Chapter Seven
Over a cup of coffee assassin and thief regarded each other in comfortable silence. Kalina didn't know what to say; although she felt relaxed she was still slightly awed by the man, and it was so long since Yassen had found himself in polite female company he wasn't sure how to begin.
"Will I stay here tonight?" Kalina said at length. It had suddenly occurred to her that now he had the disc, Gregorovich had no reason to make her stay. On the contrary, he had every reason to kick her out.
Yassen sipped his drink and nodded. "Yes. I would recommend staying until Patel has been taken care of. Of course, you are free to leave"
He studied her face. She nodded and 'hmm'd'. Now that business had been taken care of, Yassen thought that he would like to get to know the girl. Out of curiosity. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd spoken to a woman in the manner of a friend, yet he supposed this was what friends did; sat drinking coffee and 'shooting the breeze' as the Americans said.
She was very attractive really, he decided. She looked so much older with dark hair and not wearing the clothes of a whore. He remembered how she had repulsed him the night before, but now his imagination conjured up images of the bare skin he had seen, so different in shade to the paleness of the woman who sat before him. He couldn't reconcile the two and it made him glad. Kalina's bare skin would be different, inviting. He gazed at her and felt a warmth spread inside him, hardly daring to entertain the thought of pursuing her, but letting her presence and the new-found connection with her pull his imagination on regardless.
"I'd rather stay" she now said, looking at the table. "I think that would be best"
Yassen thought of her presence in his house for a whole night. It still unnerved him somewhat, allowing her into his home where she could see his touch in almost every room. At the same time it excited him. He was making himself vulnerable, not physically, but spiritually. Despite what anyone said, Yassen was a spiritual man, who thought deep and looked far. He may not have a god, but he had something greater than himself, something personal, and this woman was coming as close as anyone ever had to seeing it.
He decided to ask what he wanted to. She may not answer, and that was her prerogative, but Yassen was curious.
"Who do you work for?" he said, his tone undemanding. Kalina looked at him and smiled slightly.
"Do I have to tell you?"
So she thought she was in his power. Yassen knew she wasn't; he would let her do whatever she liked, but it was interesting to see she thought of him as dominant.
"No" he said. The young woman sighed.
"I don't know to be honest. They're anonymous"
A lot of people were anonymous, Yassen knew. It meant nothing. He tried another question.
"What nationality are you?"
They'd been conversing in German since Peter Klunt's house, but Yassen himself was Russian and the girl was certainly not German. She spoke the language proficiently but with an accent like Yassen which would never allow her to pass for a native.
"English" she said, and smiled at the look on his face.
"You do not look English" he said. She could pass for Russian, he thought, with her high cheekbones and pale skin. He supposed the English came in all shapes and sizes; they were a mongrel race.
Kalina shrugged. "I haven't lived in England for a long time"
Yassen stayed silent, but she didn't offer more information. He decided to prompt her, but switched to English.
"How did you become an assassin?"
Kalina looked surprised, and grinned showing white teeth. She answered in easy English, speaking as if it were indeed her first language, "I'm not an assassin. I'm more of a thief, and a spy."
"How did you become a thief and a spy?" Yassen countered. The young woman studied him for a moment, then sighed and shrugged. She'd obviously decided there was no harm in telling him.
"I lived with my uncle after my parents divorced. He was my uncle by marriage, an Italian. Mafia"
Yassen's curiosity piqued again.
"I ran errands for him" she continued. "and when he was killed I kept running errands, but for other people. I got rather good at it"
Yassen nodded. "How old are you?"
"21" Kalina smiled. "Now Mr. Gregorovich, since I've told you my life story, what's yours?"
Yassen told her of his ideology and his recruitment to Scorpio, of his years of training and his aptitude for assassinations. Kalina listened with interest.
"I've heard of Scorpio" she said when he was done. "But never in much detail. I knew you worked for them"
"You had heard of me?" Yassen asked.
"Of course. You have quite a reputation. I was terrified when you found me"
Yassen laughed. He knew he was intimidating, he tried his best to be, and the girl's admission amused him in its innocence.
He was about to say something about not being as bad as he looked when Parker stepped into the room.
"Yassen? Trouble…"
"What?" Yassen got to his feet and followed the man out into the hall.
"Someone's broken the perimeter" the pilot said. "Just now. They've got the place surrounded"
Yassen strode to a cupboard by the stairs, opened it and pressed a button. Traps at the entrances to the house armed themselves. Next to the button were arms, and he selected several handguns and a large rifle. Parker grabbed some weapons, and looked at Kalina, who had followed them out.
"What's going on?" she said. Yassen looked down at her.
"Go upstairs" he commanded. When she didn't move, he reached out and took her arm, gently this time, and pushed her until she began to climb. "Stay there until I come for you" he said. He turned to the pilot and they began a hurried conversation in Russian. Unable to tune in quickly enough to catch what was said, Kalina hurried up the stairs before Gregorovich decided to stop being so nice. She caught the tension in the air, the look on Parker's face. Something was going down and it wasn't going to be pretty. A rush of adrenalin made her heart start pounding as she climbed.
At the top of the stairs was a door, which Kalina opened and slipped through, pushing it to behind her but not closing it fully. A skylight in the roof illuminated the attic, revealing a plush cream-carpeted floor and row of wardrobes. She turned, puzzled, and saw against the left-hand wall an enormous bed with cream sheets. The room was huge, covering much of the floor-plan of the house, she guessed. The stairway arose almost in the middle, and on the opposite side to the bed was a large desk with a neat stack of papers and a photograph in a frame.
Kalina walked over to the desk and picked up the photo. It was black-and-white, and showed a young couple on a porch. They were smiling and happy; the man had his arm around the woman and she was leaning into him.
Gregorovich's parents?
To the right, opposite the wardrobes was a wall with a door in it, probably leading to a bathroom. Kalina opened it a crack and peered inside to see that she'd guessed correctly. Another small skylight was in the roof of this room, which was again a wetroom but without the enormous shower of downstairs.
Turning and surveying the space, and recognising for the first time the shirt flung carelessly over the chair by the desk as the one the Russian had been wearing the night before, Kalina realised that she was actually in Gregorovich's bedroom.
She quickly wondered how the tall man managed to have an attic bedroom, but the room ended before the ceiling sloped too far down. He probably couldn't stand up at the head of his bed, but then a bed was for lying in, not standing on. For the second time that day, Kalina sat on the edge of a bed to wait.
After only a few seconds she heard sharp gunfire outside, and a concussion shook the skylight. She wasn't sure if it was coming from inside or outside the house, but the battle had definitely begun. She thought of her own pistol which Gregorovich had taken from her, and thought she should be helping somehow. Gregorovich, however, must know his house well enough to defend it.
Musn't he?
More gunfire, closer this time, and simultaneous crashes on the floor below her. An unintelligible shout which sounded angry, and the gunfire resumed. There was a small explosion andthe shotscut off eerily, but were soon picked up again from another direction.
Kalina drummed her fingers on the bed.
After more gunfire and a terrible smashing sound, everything went quiet. Kalina stood up and crept to the head of the stairs, listening. She couldn't hear a thing. Gregorovich had told her to stay put, but what if he were dead? Patel would get the disc, or come for her since he didn't know Gregorovich had it. It was only a matter of time before they came looking for her, searched the house.
She silently opened the door and padded down the stairs, listening hard. A low murmur of voices was just discernible when she reached the hallway. She peered into the open cupboard by the stairs but it was empty; if she went any further it would be unarmed.
Suddenly her eyes lit on a small table beneath the cupboard. She hadn't really looked at it before, because the object on it was so nondescript. A black sculpture, of no particular shape, long and curved and deadly if swung hard enough. Kalina picked it up, feeling slightly more reassured.
The murmur of voices came again, and Kalina followed the sound. At the intersection with the main hallway lay a body which she stepped gingerly over. In the living room a blood spatter marred the floor; the window was broken and someone had died falling through it. Another man lay just beyond him. There were bullet holes in the portion of the far wall of the kitchen which was visible through the open door as Kalina neared it. The huge picture window was shattered, and the voices were now discernible.
"…not be happy"
"That is not my problem" Gregorovich's voice.
"I will make it your problem. I will cut off your fingers one by one until you tell me"
A bitter laugh. "You will have to shoot me first"
Kalina crept closer as they spoke, pausing when they were silent. Gregorovich had his back to what was once the window, hands palm-outwards by his side to show he was unarmed. He was facing slightly away from her, eyes locked on his captor, unable to see her. Kalina saw a quivering gun and leaned forwards to see the man holding it. His shoulders were hunched and tense, he was dressed all in black and wore an earpiece, but he was alone. Three bodies of men dressed like himself littered the floor.
"You would die rather than tell me? For a disc? For a girl?" The man sounded angry, he spat the words in incredulity.
"How do you know she is not already dead?" Gregorovich asked. The man in black snarled and cocked his weapon.
Kalina didn't think. She sprang and swung with all her might.
There was a sickening crack and theman in black sank to the floorwith hisgun clattering down beside him. Gregorovich jumped and fixed his eyes on her.
"I told you to stay upstairs!" he growled.
Kalina looked at Gregorovich, then at the man she'd just battered, and back again.
"You're welcome!" she cried.
Yassen opened his mouth to reply, but a flicker of movement caught his attention.
"Look ou…" He didn't move quickly enough. Bullets sprayed the already-broken window and he felt shards of glass rip through his shirt. He dove behind the island, unable to take Kalina with him. He heard her cry out in pain and then a man in black was on top of him, gun swinging into his line of vision. Gregorovich reacted instantly, swiping the gun aside and smashing the palm of his hand into the man's face. He heard garbled shouts to move from the other end of the kitchen and grabbed his assailant's gun, rolling over and aiming round the island ready to shoot whoever got in his way.
A bullet whistled past his head from the doorway, and he ducked back to safety. Edging round to the other side of the island, he found a better angle and shot the man who fired at him. The man screamed and fired wildly, but when the cartridge was empty he tried to run to Gregorovich, a wicked-looking knife in his hand. Gregorovich struggled and broke his arm, then rammed a fist into his neck.
With the perfect clarity that comes from danger, his eyes swept the kitchen and he saw that Kalina was gone.
A/N: Uh-oh... just when things were going so well! Thanks for all the reviews, keep it up!