Chapter 4
The sun shone down on the estate of Shaun Quinn, a large colonial house built onto the
side of a hill overlooking the main port of St. Cyrina, Port de Cyrina. The morning sun
was warming the verander, where Quinn was eating breakfast. He was enjoying a salad of
mixed fruit when Kryzov came onto the verander and stood by Quinn. Quinn finished his
salad before wiping his mouth and turning to Kryzov.
' So what have your sources found out?' Quinn asked.
' As far as I can find out, the President is right.' the big Russian answered. ' One of
my contacts amoungst the Junta told me that the main leaders met and have indeed decided
to meet the President and talk about a cease fire.'
Quinn picked up his cup of coffee, taking a sip. ' My contacts in the President's office
say he is under pressure from the U.N. to negotiate. He's been promised "aid" in the form
of a big cash package and trade preferences. The man wants to become respectable.' the
word coming out as a snort.
Kryzov took a large bladed knife from his belt, picked up an apple he cut a slice off.
' So what is the plan then. Do you want me to..' the last words trailed off as the big
man ran across the front of his throat.
Quinn smiled but he shook his head. ' Not yet my friend. I've spent a lot of time on the
man and there's no guarantee that who ever replaces him will be any different. Unless..'
Kryzov raised an eyebrow. ' Unless what?' he asked.
A sly smile came to Quinn's lips, his eyes glinted dangerously. ' I have an idea. Do we
still have that training camp in the Congo?'
' We do, yes.'
'Good. Find me, Alabez.'
* * *
Two days later the sun was shining on another part of the world. The sun over Cairo was warm
the dry air of the desert hitting the cool air from the sea, the humid heat which could cause
the sweat to run down even when you were at rest. The busy streets buzzed with the daily throng
of people from the bazaar's moving through them.
Kryzov sat in the cafe near the docks, a turkish coffee in his hand. He took a sip of the thick,
sweet coffee then a sip of water from the glass next to it. The whole time he sat there his eyes
were scanning the crowds for any sign of danger. While he waited Kryzov remembered the first time
he'd come to Cairo.
Having joined the Russian army at eighteen, Kryzov had risen quite quickly to the rank of lieutenant
through a mixture of courage and pure sadism. He was then transfered to the interragation branch
of the KGB, where he further learned more ways to inflict pain on people. One thing he learnt at
the KGB was not only was he good at hurting his prisoners, he enjoyed it. Then he got the transfer
he had wanted since learning of their existance. He was transfered to SMERSH.
SMERSH furthered his training, he became a personal project of Rosa Klebb before she defected to
SPECTRE. He served in the interrgation branch again until he was promoted to field agent. His first
assignment was in Cairo where he was asked to kill a British diplomat, which he carried out with
great aplomb. He again soon rose through the ranks getting bigger and bigger targets as his reputation
grew.
His final assignment was during that weakling Gorbachov's Glasnost era. The Soviet Union was collapsing
in on itself, becoming weak. Kryzov's target was an arms dealer taking advantage of the state of
the Union to ship arms from corrupt generals. Tracking the man down to an island in the Caribbean
he faced the man, Shaun Quinn. Quinn gave him a choice though, kill him and serve a dying country
who would at best pension him off or let him live and join him and become rich. He liked the idea
of being rich so he joined Quinn and had never looked back.
' You seem distracted, Comrade.' said a voice next to Kryzov.
Turning Kryzov saw a well built black man standing next to him. The man's face split into a wide
grin as he slipped into the table opposite Kyrzov. Ordering a mint tea the man gave a look of mock
disgust. 'I don't know how you can drink that coffee, Kryzov.' he said. ' You also must be slipping.
I could have killed you by now.'
Kryzov smiled. ' Maybe, Alabez. But look under the table.'
Alabez looked under the table, only to see the vicious looking Glock pointing at him. He smiled to
himself and saw a faint smile on Kryzov's face. He nodded his admiration of Kryzov's forethought but
noticed the gun didn't move. Another nod and he slowly took out his own pistol out, a H & KP9sPMS
11.43mm. Once the gun was on the table Kryzov picked it up, putting his own gun away.
' Perhaps I can enjoy my mint tea now.' said Alabez picking up his cup.
' So how are things since Castro kicked you out of Cuba?' asked Kryzov leaning back in his chair.
Pulling a face, Alabez put down his cup. ' Well the man is a fool, making himself respectable he
doesn't need 'operatives' like me anymore. I still get work but nothing beats a regular wage. Am I
not right, my friend?'
Nodding his head slowly, Kryzov leaned forwards. ' How about if I could offer you some work.'
' Where and what is it?' asked Alabez.
' At the moment it's a training job in the Congo. I will tell you more when you need to know.'
Alabez smiled again. ' So there will be more than just this training?' he asked, only to be met with
silence from the big Russian. ' Right. Need to know. And the money?'
Kryzov took another sip of coffee before leaning back on his chair. ' The usual fee and then more
once the operation is under way.'
Shaking his head, Alabez leaned forwards. ' But the Congo is so humid and the danger..'
Alabez words trailed off as Kryzov pulled back the hammer of the pistol in his hand, aiming it at
the big man opposite him. ' The usual fee and more once the actual operation is underway. Non
negotiable.'
Rasing his hands, Alabez leaned back smiling. ' Of course my friend. So what do I need for my trip?'
' Get as many mercenaries as you know to meet you here,' said Kryzov handing Alabez a piece of paper.
He unloaded the magazine from the gun, putting the pistol on the table. ' I will meet you there in a
week and we will start training.'
Taking the paper from Kryzov's hand, Alabez finished his mint tea. He stood and taking the pistol from
the table turned away from the Big Russian. ' I will see you in a week.'
Across from the two men British agent Marcus Lloyd sat observing the two men. He'd been ordered by the
Cairo Station to watch Alabez ever since he'd flown in from Cuba. Now he was meeting this big blond man
and Lloyd was sure it was not just for coffee, the gun being waved around confirmed that. He would report
back to the Station then follow Alabez, see what more he could find out.
Getting from the table Kryzov dialled a number on his mobile phone. On the other end Quinn's voice answered.
' Sir, Operation Overkill is underway.' he said simply before hanging up. As he started away he saw a
man from a table across the street get up and follow Alabez through the busy streets of Cairo. A cold,
killers grin came to Kryzov's face. Maybe this trip would be interesting after all.
The sun shone down on the estate of Shaun Quinn, a large colonial house built onto the
side of a hill overlooking the main port of St. Cyrina, Port de Cyrina. The morning sun
was warming the verander, where Quinn was eating breakfast. He was enjoying a salad of
mixed fruit when Kryzov came onto the verander and stood by Quinn. Quinn finished his
salad before wiping his mouth and turning to Kryzov.
' So what have your sources found out?' Quinn asked.
' As far as I can find out, the President is right.' the big Russian answered. ' One of
my contacts amoungst the Junta told me that the main leaders met and have indeed decided
to meet the President and talk about a cease fire.'
Quinn picked up his cup of coffee, taking a sip. ' My contacts in the President's office
say he is under pressure from the U.N. to negotiate. He's been promised "aid" in the form
of a big cash package and trade preferences. The man wants to become respectable.' the
word coming out as a snort.
Kryzov took a large bladed knife from his belt, picked up an apple he cut a slice off.
' So what is the plan then. Do you want me to..' the last words trailed off as the big
man ran across the front of his throat.
Quinn smiled but he shook his head. ' Not yet my friend. I've spent a lot of time on the
man and there's no guarantee that who ever replaces him will be any different. Unless..'
Kryzov raised an eyebrow. ' Unless what?' he asked.
A sly smile came to Quinn's lips, his eyes glinted dangerously. ' I have an idea. Do we
still have that training camp in the Congo?'
' We do, yes.'
'Good. Find me, Alabez.'
* * *
Two days later the sun was shining on another part of the world. The sun over Cairo was warm
the dry air of the desert hitting the cool air from the sea, the humid heat which could cause
the sweat to run down even when you were at rest. The busy streets buzzed with the daily throng
of people from the bazaar's moving through them.
Kryzov sat in the cafe near the docks, a turkish coffee in his hand. He took a sip of the thick,
sweet coffee then a sip of water from the glass next to it. The whole time he sat there his eyes
were scanning the crowds for any sign of danger. While he waited Kryzov remembered the first time
he'd come to Cairo.
Having joined the Russian army at eighteen, Kryzov had risen quite quickly to the rank of lieutenant
through a mixture of courage and pure sadism. He was then transfered to the interragation branch
of the KGB, where he further learned more ways to inflict pain on people. One thing he learnt at
the KGB was not only was he good at hurting his prisoners, he enjoyed it. Then he got the transfer
he had wanted since learning of their existance. He was transfered to SMERSH.
SMERSH furthered his training, he became a personal project of Rosa Klebb before she defected to
SPECTRE. He served in the interrgation branch again until he was promoted to field agent. His first
assignment was in Cairo where he was asked to kill a British diplomat, which he carried out with
great aplomb. He again soon rose through the ranks getting bigger and bigger targets as his reputation
grew.
His final assignment was during that weakling Gorbachov's Glasnost era. The Soviet Union was collapsing
in on itself, becoming weak. Kryzov's target was an arms dealer taking advantage of the state of
the Union to ship arms from corrupt generals. Tracking the man down to an island in the Caribbean
he faced the man, Shaun Quinn. Quinn gave him a choice though, kill him and serve a dying country
who would at best pension him off or let him live and join him and become rich. He liked the idea
of being rich so he joined Quinn and had never looked back.
' You seem distracted, Comrade.' said a voice next to Kryzov.
Turning Kryzov saw a well built black man standing next to him. The man's face split into a wide
grin as he slipped into the table opposite Kyrzov. Ordering a mint tea the man gave a look of mock
disgust. 'I don't know how you can drink that coffee, Kryzov.' he said. ' You also must be slipping.
I could have killed you by now.'
Kryzov smiled. ' Maybe, Alabez. But look under the table.'
Alabez looked under the table, only to see the vicious looking Glock pointing at him. He smiled to
himself and saw a faint smile on Kryzov's face. He nodded his admiration of Kryzov's forethought but
noticed the gun didn't move. Another nod and he slowly took out his own pistol out, a H & KP9sPMS
11.43mm. Once the gun was on the table Kryzov picked it up, putting his own gun away.
' Perhaps I can enjoy my mint tea now.' said Alabez picking up his cup.
' So how are things since Castro kicked you out of Cuba?' asked Kryzov leaning back in his chair.
Pulling a face, Alabez put down his cup. ' Well the man is a fool, making himself respectable he
doesn't need 'operatives' like me anymore. I still get work but nothing beats a regular wage. Am I
not right, my friend?'
Nodding his head slowly, Kryzov leaned forwards. ' How about if I could offer you some work.'
' Where and what is it?' asked Alabez.
' At the moment it's a training job in the Congo. I will tell you more when you need to know.'
Alabez smiled again. ' So there will be more than just this training?' he asked, only to be met with
silence from the big Russian. ' Right. Need to know. And the money?'
Kryzov took another sip of coffee before leaning back on his chair. ' The usual fee and then more
once the operation is under way.'
Shaking his head, Alabez leaned forwards. ' But the Congo is so humid and the danger..'
Alabez words trailed off as Kryzov pulled back the hammer of the pistol in his hand, aiming it at
the big man opposite him. ' The usual fee and more once the actual operation is underway. Non
negotiable.'
Rasing his hands, Alabez leaned back smiling. ' Of course my friend. So what do I need for my trip?'
' Get as many mercenaries as you know to meet you here,' said Kryzov handing Alabez a piece of paper.
He unloaded the magazine from the gun, putting the pistol on the table. ' I will meet you there in a
week and we will start training.'
Taking the paper from Kryzov's hand, Alabez finished his mint tea. He stood and taking the pistol from
the table turned away from the Big Russian. ' I will see you in a week.'
Across from the two men British agent Marcus Lloyd sat observing the two men. He'd been ordered by the
Cairo Station to watch Alabez ever since he'd flown in from Cuba. Now he was meeting this big blond man
and Lloyd was sure it was not just for coffee, the gun being waved around confirmed that. He would report
back to the Station then follow Alabez, see what more he could find out.
Getting from the table Kryzov dialled a number on his mobile phone. On the other end Quinn's voice answered.
' Sir, Operation Overkill is underway.' he said simply before hanging up. As he started away he saw a
man from a table across the street get up and follow Alabez through the busy streets of Cairo. A cold,
killers grin came to Kryzov's face. Maybe this trip would be interesting after all.