Early the next morning Illya Kuryakin stood in the office of his commanding officer at the Directorate, waiting to be told why he'd been called there. The summons at least had freed him from the hands of KGB and that was, to say the least, a good thing. All he knew at the moment was there was an assignment in his future.
His stomach grumbled from lack of food, as there had been no time for even a small bowl of Kashi that morning. After a few minutes of ignoring the junior agent, the General looked up at him, studying the young Russian.
"Товарищ Куракин, пожалуйста, садитесь_Comrade Kuryakin, please be seated."
"Я предпочитаю стоять_I prefer to stand." Illya realized instantly that might have been a mistake, but then displaying a bit of boldness would show the man strength on his part as he remained at attention in front of him.
Illya's eyes quickly surveyed the room, noting the omnipresent photograph on the walls of the Troika- the collective leadership of Brezhnev as First Secretary, Kosygin as Premier and Podgomy as Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet.
There were a few bourgeois items of a decorative nature dotting the bookshelves, a small bust of Julius Caesar, and some miniature Greek statuettes of white marble. An ornately painted balalaika leaned in the back corner next to fern growing in a porcelain vase of Chinese origin, possibly Ming dynasty.
"Сидеть_Sit!" General Maxim Vetochkin barked at him with decisive tone, his voice was deep and commanding.
"Да, сэр_ yes sir!" Kuryakin snapped to, saluting the officer. His voice in contrast to the Generals was higher pitched, and it cracked slightly as he quickly pulled a red cushioned chair in place before he sat down as ordered.
Vetochkin paused for a moment, lighting a cigarette with a silver lighter and resting it beside a cut glass ashtray. He took several long drags, before blowing the smoke in the young agent's direction. He eyed Kuryakin carefully, thinking he looked like a runt and questioned his possible value as an agent. That would be decided after the mission on which he was about to send the slight blond.
"Я уверен, вам интересно, почему вы были заказаны здесь_I am sure you are curious as to why you were sent here?"
"Yes sir, " Illya repeated, swallowing as he suddenly felt a bit nervous, never having never been called into the office of a member of the Directorate, as he had only dealt with handlers in his short career as with the GRU.
Vetochkin looked carefully at the young man who had just been promoted to an agent of GRU. He was seventeen but didn't look his age as he was small, skinny, but that could be used to an advantage where they needed someone who looked very young to infiltrate any sort of group that was not in compliance with policies of the State.
Viktor Karkoff was his sponsor so that was a strike against him right there, yet there was a hunger in the boy's cold blue eyes, and the General watched as Illya stared back without fear.
"I have an assignment for you that will require you to leave today for Novgorod. We have an agent there about whom we have our suspicions, we think perhaps he is getting ready to defect."
"His name?"
"Alexandrov, Nicholaí Alexandrov."
Illya showed no reaction, though he knew the name and the man well enough, and he was sure Vetochkin was also aware of that fact.
"And my orders sir?"
"You are to eliminate him."
The young Russian hesitated for a moment, as this was the first such instruction like this he'd ever been given. "And KGB?"
"It is none of their concern."
He said nothing more to the General regarding that, but knew the Secret Police would stick their collective noses where they didn't belong, especially when GRU was giving an order to dispose of one of their own.
"Has it been confirmed that he is defecting?"
"That is not your concern Kuryakin. You have your orders," Vetochkin handed him a slip of paper. "You will find him at this address. You are dismissed."
Illya rose from the chair, saluted his superior and slipped from the room, not uttering another word. His heart sank, though he was sure the General had not seen it as he'd learned to hide his emotions a long time ago.
The next step would be to fill out paperwork, and speak with a psychiatrist as well as report the the armory. He was apparently being issued a new model pistol called a Makarov, though he was happy with his own Takarov pistol...perhaps they would let him have both if he promised to do a comparative analysis of the two weapons.
Illya's thoughts drifted to Nicholaí, who was someone he knew from their training days. They had been amicable, but after Illya's friend Valery Nemikoff was sent away for having failed in his training, Illya broke off his contact with Nicholaí and any others he'd gotten to know. It was better to stay aloof, and not feel the loss of a friend in case anything happened. He had no proof, but suspected Valery suffered and died in the blast furnaces in Sepakov, that was the punishment for failure.*
One thing he knew was that Nicholaí Alexandrov was not the type to defect. He was devoted to the party and a loyal operative. Illya wondered if this was truly a case of defection or was there something else going on?
It was wasn't unknown for the Directorate to do such things; ordering an agent to kill someone they knew, for no reason other than to test him. They did what was necessary to make sure an operative remained loyal, even resorting to blackmail and holding the agents family hostage, making threats against their lives was part of their bag of tricks.
They always found a way to dangle a sword of Damocles over an agents head, and since Illya had no family, he rationalized this was probably a test to see if he could carry out this sort of order without hesitation. What better way to confirm his allegiance than to order him to kill a man he'd been friendly with during training. Illya's lack of familial ties and friends made him the perfect guinea pig for such a test.
"It was a shame," Illya thought, that he'd not broken off with Alexandrov sooner, but then again, this honor would have simply gone to someone else he'd known in his young life. Back in training, who would have thought of such things? It was but one of many harsh realities he became aware of, though he foolishly hoped it would never apply to him as had training progressed.
Yet he and the other young recruits discovered all things were possible when it came to the world of espionage.
Nicholaí had been promoted to agent status, but was he was not a stellar one, and like Illya, he had a few political connections though he was a devoted party member. The more Kuryakin thought about it, the more it did not make sense the man was preparing to defect.
He remembered Alexandrov when having completed his training was borderline at best. It made sense now that Nicholaí would be expendable for that reason alone; every operative was disposable, but some more than others.
It was manys the time Illya felt he was in that same position himself, though receiving outstanding marks in his training, his was a precarious position due to his lack of connections. Victor Karkoff, his sponsor to GRU, was not always in the good graces of the Directorate, and that counted as a strike against Kuryakin; guilt by association ran rampant in the Soviet Union.
He was a loner more by choice, and found it difficult making friends as there was a fear that lurked beneath his skin, making him worry that he might have to spy on a comrade, or now as in this case, assassinate one. His performance in the field during his so far brief career had been acceptable, though his assignments had mainly been courier work and dead-drops, but still there were his weaknesses to consider. He was more cautious than most agents, and seemed overly concerned when it came to innocents being hurt or killed.
Illya Kuryakin had a conscience, and that was a liability for a spy; though he did his best to dance around his vulnerabilities without being noticed. Until now he'd done well at staying under the radar.
His thoughts drifted back to KGB, and though Vetochkin had dismissed that concern, Illya had a strong feeling he might have to deal with the Secret Police. They were always at odds with GRU, though he wondered if their interfering, might possibly prevent the death of Alexandrov, but hopefully not at the expense of his own life.
After all arrangements had been made, Illya left the GRU headquarters, heading back to his apartment and as he drove through Lubyanka Square, riding in a requisitioned a car from the motor pool, a plain grey Pobeda that had seen better days and he gazed again at the large yellow Neo-Baroque building, that was the home of KGB where he'd been held only yesterday.
It was joked that it was tallest building in Moskva, and that Siberia could be seen from its basement as most who survived what was doled out by their interrogators were often sent to the gulags in that part of Russia. The Lubyanka was referred to as "Adult's World" since Detsky Mir... Children's World," stood across the square from it, making for a very bizarre juxtaposition.
Illya found it incongruous the great pain and suffering took place in the cells of Lubyanka, while privileged parents with their children smiling and playing in the largest toy store in the U.S.S.R. were oblivious to the suffering going on across the square.
The thought of his own branch of service, military intelligence, not being as extreme or perhaps as vicious as were the tendencies of the Secret Police offered little comfort to him. They, like KGB, did what was needed, good or bad. It was his responsibility to do what he was told and go where he was told, whether he like it or not; it was that or be killed. That made doing his duty a simple though unpleasant choice. It was a fact of life; choices were something that were far and few between for an intelligence operative.
Illya started his journey first by stopping home to pick up some things and to eat, or rather, he hoped he would eat.
It was past supper time, and he had a bad feeling that meant no food for him again. This would be his second day without a meal...
.
* ref. "Petrushka"