Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen / Inner Circle Codename: Anya
Task Force 141 / The Inner Circle
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
"Where are you taking me?" Anya asked Makarov just as she opened the door of the car that she was in. He had told her to meet him in an upscale area of the city, and to dress for the occasion. She had picked a satin dress of knee length that had long sleeves but exposed her back, paired with black stiletto pumps.
"First of all, my dear, you look beautiful, as always," Makarov said, reaching out for her hand to help her out of the car. It had not been the first time they had met in Dubai, where those like him could hide in plain sight. Anya smiled at the compliment. They walked arm in arm, a gesture that was welcomed, because she found it hard to walk in such a…difficult pair of shoes and stopped in front of a jeweler. "I want you to pick a few things from here, but I don't want to dictate what you should want for your own."
Anya stopped walking when she saw the jeweler's sign. "Are you paying your whore?" she asked through gritted teeth. Her voice was low but incensed. She understood the fine clothes that she had been given were needed to project an image, to mask her presence when she attended meetings with his contacts. But that jeweler that they were standing in front of, had a clientele that boasted the women of various royal families and tycoon. Was he going to brand her as his, by presenting her with a gift? Or was he going to test her integrity, to see if she could be bought? A thousand questions buzzed in her head, but she could not answer any of them. "I have done nothing to deserve this."
Makarov chuckled. "My dear Anya," he tutted, brushing a strand of hair into the back of her ear. "It is simple, really. People in our position will find ourselves in need of copious amounts of cash in the blink of an eye. You were a soldier that served in the light. Now that you are serving in the shadows, money is everything. Whatever you buy today, may save your life in the future."
Raising an eyebrow, she continued. "Diamonds are registered," she returned, still wary. "The moment I sell it, anyone would be able to find me."
"Not if you own the mine that diamond comes from." The answer was brusque, yet efficient. In truth, he had inherited the operation of a diamond mine that Imran Zakhaev had purchased deep in Siberia before his passing. Few knew about it back in the day, but it was one of the reasons why the Inner Circle could in operation for the length of time when they went quiet after Zakhaev's death.
Anya rolled her eyes but followed with a smile. "I shall select the largest one then, shouldn't I?" Despite her unease, she knew that she had to continue to turn on her charms. She could not show him that her nerves were in overdrive. No matter what her status was, she was still a woman. Most women fawned over expensive jewelry, not because of their beauty, but because of the meaning behind them. They were usually followed by cajoles of undying love and romance-filled pledges. She might have been a soldier, but she was still a normal person. She was not above wanting one of each from every jewelry store if she could.
"You'll need to like it first, I believe," Makarov answered, taking her arm once more.
They went into the store using an alias: As one of the countless magnates that thrived in the city and his latest arm candy. He even had a shell bank account ready for the purchase. They were greeted by the manager and were brought to a private display. When they sat down, they were served champagne.
Anya had never seen such ostentatiousness in her life. She could not even fathom that diamonds came in such sizes that were laid before her. She was at a loss on how even to conduct herself. She could feel his eyes on her, observing her every move and reaction. It was for that reason that she had purposely avoided the emeralds and sapphires in the displays. They reminded her too much of his eyes.
"Perhaps you would be interested in this?" the manager asked, displaying a pair of earrings that was a flurry of rubies, encrusted with diamonds, or was it diamonds encrusted with rubies? Anya shook her head, half-flustered because she simply could not hide her own disbelief at the jewelry around her, and because she really did not like how the earrings looked.
Makarov chuckled. "Maybe something simpler?" he suggested, noticing Anya's indecision. She always had been reserved in her style, and it was noticeable because she would always choose the outfits that were simplest in design from the wardrobe that he provided her with.
The manager brought them a three-layered tennis necklace made of princess-cut diamonds that could be worn together or separately. Each of the layers had a central emerald-cut diamond that was stunningly clear in the center. When Anya reached out to touch the necklace, Makarov rose to put on the necklace for her, making sure to gently brush against the skin of her neck as he did so. He noticed from the mirrors around them that she had savored his touch, because she had closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. If she were not a ball of nerves now, he would have had taken her then and there.
"Perfection," he whispered into her ear, and directed her to gaze at her reflection in the mirror. With her hair done in an updo, the necklace highlighted the length of her neck. "It suits you."
"This one, then," Anya said without hesitation, looking into his eyes through the mirror. "I'll have the matching earrings too." She did not know why, but she felt an urge to finish whatever they were doing as soon as possible. It was not always when she was this... skittish around him, but she knew that she could not take this lightly.
With his touch, no matter how subtle, she knew that he wanted her to fall into his trap. He was not above to use himself as a target. That was why he so openly pursued her when they were alone. He needed her to fall into a chasm so deep that she could not escape. That was when he would strike.
"Very well, madam," the manager said, shaking her away from her thoughts and went to have the jewelry boxed up after helping Anya to take the necklace off. There was such a marked difference in the same action. "We will take care of the rest. Please ring the bell when you are ready, or you find anything else of interest."
Once the manager left, Makarov chuckled. "You really ended up choosing the largest ones," he told her, taking her hand to kiss the ridges of her knuckles.
"When you cast me away for another, or when one day I am of no use to you, that would be my collateral, like all the mistresses of the world," she replied. Of course, it was all flirtation. According to Anatoly and Viktor, Makarov never had a woman so close to him for so long before, that she had been the only one. She refused to think that she was irreplaceable. If she had been truly his woman, he would have drawn her out of the gunfire and kept her safe, whatever safe meant to him. He would not have had her by his side, where he could see her every move, while being in the line of fire at the same time.
"You need to have more confidence in yourself, my dear. I intend to have you by my side as long as possible." he returned, kissing the top of her head. He took her hand in his, and looked straight into her eyes. "I do not wish to repeat myself, Anya. This is not a test; all this is yours to keep. I shall not interfere in how you shall use it." With those words, Makarov provided her with a sealed envelope. "I have not seen the contents of this envelope. You will find the money for the jewels, and others if you so wish."
In that envelope were also the documents of the shell companies registered in the Cayman Islands and false identities, with Swiss bank accounts that had sums of millions of Euros apart from the cost of the necklace she had just selected. "You can't be serious…" Anya said, shocked at the sheer amount. It was a trap. She could not take the money. Even if he had given her all that documentation, she knew that she could not spend a single cent of it.
"I am, my dear," Makarov replied. "I would like to prepare for any eventuality. You will find that you will need it one day."
Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen
Task Force 141 – Disavowed.
Cape Town, South Africa
The day that she had further need for the diamonds came quickly. Knowing that the Loyalists that sheltered them had limited resources of their own, Anya knew that they could not be a further imposition to their allies. She, Price, and Soap had to find other ways to support themselves.
The night before the incident at Zakhaev International Airport, Anya had dismantled the diamond necklace and hid it where drug traffickers would usually. Thinking that she had already lost them, she was surprised when she found the bag of diamonds still intact when she returned to the Task Force 141's land-base. Makarov was right, they did come in handy for her.
"How much for this?" Anya asked the shopkeeper at the pawn shop. Presented in her hand, were around ten princess-cut diamonds, encased in platinum prongs, at a carat each. It was obvious to the shopkeeper that she had separated the diamonds from a chain.
"You'll do better if you can sell the whole chain, at a proper jeweler" the shopkeeper advised, using a magnifying glass to inspect the diamonds further. The diamonds were immaculate. They were so clear that even the purest of ice could not compare.
Anya shook her head. "I no longer have the whole chain," she said. She let the shopkeeper interpret in any way that he would. Besides, it was only a small pawnshop, the shopkeeper could not have that much cash on hand. "How much cash do you have?"
"Young lady, just how desperate are you to get these off your hands?" the shopkeeper asked in return. If she brought the diamonds to a proper jeweler, she could get a fairer price. However, the very fact that she brought them to his shop meant that she had a secret to hide. "I can't take them if you can't at least tell me a price."
"I'll tell you what," Anya replied. "I will sell you half of them. In exchange, I want all the cash you are keeping on your premises."
The shopkeeper gave this a good thought. "We have a deal." Each one of those diamonds was worth far more than she sold them for. His shop would be covered for a good month or two if he could sell them.
When Anya appeared from the shop, Yuri was impressed. "You went to the pawnshop because he wouldn't be able to track the diamonds live," he surmised.
If Anya had gone to a proper jeweler to sell the diamonds, they would be able to easily upload the sale of the diamonds onto a database, and Makarov would be alerted of the sale, thus, giving away their location.
A pawnshop did not have access to those databases and would not have any knowledge if the diamonds were natural or lab-grown, so it meant that the sale would still be untracked. Even if the diamonds did enter proper circulation again, they would have already left South Africa by then. Makarov would not be able to guess where they had been.
Anya nodded. "Now that John is on the mend, we need more money to buy what equipment we need to continue the hunt," she said matter-of-factly. "
Yuri nodded. He understood her line of logic. "How much of the necklace is left?"
"I only managed to get the first layer out the night before that fiasco at the airport," Anya answered. "So far, I've sold around ten to get John into hospital and to rent that apartment for ourselves."
At first, talking about Makarov and his plans with Yuri brought an unpleasant chill down her spine, because it was clear that Yuri had been watching her every move. He knew everything that she did, how she moved, down to her expressions. However, as time passed, she became used to it, and used Yuri as a point of reference whenever she needed to retrace her steps. "I've just sold ten, but I still have a pretty handful left."
However, there was one question that Yuri needed answering. "You were sent to the gulag after the airport. How did you hide the necklace?"
"You don't want to know, Yuri," Anya answered, but relented after seeing his still curious face. "Let's just say, being a woman, I have more…options than you do, if you were in my situation."
Yuri gulped. "I… understand."
When they returned to the apartment, Anya gave Price an envelope filled with cash. "It's not much, but this was what I managed to pull off," she said.
"How much?"
"Around two hundred and eighty thousand South African Rand," Anya replied. "That's around 15 grand US." What she had was valued at around close to a million US dollars, including the center emerald-cut diamond, but it would be worthless if she could not sell it.
"Good job, sweetheart," Price acknowledged. "We appreciate it."
Nikolai laughed. "Congratulations, you are now the top financier of the Loyalist movement for the year," he announced jokingly, even clapping his hands for effect. "Even if it is Ultranationalist money."
"I'll be glad to get rid of every single one of them," Anya replied, remembering the mental toll on her when Makarov bought her the diamonds. She only saw the necklace as a burden, a token of a time that tortured her both mentally and physically. Even if Makarov had been trying to deceive himself, into thinking that he had been providing her with some sort of security, she knew that she could not fall for whatever he offered her. Her destiny was her own to grasp. He had no part in it.
Vladimir Makarov
The Inner Circle
Sierra Leone, Africa.
"Sir, we have received reports that an asset has entered into circulation," Alexi reported to Makarov, handing him a piece of paper. It was a report that came from the mine in Siberia.
Fifteen princess-cut diamonds were sold in Pretoria, South Africa, according to the report. There was no further identification as to where the diamonds came from, but the serial numbers matched those of the ones that belonged to Anya. In fact, she was clever enough to sell the diamonds piece by piece instead of the whole necklace. It was a shame. She looked so stunning when she wore it in Dubai just before they bought it. She had never worn it since.
However, the flaw in her plan was the fact that while pawnshops did not have access to the systems that jewelers might have, it was still possible that the pawnshops would sell the diamonds to others who could. He did not know what purpose Anya sold the diamonds for, but it meant that she needed access to funds. Captain MacTavish, who had been injured in Kandahar could very well be the reason why she had sold the diamonds in the first place.
"Anya is on our tail," Makarov announced. The diamonds were sold in Pretoria, but it did not mean that Anya was there by the time that report was generated, or she was even in Pretoria to begin with. However, if she was in South Africa, Task Force 141 was with her. Only one person could have known that there was a possibility that he was there on the continent. Yuri was still alive and was working with Task Force 141, a complication that he did not very much enjoy.
"Shall we go after her, sir?"
"No need," Makarov replied. "Ensure that the shipments arrive at their destinations, as planned. If the diamonds were sold in Pretoria, it means that Task Force 141 cannot be far from us. Alert the PRF of any incoming attackers. Kill anyone who enters the warehouse without authorization."
"I'll join you in Prague once the last box reaches Waarabe," Alexi confirmed.
Makarov nodded, and boarded the helicopter that would bring him to his next destination. Anya would have to wait. He had bigger fish to catch.
Boris Vorshevsky
Russian Federation
Moscow, Russia.
"Mr. President, there has been activity in the old Siberian diamond mine that you would be interested in," said Leonid Pudovkin, to Vorshevsky just mere hours before the president was to board a plane headed towards Hamburg. A peace summit was to be held after three months of gruesome fighting between Russia and America. "Fifteen diamonds were sold in Pretoria, South Africa. We do not know who sold them but, we managed to trace the diamonds to Corporal Maria Allen."
Vorshevsky raised an eyebrow. The name was familiar. "That is the girl that Makarov shot in the airport, and then stole from us?" he asked.
"Affirmative," Pudovkin replied. "We have CCTV footage of them buying a diamond necklace in Dubai last year." The documents that listed the diamonds in the database were shell accounts made with falsified data, but the video footage was a 100% match with Maria Allen's. All the FSO needed to do was to get the serial numbers of the diamonds, find out where they were initially purchased, and obtain the CCTV footage of the date of purchase.
Makarov might have thought that he had sole right to the Siberian diamond mine, but Zakhaev entrusted it to the Ultranationalist Party. When Vorshevsky kicked Makarov and his faction of extremists out of the party, he let Makarov run the mine so that the Kremlin could take count of his activities. This meant that whatever reports that Makarov had from the mines would be sent to the Kremlin as well.
"What have you found out about her?"
"What that former Inner Circle agent, Yuri, told us was true," Pudovkin answered. "She is a US Army Ranger, recruited into the NATO-sanctioned Task Force 141 under the late Lt. General Shepherd. She was then put into the deep cover CIA mission: Operation Honeypot to spy on Makarov. They've since killed Shepherd because they discovered that he was working with Makarov to bring war to both the US and Russia."
"So, she is on our side," Vorshevsky concluded. For someone so young to have accepted so dangerous a mission, and to have had seen so much active duty by Makarov's side, she must have been more than capable. "Once the peace summit has been completed. We need to ensure that her name is cleared, along that of the Task Force 141." He looked at the picture of the CCTV footage of Allen with Makarov. In the picture itself, he could see how calm she had portrayed herself, how at ease Makarov had looked. "Only we know that they know."
Pudovkin agreed. "Yes, Mr. President," he said. "The girl is the key to ending this war because her story corroborates with ours. We will have her tracked down and secured once we land in Hamburg."