Briefing and Investigation

Coulson began the briefing promptly twenty minutes after Natasha arrived, exactly as he said. He was nothing if not punctual. The black holographic folder, about the size of a sheet of paper, displayed all the pertinent information.

Ivan Kukal, top aide to the Czech Prime Minister, was found slain in his bedroom early Sunday morning. He was found by his wife, who had been gone that Friday and Saturday to visit family in Brno, found his body when she returned. According to the pictures included in the files, the kill was clean. Single gunshot to the head. No murder weapon was found, nor were any bullets or shell casings.

"Professional," remarked Agent Antoine Triplett, one of Coulson's most highly regarded agents.

Natasha nodded her head in agreement.

The man was found in an extreme case of undress, only in his boxer briefs. The covers weren't pulled back, meaning his was lying on top of them when he was murdered. There was no sign of forced entry, and there was one glass of vodka found in the living room. There was a bottle also, half-full. Only his fingerprints were found on the glass and bottle.

Natasha scanned the photographs with the eye of a trained killer. Everything, from the coerced entry, to the lack of fingerprints, to the clean murder, screamed that this was done by a professional. Question was, who would want an aide dead?

"Any prints, hairs, anything we can scan for DNA?" Bobbi asked.

"None," Coulson answered. "Well, none that were real. They found some synthetic red hairs on the bed. From a wig, so those do us no good."

"This was committed by a woman," Natasha stated.

"Think so?"

She nodded. "The wig is a dead giveaway. His state of undress is another. I'm thinking the assassin posed as an escort to get him to let his guard down." She scanned through the files to see if there was anything else, such as anything stolen. "Doesn't say if anything was stolen from his home."

"Government stonewalled us. You'll have to find that out once you get there." Coulson stood from the briefing table and walked over to a blank screen. He tapped it once with his index finger, then started typing on it. She couldn't see what he was writing, but given his concentrated expression, it was important. "Romanoff, I want you and three other agents to head to the Czech Republic to investigate this further. I've asked the local PD to keep the crime scene intact until you arrive. Take Bobbi, Trip and Mack with you."

She eyed his three agents and nodded. "When do we leave?"

"Right now."

Prague, Czech Republic

Bobbi Morse, Natasha knew. Sci-Tech grad, doctorate in bio-chemistry. One of the few lab rats to transition successfully to field ops. They had teamed together on a few assignments back in the day. She was good.

Antoine Triplett, she had heard good things about. Sharp, quick on his feet and good with bringing the old school Howling Commandos tech. Plus, he had a nice sense of humor.

Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie was the only one she didn't know much about. According to Coulson, he was a SHIELD mechanic that was brought in to help Fitz when he was dealing with the side effects of his oxygen deprivation. He eventually shifted to field ops, where he had become an invaluable asset.

She could see why Coulson chose those three to go with her.

"Anybody speak Czech?" Mack asked. "Because I sure as hell don't."

Trip and Bobbi both shook their heads.

"And you three call yourselves spies." Natasha had to learn many languages during her time in the Red Room. Luckily, a few Czech phrases were on the learning docket.

"I'm a mechanic, not a spy," Mack protested.

"I know you keep saying that," Bobbi teased.

An official looking man in a sharp black suit approached them. "Are you from the government?"* he asked in Czech.

(A/N: Translated from Czech.)

"Yes. Is the crime scene still intact?" Natasha answered.

He nodded and gestured for them to follow him. He flashed his identification card to another official that was guarding the entrance to the slain aide's home, then indicated that the agents were with him. "As soon as your supervisor called to inform us that you were on your way, we tried to maintain the integrity of the crime scene. I hope you can keep this as quiet as possible. Government officials being murdered in their own homes hardly lends to a calm public."

"Understood."

Kukal's home was furnished very much like a government employee's home would be. Expensive looking furniture, beautiful paintings, gold inlays across the ceiling and silver inlays on walls sprawling throughout the home. The main focal point was obviously the expansive fountain set in the center of the foyer just in front of the double-sided staircase leading upstairs.

"Damn," Triplett marveled. "How much did this guy make again?"

"According to his records, a little north of 1.3 million Koruna. Which is only $55,000 a year," Bobbi answered. "So, either this guy had one hell of a piggy bank, or –"

"He was into some real shady shit on the side," Mack finished.

The picture was still too foggy to make out, but it was starting to clear up some. If Kukal was into some shady business, as Mack alluded to, then he more than likely got in over his head. Perhaps saw something or knew something that he shouldn't have. That made him a liability. Hence someone hiring a professional assassin to take him out.

Natasha hadn't been in the shadowy depths of this kind of place in quite some time, but she remembered clearly how deadly and unforgiving any Eastern European underground could be. Russian mafias stole the bulk of the western world's attention, but the mafias in other countries – like Czech – were just as deadly. If not deadlier, as they could operate with almost complete anonymity and impunity, thanks to the aforementioned Russians.

The official led them to the bedroom, which was boarded off with caution tape. As he removed it and unlocked the door, he said, "We will stay out of your way now, but please, inform us of anything you may find. All of our resources are at your disposal."

"Thank you. We will."

When he left down the stairs, they got right to work. "Alright, so what are we looking for?"

"Anything the police may have missed," Natasha answered Mack. "Blood drops, fingerprints, hair, anything at all. Coulson wants this person found as soon as possible."

There was a slim chance of them finding something to police missed, she knew. A government official being murdered meant the investigators were going to do their utmost to find every shred of evidence, if only to look good in case government investigators conducted their own search. As was the case now.

Of course, SHIELD tech was of a much higher caliber – even in its dilapidated state – than anything any one country had at its disposal.

The agents worked in silence. There was no stone left unturned, no nook or cranny left unsearched and every inch of every wall was sensually caressed in case there was a secret switch or false panel. And yet, nothing. They couldn't find anything that the police or anyone else may have overlooked.

They had been at it for twenty minutes, yet couldn't find anything. Even when Triplett pulled out an x-ray scanner to scan the walls and floor, nothing came up.

"Clean as a whistle," he said, the unmistakable hint of disappointment coloring his tone. "If he was dealing with shady shit, he was good at hiding it."

"At least here, anyway." Bobbi dropped her goggles on the bedframe, which had been stripped clean of its sheets and mattresses. "More than likely, he has some kind of storage unit or something like that."

"Only problem is how are we going to find it if he does?" Mack asked. "It's not like he left directions."

Natasha glanced from his to Triplett, who was leaning against the far wall. His brow was creased, as if thinking hard about what to try next.

Just when she was about to ask what he thought, he suddenly shot from the wall to the light switch by the door. He quickly removed the screws with a screwdriver, then carefully removed the panel.

Natasha glanced over his shoulder and saw it when he did. A gold coin jammed into the crevice by the light switch. On one side was a fox, and the other side were three crucifixes.

"It's always the last place you think to look," he said with a grin. "I'll scan this and send it to Fitz. Maybe he can see where it came from."

"Good job, Triplett." Her back turned to him, so she didn't see his grin brighten just a touch.

They had a hunch, which was better than nothing. If it panned out and they ended up with something concrete to work on, then the day wouldn't have been a complete waste.