Thursday, February 15th, 2018
HMS SULTAN
Gosport, Hampshire
Kate Montgomery was beyond nervous.
As the seventeen-year-old young woman sat in the bare waiting room, she did her best not to fidget. She was dressed very smartly in a navy-blue skirt, a pristine white blouse, black tights, and flat black shoes. Her dark brown hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and she wore a little makeup to accentuate her facial characteristics but nothing too fancy.
The young woman had been a nervous wreck ever since awaking in the hotel in Portsmouth, that very morning. Her guardian, Amy Montgomery, had helped the girl dress and tidy herself up as Kate had been physically shaking. The short drive to HMS SULTAN had been a blur and then, once she had been checked in and shown her accommodation – a rather bleak single cabin on the first floor – she had been asked to wait. She knew that her two-day visit would be hard and challenging – both mentally and physically – to say the very least. As she was the first to arrive, she had to wait almost forty minutes before she was joined by eleven other hopefuls, an even mixture of six males and six females. All were smartly turned out and only four were younger candidates like Kate. She knew that she would need to work with each and every one of them despite them all being competitors for very few slots.
Finally, at 10AM, a female lieutenant led them all into a large computer room where they were set their first task of writing an essay. The forty-minute task was a breeze for Kate who considered her essay to be thoughtful and concise, but full of facts and good grammar. The subject provided had been an easy, if a rather curious one: 'Comment on modern day vigilantism.' After lunch at noon, the next four to five hours were spent learning about the following day's practical tasks and mental exercises and having a go at demonstration tasks and exercises. That took them nicely into the evening and after a good meal, the twelve young men and women sat and talked, getting to know one another and discussing the potential requirements for the following day.
Kate was in bed by 9:30PM and sound asleep just minutes later.
..._...
The Practical Leadership Tasks or PLTs were physically and mentally taxing as potential officer candidates were thrown into practical tasks involving water, planks of wood, lengths of rope, and various wooden obstacles.
All the while, Royal Navy officers of senior rank watched every move and listened for every comment and command. They watched to see who took leadership roles and who preferred to listen and follow orders. Kate, naturally, was one of the former and her no-nonsense reasoning helped her team breeze through their task with outstanding success – or so they all thought; it was always difficult to second-guess the officers watching.
The more mental exercises while seated in a boardroom were simple to Kate as she had faced many during her childhood, although, there was no fear of receiving the strap or a bullet should you fail the exercise! Kate was not amused by the computer-administered psychometric tests. The tests were designed to assess a candidate's cognitive ability and their personality. She had taken such things several times both as a Predator and after. She was worried what the sneaky test might reveal.
Then came the dreaded interview which had Kate shaking once more.
..._...
Kate was not happy with what she saw on entering the boardroom.
There were five Royal Navy officers present - four men and a woman. A rear admiral sat at the head of the table while to his right, two full commanders sat at the table. To his left, a female lieutenant-commander sat next to a lieutenant who appeared to be the rear admiral's flag lieutenant. Kate's keen eyes took in everything within just a few seconds – including finding a quick way out should things go bad – and she nervously approached the nearest end of the table. The rear admiral stood up and he smiled at Kate.
"Kate Montgomery?"
"Yes, sir."
"Please be seated and don't be put off by us all."
Kate was definitely put off by them all, but she sat down at the opposite end of the table, nonetheless.
"This is intended to be an interview to ascertain your suitability as an officer in the Royal Navy. The outcome of this interview will decide whether you continue on to selection," the rear admiral continued. "I am Rear Admiral Rearden, and these are Commanders Bartholomew and Hayden," he indicated the two officers to his right, "and then we have Hampton and Nevis. All are career officers in the Royal Navy. Hayden, for his sins, is a helicopter pilot and a former Sea Harrier pilot."
Then the questions began in earnest, initially from the female lieutenant commander, Hampton. They were mainly general knowledge about worldwide events both current and recent which appeared to be aimed directly at her and involved questions on Vengeance amongst other similarly orientated subjects. However, those subjects soon moved onto the Royal Navy and her accumulated knowledge on warships, aircraft, and weapons used by the naval branch of the British military. The interview was going well, Kate thought: the first hour had been relatively easy, but then everything had turned distinctly sour as Nevis, the flag lieutenant, had passed out a buff-coloured folder with a red trim to each of the other officers. Kate had caught sight of the cover of one folder, and she had cringed at the sight of two words: Urban Predator. Her shoulders slumped – in her mind she was scuppered; they were never going to let her in; her past was very much against her.
"May I say something, sir?"
"Of course," the rear admiral nodded, and Kate stood up.
"I did not choose to have my childhood taken from me when I was ten years old. That was how old I was when I was taken and forced to learn horrible skills in an environment where failure meant death. I had no choice if I wanted to leave and eventually break out of the toxic environment which was my life. I endured many hardships at the behest of my own government and that of other world governments. I have killed – too many times to account. I have fought for the enemy, but I saw the error of my ways and I was rehabilitated. I will always be a killer. I will always be an assassin. I will always be nothing. I can understand that my history goes against what the Royal Navy stands for, but I am different, and I can be an asset ... if I am given just one chance."
Kate sat down, her eyes blazing with anger and her hands shaking.
"Rant over?" a kindly voice asked.
"Yes, sir – sorry, sir."
"Don't apologise for something beyond your control, young lady," the rear admiral said. "You have suffered greatly, but from what I have seen, you have pulled yourself up, and you have aimed to make your life better in every way. You could have given up. You could have gone in so many other directions but no, you have conviction. Nevis!"
The officer, Nevis, passed a second buff-coloured folder to the rear admiral who smiled at Kate reassuringly.
"I have in this folder, several letters of support for your application. They range from letters written by a captain of Royal Marines, two serving lieutenant commanders, and a commander, to a letter from a serving captain in the Royal Navy. I am also honoured to have received this letter here..."
The rear admiral held up the top of a folded piece of paper. Kate's jaw dropped as she saw the Royal Crest and she read the return address: BUCKINGHAM PALACE.
"...In which Her Majesty places much faith in your potential appointment. I also have an eleven-page letter from your father, Chief Petty Officer Montgomery, in which he states your achievements to date – many of which are classified for my eyes only – and your 'burning desire' to become an officer in the Royal Navy. The man has seen many officers during his twenty plus years in the service and he knows good officer material when he sees it – and I must agree."
Kate was dumbfounded.
"You . . . you do – sir?"
"I do."
The rest of the interview and the following fitness test was a blur of activity before she found herself back in the same boardroom, still sweating from her fitness test – which she had passed.
..._...
Only Commander Hayden was present.
"Please sit, Miss Montgomery."
Kate did so and she felt the Commander's eyes on her.
"I understand that you fly for Vengeance."
"No comment, sir."
"I know. You cannot talk about it. Here."
The officer passed over a sealed envelope. Confused, Kate opened the envelope to see a short, hand-written paragraph advising her she could talk with Commander Hayden about Vengeance. It was signed by Commander Lawrence. Kate handed back the envelope and letter which Commander Hayden proceeded to feed into a paper shredder.
"Yes, sir, I do."
"I've ditched a Merlin – not fun."
"I am hoping not to have to revisit that, sir. It was bad the first time."
"Indeed! Now, I expect you will be signing up to be a pilot and I think we can do something about that. Oh, almost forgot. Congratulations, Miss Montgomery, you will be forwarded to selection. You will receive a letter either confirming a place at BRNC Dartmouth or a letter advising you why you have not been offered a place at this stage."
While it was not completely over, the biggest hurdle was in the past.
Monday, February 19th
Dollar Academy
Her freedom was not without compromise.
One of those was the school uniform which was neatly laid out for her when she was prodded awake by her evil twin. Julie had scowled at the grinning Kate, but the alternative was a prison cell, so Julie had dutifully showered and dressed. She had opted to braid her hair as Kate had hers in a ponytail – they were two girls who were determined to be different despite having identical looks. They were dropped off along with the two boys by David a few minutes before eight that morning. Julie was super nervous, and her new uniform had her standing out like a sore thumb – the new pupil! However, Kate was enjoying the double-takes and confused expressions – much more than Julie liked – as even Kate's own friends found it momentarily difficult to tell which was their friend before Kate identified herself and introduced her surprisingly shy sister to everyone. For some of the boys who had a thing for Kate, it was like Christmas and their birthdays coming at once . . . in a double helping. Julie cringed at the male attention, something she did not crave.
"Hello."
Julie turned to see a stunning blonde girl her own age smiling at her.
"I'm new too – sort of; I've been here six weeks. I'm Christine."
"Julie. First day."
"What lesson you got?"
"Er – double maths."
"Nasty way to start a Monday but Mr Newbury ain't bad – I'll show you where to go."
Kate watched her sister head off with the other girl and silently wished her well.
"That your sister with Chapel?"
"Yes, it is," Kate confirmed to her friend, Jess. "A problem?"
"Chapel's Australian and a little bit of a nut. Angy is sure Chapel's batting for the other side, too."
Kate rolled her eyes as she headed for her first class of the day.
..._...
Kate did not see her sister again until the end of the day.
"Hurry up, we need to be in Edinburgh by half five," Kate offered up, somewhat cryptically.
The drive into Edinburgh was eventful and Julie had just met a slightly stressed young woman whose name was Cassie, and the reason for the stress became very evident once a girl called Naomi began to bicker with the young girl called Kaitlin whom she had already met. After twenty minutes of bickering, Julie turned around in the front seat and glared at the two girls.
"You two could make a Quaker go to fucking war!"
Cassie almost lost control of the car as she burst out laughing.
"I hate my life," Kaitlin scowled.
"I hate your life, too," Naomi added. "I..."
"I want to back to my cell; it was so peaceful!" Julie persisted. "I'd even tolerate the constant lesbian sex in the next cell, morning, noon, and night, just to get away from you two."
Naomi scowled as Cassie struggled to stop laughing.
..._...
Forty-five minutes later, Julie's curiosity peaked as they turned in just past a large building.
"Come on!" Kaitlin said as she grabbed Julie's hand and dragged her down the alleyway towards the street.
"Where are we? Why are we here?" Julie asked as they passed through a set of glazed double doors, and she just caught the name of the facility: DJAK|GB.
Inside, she stopped dead, almost dragging the still attached Kaitlin to the floor. The brightly lit, homely reception area with lounge and servery was heaving with adults and children, many wearing a custom white training Gi with logo as paying customers. Dotted around were dark and light blue Gi which were worn by the senior instructors and junior staff respectively – the varying colours of belt signifying their skill level.
"Get changed," a girl Julie did not recognise said, handing her a white Gi with a plain green belt coiled atop the Gi. "Over there."
Julie felt the diminutive Kaitlin dragging her towards the female changing room with surprising strength for the small girl. Julie changed swiftly into the Gi which was exactly her size with sufficient space to allow her to fight. Barefoot, she followed Kaitlin, who wore a light blue Gi with a green belt matching her own which identified Kaitlin as something special. While many changing wore white belts with or without a yellow tab, there were some adults who wore dark blue Gi with black belts, the highest of which bore two gold tabs and was worn by Cassie.
Julie noticed that her sister, Kate, wore a black belt with a single gold tab over her dark blue Gi.
..._...
Julie was quick to figure out that the facility was a martial arts training centre, and very popular.
Surprisingly quickly, the massed of children and adults were separated into classes each with their own section of mat for training. Julie found herself in a group of similarly skilled youngsters, lined up facing their instructor. Julie grinned as she found herself facing her grinning self. Kate was joined by a younger girl in a pale blue Gi wearing a blue belt.
"Evening class!" Kate began exactly as the clock, high on the wall, changed to 6PM.
"Evening Instructor!" the class intoned.
"This evening, we have Dakota to assist us," Kate said as Dakota smiled. "Let's begin some warmups – Dakota."
The next twenty minutes was spent warming up with slow Taekwondo movements which Julie knew by heart and for the first time in ages, she suddenly felt at ease. She was able to focus on her movements and not her disintegrating life. Her mind focussed on her arms, legs, and body as opposed to those around her. After the warmups, began the swifter more complex movements which Julie dropped into without breaking a sweat.
Very soon – too soon for Julie – it was breaktime and the group moved swiftly to get a drink of tea and an oat cookie. As she stood with her sister, Dakota, and another girl, Ariana, Julie noticed a familiar face darting in and out of the crowd with a younger girl in tow. For a moment, Julie had not been able to place the face but then she remembered seeing the same face at school – her friend, Christine, had pointed out a Royal Princess.
"Is that...?" Julie asked, tipping her head in the direction of Princess Mary.
"Yep," Dakota said. "Our resident Royal Princess."
"A princess, huh? Snobby bitch."
"So, you've met Mary, then?" a short girl grinned as almost everyone laughed out loud. "I'm Electra."
"And I'm Mary."
"Hi."
Mary grinned happily at finding someone who gave a shit about her lineage.
"You must be Julie, Kate's twin," Mary stated.
"What gave it away?" Julie responded sarcastically.
Mary laughed. "I've no idea; you just looked familiar was all."
Julie's eyes were constantly in motion, taking in the scenery and searching for danger, just as she had been taught. She identified a youngish woman whose eyes never left the Princess for more than a mill-second as they darted around the facility. That was the Princess' protection, Julie noted.
The break was soon over, and Julie went back to her class where she enjoyed tuning into her sister's voice as she guided the class's movements.
A little under two weeks later...
Sunday, March 4th
Ashley House
Vengeance Command Centre
Jasper Collins was not a happy man.
By 'not happy', he was positively seething with anger and as he processed the words uttered by the man before him, he struggled to articulate words or to even move. But then he found his voice.
"Get out! If you leave now, you may just live to see another day. The moment this gets out – and it will – your life with be forfeit and I will not be able to prevent the hoards descending upon you while you remain here."
The normally unflappable Sir Edmond Billington-Smyth had gone quite pale as he considered how much danger he was in at that very moment. There were at least a dozen psychotic individuals within fifty yards, all trained to kill without a moment's thought.
"As soon as I know more, Jasper..."
Jasper no longer trusted himself to speak.
..._...
Jasper called in Cassie and Natasha the very moment Sir Edmond had scuttled away.
"Charlotte is missing."
"You are fucking kidding!" Cassie exclaimed.
Natasha could tell by Jasper's expression that the news was, while devastating to all, indeed true. The two women sat down, leaving Jasper to pace as he briefed them both.
"As I understand it, Charlotte and Debbie flew to St Petersburg on the Baltic in Russia under assumed names: Mariya Mikhaylova and her daughter, Valeriya. They were tasked with seeking out information on the aftermath of Russian activities in the Arctic. Any intelligence on Jake would have been a bonus for Five and Six to milk. It seems that they found a thread which could potentially lead them to Jake, but it appears that that may have been a lure set by the FSB for western intelligence operatives. The last report from the pair was that they had traced the thread to another city in Russia and were departing for same."
"What city was that?" Cassie asked.
"The city of Nizhny Novgorod in Western Russia on the Volga River. That was on Thursday. When they were overdue by forty-eight hours, the operation was declared to be blown, hence the visit from that numbskull, Billington-Smyth, just now."
"What do we do next?" Natasha asked.
"Well, Six is doing what they can to find the pair, but it does not look good. We need to coordinate an operation to find them, in Russia. It will be difficult as we have no idea where to start."
"Two needles in a gigantic Russian haystack," Cassie responded bitterly.
It would indeed be difficult.
Six days later...
Monday, March 14th
Lothian Road, Edinburgh
Tatanya Anatolyevna Denisova frowned as she watched the family walk down the steps from the main entrance of the Sheraton Grande Hotel on Edinburgh's Lothian Road.
Her eyes followed them onto Festival Square as they made their way towards the taxi rank on the road itself. Her target was Demetri Roskov, a Russian dissident and carded member of the Служба внешней разведки Российской Федерации – the Foreign Intelligence Service of the Russian Federation or SVR for short – an organisation she herself belonged to as an agent. Demetri Roskov was believed to be selling state secrets to the British Secret Service – MI6. She did not believe a word of what he was accused of; it just did not fit. While that was not exactly unknown within the Russian Federation, it was rare for senior SVR officers to be indicted in such a manner. In the week she had been following the family, all she could see was a family taking a well-earned break from the stresses of life living in Moscow. His wife, Valentina walked arm-in-arm with him as their son and daughter walked closely behind holding each other's hand. Undoubtedly to keep them from getting separated.
From her vantage point across the road, she watched as they got into the lead black cab and drove off towards Princes Street. She knew where they were going and knew they would be back in a few hours. She glanced up at the clock tower situated within Festival Square. It stated that the time was three-thirty: 15:30 hours. She was supposed to execute the final part of her orders in six hours; time: enter their room and kill the mother, father, and son; leaving the daughter alive. She was then to take the daughter, proceed directly to Edinburgh Airport and catch a British Airways shuttle flight to London Heathrow Airport from where she was to catch a connecting Aeroflot flight back to Moscow.
Moving away from where she was standing, she casually leaned against an advertising board taking photos of the Roskov family before she crossed the road and got in a taxi herself.
"Forth Street," she told the driver.
That was not her true destination, of course; she would get out on Forth Street near Radio Forth and walk the rest of the way to her apartment which was on Union Street.
Union Street,
Edinburgh
Gazing into the floor length mirror in her bathroom, Tatanya quickly stripped nude except for the PSM pistol strapped to her right thigh, before reaching up to pull off the dark brown waist length wig she had been wearing to reveal her true shoulder-length blonde hair.
Dumping the wig on the floor with the rest of her clothes she took out the coloured contact lenses which she had been wearing and dumped them in the waste basket beside the sink. Her eyes that had been as brown as her fake hair were back to their natural blue. Turning away from the mirror she began to reach out for a light dressing gown before stopping.
Instead, she opened the door and walked through her apartment to her sitting room and sat down on her couch and began to think.
..._...
Tatanya did not like her assignment at all.
In fact, it was all too reminiscent of how she had gained the life she currently lived. She was what the SVR called a 'Sparrow'. Trained from when she was just fifteen to use her mind and body as a weapon. Now twenty-seven, she could still remember how she had been recruited in the typically Russian manner (press-ganged). Back then she had been an aspiring ballet dancer primed for a career with the internationally renowned Bolshoi Ballet Company. But that dream had ended abruptly when her dance partner and boyfriend had failed to catch her during a jump, and she had fallen to the stage breaking her knee. When she had been released from hospital, several very painful weeks later, she had found out that the failed catch had been intentional. She had proceeded to the theatre to confront her boyfriend, but she had found the nekulturny bastard fucking his new partner. In a rage, she had used her stout wooden crutch to bludgeon the two to death. That had been her first and second kill.
She had thought that she had gotten away with it, but in truth she had not. She later learned it had simply been supressed by her uncle, a then high-ranking member of the SVR who had basically blackmailed her into helping with an operation. She was to seduce a Russian politician and replace his cell phone with a duplicate that the state would then listen in on; she had been lied to. After she had gotten into the politician's room, the politician had proceeded to order her naked before raping her. While he had been doing so, a third person had entered the room and assassinated the politician. She had then been extracted to an SVR facility where she had been given a typically Russian choice: be killed or become a 'Sparrow'.
That had been fifteen years ago and now she had killed numerous times in numerous countries. She could not be sure – nothing was ever sure when it came to the Russian Intelligence Services, but she was certain the SVR wanted the twelve-year old daughter to become a 'Sparrow'. The 'Sparrow Program' had begun under the Khrushchev administration in the early 1960s and had supposedly been dissolved with the fall of the Soviet Union, but in truth it had not.
It just got made even more secret as it was a very successful and profitable operation.
..._...
Tatanya hated being a 'Sparrow', and she did not want the twelve-year old to go to Sparrow School – or as she liked to call it: Whore School.
Silently, Tatanya contemplated her options as she checked the clock on the wall – it was approaching half past four – 16:30 hours; the clock was quite literally ticking. She could carry out her mission as ordered by her superiors, or she could alert the British authorities. For the merest second, she contemplated contacting MI5 or MI6, but immediately discarded that notion. The alternative was radical in her mind. Over the past few years, the SVR had heard rumours of an illegal black operation called Urban Predator that was surprisingly similar to the Sparrow Program except for the age of the recruits.
Urban Predator, she knew, was no more; but the two organisations responsible for its downfall were very much alive and kicking. She could contact Vengeance and get their help in protecting the Ruskov family and getting them into protective custody. The only catch was, that she had just six hours to do it before she was supposed to be on that plane with the daughter.
A plane which she had no intention of catching...
..._...
Normally, you did not just pick up the telephone and dial 'V for Vengeance'.
During her fifteen years in the SVR, Tatanya had kept her eyes and ears open as she had gathered information and planned a way to escape the clutches of the SVR while retaining breath in her lungs. Some of that information came back to her as she figured out a way to get a response from Vengeance. Therefore, at twenty-five minutes past five that evening, she stepped into the Police Scotland building at St Leonards and stood at the reception desk.
"Yes," a bored-sounding voice intoned.
"I need to speak to a counter-intelligence officer."
"You what?"
"I am a Russian SVR agent, and I am handing myself in with the codeword Blue Husky."
The woman behind the desk frowned as she dug out a large internal phone directory and began to seek out a number. Luckily, Tatanya was a patient woman and she waited as the woman behind the desk found a number and dialled it into her phone.
"Inspector McDade...? Right... I have a woman at reception who says she is a..."
"Russian SVR agent," Tatanya offered helpfully."
"...a Russian SVR agent. Yes... She wants to hand herself in... Nah, she seems genuine... She said something about a dog... a blue husky... hello... hello..."
Less than a minute later, a tall man appeared. He wore a Police Scotland uniform with the two silver pips on the black shoulder boards of his black top.
"I am Inspector Victor McDade. Miss...," he began.
"Tatanya Anatolyevna Denisova of the Sluzhba vneshney razvedki Rossiyskoy Federatsii – SVR or Russian Foreign Intelligence Service to you."
"I know what the SVR is, Miss Denisova, and I am aware of your codeword. Please step through here so we can have a little chat."
There was a buzzing sound as an electronic door lock was released and Inspector McDade waved Tatanya through. He guided her into a typical interrogation room about eight feet to a side with a table to one side and four chairs arranged at the table, two per side. Tatanya was seated with her back to the door facing a full width mirror which screamed two-way to anybody who cared. A digital recording system sat on a small shelf on the wall overhanging the table slightly. A panic button ribbon ran around the walls at waist height. A clock sat high on the wall to her right. It was 17:40 hours.
"A coffee, Miss Denisova?"
"Please. Black. No sugar."
The man vanished and the door was closed with an ominous click.
..._...
The coffee took twenty minutes to appear and was delivered by a uniformed police constable who smiled as she left a mug of black coffee on the table.
The door clicked closed again and she was left to her own devices for the next forty minutes. Tatanya was fully aware that she could have signed her death warrant with no guarantee of Vengeance being involved at all. Like most things in the world of intelligence, it was all a ginormous gamble with a small chance of success.
As the clock approached 18:30 hours, Tatanya found her stomach rumbling by the time the door opened again, and a suited man appeared and sat down in a chair across from her with Inspector McDade sitting beside him. No attempt was made to trigger the digital recording system and ominously, Tatanya noticed that the red flashing LED on the camera mounted in the corner of the room up by the ceiling was dark.
"Who are you?" the new man asked without preamble.
"Tatanya Anatolyevna Denisova."
"You are Russian?"
"I am a Russian citizen," Tatanya stated as she held out her passport.
"Who do you work for?" the man replied as he flicked through the pages of the obviously well used passport.
"I work for the SVR."
"I see. You have my attention."
"Are you a representative of Vengeance?"
"Vengeance?"
"It is common knowledge in this country that vigilantes operate; taking over where the law ends. Judge, jury, and if required, executioners."
"So, you read the papers. What could you have to say that could be of even the remotest interest to Vengeance?"
"I want to make a deal. I offer you something and then you do something for me. I have," Tatanya looked up at the clock, "a less than three hours remaining."
"If your information holds up, then we will assist where we can. What is your mission in Scotland?"
"By ten o'clock tonight, if all went to plan, three people will be dead – a family all but wiped out – and a girl will have her life destroyed. I am a Sparrow."
"A Sparrow?" the man responded, intrigued. "I have heard of them, but most saw such a school as Russian subterfuge. However, you are here. A woman who kills by drawing their marks into a sexual encounter. You have some proof of your statement?"
Tatanya nodded.
"Last year. June 13th. Off Marseilles, France. The yacht Comète."
"Go on."
"I was killing – strangling – a mark in a lower deck cabin when Vengeance vigilantes burst in. I threw a titanium blade at one, but his armour prevented injury. I fought him but then somebody must have cracked me over the head with something as I woke up a while later. I dressed and dived over the side – I was picked up by a waiting boat. If you..."
"I'll be back in a minute."
With that, the suited man left the room, leaving the inspector behind.
..._...
It was 19:10 hours when the suited man reappeared.
The man carried a cardboard folder, and he sat down swiftly. Opening the cardboard folder, he withdrew a single piece of photographic paper, and he laid it down on the tabletop. Tatanya's eyes went almost as wide as those of Inspector McDade and her cheeks coloured slightly. The photographic image was A4 in size and full colour high definition. The subject was the upper body of a woman with brunette hair. Her eyes were closed, and she lay slumped on a plush carpet. What attracted attention were the naked breasts with bare nipples splashed in what appeared to be blood.
"Yes, that is me wearing a wig," Tatanya admitted uncomfortably.
"You killed a mark. Don't worry, we know who he was. Okay, what do you want of us?"
"At ten o'clock, tonight, I board a flight to London Heathrow from Edinburgh. I will have with me a young girl who is destined to become a Sparrow. I will have killed her mother, father, and brother. I want the family to be taken into protective custody, and..."
"You want to defect, right?"
"I would need protection, yes."
"Okay. You want us to put our people in harm's way. What could you possibly have which could be of even the remotest use to us?"
"I have a name."
"A name?"
"A name."
"Okay, give me the name."
"Jake Wistrum."
Tatanya was shocked to see the suited man sit up very straight. Then she found herself hauled out of her chair by strong hands and thrust against the wall beside the door, her feet barely touching the floor laminated wooden floor. She had had no idea that anybody else was in the room. She knew that she was facing a Vengeance vigilante. The mask was a dull yellow and covered the woman's face. The hand which grasped her neck was not skin but felt more like a gauntlet. The shock to her system was increased by the horrific sounding electronically enhanced voice as well as the piercing yellow eyes which bored deep into her very soul.
"Where is Jake?" the voice demanded as the gauntlet squeezed her neck.
Tatanya tried to speak but her windpipe was being squeezed.
"Where is he? Speak!"
The gauntlet eased the grip on her windpipe, but only slightly.
"He is in an SVR facility on the Volga River."
"I want more!" The grip tightened and Tatanya found herself struggling to breathe.
"Nemesis!" the suited man ordered. "Release her."
Tatanya found herself being simultaneously released and thrown across the room where she struck the wall beside the inspector and landed in a heap. Then she got her first ever view of a fully armoured Vengeance vigilante. The stance was one of extreme anger and it was obvious that only the suited man was keeping her alive. On Nemesis' right thigh was a holster with an FN Five-seveN Mk2 pistol. On the outer side of her left boot was an 18-inch Tanto blade in a scabbard.
Inspector McDade made no move to help Tatanya, neither did he react to the vigilante menace in the interview room.
Later that evening...
Lothian Road, Edinburgh
21:00 hours
Nemesis was in command.
From a purely technical point of view, she was still on maternity leave, however, she had been present when Jasper had received the news concerning the Russian SVR operative. She had insisted on suiting up and going along – to provide suitable motivation should it be needed to loosen a tongue. She had snapped when Jake's name had been tossed out, and she would have killed the Russian bitch had it not been for Jasper's timely intervention. Her own newborn son was safe at home with his grandmother so she could spend time chasing down information concerning her other son.
The operation had been laid on very fast and available resources had been tapped. That included making use of Edinburgh based assets. Poised to strike, that evening, was Nemesis on point with Scorpion, Goshawk, Stripe, and Polaris. All were fully armoured and carried variants of the SIG MPX assault rifle fitted with suppressors. Nemesis was astride her dark grey KTM 1290 Super Duke GT while the rest arrived aboard the armoured Land Rover Sentinel known as CUTLASS.
It was dark, and the two vehicles swept through Scotland's capital city without much attention drawn to their passing.
The Sheraton Grande Hotel
Third Floor
21:10
Tatanya Anatolyevna Denisova walked along the corridor towards room 312.
Her mind was made up and she would do what was necessary to prevent another victim starting a new life as she had. The girl in that room would grow up free of the tyranny which pervaded her mother Russia. She, Tatanya, would become a traitor to her mother Russia but for good reason, she had decided. However, if all went well, four lives would be saved that night. Tatanya felt a sick sensation in her stomach as she passed a maid with her trolley piled high with towels and sheets just before she reached the lift lobby.
'Wasn't it a bit late for room cleaning,' she thought to herself before her mind reacted and she reached inside her jacket for her pistol.
That was when the elevator to her left dinged and the doors eight feet away opened. Three men stepped out of the elevator into the lift lobby and turned left towards room 312. One of the men turned to check out the opposite passageway and his eyes met Tatanya's own. It was Boris Sorokin, an SVR assassin. Tatanya knew there might be a second team to pick up should she fail but they should not have been there. What was going on? Boris waved her forwards, and she noticed the maid reaching into her towels and pulling out an MP5K submachine gun. That concerned Tatanya as it seemed way over the top for a mere triple assassination and a kidnapping.
"Нас предали. Британцы на нас напали," Boris explained as he read Tatanya's expression.
They had been betrayed.
Betrayal. Such a venomous-sounding word. Did they know? If they did, she would probably be dead already. No, something else was going on. At that point, the apparent party in the third-floor lift lobby and corridor just got bigger as the fire doors at each end of said corridor opened and all hell broke loose as Nemesis appeared beyond room 312 and Scorpion appeared from way down beyond room 322, behind Tatanya.
The Russian operatives were caught completely off guard if not by surprise.
..._...
Scorpion opened fire first, a SIG MPX to her right shoulder and spitting suppressed fire.
The maid with the submachine gun dropped to the ground, her own weapon spitting uncontrolled fire which narrowly missed Tatanya and Boris, bullets stitching up the corridor wall further down. Tatanya dropped to the carpet and hauled the maid's trolley down beside her as cover. A Glock 26 pistol materialised in her right hand, and she fired off three rounds at Scorpion. A second, smaller form appeared below Scorpion and bullets thudded into the chest of the man two feet beyond Boris, who was too close to Tatanya for Polaris to target. Polaris rolled and came up against the far wall, her SIG MPX aimed at Boris from another angle, but the large man returned fire, knocking off Polaris' aim as she moved into better cover. Nemesis, meanwhile, had engaged Boris' remaining colleague while Goshawk and Stripe ran past and made for Boris as he took cover in a doorway.
Boris was massive and a stone-cold killer. He smiled as he found himself facing off against Vengeance, especially a female who he deemed to be easy prey.
"Давай, сука, пусть Борис сломает тебе шею." {Come on, bitch, let Boris snap that neck.}
"Не будет, ублюдок!" Goshawk retorted as she drew an eight-inch tanto blade. {It won't happen, motherfucker!}
Goshawk was not stupid, and she had no intention of taking Boris on one-to-one. No, she had Stripe with her, and she trusted him with her life. Stripe was unable to make use of his eighteen-inch tanto blades in the confines of the third floor, so he made good with his lesser eight-inch tanto blade which matched that of his sister. It only took a minute for Boris to learn that he was facing veteran killers despite their stature. They sidestepped his strikes with fist and his own blade, a Russian Karatel with a six-inch blade, issued to FSB operatives as standard equipment. It was a potent weapon and designed to kill, slicing through flesh and internal organs with ease.
Boris knew that his blade would do little damage to the armour-clad vigilantes but if he could get close enough to snap their necks.
..._...
Just feet away, Nemesis found herself fighting across a recently deceased corpse.
The blood oozing from the recently deceased's wounds was soaking into the thick carpet of the corridor and making things both gooey and slippery underfoot. Her opponent was not wearing combat boots as she was; his shoes were struggling to gain grip and that affected his ability to fight. They exchanged blows, but with Nemesis getting in the better strikes thanks to her more secure footing. A swift punch from Nemesis which struck the Russian in the chest, and he fell backwards, unable to keep his footing, and slammed into the door of 310 which burst open under his weight. Nemesis bolted after the man who had landed on his back and was scrambling to his feet. A loud scream emanated from the room and Nemesis found a woman who seemed more than a little annoyed to have her door smashed down and the presence of an armoured vigilante was not exactly helping matters.
Nemesis ignored the shrieking woman and she set about the Russian. Her armoured gauntlets struck the Russian again and again, latter strikes sending a mixture of blood and sweat flying around the suite and even onto the shrieking woman who simply shrieked some more. The Russian finally succumbed, and he lost consciousness as he folded onto the pristine carpet at the feet of the shrieking woman.
"Shut the fuck up!" Nemesis growled and the shrieking woman shrieked no more as she backed away into her bedroom and slammed the door.
Nemesis ignored the woman and stepped back into the corridor. She saw Boris fighting Goshawk and Stripe. Blood fairly ran down his left hand and dripped to the corridor carpet. Nemesis could tell that the bull of a man was mortally wounded. Unknown to the man, he would survive, a key pawn in their operation. Nemesis turned to seek out Polaris who suddenly popped up a foot away.
"Hi, Nem!"
Nemesis growled at the abbreviation of her name but let it slide. Instead, she nodded at the annoying ten-year-old who reached into her utility belt and pulled out a magazine for her submachine gun and swapped it for the one currently inserted. She then marched over towards where Tatanya crawled along the corridor, hoping to bypass Boris and his fight. But instead, Tatanya felt hairs on the back of her neck rising and she turned to see Polaris stalking her, a submachine gun to the vigilante's right shoulder. Tatanya squeezed the trigger of her pistol twice. The first struck Nemesis and the second Polaris who squeezed her own trigger and three nine-millimetre bullets were expelled and all three drove into Tatanya's unprotected chest.
Puffs of blood exploded outwards, and a look of stunned surprise followed by intense pain passed across Tatanya's face before she fell to the carpet, her eyes open, even in death.
..._...
Boris bellowed in anger as he watched Tatanya die.
To the big Russian operative, Tatanya had died for Mother Russia and should be escape, he would make sure that the FSB knew how well she had died. The operation was a bust and it was time for him to make his exit. He edged towards the fire stairs, but he was pushed back by the bitch he was fighting and the boy who fought with her. He was bleeding badly from a knife wound to his left shoulder and he needed medical attention. Then the lift 'dinged', indicating a lift car had arrived.
"I thought I ordered for the lift shafts to be locked down!" Scorpion yelled as the doors opened and Boris saw a paramedic standing in the lift.
The big man drove a haymaker punch into Goshawk who fell to the carpet with a scream of pain while Stripe was kicked hard in the stomach, winding him as he too fell to the carpet. Then a distressed voice called out from down the corridor – a girl's voice: "Они мертвы. Папа мертв. Мама мертва." A scream, followed by, "Нет! Не стреляй в меня!" Then a burst of gunfire followed by another scream.
Boris dove into the lift as the doors closed and he stabbed the top-most button. He pressed a button attached to his left wrist which set his radio to transmit.
"Все мертвы. Татаню убили. Цели мертвы. Пакет мертв. Миссия прервана. Я направляюсь на крышу для эвакуации."
Boris then turned his attention to the paramedic.
"I need medical attention. You help me, you live."
The paramedic nodded her acknowledgment.
..._...
Unbeknownst to Boris, their radio frequency had been identified by GCHQ and their transmissions were being decoded and transcripted.
They were also being listened to by someone who understood the Russian language. In a non-descript white van, parked a mile away, the Russian words were being translated by another member of Vengeance.
"All dead. Tatanya murdered. Targets dead. Package is dead. Mission aborted. Am heading to roof for extraction."
Jasper looked up at Eric with a broad grin on his face. "The bastard bought it."
"You're letting him go?" Eric asked.
"Someone has to report back to the FSB that Tatanya and the family are dead."
"Only that was not supposed to happen, was it?"
"Not every operation runs according to plan, especially those thrown together in a couple of hours," Jasper responded. "Suffice to say, this is a coup of gigantic proportions and Vengeance pulled it off."
"If you say so, boss."
Jasper nodded.
..._...
When Nemesis and Scorpion stepped into Room 312, the scene before them was one of horror.
Demetri Roskov, his wife Valentina, and their young son were dead. Their bloodied bodies strewn across the suite. It was obvious that the Russian disguised as a maid had managed to unconsciously complete their mission as her bullets had torn through the corridor wall and then shredded the family. At first glance, it was difficult to see how the girl had survived the initial onslaught, but she must have been in the bathroom at the time. To come out to, such horror and devastation would have been horrible, the two vigilantes realised. The entire family was supposed to survive but if fate wanted them dead then none could interfere.
"Time to go," Nemesis directed, and she left the room of death to find Goshawk helping Stripe to his feet.
Together, they took the lift directly to the basement and the rear exit from the hotel which was being surrounded by armed police and the dreaded press. They were swiftly joined by a paramedic who had exited the fire stairs.
"He get away?" Nemesis asked the paramedic.
"He did," Lynn responded with a grin. "I treated the bastard's wounds, so he will live to report back to the FSB. The girl?"
"I took care of her," Polaris replied as she tapped her trusty submachine gun.
"I hope you got your magazines right, my girl," Lynn responded sternly.
"I did!" came the indignant response.
"We shall see."
As they went for their transport, several body bags were brought down from the third floor of the hotel. Two of which found themselves in the back of an emergency ambulance with Lynn who still wore her paramedic uniform. However, before she could pull the rear doors closed, a man in a suit rushed up, holding out a Russian diplomatic passport.
"I am from Russian Consulate. I need to see the bodies."
"You can't...," Lynn blustered.
"Let him," Inspector McDade directed.
Lynn unzipped both body bags, exposing the faces of Tatanya Anatolyevna Denisova and of the girl: Arina Smirnova Roskov. The Russian compared photographs from his pocket with the two females and then grunted before turning away and stalking off with neither a thankyou or a goodbye.
Inspector McDade slammed the ambulance doors and Lynn slipped past the bodies into the driver's seat.
The following morning...
Tuesday, March 15th
Location: Classified
Tatanya Anatolyevna Denisova opened her eyes to find sunlight blazing in through a window.
She sat up and found herself lying on a bed, still fully clothed. Her chest hurt and she looked beneath her top to see bruising and the remnants of what had to be fake blood. Then everything hit her like a movie playing on fast forward. She was on the third floor of the Sheraton Grande Hotel in Edinburgh. Boris had been there; he told her that they had all been betrayed but he had not suspected her. But then Vengeance had appeared – as arranged – only, she had been shot; she had . . . died? It was supposed to have been an act but...
"Good morning!"
It was a man's voice. Tatanya recognised the man from the police station as he pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside.
"Hello. You are...?"
"My name is Jasper. I see you are non the worse for last night."
"What the hell happened? That was not what we had agreed!"
"We made some changes. We had to ensure that your former employers believe you are dead, or we'd have Russian hit squads all over Scotland. Instead, Boris was allowed to escape..."
"What...!"
Jasper raised a hand.
"... and he has reported that you died heroically at the hands of Vengeance."
"You were supposed to use blanks," Tatanya growled as she rubbed her chest.
"Pesky little buggers those bullets," Jasper replied with a chuckle. "We call them sleeper rounds. I don't know the exact science behind them but when they strike a target with enough of a punch to cut through clothing and cause the correct amount of pain, a pouch of 'blood' then explodes giving the effect of a bullet wound. Then a neurotoxin is released which 'kills' the target. Takes a few hours to wear off but gives the outward look of death."
"Bastards! What about the Roskov family?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"Only Arina survived," Jasper explained quietly. "Bullets from the 'maid' killed everyone but Arina who it seems was in the bathroom at the time of the strike."
"Oh, my God!"
"It was ultimately Arina you were trying to save, was it not?"
"Yes... But won't the FSB come after her?"
"No, we took her down with a sleeper round when she ran out of the suite, screaming that everyone was dead. Boris bought it."
"Where is she?"
"In the next room."
Jasper led Tatanya out of the bedroom, and he waved her through an open door into another bedroom where Tatanya was relieved to see Arina fast asleep on a bed, her chest gently rising and falling – she was alive.
Later that day...
Arina Smirnova Roskov was twelve years old.
She was a native Russian having been born in the Russian capital city of Moscow. At the time, her father worked for the FSB in Moscow, and she grew up enjoying a privileged life without want for anything. Her younger brother, Vasily, two years younger than herself was a welcome addition to the family and she loved him dearly – most of the time. That privileged life had also been one with added benefits. When her father was posted to London on secondment to the Russian Ministry of Defence, two years previously, Arina had been eligible to enter into the Ministry of Defence of Russia Boarding School for Girls. There, she had begun to learn skills not taught at her previous schools and she was excited because she would begin to learn other languages starting in her second year. Her brother entered into the equally prestigious Moscow National Guard Presidential Cadets School. However, a rare opportunity for her and her brother to visit a foreign country suddenly cropped up and her mother signed her out of school, and they flew to London in England where she was reunited with her father before they then drove to Edinburgh in Scotland where their family holiday suddenly ended in a burst of misdirected gunfire.
As the young girl opened her eyes, she was hit by a wave of confusion as she found herself in strange surroundings. Thoughts ran through her sluggish mind.
"Это не гостиничный номер. Гостиничный номер... Неужели все это было кошмаром? Должно быть, это был кошмар." Then she called out in vain. "Мама? Папа? Василий?"
Very quickly the tears began as fear took hold.
Translation: 'It was not the hotel room. The hotel room... Had it all been a nightmare? It had to have been a nightmare.' "Mama? Papa? Vasily?"
Tatanya bolted out of the living room where she had been speaking with Jasper for a little over two hours while notes were taken by a woman introduced simply as Lynn.
The three shouted words were full of terror. Tatanya knew from her mission briefing that Arina did not speak a word of English. What the poor girl must be feeling was anybody's guess. The moment Tatanya set foot in the bedroom, Arina scrambled (almost fell) off the bed as she tried to back away from Tatanya, her face a mask of absolute fear.
"Где я?" {Where am I?}
"Кто ты?" {Who are you?}
"Где мои родители?" {Where are my parents?}
"Что ты хочешь?" {What do you want?}
The questions came thick and fast, her voice trembling with fear evident in every syllable as she tried to force herself through the wall behind her.
"Ты в безопасности, Арина." {You are safe, Arina.}
Arina frowned at hearing her own tongue.
"Я тебя не знаю." {I don't know you.}
Arina bolted from behind the bed and dodged past Arina, diving for the open door but the girl found herself grabbed by Jasper who held her in a vice-like grip for Lynn who carefully pushed a sedative-filled hypodermic needle into Arina's neck. Jasper gently laid the unconscious girl down on the bed and turned to Tatanya.
"It is still early days," he said. "Arina has suffered a tremendous mental trauma which her young mind is trying to process. Give her time. She will be watched and monitored every minute; she is safe."
"I thought it would be easier than this...," Tatanya replied.
"You did the right thing and Arina will now live a life she chooses," Jasper offered before he turned to leave and then turned back. "Oh, one more thing. Remember, you are dead. Do not go outside or you will be for real."
Tatanya watched the man leave and she tried to figure out what the last sentence could mean.