A/N: This happens immediately after Seventy-five.
August 3, 2011
1600 Local time
The man running through the Russian embassy didn't seem to mind that he was colliding with a person every three seconds or so. He was carrying a copy of the day's newspaper, along with a typed translation. All he offered those he bumped was an apologetic "Excuse me, comrade."
After passing through Carter and Rosie, he found himself in front of Colonel Kulyuchev. "Comrade Colonel," he said in Russian, "you should see this."
"What is it, Vanya?" he asked, snatching the paper from the man.
"It's FILTER, sir."
"Who?" asked Carter. The conversation was loud enough to be carried through the hallway.
"Someone named 'Filter,'" replied Rosie. "That's how the KGB names its agents. Sometimes it's something very far from they really are, to confuse America back during the Cold War." She took another copy of the newspaper and searched for the article. Its title read, "Trade Delegate Disappears."
"Deputy Assistant to the Undersecretary of Trade Musa Muhamedow has disappeared from his house in western Kabul. Muhamedow was supposed to be with the ill-fated trade delegation to Kazakhstan which boarded Air Afghanistan Flight 200 until he was stricken with health problems. Authorities are already scouring the city and surrounding country for any signs of the official."
"So this 'Filter' guy of theirs is this Muhamedow?" asked Carter. "That means that they have everything about Afghanistan's trade department. You have to appreciate it, they're good at this."
"You know," said Rosie, "I have seen some ministers in the Parliament that seem at either at ease or very troubled every time Russian delegates come."
"Colonel, I don't think there's any chance of turning up FILTER," Vanya told Kulyuchev.
"Don't say things like that in front of me again, Romanenko," the colonel scolded. "Until I see FILTER's dead body myself, I still hold hope for him."
A janitor in one of Kabul's many apartment buildings happened to be one of Vanya Romanenko's agents too, and having seen something of importance, requested an immediate meet.
"What is this matter that wound you up very much, At?" asked Romanenko. The town center was crowded enough for the Russian spy to barely hear his agent.
"I don't suppose you take me for a fool, Ivan," replied At al-Qadid. "I like to read the news too. Minister Muhamedow's disappearance is a very worrying matter, my friend, but let me tell you something that I haven't told anyone else yet. Muhamedow is in the building where I work."
Romanenko nearly choked in his drink. "What? Muhamedow is still in Kabul? Why haven't you told the authorities?"
"The man who owns the unit where I saw the minister is an influential man. Who do you think would the police believe, a mere janitor like me or someone with money?"
"You make a good point, At," said Vanya. "Why did you tell me this in the first place?"
"You are from Russian military. You have more chances in saving Minister Muhamedow than the police would ever care to try."
"Comrade Colonel! Comrade Colonel! I have information on FILTER's whereabouts."
"I told you we'll find him sooner or later, Vanya," said Kulyuchev. "Where did you obtain this?"
"Agent BRACKISH, Colonel."
"So he never left the city," the colonel muttered after Romanenko had finished his story. "This is interesting. But why would he be kidnapped? Does this have anything to do with him avoiding death in Air Afghanistan 200?"
"I cannot answer that, Colonel."
Kulyuchev nodded. "We may be able to use GUARDIAN yet."
"Hey, guys, sorry to intrude, but can I talk to you for a few minutes?"
Romanenko had found Carter and Rosie watching one of the translators doing his work. He had first thought that it would be a little hard to talk to them, but he found that they were easier to talk to than any of his most cooperative agents.
"Sure thing, Vanya," replied Rosie in Russian. "It's Vanya, right?"
"Why, yes. Ivan Fedorovich Romanenko."
"Guys, I'm still here," said Carter.
"Sorry about that," said Romanenko, switching to English. "But I have something to talk to you two about. Do you know Operation GUARDIAN?" Both women shook their heads. Romanenko opened a folder and read the contents.
"'In the event of an agent being uncovered by the enemy, or with the agent's life in danger, it is the right of the rezident to immediately create an operation in which the agent shall be secured from enemy hands and returned safely to either the rezidentura or the Motherland.' GUARDIAN is not just for Afghanistan, it's for every KGB rezidentura in the world. GUARDIAN is the set of plans of how each rezident would extract their agent. Colonel Kulyuchev is not known for originality, but I believe his plan should suffice for now." The rest of the day was spent poring over maps, plotting all possible routes to and from the apartment.
August 4, 2011
0430 Local time
It wasn't much of a plan, but it had the best chance of working. Vanya would go into the apartment's lobby and distract the personnel while Carter and Rosie made their way to the third floor, where At al-Qadid claims he saw Musa Muhamedow. While every one of them had thoughts about the operation, nobody spoke up until the time came. Finally, the two made the go signal, and Vanya Romanenko strode towards the apartment.
"Showtime," muttered Carter. The two chambered a round into their guns and got out of their car. They had parked three blocks away in order to avert suspicion, but they couldn't help but feel watched. Upon reaching the lobby, they could see that Vanya had done a good job: there was nobody there. They walked into the stairwell.
"How many do you see?" asked Cater once they got to the third floor.
"There's someone watching the elevator shaft," replied Rosie. "Good call on that one." She checked the pocket flashlight in her pocket. It was smaller than the one that she used back in Palawan, but it was just as bright.
The guard watching the elevator turned around as he heard the door to the stairs squeak a little. He turned his attention to that door, aiming his pistol there too. Suddenly, the two doors swung open. In the darkness, he could barely see two figures lying on the ground with guns aimed at him.
The flashlight was almost a physical force itself. Three million candles of light aimed at a single point, and it was as bright as the sun. The sensory overload caused the guard to drop his pistol and twitch as he fell to the ground.
Alerted by the sounds of their fallen comrade, the two men inside the apartment took hold of their weapons. But by then, the door had been shouldered open, and two figures were standing inside the frame. The one directly in front, holding an Uzi submachine gun, never had a chance to fire as Carter fired two rounds into his head. The one confronting Rosie didn't fare any better. Although armed with a W1200 shotgun, he had barely chambered the first round before he too was felled.
"Clear left."
"Clear right."
Musa Muhamedow was sitting in front of the room's only television, which was off at the moment. His mouth was agape as he watched two armed strangers approach him. The shock of seeing human beings dying had taken hold of him. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Comrade Muhamedow, we are the ones who rescuing you," replied Rosie.
"You killed them!"
"Maybe we can talk about that later, Minister," said Carter. "Right now, what's important is that we get you safely to the Russian embassy."
Just before the three had exited the lobby, Carter's cell phone rang. "Yes?"
"Possible hostiles coming in from the north," was the terse reply of Romanenko. "Will have to split for now. See you at work."
"What the hell?" But her train of thought was interrupted by the staccato burp of Uzis. She shoved Muhamedow into the car and jumped into the driver's seat.
"I know you're not Russians," said the minister as they drove aimlessly around Kabul.
"What makes you say that, tovarisch?" Carter asked innocently.
"Okay, you may speak their language, but I know Russians. I will admit, I was mujahideen back during their invasion of my country, so I know how they behave. You two are certainly more well-trained in the art of killing than the whole Red Army could ever hope to accomplish together in their multinational mush, as you have just proven a few minutes ago."
There was no hiding it now. "Yes, Minister. We are Americans, agents of the Princess Protection Program, the PPP, if you will. There's not much princesses to rescue in this new world order, so in order to keep working, we've rented ourselves to the various intelligence services of the world. In this instance, the two of us are working for the Committee for State Security, or KGB. Colonel Kulyuchev has noticed that you were in danger and so he put into effect the rescue mission that we've just done. I can't say accomplished yet, because we're not yet in the safety of the embassy. And as you may have noticed, we did not kill the man in front of the elevator."
Muhamedow's ranting stopped for a few seconds as he gave the matter considered thought. "Why?" he asked.
"There's no sense killing him, Minister. But the others were unfortunate enough to take hold of their weapons when we barged in. It's just a hard-wired reflex during military training. I'm sure you know what we're talking about, Minister."
The indirect drive to the embassy had taken a surprisingly fast fifteen minutes. Romanenko himself opened the gate, and took care of the debriefing of Agent FILTER.
A/N: I won't be able to post more this week becuase of school matters. So just sit back and enjoy! - GR
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