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Chapter 8

Rogi sat in the small cafe about 10 miles from the Russian border. As he sipped the coffee, he regarded his hand.

It was stupid really. He should have had it removed or at least altered, like he'd done to his face. But over the years he'd become rather fond of the memento, it helped him remember what had happened in Prague, fuelled the hatred that made him live. Hatred for one man.

A British agent who'd done this to him and who he'd thought was removed from his grasp forever. Until an old friend had found him.

The thought had amused him. The son of Britain greatest agent been used to restart the Cold War. He'd have done it for free if Sarov hadn't paid him.

Still, they had failed. He shouldn't have been surprised that Ilya recognised him, there was a reason they called him Volk, or Wolf.

Now they must make use of Plan B. He got to his and fell back down, a tiny hole in his forehead.

*

"You do not like Antony." Volk observed, taking the indicated chair next to Vixen.

"Else you would have invited him to sit with you instead."

He glanced at the sleeping figure. Alex, or Alexi had been more alert today, though he was still on a high dosage of pain killers.

"Maybe I am following Confucius." Vixen replied, somehow managing to make the awful coffee mug that he had begged from one of the staff look alluring. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer."

"Ash is not your friend." Volk stated blandly. Vixen sighed.

"No." She admitted, and paused. "Ash is a good agent."
"But?"
"But that's it. He's a good agent, but not a great one. He tries really hard, but always somehow falls short of the mark." She shook her head. "In one sense it's not really his fault. He was part of an excellent couple of years. There was me, and it's not fair to compare someone with nearly 10 years combat experience to someone with none, and there were the Rider's brothers."
"Who always had the devil's own luck." Volk smiled, remembering the jokes he had heard about them over a bowl of cabbage soup.

"Up to the end." Vixen agreed, her smile appearing then fading. She shook herself as though to free herself of memories. "The Riders were good due to genetics. In any other year, Ash would have been acknowledged as a good agent, but in ours..."
"His inabilities stood out more than his abilities."

"Yeah." Vixen fell silent. Volk had his mouth open to say more, but Yury chose that moment to enter the room. Mentally cursing his subordinate, he stepped out the room. He was sure there was more to the story than Vixen had told him.

*

"you are positive?"

Yury wished his superior wouldn't ask that, but he knew why. If he was wrong, then they were in trouble.

"there is extensive plastic surgery, attempts have even been made to alter the fingerprints_"
"thank god they always grow back the same." Volk interrupted, still covering the corridors of the St Petersburg hospital at a speed that meant Yury was running to keep up with him.

"but the DNA on file is clear. It's Sarov."

Volk nodded.

"what happened?"
"it was on the Metro. The bullet came straight through the glass. Injured two people before it hit its target."

Volk stopped so suddenly, that Yury nearly ran into the back of him.

"go back." He said, his voice full of ice. "go back and stay with them. I do not care if the British have arrived or not go back and stay with them.
"Of course, only..." he flushed as his superior's eyes fell on him. "Why?"
Volk put his face very close to Yury's own.
"Because there are only two men who could have made that shot. One of them is dead and the second..."
"The second?" Yury asked, when his superior did not seem inclined to finish. He immediately wished he hadn't as the look of contempt on Volk's face was like an icy blast.

"The second is Yassen."

He headed off down the corridor, leaving Yury gazing at his back in horror.

*

Despite the harsh unnatural lights, Jack had fallen asleep. Her head rolled against the orange chairs, her dark hair falling over her shoulder.

"You're wasting your time." Ben jumped, at Vixen's words. He had thought she too was asleep, lying back in her chair, watching from under her eyelashes. "She'll have nothing to do with you. Especially if you're serious about transferring."

"Why?" Ben Daniels, also known as Fox, couldn't help himself. He knew that this red headed woman knew enough to put Wikipedia to shame.

"Her father was a colleague of my father." She didn't seem inclined to say anything more, but Daniels kept watching her, waiting. She smiled.

"She's got you bad." She said and then shrugged. "Not much to tell. Her father was a colleague of my old man. He made some bad enemies, disappeared off the radar when she was two. Next time I met her, she come over from the state. Holiday job with Ian, looking after him." she indicated the bed with her head. She sighed. "We had a massive argument." She shook her head. "Felt like all we did was argue back then." There was a degree of bitterness in her voice. She glanced to the bed. Puzzled, Daniels followed her gaze.

Alex's movements had become more violent. He was muttering, sounds that were almost words. He moved towards the call button, but Vixen's hand suddenly caught his.

"no." She muttered. "It's alright."

This did not seem to be true. Alex's movements were getting worse and worse, now he could hear words.

"No. No. Don't." He sounded pitiful, desperate. Daniels had no idea what to do; he couldn't understand why Vixen was so calm.

"NO!" the word was screamed in English, as the child sat bolt upright. Vixen ran over to the bed, holding the child against her, as he sobbed.

"Andropov says that there not real. That they're just in my head. That they didn't really happen." The words were in English, the tears running down his cheeks and into Vixen's chest. "But in the night. They seem real."
"What do?" Vixen asked, softly.

"The dreams."
"What do you see?" there was a slight pause before see, as though she had meant to say another word, but lacked the courage to submit it.

"A shark. Swimming at me. There's blood in the water. All around. And a jelly fish. A huge one. It's reaching for me. And snow, with men with guns following. Trying to kill me." The desperate eyes were searching for reassurance. Jack had woken up, but he hardly seemed aware of her. He glanced at Vixen, holding the sobbing boy. In that moment, he saw the pain and despair in her eyes.

Then the lights went out.