=== Alaska 2002 ===

As the police officer entered the hospital room, Natalya knew that something was wrong before he had said a word. She and Anton had been found by a ranger on patrol for bears. He had called an emergency helicopter that brought them into the nearest hospital. There, she had told the story of a hunting accident and their car smashed by the ravine.

And now, a few days later, a detective closed in on her… "Mrs…" He looked at the paper in his hands. "Van Allen?"

"Yes. How can I help you?"

"Your … husband was shot in a hunting accident, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, unless you're hunting with a 9mm pistol, I don't believe that story. So why don't you tell me, what really happened out there, Mrs. Van Allen? If that is your name at all."

Good, you're a smart one… She had to get rid of this detective! "I'm sorry," she said now in a low voice, calculating coldly her next move. "Can we speak in private? It is a matter of national security."

That always worked. The officer nodded. Natalya stood up, grabbed the hospital's bathrobe, and followed him outside the room. On the other side of the floor, there was a laundry chamber. She gestured towards it. He had barely entered when she felled him with an expert karate kick and knocked him out with the next one. Shortly she thought about killing him, but then, she only gagged and shackled him. She had left enough blood behind already…

However, she took his gun and stored it in her slip. Inhaling deeply, she looked around. Then, she chose one of the nurses' coats without thinking too long. Time was of the essence!

A moment later, Natalya was on her way. As far as she knew, Anton had been released from ICU this morning. She could only hope he could be moved somehow! "Excuse me," she asked a passing nurse. "I'm looking for Mr. Robert van Allen?"

"There, second room to the right. You're going to check on his infusion? I just have my hands full with room five."

"No problem, I'll take care of it."

Thank God, Anton was alone in his room. He seemed asleep, though. Carefully, she disconnected the infusion device and bent down to him. "Anton? Wake up! Wake up, come on!"

He opened his eyes and whispered in Russian: "What is… going on? Where…are we?"

"In a hospital. And we need to get out. A police officer asked questions."

He tried to sit up. "Can't… You… need to… go alone."

"No. Anton, you NEED to get up!" She grabbed the wheelchair standing in one corner and rolled it next to the bed. With their combined efforts, he finally managed it with clenched teeth, hand pressed against the bandage around his stomach. Natalya put a blanket around his shoulders. Then, they were underway to the nearest elevator and down to the parking garage, thankfully without anyone taking notice.

She chose an older car, in the hope it would not be equipped with an alarm system, and smashed the window at the driver's side. Good, no alarm! She sighed in relief, opened the door, and lowered the seat as far as possible.

"Are you armed?" Anton asked while she helped him onto the seat and closed the safety belt.

"Yes."

"Good. That's good…"

She checked his bandage. So far, no fresh blood. But he could very well have internal bleedings, dammit! At the moment, though, she had to postpone all those worries or they were both as good as dead!

Hours later, they reached an abandoned gas station, where she broke in, grabbed everything useful in cans, alcohol, and not already past expiring date-chocolate bars and then, set fire to the place. A snowstorm was building up. Around midnight, they crossed the border to Canada and had to stop. A sign announcing "Summer Cabins" seemed promising enough to provide them with the badly needed shelter for the next days. And the snowstorm covered their tracks.

=== 4 months later, Alaska ===

The rather boring day – to – day business had returned to the small US Customs Station. Some guys smuggling faked Rolex from China, some illegal fur-dealers. Yes, the boring daily grind. The team of inspectors working here would not have complained about it, though. Alex Brooks walked out of the chief's office, what was his own for four weeks now, lit a cigarette and leaned against the sun-warmed wood of the barrack. Soon, one of his officers joined him in the little break.

"Now what's that look, Alex? Your nose tells ya something goin' on again?"

"Dunno." He stomped the butt out. "Just have the feeling we… missed something."

The other man shrugged. "We got this asshole of a traitor Barnes, we got these Russians, we secured this fucking cargo and prevented a major chaos with thousands of injured people – and last but not least, you got your well-deserved promotion, pal!"

Brooks didn't answer. Both men stood there in silence for some time before he finally said:

"The special forensic team was at the avalanche site. Got the results this morning. They didn't find her."

"Ah… that's it. You miss your Russian beauty… C'mon! Let's be realistic. Such a crash, such an avalanche – you know what I mean!"

"They didn't find HIM, too." Alex shook another cigarette out of the package. "We miss something…"

"But the case is closed. We have no evidence to shove under our supervisor's nose!"

"I know." Alex sighed. His sorrows concerning Natalya Batalova were certainly no hook to re-open that case! Maybe his colleague was right. He just wanted that badly she could've made it, too, he searched every possible loophole in the reports! "Shit. Let's get in! Will you join me for a drink after work?"

"I don't see what should hinder me."

=== Bogotá, Columbia ===

The nightly traffic in front of the apartment building abated barely noticeable. Trams, busses, and cars literally honked their way through the crowded city, even here, in the so-called luxurious parts, where members of the government and business lived.

Anton Simeonov sat at the open window and stared into the sea of lights on the streets. He and Natalya had arrived almost two months ago. To cover their tracks, she had to make use of all her MFS-skills and Anton's money stored on an account in Tobago. Now – they were here, with false papers for false identities in their new lives. The past did not want to let them go that easily, though.

Every time the traffic light changed, the color reflexes on the photo in his hand did, too. Grigori, proud, and happy with his toy airplane. Natalya had had the photo in her purse, and now it was the only link except their memories to their past. As much as he wanted to forget, he could not. When he heard Natalya stepping at his side, he leaned back against her.

"You still cannot forgive yourself?" she said, taking the photo up.

"No. How do you think I should do this?"

"It is my fault as well. If I had not kept him away from you, you would have known he would be there at this day…" Natalya wiped over her face. The memory was still that painful. But now, they could mourn their son together. She embraced Anton, and for a long time, they only rested there and held each other.

Then her eyes rested on the trash bin in the corner. "You don't take any Morphine injections anymore, do you?"

"I promised. That's why I sit here in the middle of the night. But it will get better once I have something to do again!"

"They hired you?"

Anton nodded. „I wanted to tell you as soon as you were awake. Teacher at the Military Academy, strategic and tactical department. They want me to reform their battalions so they would be more efficient against the paramilitary units and drug dealer-warlords operating in the mountains and the jungle. I guess… I have enough experiences on both sides of this front to corner them efficiently."

"Yes, no doubt."

"You could come with me to the academy."

"No, I think I'll try that editorial job at the newspaper. I am a journalist, after all. That's what I always wanted to be. Not an agent. I only have to brush up on my Spanish. Now, come to bed. It is far more comfortable there than sitting here. And I miss you."