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Alex West Residence
Black Forest, Germany

 

West’s frown continued to deepen as he stared at the love of his life, and their daughter. Adelle was still as beautiful in his eyes as she was the day he had first spotted her across the room in Moscow, decades ago, during the height of the Cold War. She was a spy working for France, a country that couldn’t be trusted back then, its socialist government playing both sides too often.

Somehow, despite not trusting her one iota, there had been a connection, a few stress-reliever encounters that eventually blossomed into more, then enough to risk both their careers before she disappeared from his life for decades.

And reappeared with a daughter. His daughter, Alexis, now a member of France’s clandestine services herself, following in her parents’ footsteps. Though he felt he barely knew her, he loved her deeply, and was making an effort in his few remaining years to be the father she had never had, and to his delight, she seemed open to his overtures, though they’d never have the connection, the bond that decades of raising a child provided.

“I’m going to walk the perimeter.”

If it were possible, he would have deepened his frown. “Just stay inside. Let the technology do its job. These are ballistic windows, and all the walls, including the roof and floors, have a thick layer of fiberglass sandwiched in between. Nothing short of a tank round is getting in here.”

Alexis eyed him. “You of all people should know not to rely on technology.”

He gave his daughter a look. “We did have technology back in the day. I’m not that old.”

Alexis grinned. “That wasn’t technology, that stuff was just one step above steampunk. Mama says that most of the stuff didn’t work half the time.”

West winked at Adelle. “That’s because hers wasn’t made in America.” He waved his daughter away. “Fine, walk the perimeter, but make sure you put a vest on.”

Alexis tapped her chest, the distinctive knock of a bullet-resistant vest echoing back. “Way ahead of you, Papa.” She headed out the door and he sighed.

“I love it when she calls me that.”

Adelle curled her legs up under her. “I told you she’d come around.”

He smiled then wagged a finger at her. “I told you to stay away. I wish you’d listen to me sometimes.”

“I’m too old to learn new tricks.”

“What? The trick of avoiding assassin’s bullets? I thought you mastered that years ago.”

“I missed you, and no psychotic millennial is going to keep me from the man I love.”

“So, you brought our daughter with you?”

“She insisted. And she’s trained, with joints that don’t ache.” Adelle tilted her head toward him. “What, you’re going to fight off some young woman who’s been trained as an MMA fighter?” She grunted. “Now that’s a fight I’d actually pay to see.”

“I’d defeat her with my charm.”

Adelle chuckled. “You don’t have that much game, my love.”

“I can still charm the pants off you.”

She shrugged. “I’ve always been easy, you know that.”

He grinned. “Thank God!” He held up the tablet with the latest briefing notes from Kane’s team, another update expected soon. “My memory might be a little foggy, but Natasha Ivashin’s father was definitely in the room. That means we know five of the six now. And if he was a major, and Minkin only a captain, then he might have been in command, though I doubt it. Like Viktor said last night when I spoke to him, why would he kill himself if he was in charge?”

“Do you have any idea who the sixth man could be?”

West shook his head. “None. I can barely remember what he looked like. I sat on the same side of the table as Ivashin and him, and Ivashin was between us. And the lighting was piss poor Soviet era garbage. Even thirty years ago, I doubt I could have picked him out of a lineup.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Well, in situations like that, you don’t exactly ask the guy sitting beside you to lean back so you can get a good look at the face of the coconspirator sitting beside him.”

“That’s the advantage of being a woman. I would have simply asked the man beside me to get me a drink of water, and he would have.”

West grunted. “Magic lady bits do work wonders, though do you really think Soviet-era conspiracists would have agreed to an American female agent being involved?”

She frowned, her head slowly bobbing. “They were sexist pigs back then.” She grunted. “Still are.”

An alarm beeped and West tapped the notification on his tablet, a map of the area appearing showing a motion detector triggered at the perimeter.

“Trouble?”

“Somebody’s tripped a sensor.”

“Could it be Alexis?”

He shook his head. “No.” His eyes narrowed, his heart fluttering with the implications of what he was looking at. “I don’t see her at all on here!”

 

Natasha lay prone on the cold ground, a light dusting of snow covering the area as she lined up her shot. Her uncle had come through for her yet again, delivering her the American traitor’s location, along with papers that would get her across the border, and plane tickets to Frankfurt.

And a weapon waiting for her when she arrived, sitting in the trunk of a rental.

She knew from the photos her uncle had been KGB, yet she had never expected him to still be so well connected. Was it his contacts from the old days, kept fresh over the years, or was it his new position that gave him access to the information necessary for her to succeed?

She suspected it was a little of both, with his money greasing the wheels when it became necessary.

She had no way to thank the man, beyond her love, though her success would perhaps repay some of the tremendous debt she now owed him. He had been equally upset with her discovery, her questions reminding him of something he had buried years ago. The very fact he was helping, demonstrated the rage he had suppressed with her father’s suicide. Thirty years ago, there was likely nothing he could have done about it. He wasn’t wealthy like he was now, and the Soviet Union and its successor was in turmoil.

But now he had the means, and she was providing the opportunity, both of them, together, avenging her father’s death.

And in her scope, right now, sat the man who had betrayed them all. The man who had shot Boykov in the back, dooming the plot to failure, resulting in her father taking the blame from whoever was ultimately in charge, a man he feared enough to kill himself to protect her and her mother.

She watched Alex West for a moment as her rage built, his quaint little home nestled in the beautiful Black Forest equipped with a large window providing him with an unobstructed view of anyone approaching, and a clear shot for her. As the man laughed about something, she adjusted her aim and debated putting a hole in the head of the woman who he no doubt shared a life with, a happy life denied to her father.

But she resisted. The woman wasn’t her target. She readjusted, positioning her finger on the trigger as she inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled.

A twig snapped behind her and she rolled onto her back, swinging the rifle at the woman standing only feet away, a gun pointed directly at her.

“Natasha Ivashin, I presume?”

Natasha continued to swing the weapon, her mission over, there nothing left to lose. A shot rang out, her shoulder controlling the weapon jerking with the impact, her muscles spasming, the trigger squeezing.

But her shot went wide, her assailant rushing forward, yanking the weapon from her hands and tossing it to the side.

“Kill me.”

The woman shook her head. “Maybe when my father is finished with you.” She flicked her weapon. “Get up.”

Natasha struggled to her feet, gripping her shoulder, debating whether she could still take the woman despite her wound. In the ring, she had no doubt. Even with a dislocated shoulder, she had defeated an opponent single-handed.

Though this one had a gun.

But I want to die.

She charged, rage roaring from within, and the woman stepped calmly aside, pistol whipping her on the back of the head as she passed, knocking her out cold in a humiliatingly easy defeat.