The following chapter is written by John O'Keeffe
Chapter 2
St. Petersburg
Snow dropped lightly into the beautiful courtyard of the city centre. The wind was in no way strong, but the breeze touching your naked skin made you shiver. The harsh winter which had swept over this famous city was over, although someone who was a stranger to this town would have fought otherwise.
It's often interesting to look down in the snow and see thousands of shoeprints. It's quite amazing just how much you can tell about what the person is like. Whether they where trainers or stilettos or boots, big feet, small feet, some experts can even tell if they were walking or running. One set of shoeprints lay about 30 metres from the Kremlin. They were of a reasonable size and were very expensive. An expert would then tell you that the person with these shoes was walking casually away from the Kremlin. But they would be surprised that a person who wore these expensive shoes was heading towards an alley where the light of the Sun never reached. This alley bore no snow on the ground. It was home to prostitutes, drug dealers, smugglers and a woman who only left her house once a year to throw away her excrements.
The man with the expensive shoes had got pretty far down this alley. It was now extremely dark as the towering, derelict offices clouded away the sky. The man was of Japanese decent, but had lived in the Soviet far too long to look out of place. He took pride in his appearance and when he looked down at his shoes covered in mud, he shuddered. He had reached his destination. The building looked no different from the rest; its only distinguishing feature was the number "423" on its bland, eroded door. As instructed, the man gave it three short knocks and waited. After a couple of minutes, the door opened, behind it stood an old, short, fat man with an extremely expensive suit on. The fat man stuck his hand out, the Japanese fellow new what he wanted and gave him the suitcase. The man shut the door, a few minutes passed before it opened again. "Hideo, you can come in now"
Hideo followed as the fat man led him down staircase after staircase. The walls had seen better times, cracks and holes were more common than flat concrete. Finally, the two gentlemen reached the bottom. In front of them stood a door, brightly painted and brightly lit. Compared to the rest of the building, the door looked like a God-send. The fat man gave it three short knocks and the two waited in silence. The door opened and they entered.
This room reflected the style of the door. It had been newly painted bright red and looked obscene. The room consisted of few home touches, only a painting of Stalin, a varnished table and two chairs were there. Hideo was instructed to sit and wait. More minutes passed and finally the door once again opened. A tall, well-dressed man entered, wearing the same suit as the fat guy. Only, the suit looked good on the tall man. "Hideo! How good to see you!" "Yuri, I have not got time for small talk" "I no, I no." Yuri sat down on the remaining chair and put Hideo's briefcase on the table. "I am please to see that all of your papers are in order" "My company takes pride in getting the job done to its highest standard. No matter how big or small it is." "Yes, Hideo, that's why we hired you. But you must understand, this is the biggest job YOUR company will ever get." "We no that, in fact we believe it is so big that...well umm...we think we deserve a better payment."
Yuri looked unsurprisingly stunned. He thought $6 million was quite enough.
"If not....we will leak your plans and your mission will be over, a waste of money and personal." Yuri gave a short laugh and gestured the fat man to come closer. "I am very surprised with you, Hideo. But I suppose it is too important. An extra $4 million will be transferred to your account once Hawkdive is complete. I will contact my comrades in Serbia and Iraq to prepare them for this new transaction. There not going to be pleased though."
Yuri gave another short laugh and then closed the suitcase. He took out of pocket a cigarette and lit it. He offered one to Hideo but he declined. Yuri then stretched into his jacket and pulled out a Desert Eagle and placed it on the desk. Hideo began to sweat.
"One for thing Hideo." Yuri paused. "I need confirmation that your `company` will be able to secure the device in the next twelve hours." "I've already told you, we are experts. It shall be in our control in six hours." "What about your assassin. Is he in place in London?" "Yes, ready for our command." "Excellent! Well I guess the meeting is adjourned."
The two men stood up and shook hands. Hideo picked up the suitcase and walked towards the fat man and the door. "Ever played Russian Roulette Hideo." Hideo stopped. "Err, no...I haven't." "Me neither, turn round."
Hideo's forehead and hands began to sweat more. But he obeyed Yuri and turned. The Russian had the weapon pointing at him. "In these circumstances, I find games to be very silly. Don't you, Hideo?" "Err, yes Yuri.I mean sir." Yuri laughed again, only this laugh seemed more evil, more truthful in fact. "No your right, I find in these circumstances its best to get right to the point."
With that, Yuri fired a bullet. Hideo closed his eyes. The newly created dropped. Silence. Hideo opened his eyes once more. Lying, on his expensive shoes, now covered in mud and blood, was the fat man." "Your mission will be done to the highest standard. $6 million is sufficient. You dare disobey me again and you and everyone in your company will die. The workers will die, the parents will die, the brothers and sisters will die. You said you can acquire the device in six hours. That will be your new deadline. Six hours from now or prepare to face the consequences." Yuri turned round, his back pointing towards the door. "You can show yourself out, remember to close the door after you."
Hideo quickly went out of the room and up the stairs, out of the front door and into the dark alley. He wished he could feel the wind. And as he began to run back to the city centre, he didn't care that he was running through the muddiest puddles in the street.
_________________
The Volvo of Scott Jaeger was exceeding the speed limit by several miles per hour. As he sped across the highway out of the city, he couldn't help notice that someone was doing exactly the same speed behind him. He reached his turn off and as he headed towards the location of the hit, the other car followed. His phone rang. "Hello? Yes Richardson I am nearly there now. Forensics should be there within the hour. One more thing, I need an identification of the person who owns the car with plate number 6754 4125 - state of Nevada. Get back to me soon."
Scott turned into the place where the hit occurred. It was a shopping complex, just outside the centre of Burbank. The following car sped off in the other direction. Scott parked and walked into the mall. A large crowd of people were circled around the fountain in the centre. Local police forces were struggling to hold them back. Scott walked up to them. "Scott Jaeger, Counter terrorist Unit. Is this all the men you've got?" "No sir," said the lieutenant, "twenty more are on there way. Once there here the mall will evacuated." "Did anyone else get shot?" "No Sir" "Did anyone see the shooter?" "No one has come forward yet, sir." "Ok, let me through."
The lieutenant and Scott pushed though the crowd towards the crime scene. The body had been covered by a blanket. It was obvious that the target had been sitting on a nearby bench, it was covered in blood. Scott removed the blanket and the crowd screamed. It was a perfect head shot. Scott didn't recognize him. As he replaced the blanket, his phone rang. "Hello?" "Look up. I'm watching you!" "Who is this?" "You won't know unless you find me." The line went dead. Scott looked up. He saw a man on the top floor. The man stared at Scott for a second and then ran. Jaeger tried to push his way through the crowds. When he did the phone rang again. "Hello" "Scott, its Richardson, the plate number you sent me, it doesn't exist." "That's impossible. I saw it clearly." "Your mistaken Scott." "Ok, look we need reinforcements here, the shooter is still in the building."
More soon, if you can wait.
Chapter 2
St. Petersburg
Snow dropped lightly into the beautiful courtyard of the city centre. The wind was in no way strong, but the breeze touching your naked skin made you shiver. The harsh winter which had swept over this famous city was over, although someone who was a stranger to this town would have fought otherwise.
It's often interesting to look down in the snow and see thousands of shoeprints. It's quite amazing just how much you can tell about what the person is like. Whether they where trainers or stilettos or boots, big feet, small feet, some experts can even tell if they were walking or running. One set of shoeprints lay about 30 metres from the Kremlin. They were of a reasonable size and were very expensive. An expert would then tell you that the person with these shoes was walking casually away from the Kremlin. But they would be surprised that a person who wore these expensive shoes was heading towards an alley where the light of the Sun never reached. This alley bore no snow on the ground. It was home to prostitutes, drug dealers, smugglers and a woman who only left her house once a year to throw away her excrements.
The man with the expensive shoes had got pretty far down this alley. It was now extremely dark as the towering, derelict offices clouded away the sky. The man was of Japanese decent, but had lived in the Soviet far too long to look out of place. He took pride in his appearance and when he looked down at his shoes covered in mud, he shuddered. He had reached his destination. The building looked no different from the rest; its only distinguishing feature was the number "423" on its bland, eroded door. As instructed, the man gave it three short knocks and waited. After a couple of minutes, the door opened, behind it stood an old, short, fat man with an extremely expensive suit on. The fat man stuck his hand out, the Japanese fellow new what he wanted and gave him the suitcase. The man shut the door, a few minutes passed before it opened again. "Hideo, you can come in now"
Hideo followed as the fat man led him down staircase after staircase. The walls had seen better times, cracks and holes were more common than flat concrete. Finally, the two gentlemen reached the bottom. In front of them stood a door, brightly painted and brightly lit. Compared to the rest of the building, the door looked like a God-send. The fat man gave it three short knocks and the two waited in silence. The door opened and they entered.
This room reflected the style of the door. It had been newly painted bright red and looked obscene. The room consisted of few home touches, only a painting of Stalin, a varnished table and two chairs were there. Hideo was instructed to sit and wait. More minutes passed and finally the door once again opened. A tall, well-dressed man entered, wearing the same suit as the fat guy. Only, the suit looked good on the tall man. "Hideo! How good to see you!" "Yuri, I have not got time for small talk" "I no, I no." Yuri sat down on the remaining chair and put Hideo's briefcase on the table. "I am please to see that all of your papers are in order" "My company takes pride in getting the job done to its highest standard. No matter how big or small it is." "Yes, Hideo, that's why we hired you. But you must understand, this is the biggest job YOUR company will ever get." "We no that, in fact we believe it is so big that...well umm...we think we deserve a better payment."
Yuri looked unsurprisingly stunned. He thought $6 million was quite enough.
"If not....we will leak your plans and your mission will be over, a waste of money and personal." Yuri gave a short laugh and gestured the fat man to come closer. "I am very surprised with you, Hideo. But I suppose it is too important. An extra $4 million will be transferred to your account once Hawkdive is complete. I will contact my comrades in Serbia and Iraq to prepare them for this new transaction. There not going to be pleased though."
Yuri gave another short laugh and then closed the suitcase. He took out of pocket a cigarette and lit it. He offered one to Hideo but he declined. Yuri then stretched into his jacket and pulled out a Desert Eagle and placed it on the desk. Hideo began to sweat.
"One for thing Hideo." Yuri paused. "I need confirmation that your `company` will be able to secure the device in the next twelve hours." "I've already told you, we are experts. It shall be in our control in six hours." "What about your assassin. Is he in place in London?" "Yes, ready for our command." "Excellent! Well I guess the meeting is adjourned."
The two men stood up and shook hands. Hideo picked up the suitcase and walked towards the fat man and the door. "Ever played Russian Roulette Hideo." Hideo stopped. "Err, no...I haven't." "Me neither, turn round."
Hideo's forehead and hands began to sweat more. But he obeyed Yuri and turned. The Russian had the weapon pointing at him. "In these circumstances, I find games to be very silly. Don't you, Hideo?" "Err, yes Yuri.I mean sir." Yuri laughed again, only this laugh seemed more evil, more truthful in fact. "No your right, I find in these circumstances its best to get right to the point."
With that, Yuri fired a bullet. Hideo closed his eyes. The newly created dropped. Silence. Hideo opened his eyes once more. Lying, on his expensive shoes, now covered in mud and blood, was the fat man." "Your mission will be done to the highest standard. $6 million is sufficient. You dare disobey me again and you and everyone in your company will die. The workers will die, the parents will die, the brothers and sisters will die. You said you can acquire the device in six hours. That will be your new deadline. Six hours from now or prepare to face the consequences." Yuri turned round, his back pointing towards the door. "You can show yourself out, remember to close the door after you."
Hideo quickly went out of the room and up the stairs, out of the front door and into the dark alley. He wished he could feel the wind. And as he began to run back to the city centre, he didn't care that he was running through the muddiest puddles in the street.
_________________
The Volvo of Scott Jaeger was exceeding the speed limit by several miles per hour. As he sped across the highway out of the city, he couldn't help notice that someone was doing exactly the same speed behind him. He reached his turn off and as he headed towards the location of the hit, the other car followed. His phone rang. "Hello? Yes Richardson I am nearly there now. Forensics should be there within the hour. One more thing, I need an identification of the person who owns the car with plate number 6754 4125 - state of Nevada. Get back to me soon."
Scott turned into the place where the hit occurred. It was a shopping complex, just outside the centre of Burbank. The following car sped off in the other direction. Scott parked and walked into the mall. A large crowd of people were circled around the fountain in the centre. Local police forces were struggling to hold them back. Scott walked up to them. "Scott Jaeger, Counter terrorist Unit. Is this all the men you've got?" "No sir," said the lieutenant, "twenty more are on there way. Once there here the mall will evacuated." "Did anyone else get shot?" "No Sir" "Did anyone see the shooter?" "No one has come forward yet, sir." "Ok, let me through."
The lieutenant and Scott pushed though the crowd towards the crime scene. The body had been covered by a blanket. It was obvious that the target had been sitting on a nearby bench, it was covered in blood. Scott removed the blanket and the crowd screamed. It was a perfect head shot. Scott didn't recognize him. As he replaced the blanket, his phone rang. "Hello?" "Look up. I'm watching you!" "Who is this?" "You won't know unless you find me." The line went dead. Scott looked up. He saw a man on the top floor. The man stared at Scott for a second and then ran. Jaeger tried to push his way through the crowds. When he did the phone rang again. "Hello" "Scott, its Richardson, the plate number you sent me, it doesn't exist." "That's impossible. I saw it clearly." "Your mistaken Scott." "Ok, look we need reinforcements here, the shooter is still in the building."
More soon, if you can wait.