Chapter 12: Loose Ends

The back door opened, the security panel at the opposite end of the house beeping, though Vaughn didn't panic. The door was always locked, double and triple checked, and only Eric and Nadia ever used the back.

"Hey man, it's me," Weiss called, Michael beckoning him into the living room where he watched a game from a few days ago. "Can we borrow a movie?"

"Sure - help yourself."

"Where's Syd?"

Taking a sip from his drink, "dropping Josh off, we babysat tonight while Rick was on a date."

"Ooh - finally getting back in the saddle, eh?" Eric perused the movies pulling a couple out and reading the backs.

Michael's cell went off from his pocket, Syd's name on the screen making him smile. He answered, "Hey baby, w-" he could hear muffling from her end and realized that the phone must be in her purse or pocket, definitely not an intentional call. "She must have butt-dialed me," he said, though a second later distant pops echoed through the earpiece.

"Hey, listen to this." Turning the phone on speaker, muting the television and standing, they met met in the middle of the living room with both ears tuned to the phone.

Muffled movement, more little pops, and then Sydney's voice came through, but she sounded farther away. She certainly wasn't talking into or holding the phone. "Stay down...n-no matter what you hear, okay?" The crying of a child broke through.

The friends shared a look back and forth, concern written on each wrinkled forehead. "I'll call Nadia," Eric said quickly, though as he patted his pockets he realized he'd left his phone at home. "I'll be back," he yelled already running out of the house.

"Josh...l-look at me," there was something about her voice that put him on edge - she sounded terrified. It wasn't easy to hear through the padding of what he assumed was her pocket. The next few words were unintelligible as she must have been moving around, Michael frustrated at the rustling fabric.

Four pounding knocks on the front door made him jump nearly dropping the phone to the carpet. Moving toward the door and stopping at the coat closet, he opened it as three more bangs echoed in his ear. One-handed he reached up into a lock box, dragging it forward and using his thumb to spin the numbers in place: 0-4-7. It popped open and he first went for the magazine, wedging it under the phone against his palm before reaching back and pulling out the handgun. Awkwardly loading and cocking it he closed the door and placed himself to the left side closest to the hinges.

Rattling tings came from the speaker in his right hand, and this time he recognized them easily as gunshots. He heard the back door open and saw Nadia and Weiss rush in, though they slowed seeing Vaughn holding a gun near the front door, another round of banging making them jump.

Peeking through the hole he recognized the face of James, the CIA agent in charge of the surveillance team. Heaving a thankful sigh he tossed it open and half a dozen men following the concerned agent pushed their way into the home nearly knocking him over.

"Sydney's been compromised."

"No shit," Vaughn growled and held the phone up, the agent out of breath but looking carefully at the connected call to 'SYDNEY' on the display. Pops from the speaker signaled more gunfire.

"Does she have access to a weapon?"

Vaughn nodded, "yeah - we put one in the glove box. Is the tail vehicle extracting her?"

The other agents moved through the house locking doors and windows that weren't already tight and trim, even moving to do a sweep upstairs though they were much quieter knowing there were sleeping children inside.

"The tail vehicle was also compromised."

"How compromised?" Nadia injected herself as Weiss stood behind with his hands crossed over his barrel chest.

"Two dead, one seriously injured. They were picked up by rescue vehicles a few minutes ago; they got hit first. These assholes knew about the tail." Catching his breath and seeing the angry look on the husband's face, he held up his hands. "I know...I'm working on it. The secondary team is en route, e.t.a.," he paused looking at the watch on his wrist, "seven minutes."

"It doesn't sound like she has seven minutes," Weiss growled, two loud bangs sounding through the maxed out speaker.

Two more shots followed a moment later, then two more. Nadia interrupted, "That has to be Sydney. Sets of two - special forces shooting. Plus it's the closest we've heard so far - if the phone's in her pocket it makes sense." The group nodded, James recalling back to when he and Sydney took the training together at SD-6, the young brunette outshining everyone that day with marksmanship, speed, and maneuverability. Two more shots sounded before the rustling of movement and the farther away muffled shots of return fire.

"Look - the team will be there soon and local police and rescue are heading toward her location. The tracker is still working. Until then, we wait here on lock down - per procedure." Three sets of narrowed eyes glared before turning their focus back to the phone.

"Three [garble] noon...[garble]...and ten." Her voice sounded strained, and from what they could hear of her breathing it was coming in short pants.

The scene would be comical to an outsider watching the group hover over a speaker listening with stiff backs, folded arms, or fidgeting hands - like back in the 30's and 40's when everyone would gather around the radio to hear a drama unfold.

A pained grunt sounded just before two more double sets of shots, then two more. "She sounds injured," Eric whispered, Vaughn nodding in agreement as a ball of dread began to settle low in his stomach. He passed the phone over to Weiss as his hands began to shake, though Eric's were no better, and he realized he was still holding the loaded weapon in his other hand. Flipping on the safety he stuck it into the band of his jeans then crossed his arms over his chest.

BANG - a shot fired close, but it wasn't from Sydney. Her strangled groan followed before another BANG, another muffled scream before the thumping of metal on metal. The entire group held their breath, jumping at the third BANG: Sydney's gun.

BANG - another sobbing cry and the sound of rustling as movement happened on the other end of the call.

'Maybe she can hear me,' Vaughn thought, taking the phone back and bringing the bottom closer to his mouth. "Sydney, what the hell is going on?" He tried not to sound as panicked as he felt, but was sure it didn't come out that way.

More movement and the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then mostly silence. Her ragged breathing could be discerned, though it was faint, and nearly all foreheads collided as they leaned closer to hear.

Michael's face paled and he looked up at the people around him, realization dawning on all faces at the same time. "They're gonna kill her," he whispered.

She didn't answer his yell, though another person began speaking. "Sydney, Sydney, Sydney. You are always just in my way." The feminine voice was farther away yet close enough to be discernible from his wife's.

"Anna," Sydney's voice panted in a low growl. "You son of a bitch."

"Anna?" Nadia looked to the other for answers as unshed tears glistened in her eyes.

"Shit - she doesn't mean that K-Directorate agent does she?" Weiss dug into his brain for the last name though it wasn't coming.

"Espinosa. It makes sense, she's been Syd's fucking nemesis since her first mission at SD-6," James explained.

"Get the boy."

"No!"

"Oh god...they...they're gonna take Josh," Nadia gasped. "They think it's Danny."

While everyone assumed this was the the people that had worked with Anderson, this confirmed it. "They hired her to get Danny. It...he was right," Michael drifted off for a moment thinking back on all the times in the last few days where his son had assured the two unbelieving parents that a woman had been in his room late that night. 'I convinced them both it was the damn curtains.'

Sydney's strangled scream made them all wince, the sounds of rustling clothes and movement the only indicator that they were moving her. Whatever they had done, however, had been painful. Vaughn felt his throat begin to tighten as an anguish mixed with rage filled his stomach.

The walkie talkie on James' hip squealed, loudly interrupting. "E.t.a. three minutes." Moving away he answered, "fucking step on it - she doesn't have three minutes."

"Family life has made you weak, Bristow." Espinosa's voice still sounded farther away, though a bit closer and clearer.

"Stop. You...y-you don't have-" her sentence was cut off by an awful cough, each knowing there the damage was greater than they initially thought. Michael squeezed his eyes closed as hot tears charted paths down his cheeks.

"I didn't know this before today, but you look just like your mother."

The statement made the room feel several degrees colder as everyone had their own reaction to the Russian's words. Nadia felt the typical punch in the gut knowing her mother was likely just as bad as everyone said, but couldn't help but hold out a bit of hope - much like her older sister - that the matriarch of their messed up family would see the light eventually. Weiss set a hand to her back knowing how much the word 'mother' set both girls' stomachs twirling.

'That deceitful bitch,' Michael thought as he relinquished the phone once more, his hands bunching into fists. Much like his wife the largest feelings were dread and belief at the mere thought of another betrayal from Irina Derevko.

In the distance, very quiet on the phone, they could hear little Josh screaming for Sydney, his cries getting more faint. "They're taking him," Nadia spoke, her voice thick with emotion as she tried to hold back a sob.

"Daddy? What's going on?" Four heads whipped around seeing the five-year old boy in footie pajamas standing at the top of the stairs. He must have walked right past the agent stationed at the end of the upstairs hallway quietly guarding the sleeping children.

James recognized the look of sorrow on Vaughn's face, Sydney's sister no better, and was about to step in to distract the boy when Weiss moved quickly to the stairs.

"C'mon, buddy, I'll help you back to bed." Reaching the top he held his hand out to the green-eyed boy with disheveled dirty-blonde hair.

"No, I-" Eric cut him off by taking his wrist and tugging him down the hallway. "Stop, uncle! Why is everyone crying? Did something happen?"

"Dans, it's...everything is okay, alright? Just some adult stuff that we're trying to take care of."

The boy's eyes hit the agent in the hallway, and though the man smiled softly and gave a small wave, he was put off by someone unfamiliar in his home. Weiss led him down the hallway toward the master bedroom with heavy steps. For a moment he was relieved. At the bottom of his list was hearing a woman he thought of as a sister die over a live phone call. As soon as relief was there, however, guilt coursed through his chest constricting his heart and tightening his throat.

"I heard you talk about my mom; is my mom okay?"

He wanted to lie; so desperate was his need to lie. The boy's unsure emerald gaze, the fidgeting of his hands as they squeezed and twisted a stuffed dinosaur all made him force it out.

A tear dripped down his cheek as he sent a curt nod, "yeah, buddy. Your mom's o-okay," he stuttered a moment as the word caught, so he cleared his throat to fill the gap.

"You're telling a lie." A look of pure defiance crossed Danny's face, the child holding up his arm toward his uncle, fingers curled into a fist save for his extended pinky. "Pinky promise me."

"I need you to stay right here, okay?" Sniffling and rising, skipping over the boy's demand, he pulled the blankets up to Danny's chin. "Please? Can you do this for me, pal? Don't move from this spot...no matter what you hear."

Waiting only a moment to see the tiny nod the man stood and left the room, closing the door behind him as he his chin quivered and the air was sucked from his lungs in a shaky, pressure-releasing exhale. He pressed his hand to the opposite wall taking a few deep breaths and stealing his nerves before making his way back downstairs.

Eric rejoined the group casting a comforting look over to Michael regarding Danny, but it was clear by the man's face that his son was farthest from his mind, his cheeks wet with tears. James held the phone as still as possible though it shook belying his emotions. Weiss set his hands over Nadia's shoulders, his fiancee shaking beneath his palms. In this moment he knew that his pain would have to wait - that he was the comforter. Pulling her flush against his chest he felt her hand reach up and twine their fingers together, her grip desperate.

"Y-you've never met," pause, "my husb...band. You thought I...I was bad?" Sydney's voice was almost unrecognizable. Laced with pain and followed by what they guessed was a laugh though it sounded more like a gurgling cough, it was, however, clear as if the phone was no longer in a pocket, and Weiss was sure he'd missed something. Hoping it wasn't super important, he was proud that despite being obviously injured, obviously seriously injured, she was doing her best to stall Anna. She knew the protocol - knew a second vehicle would be sent if the first was compromise or called for assistance. They all had to hope that Sydney's stalling would work.

Shuffling sounded over the speaker before a voice clear as day called out: "Mr. Sydney Bristow, I presume." It wasn't a question.

The people in the room froze and all eyes flicked over to Vaughn. Unfolding his arms he took the cell, his thumb turning off speaker phone before he put it to his ear. A million things to say crossed his mind. Sydney had already tossed out 'son of a bitch', though he was thinking of uttering it anyway. Curses, threats, hateful promises...they bounced around his head keeping him from finding the perfect statement, but his heart spoke before his brain had articulated anything coherent.

While his brain wanted to wound Anna Espinosa through verbal assault, his heart wanted only one thing: another day with his wife. Turning his back to the others in the room he held back a sob while wiping at his eyes with his free hand.

"Please don't kill my wife," he asked quietly.

"Oooh, you do sound tough. Here," there was a long pause and more shuffling in his ear along with an audible click through the phone, and it sounded like Anna was sending some kind of message. His phone dinged, as did Nadia's, Eric's, and James'. They'd each received a message at the same time, James holding his hand up to stall the others from looking. Lifting his phone and swiping a couple of times his face contorted with anger, his eyes squeezed closed and in a fit of emotion turned and hurled his cell at the front door.

Vaughn looked simultaneously, ignoring the agent's handwaving, the blood draining from his face before storming back making neck and cheeks bright red. "You son of a bitch, you...you fucking bitch." His voice was barely contained rage, though a split second later he yelled, "I'll kill you! I swear to god, Espinosa, I'll kill you!"

The couple nearby lifted their phones but was stopped by James, "don't. Don't look. Trust me." He pocketed it immediately, Nadia doing the same.

Silence answered Michael's anger followed by a sharp clatter of, he assumed, the phone hitting the ground. The single resounding BANG pierced his ear, his heart, and his soul as a new flurry of hot tears filled and spilled. He winced with the sound and pulled the phone from his ear looking desperately at the still-connected screen.

"No...no, no, no, no," he begged putting it back against his face. "Sydney! Please...please don't-" his yells were cut off by a choking sob. "Sydney! Sydney!"

Though it wasn't as audible without the screaming speaker, everyone in the room heard the final BANG - Nadia folding in Eric's arms as the larger agent held her up shedding his own tears into her hair.

"I...I have to go. I - I have to d-do something. S-she's not dead," Vaughn gasped between phrases, the phone slipping from his hands and bouncing on the padded carpet below. The broken man turned and headed for the front door, James grabbing his arm.

"Mike, no." His voice was tight but caring as he pushed down the swelling emotion closing his throat. He'd deal with it later.

Ripping his arm away Vaughn raised his fist as James winced but stood his ground. "I...I have to save her," the strangled words came out in time with another sob. Through blurry eyes he made another attempt for the door.

The agent pulled the grieving husband back into his arms, the man struggling and pulling at the steel grip. "No! Nooooo," Vaughn cried as his body collapsed, James catching and lowering him to the ground.

"I'm sorry, man. I'm...I'm so sorry."

"Y-you were," gasp, "supposed to pro-tect her."

Tears pricked the back of James' eyes. "I know. I...I know."

The radio on the man's hip broke through the din: "we're on scene. Ambulance, three sheriff vehicles arrived just ahead of us. How copy?"

James knelt behind Vaughn's trembling form holding him tight with his left arm as the right went to the walkie. "I need to know some kind of status, Steve," he ordered somberly.

"Copy that, hang on." Silence. Click, "it's...not a pretty scene. There's six dead scattered around two busted sedans - black with no license plates. Her vehicle is crashed into pole with bullet damage. A lot of bullet damage." Another moment of silence. "Interior of the vehicle mostly undamaged - blood in the driver and passenger side seats-"

"I don't give a fuck about vehicles, Steve. You know what I'm asking for!" James growled clarification. There was silence, too much silence, and then the man broke through again with a click.

"I'm relaying info from on-scene paramedics. She's critical; lost a lot of blood - they're starting transfusion."

"But she's breathing?"

"Roger - she's alive. Barely, they say, but alive."

There was a pause, though each person in the room took that pause to digest what they'd just heard. She was alive - despite how things had sounded.

"How bad," Michael croaked, James relaying the question over the walkie while patting the man on the shoulder. He just had to know what her chances were.

"Multiple gunshot wounds. Right of center lower chest; abdomen, through and through, back left to front right. Right shoulder, through and through just under the collarbone. They're talking a mile a minute, hang on." Another pause leaving the room desperate for noise. "Left arm and lower right leg also shot, but they're working on the chest wound now." Pause. "They've called in flight for life - destination is Angel of Mercy. Their ETA is four minutes. We will send one agent on the chopper and divert the others to the hospital."

"I want a guard at her door every fucking second," James ordered before setting the radio on the floor of the foyer. "Mike? Vaughn...did you hear that? She's critical, but they're handling it. I'll keep agents here, but let's get you to the hospital."

"You go," Eric ordered pulling away from Nadia. She shook her head setting a hand over his heart.

"No, Eric - you have to come with us."

"I'll stay with the kids. You have to go."

"She...she's like your sister. If she," a sob cut her off, Weiss cupping her cheek and wiping at a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"I'll stay with the kids. You and Vaughn go. But you keep this close," he ordered handing over her cell phone, "and you update me every five minutes, understand? And whatever it was that was sent...don't look at it."

"I want you to go with me," she cried, his reaction to smile comfortingly and cup her face between both palms.

"If they realize their mistake and come here...somebody has to protect Danny. You go. Now!"

Pushing her toward the door, Michael on his feet with a sorrowful yet hopeful look to his face, James ushered them both out with another agent to a black, shiny sedan, the group climbing in as the car peeled off with a flashing light on the dashboard.

Eric closed and locked the door behind them, reaching up and setting the alarm. "Mr. Weiss?" A voice pulled his attention to the top of the steps, the agent in charge of the upper floor holding the sobbing little boy in his arms. "He called for you," he explained.

'How do you explain to a child that his mother might die?'

"Thanks." Weiss hurried upstairs, Danny pushing away from the unfamiliar man and into the comforting arms of his uncle.

Peeking into the nursery he was surprised to see the twins still sleeping soundly. Carrying the sniffling boy back into the master bedroom he sat down across the room in the rocking chair hoping the soothing movement would help them both.

Danny clung to his shoulders as they rocked, his weak voice in the man's ear: "is my mommy okay?"

"We have the boy and are on our way back."

"Eccellente!" Raffaello cheered in a raspy voice the exclamation followed by a cough. "Bring him to me. Bristow is dealt with?" At the question his grandson held a phone forward showing a picture of the broken and bleeding woman, Cipriani smiling coldly. "Good work, Anna. Continueremo a fare grandi cose insieme." [We shall go on to do great things together.]

"Nonno, she sent the picture to Irina as well," the younger man spoke as he looked at Derevko's unlocked phone in his other hand.

"Take it to her. Let us truly see where her loyalties lie. Get the code from her by any means necessary," the old man added, his fingers seizing with the effort of spinning the dials on the locked briefcase containing his precious manuscript.

Ricardo nodded and moved off, snapping at another man to join him as they walked down the concrete steps into the bunker beneath the warehouse. The smell of mildew and wet soil hit his nose halfway down the steps, the room below several degrees cooler than above. Crossing fifty feet from the stairway he moved to the door of a steel-barred containment cell containing Irina Derevko.

"Ricardo," she greeted from her meditative spot cross-legged on the floor.

"Irina. May we have the combination please?" He was at least easier to understand.

"Your English is much better than your grandfather's. I take it you were raised here in America?"

"May we have the combination please?"

She looked down at her legs with a smirk. "I made a deal with your grandfather and was betrayed. For a younger woman, no less," she said, her tone jovial though warning flashed in her eyes. Irina stayed seated, leaning on her elbows propped on her knees.

"I've been asked to get the combination from you by any means necessary, but we both know that my grandfather would regret harming you. I would regret it. You've been a loyal ally through this journey for Della Vita Immortale, and I for one don't want to squander our relationship."

"The bars do the squandering, Ricardo," she interjected.

He chuckled. "Si, they do. He is blinded by his desire for the secrets in the manuscript. He will not so easily throw away your friendship once he reads and sees the pages."

Irina finally stood and walked over, her arms sticking between the bars. She took up a casual position leaning on her forearms. "I'm sorry for lying to you about my relation to the boy and his family. To be fair I was holding that information for the future in the event I'd need to use it."

Ricardo crossed his arms defensively over his chest staring down the Russian. "Is that so?"

"When it was time to get the boy, who better than 'grandma' to lead him away?"

"I'll still pay you, despite the decisions my grandfather has made today. What is the combination?"

"It's difficult to spend a million dollars locked in a cell," she tossed a Cheshire cat grin in his direction. The young man sighed, Irina getting to him.

"I can't pay you if we can't verify what's in that briefcase."

"It's no longer for sale."

Anger flashed across the man's brown eyes. "Irina," he warned.

"You two breached the agreement. You want to kill one chosen by Rambaldi. You want to risk harming the heir long before we've even finished assembling the machine."

The Italian heaved a sigh and pulled his phone from a silken pocket inside his expensive jacket. He unlocked it with a swiping passcode, Irina memorizing it quickly, pushing a few buttons he put it to his ear. "Are you in place?" Pause. "Eccelente. Send it and wait for instruction."

Lowered the phone and met Irina's casual stare, the grin tilting her lips as if she still had the upper hand. While he knew the phone call was pretend, she didn't. Acting as if the device buzzed in his hand. A sadistic smile crossed his face before he met her curious hazel glare.

"What is the combination, Irina? Please?" The false sympathy and forced niceness in his voice made her falter, a frown furling her brow.

"I can't remember." Doubling down, Irina went for broke.

The man nodded and lifted the phone back up, "do it." Hanging up the call he met Derevko's curious stare. "Lack of information has consequences, Irina."

Ricardo swiped an image into view holding it close to the bars for her to see. The paling of her face, the sudden soft gasp, and the all consuming rage that filled her eyes turning them nearly black was all the man needed to verify her loyalties.

"My grandfather asked you to retrieve the boy. My grandfather asked you merely make sure the parents were out of the way so the boy could be taken without incident. You resisted. You resisted, Irina. This is because of you."

He held the phone closer to the bars. "Take a good look at your broken daughter, and know that this is your fault. Know that-" BAM.

Irina's arm snaked out and grabbed the back of his neck, fingers twisting in his hair before she slammed his face nose-first into one of the iron bars. The phone clattered to the ground as he pushed back against her surprisingly strong grip only to have her yank forward again. A sickening crunch of already broken bone echoed through the small cell, Irina whispering into the groaning Cipriani's ear before his bodyguard could get to him, "I'm going to kill all of you."

As the grandson was dragged away she yelled after him, "ALL OF YOU!"

Once she was alone she let her shoulders slump, a sob pulling from her throat as she retrieved the discarded phone from opposite the bars. The photo made her wince though she studied it for a few minutes before closing it quickly, a tear leaking from the corner of her eye.

'Calm yourself, woman. She's kneeling in the photo. Yes - she's bloody. Yes - she's broken. But she's kneeling. Dead people don't kneel."

Trying with no luck to make a call, the dense concrete above and around her ensuring that there was no service, she looked at the time between the photo and now seeing that nearly twenty minutes had elapsed. Ricardo's phone call was a ruse - her daughter had been compromised before he even came down the stairs. Doing a little research she realized the picture was sent from Sydney's phone to over a dozen people, her number and one other sticking out.

"Of all the people not to send that to, you picked the two at the top of the list," she muttered to herself willing the emotion of the moment to dissipate, but it wouldn't. Pushing herself back into the corner of the cell she pocketed the phone as her throat tightened and eyes blurred with ears.

It had been some time, but in the darkness of this dank bunker, Irina Derevko cried.

Vaughn's phone rang again,one of several calls ignored by the quiet and somber group in the sedan. With an annoyed huff he pulled it out of his pocket to turn it off when 'RICK' flashed across his screen, along with a notification of 'four missed calls from RICK'.

"Oh god. It's Rick," he muttered, Nadia reaching over and taking the device from his hands. Clearing as much emotion from her throat she answered, though her voice was thick and it showed.

"Oh thank god...what the hell is going on?!"

"It's...hard to explain."

"I'm sitting here waiting for Sydney to get here with Josh, and...and this picture dings on my phone. My god...what...is that real? Is that...really Sydney?!" She couldn't answer - she hadn't looked at it. But now she knew it was a picture, and she could only guess what Anna Espinosa would have been so cruel to send to everyone in Sydney's contact list.

"Where is she? And where is my son?" A feminine voice in the background was asking him to calm down, and though he wasn't answering her directly he was definitely ignoring her suggestions.

"Rick, Sydney...Sydney was attacked on the way to your place."

There was a long moment of silence. "Attacked? Is...I mean I saw the photo. Is she okay? Is Josh okay?"

Nadia floundered, unsure how to answer. She had no idea how much the man knew. Vaughn took the phone from her loose grip talking with a low and scratchy voice. "Rick...they...they were looking for Danny. Remember the guys we told you about?"

"Oh god...was...was Danny with them?" Silence, then a gasp as Michael heard him put two and two together.

"I'm sorry, Rick but...they took him."

"They took him? They...they took my son? Where?! Where did they take my son?!" He was frantic now.

"We're going to get him back. We're going to find him." 'I know how the man feels, and someone saying that to me would piss me off to no end.'

"FUCK YOU!"

'There it is.'

There was commotion on the other side of the phone, Rick's swearing moving off into the distance a bit as a woman spoke into the receiver, "what do you need from us?"

"We're sending an agent to his house to watch and make sure you're both safe. Nadia and I are on our way to the hospital, Sydney's on flight for life right now. This all just happened...and...and I - I promise I'll get him back."

"I hope you keep your promises," she said before hanging up.

A man sat in a dark room, the light from a single lamp illuminating papers on the desk to his left. He sipped from a Steuben half-full of red wine, the liquor skimming the roof of his mouth as he swirled it around his tongue.

Irina was due back with the money in thirty minutes, the false manuscript locked in the gilded briefcase he'd dropped off some time ago. His job was delivery boy, her job was to go over the falsified pages of the manuscript with the old man leading him in the wrong direction from her family. They'd split the money down the middle, use the real manuscript to learn what they could, and part ways. They'd been working on a facsimile for months now, and today was the day everything paid off. The associate celebrated victory with a cigar and a glass of brandy as his phone dinged.

'She's quick,' he thought swiping to see the bloodied image of a young woman kneeling on a street, darkness surrounding her. The front of her shirt and jeans were stained with still-wet blood, and he spotted two more gunshot wounds in the image along with blood dripping down her chin and staining her lips. It looked like Irina, but it wasn't.

"Son of a bitch," he growled and rose, a host of emotions filling his chest and setting his nerves on edge. He tossed the expensive glass to the table, the red liquid spilling and staining the papers strewn across the surface.

Jumping out of the seat he weaved through stacks of books and file boxes until he walked into the sparsely decorated spare room. A cot and a small wooden nightstand were all that was inside save for a plugged in laptop sitting on the cushion. Ignoring the scenery, or lack thereof, he violently slid open the door to the closet with a loud BANG.

The green military duffle bag was still wedged in the corner, the man grunting as he lifted it out and tossed it onto the cot. Something hard and metallic clanked against the laptop, though he didn't seem to care. Unzipping it quickly the open top revealed half a dozen weapons, some rifles, some handguns, boxes of ammunition rattling at one end as he made sure what he was expecting was accounted for before closing the zipper.

Moving back to the closet he slid on a suit jacket, straightening the front over the crisp button-up shirt before hauling the bag over his shoulder and making his way back through the living room. Lifting a set of keys off the hook by the front door, the determined man left the apartment.

...