part0031

Justin brought the tulip-shaped flute to his mouth, but barely took a sip of his champagne. It was more of a polite gesture because of the toast of the ambassador. The woman had wished all participants wonderful holidays and a great time with their family and friends. Christmas was still two weeks away, but the office parties had started. Justin’s newly minted position as a commercial attaché came with the perks of attending galas, evening dinners, and receptions, like this one at the Italian ambassador’s residence.

He looked around the large room, seeing everything, but without making eye contact with anyone. He still wasn’t used to his new role of providing advice on trade-related matters between Canada and Czechia and maintaining and building partnerships between the two countries. Justin was trying to move away from his covert operations assignments. Now he had a new life, a wife, and a brand new house they were renting, a short walking distance from the Canadian Embassy. One could take Justin out of the agency, but could they take the agency out of Justin?

He shrugged and flattened the front of his black jacket. His eyes ranged over the crowd around him. He tried not to think about who among these attachés, advisors, and diplomats were also agents, covert operatives assigned to spy for their countries and against their partners, friends, and allies. He shouldn’t have those thoughts, but his mind was running almost instinctively.

Old habits die hard , he thought.

He flicked away a couple of specks of dust that had fallen on his left shoulder. The gesture caused a jolt of dull pain to zip through his body. The wound suffered in Nigeria had healed well. Once in a while, pain came as a bitter reminder of those times gone by.

Justin shifted the weight of his body to his right leg and looked down at his other leg. According to the doctors, the surgery had been a complete success. Justin couldn’t agree more. There had been no episodes of losing control. Cramps came and went, but they didn’t last long. For all intents and purposes, he was back in tip-top shape.

He shook his head. In great shape for meetings and typing briefing notes. He still hadn’t come to terms with his new situation. He didn’t mind the new reality. He loved going home every evening and spending time with Karolin. They had been able to travel and visit southern France and Spain, and enjoyed a few cool yet sunny days away from the rainy, cold, gloomy fall in Prague. They had discussed starting a family and were making plans on how to best manage their finances. Justin liked his new life; he just hadn’t come to the point of fully accepting it.

He had invited her to the reception, but she was up to her neck in home renovations. The Embassy owned the house Justin and Karolin were renting, but they had been allowed to show it some tender loving care. Karolin had contracted workers to replace the floorings, repaint the cabinets from a dark brown to sparkling white, upgrade the bathrooms, and give the place a more “homey” feel. She had inquired about what Justin would want done. He didn’t have any specific idea about what was missing, but he knew it didn’t feel like home yet. “I don’t know; maybe it’s because I don’t have my guns,” he had said half-jokingly.

His new job didn’t require Justin to be armed, so he hadn’t been allowed to bring any firearms into the country. Of course, he could have asked for at least a pistol or even a submachine gun for personal protection, but he felt it unnecessary. Prague was a relatively safe place, and they lived in a good, quiet neighborhood. Plus, Justin didn’t want the temptation of having a gun within reach. He wanted to leave the old life behind.

The truth, however, was more complicated. Justin missed the excitement, the adrenaline rush that came from planning and executing an operation, knowing that every breath he took could be his last. Karolin and the new life offered a different type of excitement, which he just needed to embrace, to make it his own.

“Mr. Hall, you’re in deep thought tonight,” said a warm female voice from behind him.

Justin turned around to see Gabriella Montalti, the Italian ambassador. She was in her late fifties, with long, dyed blond hair that flowed down her shoulders. She was dressed in a conservative knee-length red dress and held a wine glass in her left hand.

“Madam Ambassador, it’s a great party. Thank you for the invitation,” he said in a warm tone and with a smile.

“Canada is a great partner, and we have a great relationship with your embassy, especially with your office.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s very true. I only hear good things about you from my staff.”

She gestured with her right hand to a man standing farther to the back. “Let me introduce you to Gregario Donati, who is our new trade liaison.”

Donati was a tall, muscular man, who looked nothing like a diplomat and everything like an operative. It takes one to know one , Justin thought. Donati gave Justin’s hand a firm handshake. The Italian’s large brown eyes lingered on Justin’s face a moment longer than necessary. It was a measuring gaze as if they were opponents and not just trade officials negotiating business deals on behalf of their countries. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Hall,” Donati said in a strong, firm voice.

“Il piacere è tutto mio ,” Justin replied in the same tone. His eyes never left Donati’s square-jawed face. The pleasure is all mine.

“I had no idea you spoke our language,” Donati said.

Justin noticed a slight twitching of the Italian’s left eye. It lasted but a split second, but it was sufficient to confirm the Canadian’s doubts. It was the clear tell that Donati was lying.

The ambassador said, “Mr. Hall is a man full of surprises.” Her voice had a mischievous tone that Justin didn’t like. It sounded as if she knew who Justin was, or at least who he had been until recently.

She continued, “I’ll let the two of you chat while I talk to the other guests.”

Justin nodded at her and turned toward Donati. “So, when did you arrive in Prague?”

They talked for the next ten minutes. Justin steered the conversation away from his past or anything else that might give Donati the wrong impression. However, the more Justin talked to the Italian, the more he was convinced that Donati knew all about Justin’s previous line of work. A hint here and a reference there, but it was clear that the Italian suspected that Justin was more than a simple government bureaucrat.

At an opportune moment, Justin excused himself. He decided to step outside and get some fresh air. The rain had stopped about half an hour earlier, although the soaked trees still dripped heavy drops. One of them fell right onto his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Justin’s shoes splashed through the puddles that had formed on the embassy’s circular driveway. He nodded at the guards as he went through the gate, informing them he’d return shortly. “Out for a walk,” he told them, as they waved him off.

The street in front of the embassy was brightly lit. Several armored SUVs and sedans were parked along it. A couple of police vehicles stood to the left side, and three officers were smoking by the front of the second sedan.

Justin turned the other way. He wanted to be away from people, just with his thoughts. If Donati knows or suspects I came from the CIS, who else knows? Who else suspects? Everyone? Was this a good idea? So many questions, but he had no answers.

He sighed and shook his head as he came to the next intersection.

Justin was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the man stepping from the shadows and walking behind him. But the ex-operative’s ears caught the low rumble of a car gliding by his side. As Justin turned his head to the left, the man behind him whispered in Justin’s ear, “Don’t move.”

Justin felt the muzzle of a pistol jammed roughly against his back. Instead of fear, he felt anger. How didn’t I notice him? I’m getting so rusty…

“Get in the car,” the man ordered in a menacing tone.

Out of the corner of his eye, Justin saw the door of the black sedan swing open.

At least three men , he thought. If I get in the car, it’s over.

“Get in.” The man thrust the pistol harder against Justin’s back.

Justin knew he had only a second to react.

He stepped to the right, away from the car, while swinging his body around.

The man had anticipated Justin’s move, but not his lightning speed. The ex-operative grabbed the man’s arm with both hands and pushed it upward. The pistol with the sound suppressor went off. A single round made a low crackle as it whizzed by Justin’s head.

He twisted the man’s wrist, turning the pistol toward the man’s chest.

He tried to hold on to the pistol, but Justin didn’t let go.

The sedan’s door opened wide.

Justin’s fingers reached the pistol’s trigger. He tapped it, sending a bullet into the man’s head. It entered right underneath the chin and came out at the top of the skull.

A gunman stepped out of the sedan brandishing a sound suppressor equipped submachine gun.

Justin turned his body to the side, holding up the dead man between himself and the gunman. The latter fired a quick burst that struck the dead man in the back.

Justin aimed the pistol, still in his right hand, at the gunman and squeezed off a round. It struck the man in the face, and he fell onto the cobblestone sidewalk, very much dead.

The driver hit the gas, and the sedan sped away.

Justin dropped the body to the ground and aimed the pistol. He fired a quick burst, which shattered the sedan’s back window. The driver zoomed through the intersection and rounded the corner.

The ex-operative looked at the dead bodies. The men had dark, tanned skin. They could be from Spain, or they could be from Iran. Justin crouched next to them and rummaged through their pockets. He found two cellphones and tried to unlock them using the men’s index fingers or facial features.

He took pictures of their faces and stood up. The police would be arriving at any moment. In fact, he was surprised at the delay. They were less than a couple of minutes away. Perhaps they thought this was fireworks?

Justin shrugged and picked up the weapons. He couldn’t return to the embassy with them. I need to call this in.

He shook his head. Did anything change with my arrival here? He jogged through a dark back alley and called the Prague CIS station. One of the agents promised to meet Justin in less than ten minutes, three blocks north of the Italian embassy.

The agent made it in seven minutes.

As soon as Justin showed him the pictures, the agent shook his head. “They’re Turkish MIT. The Milli—”

Justin cut him off. “I know who MIT is,” he said, referring to the Milli Istihbarat Teskilati , or the National Intelligence Organization. It was Turkey’s primary intelligence-gathering agency. “What are they doing here? Why are they after me?”

“Not sure.” The agent shook his head. “We knew they were operating in the city but hadn’t confirmed who their target was.”

“Why wasn’t I informed?”

The agent gave Justin a sideways glance. “Why would you? You don’t work for the agency.”

Justin opened his mouth, then shook his head. He didn’t like it, but it was the truth. He no longer worked for the CIS. He was just another embassy employee, a paper-pusher.

“Now, what did you find?”

Justin hesitated for a brief moment, then handed the two cellphones and the weapons over to the agent. He briefed the agent about what had taken place. The agent asked Justin to come to the CIS station the next day for a complete and official statement. He agreed.

The agent offered to drive him to his residence, and Justin took him up on the offer. When he dropped him off, Justin waved at him, then walked slowly toward his house. The front room lights were on, and he could see Karolin sitting on a couch and reading. What if they decide to come here and attack the house? I’ve got to do something about it. Get some bulletproof glass. What about weapons? He thought about asking for one, but the paperwork would be a nightmare. And it might take days, maybe even weeks. He wished he had kept the pistol.

He shrugged and opened the door.

Karolin met him in the hallway. “Honey, how did it go?”

They walked to the living room, and Justin told her about the attack.

Karolin handled the news better than he had expected. She was worried, of course, but not panicked. “Maybe I have the solution, at least to a part of this problem.”

“The solution?” Justin gave her a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“It’s better if I show you. Come. Let me show you…” Karolin took his hand.

Justin hesitated for a moment and didn’t get up from the black leather couch. “Can’t you tell me what it is?”

“I can, but it’s better if you see it.” Her voice rose with excitement. “It’s a surprise.”

Justin shrugged and let out a deep sigh. “I’m exhausted because of what happened, but since you insist…” He stood up and followed her up the stairs leading to the second floor.

Karolin turned into their bedroom.

“Oh, I see, it’s that kind of surprise,” Justin said in a playful voice.

“Oh, no, no, don’t get any ideas. Now, what do you think of the color?” She pointed at the walls above their bed and across from the windows.

Justin didn’t know what to say. He knew the color was greige, which was beige plus gray. Karolin had raved about it being the new “in” look and having a richer, warmer feel. “I like it. You’ve done a fabulous job.”

“Do you notice anything?”

He took a closer look at the walls. There was nothing special about them. At the part where the two walls connected, there was a slight gap, which Karolin must have forgotten. He wasn’t about to point it out. “No, I don’t.” He shook his head.

Karolin smiled. “Really?”

“Yes, it’s… it’s a wall.”

“It looks like it, but it’s more. Look.”

She stepped closer to the wall and flicked a switch that looked like a regular light dimmer. Justin looked up at the silver chandelier mounted on the ceiling, but it was already turned on. He looked around the room for another light or lamp that turned on but didn’t see anything.

He returned his eyes to the wall and noticed one of the panels had sprung about an inch away from the wall. His eyes sparkled as he noticed what Karolin had done: She had installed a secret compartment.

Karolin gestured with her head. “Go ahead and open it…”

Justin pulled the panel, and his jaw almost dropped. It was a storage room with racks of weapons. There were a couple of Sig Sauer P320 pistols in silver and black, an AK-103 rifle with a foldable metal stock, two HK MP7 submachine guns, and a handful of fragmentation grenades. A shelf near the bottom held rows of magazines for the weapons, a rough total of five hundred rounds of all calibers.

He looked at Karolin in complete amazement, then asked, “How… where did you get all this?”

“I asked for help, and Moretti was very accommodating.” She leaned in for a quick kiss. “Next time—if there is a next time when bad guys come after you—you’ll be ready. And you always said that there was