Chapter 3

Yuri Marklov and his fellow corrupt bureaucrats sat in the backroom of Russia's most exclusive and expensive restaurant. In irate voices they argued about how to regain control over their government from Russia's newest president. Unfortunately for them his views were more moderate than the real (and late) Mikhail Belicoff. Their argument was interrupted by the lights turning off followed by gunfire.

Darkness and the aroma of gunpowder surrounded Yuri, he whispered asking his colleagues if they were hurt; there was no response. He carefully reached out to the man next him and felt warm liquid run down his hand. When he brought his hand to his nose the metallic scent of blood and gunpowder filled his nostrils. He began shaking but proceeded to remove his gun from its holster when heard the door open. Without thinking, he emptied the gun's bullets into the man that walked towards him.

He threw his gun on the floor but froze in fear when the lights turned on. The bloodied bullet riddled body of his security guard stood in front of him. Agent 47 let go of Yuri's slain guardian to reveal himself.

"You!" Yuri yelled out.

The assassin aimed his AMT Hardballer at Yuri's head, "Mr. Marklov, I do appreciate how you attempted to have Belicoff's double assassinated."

"You gave me no choice! It was either me or him! Why did you even bother to ask me if you knew you were going to kill him?"

Agent 47 ignored his question, "You told me that other men were involved with Belicoff's death. Who are they?"

He looked into his dead eyes and told the truth, "They were all in this room." His eyes fell upon the dead corrupt bureaucrats that surrounded him.

"And Nika?"

"They cannot find her."

"There is still a hit on her?"

"No, and why bother? No one will believe her. She is only a filthy whore!"

Without thinking Agent 47 shot him underneath the collar bone.

An anguished cry came from Yuri as he touched the painful but not fatal wound.

Keeping his aim on Yuri, Agent 47 removed the mobile phone from his jacket, "You will call ICO and call off the hit on me."

"It is useless; they are not interested in giving up on you!"

He knew Yuri was right and that he was no longer of use to him, "I've only spared four lives. Yours is the only one I regret."

"What are you talkin-.." The bullet in his head permanently prevented him from finishing his question.

Interpol Inspector Mike Whittier and his partner Jenkins looked at the dead Russian bureaucrats including Yuri Marklov.

Jenkins took his stare off Yuri and looked at his partner, "If you hadn't put a bullet in that bald bastard's head a few months ago..I'd swear he did this."

Mike gazed at Yuri, "If only he weren't an actual ghost now…"

He didn't enjoy lying to Jenkins but he knew there was no other option. He loved his job but he loved his family more. After seeing what Agent 47 was capable of, he believed it would be wise to keep his word and leave the deadly assassin alone.

The bustling streets of Spain were of no distraction to Agent 47 as he walked them; he had other things on his mind. In less than twenty-four hours he was set to assassinate an arms dealer in Madrid. His contact at MI5 wanted the hit to be subtle which Agent 47 always preferred. Two days after, he had another assignment in Austria. The breakneck pace of his assignments were growing tiresome and the only consolation was his payment. He didn't know exactly why yet, but he felt the need to make sure his bank account should be as robust as possible.

Suddenly, a small light object fell on top of his foot interrupting his train of thought. He kneeled down, picked up the small stuffed toy dog and read the tag sewn on the seam of its backside. Just then he heard a little girl's voice ask her mother in Spanish where her toy dog was. A moment later he found himself faced with a hesitant a six-year-old girl. It was then he remembered Nika telling him that his stare was intense and that he needed to tone it down when he wasn't killing someone.

The little girl stepped back when he offered the dog to her. Her mesmerizing green eyes reminded him of Nika. He managed to give her a small grin.

"Aqui," his tone was gentle as he offered her the dog again.

She smiled and accepted the dog, "Gracias senor."

"De nada," he softly replied.

The little girl returned to her mother but turned around and waved to him.

He waited a moment and held up his hand. At that instant, he knew what to send Nika and immediately stood up.

Karissa went into the office of her wine boutique and looked at her mobile phone's screen. The number was unknown but she answered anyway.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Karissa, it's Frank Holt," Agent 47 told her.

"From Italy, I remember," she sat down in front of her computer. "How are you?"

"I've been well."

"And your head?" When he didn't respond she explained, "There was a bandage on the back of it."

"Right," he had his barcode tattoo removed by a laser but wisely kept that to himself. "It's healed."

"Good, and I think your friend Karina liked your gift..at least the movie. I couldn't figure out a discreet way to ask her about the blanket."

"How do you know that," he questioned her.

With a little laugh she said, "Remember, I own a wine boutique and we sell her wine."

"I see," he was pleased to find out that Nika liked at least one of his gifts.

"She came in here with her very gay friends the other day and wanted to see how sales were. The sales, her friends and her are all great. I told her sales would skyrocket if she put her face on the bottle, she thought it was funny. She is also one stunning woman!"

"That's nice," he quietly agreed with her but did not show it in his tone.

"So..it's nice to see that you're using my business card…."

He remembered how "small talk" was supposed to go, "Yes. How are you?"

"Things are well, my husband's practice is doing great and so is my family."

"That's good to know," after a second he said, "I'm calling you because I need you to send another package to Karina."

It surprised her to see how he trusted her, "All right." After he told her the product that he wanted her to send to Nika she arched an eyebrow, "She has..interesting tastes. Are you sure you don't want to order this online yourself?"

"I can't I'm very busy with work and I travel.."

"Ok then..Do you want me to let her know that it's from you? She doesn't know that I met you."

He blinked, "Why?"

"I had a feeling that if you wanted me to, you would have told me. My dad's like that too."

"All right," he nodded. "You can put my name on the return address..but that's it. I'll wire you the money."

"Ok, it was nice talking to you again Frank."

After a second he answered, "Likewise. Goodbye Karissa."

"Bye Frank," she hung up. Leaning back in her chair she thought about how mysterious his behavior was yet she didn't feel threatened by it. In fact, there was something about him that felt familiar to her.

Nika's fingers grazed her left cheek where her tattoo dragon once was. It amazed her to see how there was no trace of it left as if her former life was nothing but a nightmare. She closed her eyes and remembered the feel of Agent 47's hand caressing her face.

From the intercom in her bathroom, she heard Elaine speak.

"Karina, you've received a package. Mr. Beaumont and Mr. Martinez have also arrived."

"Thank you Elaine, I'll be down in a moment," she said while pressing down on the intercom's "talk" button.

Minutes later, Nika came down the stairs and greeted her friends.

"Hey Sweetie," Trent said from the kitchen as he poured himself a glass of water.

Bryce sat down at the kitchen's island and started to peel an orange, "You look nice today."

"Thanks," Nika glanced down at her red blouse and denim jeans before seeing the package on the living room table.

"Who's Frank Holt?" Trent asked, "The guy who sent you the package."

Nika didn't know but suspected that it was Agent 47; she contained her excitement while opening the package, "He's an old friend of mine."

"An old friend with no address?" Trent asked.

"I'll..I'll talk to you about it later, ok?"

"I know you will," his tone was slightly firm.

Her perfect lips formed into a wide smile when she picked up the stuffed chipmunk from the box and read the tag on its backside out loud, "Tiska." She then picked up the card.

Nika,

This is a chipmunk not a squirrel, there is a difference. I am fine.

-47

A small chuckle left her mouth. She couldn't believe he remembered her story about her pet chipmunk.

"A chipmunk?" Bryce said with a confused look.

She looked at her friends, "It's personal," she told them.

With a pleasant grin Trent answered, "I think it's sweet."

Holding the chipmunk and card to her chest she headed for the stairs, "It is. After I put this in my room, we'll leave, ok?"

"We'll be waiting," Trent said and waited until she was upstairs to speak again. "What kind of a grown ass man buys a woman a stuffed chipmunk named after her dog?"

"The kind that Karina knows?" Bryce offered.

Both men gasped when Karina's voice came out of the intercom, "I can hear you bitches!"

"So!" Bryce said into the intercom, "What are you gonna do? Come down here and call us 'moose' and 'squirrel'?"

A second passed before she laughed, "That was a good one!"