Did he want to see her here? More than likely though it was Percy. He would have apprised Michael of the importance of this op, but more than that, he would have noted how personal it was for him to take down the greatest spy to ever infiltrate his airtight organization. The importance of the case was all the red flag Michael would need to figure out her involvement. And if he remembered 2005, then so be it, but it was on the back burner. With Michael, the op always came first—well, almost always.

She would have to be more careful. If they were looking for her as well as Oksana, it would make it much more difficult to get close to the Gogol operative. Oksana finished checking in and headed with the guards toward the elevator.

"Target is on the move," Michael noted. "Team Omega, be ready. Monitor only, do not engage. Report back in five for your next assignment."

Though she couldn't see him, Nikita heard him stand and walk away, judging from his footsteps, toward the elevator. When she was confident Michael had left, she headed back to her room, taking precautions so she wouldn't run into any agents along the way. It was bad enough Michael was on the lookout for her, but she had seen him on her floor. She knew what room Oksana was in, and she certainly wasn't staying on the same floor. So why was he there? The alarm she had placed on her room had not gone off, so at the very least, Nikita was sure no one had broken in. As far as she knew, he suspected her but had not found her.

Well, there was no need to stress on it yet. She still had a very important mission at hand, and Alex would be back from receiving her next set of instructions. Obviously Percy had Michael playing this one very close to the chest. He hadn't given the agents many instructions yet, so they were probably all on a need-to-know basis. It reminded Nikita exactly how Percy viewed his agents—as dispensable assets, tools with which he could manipulate the world to fit his designs—and it gave her a renewed sense of purpose. Once she knew Division's plans for Oksana, she would thwart them, revel in her victory, and move on to the next op. In theory, it would all be very cut and dry. But in theory, her last mission here should have been the same.

She rounded the corner to her room, and right as she was about to slip her card key into the lock, she heard the door to the room behind her open. "Hello, Nikita."

Her whole body froze. What was he doing here?

2005 - Division

Amanda's office always seemed more inviting when the ice queen wasn't in it. For the time being at least, Nikita had the room to herself as she finished trying on the last of her outfits for Operation Harbinger. She heard the door open and peeked over the changing screen to find Michael waiting for her with his hands in his pockets.

"Nikita, time to go. Our plane leaves at 0900."

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, Amanda's chastisements still bubbling in her brain. But when she looked at Michael, she couldn't help what happened to her. She said things she shouldn't, things she clearly knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't stop them from coming out of her mouth. "Amanda told me you'll be my handler on the mission."

Michael nodded. "Essentially."

She told herself stop—don't. But she never listened, not even to herself. "You really think you can handle me?" She emerged from behind the changing screen in a vibrant green dress that made the natural hues of her eyes sparkle. It was scandalously short, something she would probably only wear for the man she loved, not out in general public, but Amanda had been insistent on it-apparently Mr. Starling, the target, fancied green.

Michael had seen her in many dresses, and she had looked beautiful in all of them, but there was something special about this one, something bewitching. If he wasn't careful, she would be the end of him. "I've handled C-4 and live grenades, so I think I can handle an undisciplined spitfire like you."

Nikita feigned contempt. "Undisciplined? Apparently the prodigal son hasn't been made aware of just how many of his records here I've broken."

She loved teasing him; it came as naturally as breathing. "Don't fall in love with me," she warned playfully. "Amanda said not too."

And suddenly it didn't feel like play anymore. Michael's gaze intensified, though he hardly moved a muscle. He kept watching her, like he was seeing into her, and Nikita felt very exposed. She crossed her arms over her chest and disappeared back behind the screen.

"I have to change into my travel clothes. I'll just be a second. Amanda had me try on all the outfits to make sure they fit." She sounded like she was babbling, that horrid kind of nervous chatter that only alerts everyone to one's anxiety. Nikita hated how helpless it made her sound. The last thing in her whole world that she needed was for Michael to think she was a weak-willed recruit. She wasn't sure why that was so important, perhaps because he was her mentor, but she knew it was.

She changed back in to a more modest but still body-hugging deep-V sweater and a pair of black leggings. When she reemerged, she thought she saw Michael exhale, like he'd been holding his breath. But these walls, particularly the walls of Amanda's office, did funny things. It was probably her own sigh of relief she noticed. "Ready," she said a tad sheepishly.

Michael nodded. "Don't worry about the rest of your things. Division will make sure they get to us at the hotel."

Nikita bowed her head, averting her eyes from him the whole walk to the elevator. When the doors closed on them, and they were alone, she felt the space constrict, almost like it was pressing them both together though neither of them had moved. She fidgeted the entire ride to the surface.

Just before the elevator stopped, Michael turned to her and said, "You realize we're on our own this mission. No other agents for back up. We have to rely solely on each other to make sure our cover isn't busted." His eyes searched hers. "If you're uncomfortable, try not to show it. We might have to—that is, the nature of our cover is, you know." He glanced down at the ring on her finger. She had never seen Michael flounder for words ever. She wondered what she'd gotten herself into, what plans Division may have had without telling her. Was this his warning?

The doors opened, and they emerged into a brightly lit office with several employees milling about. Michael backed up and gestured for her to exit first. They were starting their new life together, and at least for one week, they would have what by all appearances would be a normal life.