Even at five o'clock in the morning, Illya Nicovetch Kuryakin looked resplendent in his KGB uniform as he stood at attention in front of his superior. Colonel Yuri Alexievich Tupikov studied the young man with approval. A good looking boy, he had to admit. Handsome. No, no, that was not quite the right word with which to describe the blond-haired, blue-eyed man-child before him. Pretty. Yes. The boy was pretty. He couldn't blame a man of perversions like Kourdokov for falling under the golden youth's spell. He, himself, could see Illya Nicovetch's appeal and he was most certainly not bent that way!
No wonder the slight youth had originally been chosen to be used as a lure for sexual predators. Luckily, Tupikov had noticed him and, outranking the man who handled the lures in connections if not military standing, was able to claim Kuryakin for his group. Whoring should be done by those who had no other talents deemed useful by the State. Such was most definitely not the case with Illya Nicovetch. His abilities as an impersonator and eliminator were just too valuable to waste on State run prostitution. Tupikov wondered if the boy standing at rigid attention before him realized how lucky he was. Of course he did. Illya Nicovetch was smart. Easily the most brilliant person Tupikov had ever owned.
No, this boy did not belong as a lure. Unfortunately, sometimes circumstances dictated one must do something to which he was not suited. As was the case with this operation. Illya Nicovetch had gone through the initial whore training before Tupikov had taken over his KGB education. That, coupled with his background in the sciences had made him the perfect candidate for this particular mission. Ah, well, Tupikov decided philosophically. Kuryakin knew one did whatever one must for the preservation of the State.
The young man stood without twitching a muscle under the discerning eye of his superior. Time enough for him to sweat and wonder if he is to be reassigned as a lure permanently, Tupikov decided. "Illya Nicovetch."
"Yes, Comrade Colonel?" Judging by the stiffness of Kuryakin's gait when entering the office, not to mention the agonized moans on the tape made from the bug the agent had planted on Kourdokov's bed, last night's performance had caused some pain. Yet his voice was strong and clear and he stood even straighter at the mention of his name. Tupikov would not have thought he could get any straighter.
"I have listened to the tape of your time with Sergei Ivanovich. It was most . . . interesting." Kuryakin's pale face flushed with obvious embarrassment, but his expression remained neutral, eyes focused on a spot on the wall. "After reviewing it and much discussion with Colonel Voznesensky," the man who'd asked for Kuryakin's help, "we have decided not to put Comrade Kourdokov on trial." The young officer's face hardened almost imperceptibly at the news. His control was now so good it bordered on frightening. Lure, indeed. Tupikov snorted at the stupidity of some of his peers. Kuryakin's gaze flickered to him for only a fraction of a second before returning to his chosen spot on the wall. So. There was room for improvement. "The man has excellent connections, Illya Nicovetch." He seldom explained his actions to his junior officers, but in this case he felt it justified. He knew his young officer had wondered why a domestic problem like Kourdokov was handled by the KGB. "Unfortunately for him, this is one of those cases where one's connections can actually be a hindrance. No one wants to be an ally to a man on trial for not only coercing those who work under his supervision into having sex with him, but for homosexual deviance as well." He shook his head. "A trial of a man like Comrade Kourdokov would cause too much publicity for the wrong people. We have decided to have you execute him, instead."
Nothing twitched in the junior officer's impassive face. But the blue eyes darkened, blazing with a new intensity. Tupikov knew Illya Nicovetch disliked carrying out executions. But he seemed able to do so without remorse as long as he believed justice was served. Tupikov had no doubt Kuryakin felt Kourdokov deserved the decreed sentence.
"Method of execution?" asked the KGB killer.
"Your choice, Illya Nicovetch. As long as you are discreet."
"Time frame?"
"Today, I think." Tupikov almost never smiled in front of a subordinate, but he allowed a feral one to cross his face this time. He truly despised sexual predators. The deviation of homosexuality he could deal with, but rapists, which in his mind Kourdokov was, were an abomination. "Does that suit you, Comrade Kuryakin?"
A reflection of Tupikov's cold smile was answer enough.