The characters in this story belong to the Nikita franchise. This story is not intended for children to read and it is a parents responsibility to monitor their children's use of the internet, not mine.
August
Marcus Whitfield stumbled down the aisle and plopped himself down in the narrow airplane seat. He looked about nervously and his hands shook as he struggled to fasten his seatbelt. The woman sitting next to him gave him an odd look and wrinkled her nose at him before returning to her book.
Whitfield loosened his tie and unfastened the buttons on the collar of his dress shirt. He reached into his breast pocket and removed his handkerchief and dabbed at the perspiration on his face and neck. A panicky feeling had enveloped him since he left his loft and it was finally starting to ebb. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Any man, who had left four million in Superdollars behind, would have been angry or despondent. Whitfield was both, but he was also happy because he was still alive. What happened to Raymond, the ingenious chemist who had formulated an exact match to the ink the U.S. Mint used, was more than disturbing. He had been executed, by a single bullet to the back of his head, and when he found out that Kyung, his North Korean courier had suffered the same fate, disturbing turned to frightening. Both of them had fallen victim to a calculated, cold-blooded killer, but this wasn't any random act of violence, this was Division.
Twenty-four hours before, his contact, Jil Bak had called him. The North Korean diplomat told him their operation had been identified and compromised by a black ops organization. The source of the information was the Russian, Ari Tasarov and both men knew it was reliable. While Bak listed off their options and tried to reassure him that he was safe, Whitfield heard him gasp, then plead for his life, before the line went dead. The investment banker turned money launderer, was the last one alive.
Whitfield wanted to run, but he wanted to take the four million in counterfeit cash he had tucked away with him. They were of such high quality it would take an expert forger to recognize they were fakes and four million was a definite chunk of change. He had loitered around the neighborhood where the Superdollars were stashed, watching from a safe distance and trying to see if anything was amiss, looking for the right opportunity to enter. He waited until it was dark and ventured toward the building. When he was within sight of the front door, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He jerked around, covered in a cold sweat and found he was standing toe to toe with a beautiful young woman.
The woman smiled at him and gave him a friendly bump on his shoulder with her fist, but it did nothing to calm his jumpy behavior. She tucked a fat envelope into his suit jacket pocket.
"You look like a smart man, so you must know, you're next on the list." Nikita was calm but blunt. "I'm going to walk to the end of the block and when I come back, if you're still standing here, you're a dead man." She strode off and looked over her shoulder to see him scampering down the street before disappearing around the corner.
Whitfield climbed into a cab and instructed the taxi driver to take him downtown. When he fished out the envelope from his pocket, he looked inside and there was a one way plane ticket to Butte, Montana and fifty thousand in what he suspected were Superdollars. He knew he would never be back when he told the driver to take him to the airport.
Nikita sighed to herself and entered the building, taking the stairs two at a time to Whitfield's loft.
"Nikita what's your status?" Michael asked over their Com units.
"Target has been neutralized." Nikita answered, her voice calm and steady. "He's long gone… when did you get back?"
"Did you recover the money, we're still a few of million short." He questioned. "Steven insists there is another four million unaccounted for."
"There was no money, Whitfield must have passed it on to someone else." She wondered if he could tell if she was lying. "Where are you?" She asked suspiciously.
"Where are you?" He countered.
"I'm at Whitfield's place. It's been trashed, no sign of money or anyone else. I'm coming in."
"Copy that." Michael said gruffly, but in the next beat he whispered to her. "I need to talk to you." Before she could ask why, he cut himself off.
Nikita surveyed the duffel bags that were ensconced into an ancient banker's safe that was built behind a false wall. She had to give Whitfield credit for the brilliant hiding place, she might have missed it, but it was left open with one of the four bags of money hanging out. She shut the heavy door and spun the dial before leaving.
It was risky to withhold the Superdollars from Division and she knew it. She couldn't really put her finger on it, or maybe she didn't want to, but there was something inside of her that told her it was worth the risk. After all, she reasoned, who knew when having access to the counterfeit money might come in handy.
Back at Division, Steven and Carlos had already unloaded their weapons. They gave her a funny little look as they passed each other and she understood why, when she saw Michael and his dark brooding aura, draped around him like a superhero cape.
She had tried to disengage herself from her feelings. On the surface, she had managed to appear focused and cold to the touch, but on the inside, it was a much different story.
Long before their mission to North Korea, she knew she didn't trust Percy or Amanda. They talked a good talk, but contradicted it with their actions. Percy would always insist they were serving their country and the greater good of democracy and Amanda would tell her that Division was now her family. She knew these were meaningless words invented to keep her in her place. Even Birkhoff and Kelly, who had become friends of sorts, were loyal to the organization first and would ask questions second.
It was only Michael she trusted, but now they were divided emotionally and in ideology. Nikita hated feeling alone, it reminded her of her past. Even as a child she felt disconnected with those around her. The one exception was her foster mother, but when she died, everything in her life fell apart.
As long as she had known Michael, he was always impeccably well groomed and today was no different. He dressed like he was in control, and it was one of the aspects about him that she was attracted to, however, she felt a jolt when she looked at him. Tonight he looked ill at ease and she thought, almost sad.
"Long time no see." She said casually, it had been mid July when they had returned from North Korea and now it was the last week in August. She unloaded her weapon and the extra clip onto the table. "How was the mission?"
The look of distress on his face overwhelmed her. "Michael, what is it?"
He turned away from her, refusing to make eye contact. "I realized, a little too late that I am a complete hypocrite and my attitude toward you has been sanctimonious."
Nikita was taken aback, and hearing him say these things to her did nothing to validate what she had done in the past or ease her own conflict.
"Why would you say such a thing? You have told me countless times that what we do means something, and that the people we put down are to save the lives of many." She felt a bubble of anger work it's way up to the surface, ready to pop.
He finally looked at her. "The consequences of what I've done… they are… they won't just go away."
Nikita saw Roan approaching, squinting at them and she wondered why he was always trying to catch her doing something wrong. "I need to change my clothes and I'll meet you in your office."
Michael shrugged off his gloom. "My car is in the transport bay, meet me there and I'll drive you home."
The car ride was uncomfortable, silence hung over them and each attempt she made to engage him in conversation failed. She finally gave up until he pulled into the parking garage of her building.
"Michael? Tell me what's bothering you." She felt his vulnerability and it was different and unnerving, not the usual solid self-confidence she was used to.
He just shook his head at her and motioned for her to get out of the car. They went up to her apartment and once inside, she urged him to sit down at her table and poured him a healthy shot of whiskey.
He nursed the drink in his hands and swallowed it down quickly. "The State Department was made aware of business deals the government of Belarus had entered into with a militant arms brokers in the Ivory Coast. They asked Percy to intervene and I was sent in to discover who the President's contacts in Africa and Eastern Europe were."
He looked at her sadly. "I was able to access the information by seducing his wife, it wasn't difficult, she is a lonely woman. Once I had gained her trust and acquired the data, I cancelled the President."
Nikita poured him another drink and one for herself. "Why are you telling me this? We've always told each other, we do what we have to do. What's really going on?"
"I saw Cassandra last week, I was worried she was in danger, but it appears she will be safe, since she has little influence with the new government. I told her the truth, well most of it, she had fallen in love with me and I thought she deserved to hear it. She became upset …"
"Michael, it is unfortunate, but you were following orders." She hesitated as she started to put the pieces together in her mind, her heart thumped madly in her chest. "Wait? Are you telling me you're in love with her?"
The startled look on his face relieved her and confused her. "No, I am not in love with her." Michael took Nikita's hand in his and caressed it gently.
"What is it then?" She asked, a feeling of dread had crept up on her.
"Nikita, she's pregnant.
