A/N: I've just looked around the PPP fanfic archive, and I've seen that there are some femslash stories. Just to tell you, but there's no femslash in this story, guys. Sorry.

August 8, 2011
1555 Local time

"I hope you've enjoyed our drive."

"Yes, Mr. Kulyuchev, I have."

Colonel Kulyuchev was talking to Judge Alamein al-Wahlid, whose judicial district had been chosen by the government to try the case of Abubakar Karmal by lottery. Because of perceived security risks, the KGB rezident had offered to accompany the judge on his journey to the courthouse.

"I hope I'm not intruding upon delicate matters," said the colonel.

"No, Mr. Kulyuchev, nothing of the sort."

They had come upon a part of the road leading to Mazar that wasn't frequently traveled for fear of the insurrectionists. Their driver had slowed the Ford Crown Victoria and began making the turns on the mountainside carefully. Unknown to all of them, a group of cold, calculating eyes were watching their careful progress. Armed with two German MG42 machine guns, they crews lined up their sights and pulled the trigger.

The hail of bullets that struck the car sounded like rivets popping. Kulyuchev immediately covered al-Wahlid's body with his, producing his Tokarev TT-33 pistol in the same movement. The passenger side guard had also brought up an Uzi submachine gun, and the driver was already trying to veer away from the shooters. But with the mountain on one side and a very high drop on the other, there was little room to maneuver.

"It sounds like machine gunfire," said al-Wahlid. "Why isn't it getting through?"

"We've placed Kevlar panels on the car's vulnerable spots," replied Kulyuchev. "It should hold for a while." Turning to the men in front, he said, "Nikita, Leonid, How are you two up front?"

"Not much we can do from here, Comrade Colonel," replied Nikita Kosmodemyansky.

"I see a town up front," said Leonid Podgorod. "I can get us there if only we weren't between the mountains and the cliffs!"

Finally, the car made it out of the gauntlet. But that wasn't the end of their troubles. Two groups of men with Russian RPG-7s were hiding out in the rooftops of the abandoned town, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

"What in the world—" A warhead exploded just in front of the car, almost making Podgorod crash. "We'll need more than ourselves to save our lives, Comrade Colonel!"

But Kulyuchev was already one step ahead of him. After pushing Judge al-Wahlid down on the ground, he reached for his cellphone and made a call.

"Mason."

"Ms. Mason? This is Colonel Kulyuchev, and my situation has become unhealthy. Please tell Vanya."

"What was that, Colonel?" But Kulyuchev had already hung up.

"I think I heard my name brought up," said Vanya Romanenko, entering the office. "What did the colonel say?"

"Wait a minute. How did you know that?"

"Communications," the KGB lieutenant replied matter-of-factly. "What did he say?"

"Something like his situation becoming unhealthy, I don't know. What does it mean?" asked Carter.

"Ah, that explains so much. To answer your question, I don't think I'm cleared to brief you about our code phrases." Then Romanenko went for the telephone and placed a call.

"Sir, I see lots of dust on the horizon."

The leader of the hitmen raised his binoculars and zoomed in. There, he could see the blocky shapes of Afghan BMP-1s. "Get rid of everything," he ordered, "but leave the spent casings. We can still send a message that way."

Timofeyenko rewound the tape of the attempted hit on Alamein al-Wahlid. One of his men had brought a video camera to film al-Wahlid's planned execution had they captured him. He then ejected the disk before opening a sealed brown envelope. Inside were the photocopies of three new additions to the Russian embassy.

The first was a rookie KGB agent, not somebody worth pursuing for him. The other two were more interesting, female freelance journalists from a respected news agency. He read the company's periodicals every once in a while, whenever he got tired of communist glorification in Pravda.

Returning the first file into the envelope, he then took a disk and inserted it into his computer. After five minutes, he took that disk out and placed it, along with everything in the envelope, into his briefcase. Once again, "Bolshoi" had delivered. He now had another person lined up in his sights: Ms. Felicidad Sison, also known as Carter Mason.