LONE – Part 80.

LONE – Part 80.

Jack in Paris being held by Mossad…

“We were not looking for you Jack, you unfortunately or luckily stumbled into us just as we were looking for terrorists, I say luckily because we have no sympathy with your countries secret service presently. Now however I need you to tell me why you were travelling by foot, and badly disguised as a Syrian refugee..?”

I have to think quickly, should I tell him I have a personal vendetta before I disappear out the business permanently, or try and fob him off with some bad luck story..? I know he is well informed, so maybe I will go with the truth and see what happens.

“A while back I started to take the law into my own hands, and I started executing the bad guys, which was not an approved approach by Mi6. Whilst I was seeking to remove a slaving gang in Istanbul, I took some monies, which now I know belonged to a Russian FSB ring. At the same time the FSB dispatched an Agent to rub me out for what they saw as previous crimes, but instead and because of the money, I didn’t return home quickly. So when I didn’t return home as expected, the assassin tortured my wife and then murdered her, because she was frustrated at not being able to carry out her orders, and so took her annoyance out on my wife instead. I couldn’t handle this loss, and so I was retired by Mi6, and returned to my hometown, where I surfed and drank far too much. A few years later I was recalled to duty by Mi6, but put on searching out illegal immigrants, not something that suited my skill set. In a very short while, I started to meet people who were slavers, and I started killing them, because when I did turn them over to the police … They got short sentences, and were quickly out on the streets again, and then back to their old tricks. Things started to go wrong after I rescued a young Polish girl, who ended up unfortunately assassinated by a Mi6 wet work specialist who was after me, well she still is, and then I realised that my boss back in London did not value me that much, and that it would have been his orders which brought the young Polish girl to her death… So if I am honest, I’m on the way to kill him in the UK..!”

 “You still have the money..?”

 I could see the avarice in his eyes, and knew that me being released might rely on the money that I have safely deposited in Switzerland.

 “it’s only a few thousand American dollars, not much, the bag felt heavy, but when I got a good look it was low denomination bills, and it’s back in Pisa buried in my garden, which is being watched by the Russians and the British..!”

After I finished my explanation, I waited whilst he thought, and whilst he stared me right in the eyes… I’ve admitted that I am going to kill Charles, my boss, so no one would blame him for putting a gun to my head and pulling the trigger… Then he spoke,

“So if we helped you, the money could become ours for our cause..?

“Yes, yes, if you can help me into the UK, I’ll tell you where I hid it, but the Ruskies and Brits are your problem..!”

Silence as again he thought, thought as he watched me… I’m a good liar, and after a few movements, he smiles and then begins to untie me…

Kayleigh driving through Czech and heading for Vienna in Austria…

It’s a long time since I stopped for the coffee and also filled up the car just past Ostrava, and it’s now time for me to find somewhere secure to sleep. The nearer I get to Italy, the more my stomach has begun to cramp, and I realise now exactly what I have embarked on. I’m currently on the 221 which runs around the suburbs of Vienna, and using my sat nav, I discover the Wien-Westbahnhof hotel which looks more than suitable for what I need, if maybe a little too luxurious perhaps.

The hotel reception is busy, and I wonder if I will be able to obtain a room, to be told by the receptionist that they only have a few rooms left, lucky me.! Once in my room, I empty out my travel bag, and then check my phone … Damn it’s still switched off, I quite forgot to switch it back on when I had my sleep back in Warsaw, lets hope no one has wanted me. A few moments later however after turning on my phone, it selects a network, and then I check my mail box, it’s almost full, and the massages are all from my supervisor Tatyana.. I’m in trouble now, still nothing more to be done than ring her.

Tatyana, supervising handler of Kayleigh, Lubyanka. Moscow…

My phone purrs, I answer, at long last, its my errant field agent, she tells me she forgot to switch her phone back. This girl is going into extreme trouble, and yet she cannot even remember to keep in touch..! I ask her where she is, and she tells me that she on the outskirts of Vienna in a hotel. I believe her target is back in Warsaw, this Is not going well.

General Bortnikov at home in Moscow, Russia…

I jerk awake, my phone is ringing, who can this be ringing me at this time of night, they’d better have something important to say.! My wife murmurs to me in a sleepy voice, I tell her not to worry, it is nothing to concern herself with, and she rolls over and I hear her breathing go back to that reassuring rumble of sleep.

Clambering out of bed, I wrap a robe around me, and walk through the house to my study, the supervisor of ‘Kayleigh’ informs me that she has rung in, and that she has been having trouble with her phone.

“Where is she now..?”

I grunt…

“General, she is in Vienna in a hotel on the 221.”

Why is she in Vienna..?

“What is she doing in Vienna, when we know that ‘Katarinka’ is in Warsaw presently..?”

“I am sorry General, but she was heading to Pisa believing that Katarinka was heading there to kill the Mi6 agent, and also try to retrieve the money he stole. She was tasked to finish Katarinka, but of course we do not currently believe she is able to carry out that mission to your satisfaction. Should I send her back to Warsaw General..?”

“No……. Tell her to stay where she is until we know what Katarinka’s latest movements are, so send someone from the embassy in Warsaw to see if Katarinka is still in Warsaw.”

“I will carry out your orders General, good night.”

The receiver clicks and Tatyana was gone, maybe I will promote her again tomorrow, or maybe I will let her sweat out her future for a while.

Katarinka back in the Mamaison Hotel Le Regina, early morning…

I have just finished breakfast, my bag is already packed and it is in the car. I’ve left my old clothes in the bin, along with my old look… Now I need to drive towards Pisa, and look up Jack Peters, and then finish the business that I started so long ago. I need to lose the BMW however, and that is best accomplished in Belarus.

As I strap myself into the car, I see Nona whom I met in the beauty parlour… At this time of the morning, she can only be here for one reason, the FSB has gotten wind of where I am, and so sliding down the window I call out softly to her. Nona catches sight of me, hesitates, but is stuck with acknowledging me and trying to pay it cool, or running, and that action she knows will alert me to the fact she is trying to spy on me…

 

LONE – Part 79.

LONE – Part 79.

Harry in ‘Charles’ office, the River House, London…

On Charles table in his inner office, somewhere I have never been invited to, I see a few files, and his chair is pushed back as though he has left in a hurry. I still hesitate slightly, this is after all Charles private space, but then my curiosity over comes the last vestige of my conscious, I wouldn’t be part of Mi6 if I weren’t curious. The top file is marked ‘Top Secret’, no surprise there, and underneath I can see the other files are marked the same. The top file also bears the legend ‘Katarinka’ underneath that one is Jack’s personal file, and the one below bears the name Bortnikov, General Bortnikov no less, the head of the FSB and friend to Putin. The fact the files are left out and all together, says to me, that they are all interacting with each other… How can they all be connected..? Is Jack a double agent, it’s not impossible, but highly unlikely, although he did spend a long time in prison in Russia, and then escaped, which is surprising in itself, did he agree to be a double agent then..? Has Charles being investigating Jack further than I know, are these murders around the EU and here, linked in some way to Jack’s Russian masters..? So many questions that I feel I need answered…

Charles at home in Surry, Sunningdale, Priory Road, England…

Good to be home, good to see Angela my wife, I needed a rest, and when the words on a file began to blur before my eyes, and the people around me became a little too distant, I knew I had to get away, rest and recuperate. Angela was surprised to see me home early, but after the initial shock, she’s making me a large gin and tonic, I should have rung her, let her know I was coming home, usually when I am busy, I can be away for days on end, even sleep at the office. This Jack business has got to me, I know that a while back he stole/took money that belonged to Bortnikov, money which was made from slaving and prostitution. Money I had hoped to use to persuade the General to defect to us over, threatening him with exposure to the Media. The money I know that Putin was unaware of, or how Bortnikov made it. However before I could move on Bortnikov, Jack effectively removed the Generals business and his elicit money flow, and which cost Jack his wife’s life. That was nasty business for Jack, he went over the edge, not that he hadn’t been on the edge for years, but it was the large shove from the Russian agent ‘Katarinka’, who tortured and killed his wife that sent him scampering to his childhood town in Cornwall, and alcoholism. It was only when I thought he had stewed for long enough that I recalled him from retirement, thinking he might just show me where the money was hidden; after all he never collected on it when he was retired. I watched his bank accounts, his spending, and his movements, but nothing, no extra monies. I’m damn sure he still has that large stash of cash somewhere, and if I guessed anywhere, it would be hidden at his house in Pisa, which he has never sold… So the cash must be there.

Still I need a few nights at home, get back to my old self, and then I need to deal with this mess Jack has got me into, although its my own greed which has driven me here to this place where I have started to become exposed… Shortly I am sure ‘Harry’ will be asking awkward questions… If only I had forgotten the money, and left well alone, Jack would have drunk on his couch at home in Newquay, and I would have been feeling a lot less tense.

Katarinka, Warsaw, Poland, early morning…

My itch is scratched, and neither of the two men died for satisfying me. I have driven the BMW out of town to find the address of this young field agent ‘Kayleigh’, and I am currently standing right outside the door of her flat. I haven’t seen any other denizen’s of the block as of yet, and it’s only four in the morning and unless they have early shifts, I’m expecting not to have any interaction, and if I do encounter anyone, they will have to die, I need no witnesses. I shall be leaving Warsaw after my breakfast back at the hotel, so I need to get this chore over with quickly. I’ve had no answer to my knocks, so I pull out my lock picks, and a few seconds later I’m in her flat…

It becomes obvious she is not here, damn her, so she is already off and sniffing out my trail, how funny we have passed like ships in the night, I am guessing she has only just gone. In her bedroom I find underwear cast to one side, pick up her panties, bring them to my nose and inhale her aroma, soon, very soon molodaya devushka we shall make love in the most intense way, but I shall be the black widow, and you… My beautiful mate, you have to die.

General Bortnikov at home in Moscow, early morning…

Tatyana has just rung to tell me she cannot contact her agent ‘Kayleigh’, her phone is apparently turned off, and her GPS reading is an old one which places her near Warsaw, but it’s an old reading, now more than a day old. I’m a little more rested now, but I still scream at her down the phone connection, tell her she is demoted, and that it is her job to find the field agent, and that I do not want to hear from her again until she has good news.

Kayleigh over the Polish/Czech border and on the outskirts of Ostrava…

I need to stop soon, it’ll be a toilet stop, I have plenty of food, but maybe I can get a fresh coffee somewhere, and some comfort for my buttocks that are beginning to complain about the car seat being too firm. Ahead I can see a roadside stop that’ll give me the needed leg stretching, coffee and hopefully a clean toilet.

Jack in Paris a prisoner, tied to a chair…

“So Mr Jack, are you an agent involved in tracking terrorists, or are you in fact a terrorist for Danesh..?”

 He looms over me, but as soon as he calls ISIS ‘Danesh’, I know he himself is not involved with them, so who is he..? I’ll take a chance…

“Names ‘Jack Peters’, I’m with Mi6.”

 He remains looming over me before remarking,

“Oh I know that much, your face is all over the EU, Interpol and the French police are looking for you, and I am quite sure that your own guys are eager to speak to you Jack..! But that doesn’t answer my question does it..? Plus I am sure that the woman arrested in Italy is something to do with you, and the media are saying she is connected to terrorism. Why would you go rogue, where were you going before you were picked up luckily by one of my field agent, just what are you up to Jack..?”

He steps away from me, his body aroma tells me that he has been eating a lot of garlic, but also a lot of other spices, spices which remind me of somewhere… He looks Arabic, but not, and he seems very well informed about me and what maybe going on… it’s then I realise he is most likely Mossad…

 

LONE -Part 78.

LONE – Part 78.

Jack in Paris…

Tied to a chair in the back of the house, and no idea yet why..? After being marched through the house, there was no conservation, the man just pointed at the chair in the middle of the room, I sat, and the girl tied me up securely whilst he watched. I have been sat here for a few hours now, and apart for the chair, there is no other furniture in the room. I haven’t heard anything since the man and girl left the room, my captures could be near, or have even left the house.

Kayleigh in Warsaw, Poland, at home sleeping in the middle of the night…

Something awakens me, I’m not sure if it’s a noise outside the flat, or just a dream, I look at the clock, it’s five to one in the morning. After twenty minutes of trying to find sleep again, I get out of bed and stroll into the kitchen. Once there I realise I am just not going to get back to sleep. On the kitchen table, is the bag I packed ready for an early exit? Seeing it, I realise I might as well leave now, but not until I have at least one good black coffee.

Fifteen minutes later I am outside in the block car park loading the car with my bag and a substantial packed lunch. Fifteen minutes later and I way on my way to Ostrava in Czech, and from there I will be heading into Austria. Ahead of me however is the long drive to the Polish/Czech border, but I am happy to be off and moving again…

Katarinka in the Mamaison Hotel Le Regina…

I have enjoyed a good meal, and now I am back in my suite, trying on some of the clothes I have bought. I have a little side mission now before seeking out Jack; I shall be hunting the little field agent tomorrow morning early, very early, before I even enjoy breakfast, I am expecting to catch her in her bed. I think I’ll have a swim in the pool, try to relax back to how I felt in the beauty parlour, as since the phone call from my former handler in Lubyanka, I have become a little tense again, I need to kill someone, that always make me feel better.

Up and down, I power through the water, swimming for fun is not in me, I swim for exercise and nothing more, I need to tire myself or I become like a coiled spring, and that’s not good for anyone around me. When I get out of the pool, water running from my body, muscles rippling, breasts taut under my one piece, I notice that there are two men in the pool area staring unashamedly at me, and I stare back appraising them in the same way, just as though they were prime meat. As I walk towards them their eyes however drop away from mine like the curs they are. As I pass them however, one murmurs to the other how much he would enjoy taming me. I stop, turn slowly, and then ask him if he would like to join me in my bedroom for a fuck…? I can see he is interested, more than interested, but he is just not used to a woman being so forthright. The other man smiles nervously, and asks quietly,

“What about me..?”

I eye him up and down for a few seconds, and then,

 “You can come too if you wish, be at my door both of you at nine tonight, if you dare.!”

Bortnikov in Lubyanka, Moscow, thinking of retiring for the night…

Just about to leave, go home to my wife, when I m told there is an urgent call for me. It’s Sergey Andreyev, one of our diplomats in Poland, Warsaw to be precise. Sergey is very agitated, it appears his wife Nona has seen Katarinka in a beauty salon this afternoon, and so now I know exactly where she is at last. Warsaw, isn’t that where the field agent is from..?

I need to get the field agents supervisor to phone her, find out where she is, she might well even be in Warsaw..! I thank Sergey for his help, he is rather too ingratiating, but then, he is diplomat. He asks after my wife, children, and I feel myself becoming annoyed, I need to get my network up-to-date on Katarinka’s whereabouts… Once I have got rid of him, I phone  the agent’s handler, tell her to get on the phone to the field agent, get her moving, finding out where Katarinka is staying before she moves on.

Tatyana, supervising handler of Kayleigh, early morning in Lubyanka…

Burr, burr, the phone tone is ringing on Kayleigh mobile, and then goes to voice mail again, damn her, just what is she playing at. I have been trying to contact her all night. I have at last checked the GPS on her phone, and it tells me she is a third of the way between Warsaw and either the Czech or Belarus border. I’m not sure which way she is travelling, but I am hoping that she is headed home, and now away from Warsaw. I have to be able to report back to General Bortnikov that I have sent her after Katarinka, anything less will throw him into a rage, a rage that could end with me being executed. Once again I try her number, only to hear her voice mail, this is most unusual, agents always keep their phone on, should I send another sleeper after her, maybe she is in trouble..?

Jack in Paris…

I must have slipped into sleep; my neck is hurting from being tied into the chair, then I hear noise from what would appear to be the front of the house. Banging and clattering, the sounds of several people, most of them men, but I do hear a woman’s voice, then the door into my room bangs open, slamming into the wall behind it… The open doorway frames a large man, he has an Arabic look about him, but he is dressed in western clothing, a business suit, white shirt, shiny patent shoes, I know immediately that he is not a man you play with. As he advances into the room, I see that there is two other men I do not recognise behind him, but he slams the door in their faces and comes to a halt before me…

 

LONE – Part 77.

LONE – Part 77.

General Bortnikov in Lubyanka, Moscow…

One of my women supervisors has just knocked on my office door, she has informed me that a Sleeper in Poland has been activated, instead of the agent I wanted, who is at this very moment in surgery for cancer..! Why did someone keep this information from me.? It would appear however that although this woman agent has no real field experience, her file does tell me that she is a committed agent who has been fully trained, but against Katarinka… I know it would be murder for me to send this ‘Kayleigh’ in pursuit of such a monster, but she is the nearest and maybe if she just follows, we can insert another more experienced agent later.!

Picking up the phone, I call the handling supervisor of this Kayleigh, tell her tersely to allow her operative to follow Katarinka at a distance, but she is not to engage her for any reason. Now I need to deal with whoever left me out of the loop about my agent being so ill and out use. I’m not happy, and although not in a rage, I feel that someone should pay.

Yesterdays meeting with Putin did not go well, but I understand he is under a lot of stress, what with Syria, the refugees, and the West screwing us over for the mess in the Ukraine. The good old US of A have been bleating on at us about our airstrikes in support of that idiot Assad, but now we have withdrawn our war machine, things will quieten down somewhat, maybe get back to normal if Putin doesn’t play anymore games.

Once again I curse that the English Agent got his hands on my nest egg, and then again the agents who were responsible, are dead by his hand and so I was left with no one to blame and kill myself, and that is annoying in itself.

‘Kayleigh’ in Minsk, Belarus, at the Renaissance hotel…

There would seem to be some sort of confusion, I wasn’t selected for this job after all, Just sent to the border as I was the nearest to Minsk, and the agent who should have been selected was ill. I have new orders, I am to follow the mark, whom I now know to be called ‘Katarinka’ … I was given no more information about the mark… But I know why. Katarinka is legendary in the FSB, and even without seeing her file, I have heard the rumours, and even if she is half as bad as they say, then she is a monstrous character.

My next problem however is to find where she has gone..? How do I do that, as my supervisor has no idea either..? The only clue I have, is that they are expecting her next target to be a British agent who most likely is in Pisa, and that he has something General Bortnikov desires. My supervisor is under the impression that Katarinka will try to retrieve this something, and then give it to the General to mollify him. So it looks as though I have a long drive to Italy ahead of me, and also I get my wish to see more of the EU…

Jack travelling to the coast of France…

Luckily I have managed to get a lift to the outskirts of Paris, I say luckily, as my disguise as an illegal Immigrant travelling from Syria, is not popular. I was however picked up on a side road I was walking, not chancing the main roads as I might be picked up by the police as I tried to get a lift. The guy who picks me up turns out to be Arabic, and has his daughter with him, he seems to have some sympathy with the Syrian situation. I sit in the back and listen to him ramble on about politics of which I have no interest. I’m not a political beast; I’m just a beast that previous governments have pointed in a direction, and then I have carried out my orders. If I had been a political beast, then I would have shot several members of our present Tory government for the actions they have taken recently.

Apart from the constant tirade from the driver that I just shut out of my head, the drive is quite pleasant, his daughter is attractive and several times when we stop, I catch her slyly watching me. She is about eighteen and at one stop she asks me my name, I say I am called ‘Mohammad’, as I know that just about every other Syrian has ‘Mohammad’ as their name, either as the first one, or in amongst the string of names that follow. She smiles, and tells me it fits me, and that I am a prophet, but not a holy one, I look into her face, but I don’t spot any guile, but even so, her eyes are not smiling when her mouth is curved upwards like a scimitar… She has something indefinable which leads me to believe that her father, if he is indeed her father, and herself, have something more than meets the eye.

When we eventually reach the outskirts of Paris, the man suggests I stay with them for the night, eat, drink and have a good nights rest. I have no timetable for my meeting with Charles, he is not even aware I am coming yet, and so I readily agree. Although I am in disguise, I have a feeling these two have seen right through it, and yet they are only too happy to help me. Driving into the suburbs of Paris brings back a few memories of Kamila, and once again I find myself being a little maudling, and I know then I am way past my best in the job I do, and I know permanent retirement looms. I need to take that money and get well away from the UK. As we get nearer to our destination, I realise they live in Bondy, a very poor suburb of Paris. They have a nice car, nice clothes, and they seem to have plenty of money, why then would they live in Bondy..?

Eventually we arrive at their house, it is quite large, but extremely shabby on the outside, but once the driver has parked, and we go inside, I find that outside belies the inside decor. Standing in the hallway with the driver knocking off the alarm system, I am begging to wonder why they are living in Bondy at all, when they obviously have the money to live in a nicer suburb, it’s now when I am relaxed that I feel a gun barrel touch my back… and I hear the daughter whisper, please don’t move, or I ‘will’ have to kill you..!

LONE – Part 60.

LONE – Part 60.

‘Charlie and Harry’ – The River house City of London…

‘Harry’

Charles has called in a sleeper that we have in Paris, she is now heading to our safe house in Arras, but I doubt she will catch our Jack there.

Before ‘Jack’ thought to deactivate his phone, we got a good trace on his smart phone GPS showing he is using the safe house.. Too bleeding easy if you ask me, has ‘Jack’ slipped that far back, has alcoholism really made him a spent force, I’m not so sure, he’s been a very slippery character in the past.

I have been delving into his dossier, and he is under investigation by our internal affairs, he is beginning to look like an extremely loose cannon, and I am damn sure he will know that we know where he is presently. Is he hoping we will send an agent straight to him so that he can deal with that problem first.? He will know that we will try to eradicate the problem that he has become. He will also know that the Ruskies are after him, that’s obvious, they were tailing him, and so they want him for something, God only knows what.? The most worrying part is that on checking out where he lived in Paris, we discovered that the house was demolished in a large explosion. The Paris police at the moment believe that this was a gas problem, and now we will need to check quietly through the rubble after they have finished themselves, see if we can find any clues as to why Jack has gone on the run.

Looking at his dossier again, I can see internal affairs believe he is killing suspects and not arresting them, perhaps Jack believes justice is better metered out by him.

‘Charlie’

“So Harry, where would we run to if we were ‘Jack’ and being sought by us, the French police and certainly Interpol shortly..!”

Having been an agent myself, I know a little of what will be running through ‘Jacks’ head, but not how he has got himself into this mess, and lets not be fuzzy, he is dragging us down with him, after all it was me that persuaded him back into service, Harry is not aware of that fact yet..! If I had the opportunity, and Jack was here, I put a gun to his head, shoot him dead, but things are not going to be anywhere as easy as that.

General Bortnikov in Lubyanka…

The scheming bitch is gone, time for me to checkout who decided to bring her back, how did she get free from the ‘Black Dolphin’, and I have to ask myself why when I found out, it seemed a good idea. Well she’s out of the picture now; I should be getting a telephone call any minute from one of the Ivan’s telling me that he has carried out my explicate orders.

Jack and Kamila at the safe house Arras…

‘Jack’

I had wanted to leave very early, and yet here we are just after breakfast, and Kamila is fussing about redressing my arm, I just don’t seem to be able to get it in her head the urgency to move on now..!

Cindy – Paris (sleeper) codename ‘Precious’.

Early morning, and my phone chirps, it’s the call that one always knows will arrive one day, they need me to clean up some mess. It’s a text, short and to the point, I’m to go to Arras, checkout a safe house there, and if necessary clean any individuals in the house.

I have a good life here in Paris; I shop, exercise, go clubbing and enjoy life. I have my own garret in the city, something I would never be able afford if I was normally working. Getting off the bed, I check the weather, its raining hard, and then return to the bed, and grabbing hold of it firmly, pull it away from the wall. Having moved the bed several feet from the wall, I pull at the wooden floorboards, which lift away like a hatch, underneath.. I keep the tools of my trade, and now I need to select carefully.

After a shower, I make myself a good breakfast, and then dress in a black box jacket with white blouse, and add black trousers, flat pumps and a woollen hat to hold my black hair. My car is parked in a private garage that I rent, mostly I use the public transport and it’s quite awhile since I last did wet work, more than a year. On the way out I grab an umbrella and make my way two avenues over to the garage and my Mercedes SL500. The rain is very hard, and at this time of the morning there is hardly a soul on the street, opening the swing up door I am confronted by my black ‘Merc’… I love black, always have, which is good, as I have a black, black job….

‘Jack’

I have at last managed to get Kamila out, and into the car. There very little to be packed, but Kamila insisted we take some sandwiches which she has made, telling me that the less we stopped the better, which is rather funny as she has no idea how far we are going, or in what direction.

We are only a matter of five hundred yards from the house, when a black Mercedes sports car cruises past slowly in the opposite direction. The driver, a young woman, dark skinned and smartly dressed, and by the way she looks straight back at me with such intent interest, which leads me to believe she is going to the safe house to check it out. She might be a cleaner, or just another agent, but it would seem we are only just ahead.

We head down the D939, and surprisingly I have not seen any police presence yet, maybe they think that we headed back into Paris.? Still I will not look a gift horse in the mouth; the Police will however soon discover the Audi parked in the side street in Arras where I left her. I cleaned the car as well as I could, I would have like to burn it, but that would have attracted attention to it straight away.

Kamila is quiet, she’s slumped in her seat, and I can see that the strain is getting to her. Before all this happened, I do believe she was getting over her previous ordeal, and now… Well I can only hope if we meet any resistance on our journey down to Italy, that she doesn’t get in my way.

‘Precious’ near the safe house in Arras…

The journey up from Paris has been easy, even in the rain, the Merc soaks up the miles easily, and I have music on iPod running through the stereo keep me entertained. The safe house is just outside Arras, and I am mere minutes from arriving outside when I see a large Citroen family car slowly making it’s way up the street towards me. As we pass each other I get a good look at the driver. He’s a middle-aged man, and he looks tired and a little ragged around the edges. He wearing a rather strange tourist shirt and mismatched jacket, but what really catches my attention is his intense blue eyes. I notice that he is scrutinising me as hard as I am he… And in the passenger seat sits a girl who might well be his daughter. I have to check out the safe house first, but as he drives away from me slowly, I make a mental note of the car’s licence plate.

 

LONE – Part 54.

LONE – Part 54.

Katarinka in the apartment of the driver..

Back into the kitchen, and I see a knife block, pull out the paring knife, but it’s so blunt as to be useless, and so I carry on my search for something sharp, something I can use to get myself to a higher peak of ecstasy. I pull out the two kitchen draws, in one under dirty knifes and forks.. I find two stainless steel skewers and I smile.

I hear some noises from the lounge, and it’s obvious that he is finding his feet again, so I move to the kitchen doorway, where I lean and watch his efforts to stand. He’s a pathetic sight, his testicles obviously hurt, but he knows I am here, and might just kill him, and yet he makes no move to try and attack me. His eyes are reddened as he gazes at me, and I see fear in his eyes, this is no real man, I start away from the doorway and stalk him across the floor, as soon as I move he starts to stumble away, making mewling noises at first, which then turns to pleading his case, that he only wanted a little fun with me. Around, around we go as he tries to keep some distance from me, but the room is way to small and so he begins to think he might put up a fight, his whining turns to anger and he makes promises of retribution that he cannot keep, and then I make my move.

Like a coiled spring, I unleash a roundhouse with my left leg and at it’s point of contact, my high heel delivers a massive blow, which impales his left shoulder, from the way he was feinting I had guessed he thought my attack would come from the right, and as I jerk my heel from his shoulder, he slumps slightly with the pain, and then realises his left arm no longer works. Yet again his whining starts and I deliver another blow, this time to his right shoulder and he falls to his knees as I once again pull my high heel from his flesh, these heels are as deadly as any stiletto. I follow through with hard and vicious blows to his chest, so far I have no raised not a hand, and he just grunts as every blow lands. Time to pull back, if I let myself go to far, I shall just beat him to a senseless pulp and there’s no fun in that..!

So I stand still in front of him, let my emotions ease, I so want to kill, kill, kill….. In my groin I feel the familiar emotions stir like butterflies, nothing is going to satiate me tonight, other than some darkling business that only I seem to appreciate, and with that thought, my nipples stiffen, oh this looks like a night I might remember for days to come.

Kicking him gently, I get him to the kitchen, and in his eyes I see hope, maybe he vainly hopes I need a meal, as if.

I push him to the kitchen, force him back until his thighs are against the cheap wood, he looks at me through pain filled eyes, and then I use a hand to stiff finger punch him in the throat. His head snaps back and he slumps onto the table, he starts to slip off, but I move in and with a little effort, get him on his back on the table’s surface. Just for a second I am not sure it will hold his weight, but then it settles under the strain. He is making choking noises, but I know how much force I used, and his larynx is still intact, he isn’t to die yet, but it keeps him occupied.

‘Harry’ Mi6 – River House City of London…

Bored again, the light on the work board, the one which is trying to warn me of a problem, blinks on and off, there’s no way to turn it off from this end, I even consider covering it with something, anything to stop it catching my eye. I get off at six o’clock, it’s now five, I have some time to go, so I think I will catch the early BBC news on my phone. Flicking through the various items, and then I catch some video from France, and not far from Arras, they actually mention the town, that’s a coincidence. The news is that some guy and a woman killed two Russians and a local cop, gunned them all down in cold blood at a service station. There’s a little CCTV, which on my phone is a little small to make out much detail, but something niggles me, something which means I might just have to ring Charles again right now..!

Jack inside the safe house just outside Arras…

I’m lying on a bed in the upstairs of the house, Kamila found some plastic bags, opened then out with a knife from the kitchen, put them underneath my arm to catch any blood, I don’t want to leave the house disturbed anymore than I can. I have my teeth clamped on a wooden stirring spoon from the kitchen; she’s widened the wound with a scalpel from the first aid kit, which she sterilised with flame on the gas hob out in the kitchen. I’ve told her she needs to get that bullet out, and shown her how to sew the wound up afterwards. Kamila has tape, gauze, some antibiotic power and best of all, a hypodermic full of amoxicillin. She has told me there are other oral antibiotics, so with what we have, we should be able to sort this out.

I go out like a light when Kamila starts delving into the wound, looking for the bullet, she’s using medical pliers, but they hurt the same as if she was using electricians pliers, but I’m back again, if a little foggy. I asked before we started if she had found any drink amongst the dried rations in the house, she said no, but I can tell easily that she is lying to me.

‘Kamila’

Jack’s fading in and out as I probe the wound in his arm, at first I don’t push to hard, nor go too deep, but I quickly realise that I have to find the bullet, and that me mucking about will not help Jack at all. I have the pliers halfway in when I feel some thing which is not flesh, nor bone, open the pliers further, and try to get a grip on what must be the round. The first try, the pliers slip and I have another try, this time I get a grip, and carefully withdraw them, and see the end of the bullet in-between their grips.

LONE- Part 53.

LONE – Part 53.

‘Kamila’

Jack tells me where the first aid kit is stored in this house, he has hurriedly explained to me that this is a supposedly ‘safe house’, but I am still very worried just how we will cope now that all the police of France will be searching for us.

Why did I pull the trigger on Jack’s gun..?

This question has been rumbling through my head since the incident, and has replaced the question I asked god so many times back in Paris, when with bowed head I have sat in the Notre Dame thinking about my relationship with Jack and how we had made love.

I find the first aid kit easily, but it’s not a small box as I was expecting, more like a hospital A&E..! I have no idea how I shall help Jack now he’s been shot, although I do know without a doubt I need him desperately, so come what may, I will try to do as he says.

Once back at Jack’s side in the kitchen, he asks me to cut off his sleeve that is covering the wound in his arm, there’s lots of blood, and some is still running freely, which means he needs more assistance than I would know how to administer. I’ve brought strong sharp scissors with me, and even though they are good, it’s hard to cut through his jacket. It takes me a few minutes to finally bare his arm, and all through the cutting, I can see Jacks eyes are somewhat glazed, the loss of blood is going to be his end if I cannot help him now.

Jack asks me to examine his arm, has the bullet gone straight through, and no, it hasn’t, I gaze up towards his face from where I crouch, and I know that I am going to be responsible to the rounds removal. I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach, I’m not so sure I can do this thing to help him, for the sight of blood alone makes me queasy.

‘Jack’

From the sight on Kamila’s face, she looks sick, and I know I have to push her now, or have some serious complications later. If Kamila cannot resolve the bleeding, then I have to go and seek care, and if I do that, I’ll be caught and locked up for sure. I am in a mess now, and getting put in prison is something I wish to avoid, and now Kamila has shot and killed a cop in cold blood, I will need to leave the EU eventually. Meanwhile, if I can pull through tonight, I still have some unfinished business in the form of my wife’s murderer… I explain to Kamila what she will need to do, and that I doubt if there is any anaesthetic here, so I might pass out and be of no help to her. I can see her hands and shoulders are already shaking, but then I did not expect her to react in another way, she’s had no experience, and looks a rather frail thing.

Mi6 – River House City of London…

‘Harry’ on the phone to his supervisor…

“Look Charles, I not joshing you..! There really is a warning light for the safe house at ‘Arras France’. No I cannot check visually, you know that the houses are being updated, we’ve no sound either, and these updates are way behind due to the cutbacks that Cameron and Osborne are making at a level we have no handle on. Yes I know you do not want to come in for just a glitch, yes I know you have been working long hours and you’re my boss..! So what do you want me to do..? Turn the light off, and send a workman out to check the system. Well if that’s what you want to do, that’s what will happen. Good Night Charles, I’m sorry I got you out of bed, there’s no need to be rude..!”

 

 

 

 

LONE – Part 52.

LONE – Part 52.

Jack inside the safe house just outside Arras…

Once through the doorway, I call out, I am pretty sure that there is no one else here, but it doesn’t hurt to check, I don’t want to have to explain Kamila to anyone. No answer..! I stagger back out of the door into the night, around the side of the house, and wave my good arm to flag Kamila in. I see the cars lights come on, and then she drives the short distance to the driveway of the house, and with extra arm signals, I get her to park up at the back of the house, it’s a good thing to keep the car out of sight. I know in the background of my mind that I will need to dump the car now, such a shame, but however the café’s CCTV will have caught the Audi, as well as the whole incident with the two Russians, and the local policeman. Things are not going anywhere near to plan, and I will have to rest up a while now to allow my arm to heal, if only a little. When we left Paris I had such clear plans in my head, but all of France’s police will now be watching out for us, and I still don’t know yet if part of this houses defences involve outside monitoring and that somewhere alarm lights are flicking on and off, it wouldn’t be unknown, and then we will have Mi6 and Interpol our backs as well.

Back inside the house, I direct Kamila to the most likely place that a first aid kit maybe found. On her return, she informs me there is so much more than a first aid kit; it’s now that I tell her that if the bullet is lodged in my arm, she will have to extract it. She pulls a face, looks a little than a little sick, but nods her head; she remains silent as she cuts the jacket sleep away, and then my shirt. My arm is stiffening up, the pain is much worse. Kamila gives me some oral painkillers and a glass of water, I know they will not do much to numb the pain, I know this from previous experience, but I will not inform Kamila as she is doing her best.

Once uncovered I can see the flesh of my arm is terribly bruised and will only get worse in the coming hours, blood is still flowing freely from the entrance wound, I need to get the hole sewn up quick, we will not have a blood stock here, but maybe there is plasma. I get Kamila to check the back of my arm, is there an exit wound..? She shakes her head, damn..!

Katarinka in the apartment of the driver..

I’m standing in his kitchen, more evidence of his sloppiness. The sink is piled high with dirty dishes, and there are takeaway boxes overflowing the table, the surface of which is covered in food stains, it even smells rank here. Disgusting. And this where he brought me, thinking it was okay for attempt to seduce me, in every moment that passes my rage is increasing to new heights, and I have very unpleasant thoughts of his what will be his sudden cruel ending. Backing out of the disgusting pit where he thinks it safe to eat, I turn my attention to him where he is lying curled in on himself on the floor. He’s coming back to life now, his groin is however giving him trouble, and I slip across the cheap carpet and land a blow from my foot to the area that he clutches. Although his hands are in the way, he curls into a tighter foetal pose, and spews his stomach contents on the floor. I stare down at him in distain, but then I cross to the couch, and select a loose cushion, and place it underneath his head, I don’t want him to choke on his vomit, I haven’t finished with him yet.

Mi6 – River House City of London…

‘Harold (we will call him Harry)’

Been on shift now for a few hours, the late shift is the most boring, nothing ever happens, well not when I’m on shift. My job is to monitor events far away, safe house management, directing agents whom I never meet, to jobs or safe places, it should be exciting, but it’s not.

This evening hasn’t been any different, leading up to midnight, I’ve already drunk five coffees, and they are not sitting at all well with my stomach lining, I give a belch, indigestion raises it ugly head and I feel the old familiar pain, the one that only a full glass of milk will fix. Standing up, I move across the unlit room, the glow of various monitors and switches is enough for me to negotiate the office to the tiny cupboard we like to call a ‘kitchen’. Here I open the small fridge, extract a two litre bottle of full cream milk, no dieting for me, I’m built like a racing snake, although my mum tells me I just need feeding up. Having poured myself a tall glass of milk, I stand straight, force my head back and try to release any trapped air I may have in my stomach… Satisfyingly I get a large burp out, and the pain recedes a little, and now it’s time for the milk, down in one. I make my way back to my seat, making promises on the way not to drink so much coffee, promises I know I will never keep.

As I near the monitoring desk, I see a little light is blinking, and I sit down rapidly, blinking lights mean trouble, I need to consult the book of knowledge, this tells me where the trouble is, and then I pick up a telephone, I need to call my supervisor.

LONE – Part 50.

LONE – Part 50.

Katarinka in the Strelka cocktail bar, Moscow.

I hear screaming. The screams are appearing to be coming from the direction of the toilets, I am rather surprised no one has found Mr FSB before this, we have danced through at least five tunes, women’s bladders must be getting stronger than in the old days..!

The dance floor clears towards the doors, and I allow it to pull me along, my dancing partner seems to be following, and once outside in the cold and rain, he hurries to reunite. I let him take the lead, he seems anxious to be away from here, and doesn’t want to await the police, and that will suit me fine. He tells me he has a car parked across the street, he pulls me towards it, I don’t resist, but play instead the shocked woman scared for her life.! His car a Ford, obviously he is not charmed with money, it is however warm and dry once he gets the engine running, and he turns to look me in the face as I sit in the passenger seat next to him.

“Are you okay about going to my place honey..?” It’s a short distance from here.!”

I nod my head, I have the urge momentarily to end it here with a blow to his throat, crush his windpipe, leave him to choke out the last moments of his life, but the my moist sex reminds me of my promise to it of some glorious sex.

He draws the car away slowly from the pavement, and I look back at the bars entrance just in time to see the Police arriving. There are a few people still on the street; no doubt they will enjoy the rest of their evening locked up, and being questioned once the Police find that the body is FSB. One of the officers glances our way as we poke out into the traffic, and for a moment see his face crease with thought, does he suspect that we were in the bar..? But no he turns away and walks into the entrance of Strelka, and we are off down the street and away from all the commotion that I have created. With no Tag, I can now afford up the evening’s entertainment, but that will have to await us arriving at this guy’s home.

‘Kamila’ driving Jack’s car and approaching Arras…

Jack keeps up a running commentary on how to find this house he has told me about, we must not however go straight there, I will need to stop nearby until he checks out the house is empty.

After turning off just before Arras, I find myself on winding roads, more out of town than I thought it would be. Eventually we arrive outside an old house, two storied, windows shuttered tight, I remark to Jack that it looks abandoned. Jack informs me it always looks that way; the windows remain covered to hinder prying eyes, and will show no light even at night. He exits the car, and I can see he is favouring one arm, blackness stains his jacket in this lighting, and I know he is still bleeding badly, he needs first aid as quickly as possible.

‘Jack’

With no difficulty, we arrive at the safe house, and I get out of the car, my arm really starts to hurt now, and I find I need to hold it with my other hand. I exchange a few words with Kamila who wants to rush on inside, tell her that could be the wrong thing to do now. If we have any trouble now, I will be severely hindered in my response to any opponent. I shake my head to clear the fug I’m in. I’m feeling I could just do with a strong drink, and then I walk slowly towards the house. My arm is feeling warm, even though the weathers cold, I would guess I am bleeding pretty bad, but if the house is empty, there is plenty of medical kit in there, along with food and drink, and I have Kamila to patch me up.

‘Katarinka outside the drivers house..’

His house has turned out to be an apartment, it matches well with his Ford, but still, I’m not looking for a man to keep me, just some thrills.!

Once inside the lobby, I relax a little more, I know I have allowed myself to become a little uptight after leaving the Strelka bar, but now I know we are nearly out of sight, I do not fear anything, but why get caught, and have to pay some sort of penance to the FSB, when I can at the moment go out any night I please. He pulls me gently towards a series of elevators, and pushes all their glowing buttons, the first one which opens, he pulls me to and in, it smells of piss and there is litter on the floor. Once the door has closed and he has stabbed at the button for his floor, he tries to get me in a clinch, but I’m not ready yet, and evade his clutching hands, even in this small space, he calls me his ‘Baby Doll’ and I find myself becoming disgusted with him.

LONE – Part 49.

LONE – Part 49.

‘Katarinka’

Stepping back into the cocktail bar, I see my new date is still at the bar, so he hasn’t run away yet…

I glide across the floor to where he leans at the bar, as he sees me, his eyes light up, and I guess he maybe thought that I had skipped out on him. As I arrive at the bar the music starts… It’s ‘Monkey time’ with Laura Nyro singing with Labelle, and I pull him out onto the dance floor, I’m in the mood for a little swing time….

‘Man in the Strelka cocktail bar’ 

Cannot believe my luck, I’ve just picked up some chicky at the bar of the ‘Strelka’ And although she disappeared to the toilet… Now she’s back. She told me her name, but already I’ve forgotten what it is, I’ll have to play the next few minutes by ear. I’d been watching her from a table, and she’s been knocking back the Moscow mules like there’s no tomorrow, I’m betting she is trying to get over some guy dumping her. She slides across the floor like a cat on heat, I think I’m going to get lucky tonight, I cannot wait to see her naked, the glimpse I got down her coat earlier, well wow, she’s got an incredible pair of pert tits. It looked to me as if her bra was made of leather, and she would seem to be wearing nothing else but underwear beneath what looks like a real fur coat… The music starts for the evening and she wants to dance, and who am I to refuse..?

We are quickly out and in the swing, she dances with an elegance I did somehow expect, her face, so beautiful, is set in an visage of ecstasy.. Her voluptuous mouth is slightly open, her tongue occasionally moistens her lipstick, which has glitter mixed in, it’s a light rose pink, and I almost cannot take my eyes from her mouth as we sway together. When we are close I can smell her heady perfume mixed with her body pheromones, she’s one sexy bitch, I’ve scored here, it’s how to get her away from the Strelka and then into my bed..? The tunes come and go, a lot of disco mix, she writhes back and forth occasionally giving me glimpses of her body beneath the fur… She must be up for it, why else would she come out without clothes beneath her coat..? My bloods up, and I’m getting hot, hell if we don’t leave soon, I’ll take her on floor.

‘Katarinka’

My intention was to dance one song, and then get away from here, drag him along to another nightclub, but now the music takes me, and I get an urge to dance, maybe expose myself to the other dancers. The Strelka is slowly filling up now, and it is becoming packed, my idea of moving on to a nightclub has slowly dimmed, I’m hot now, and all these people on dance floor pushing past, rubbing against me, is making me erotically charged and I can feel that moistness at the core of my body that will have to be massaged soon.

Jack and Kamila back out on the road heading away from Paris…

‘Jack’

I’m lying in the back of the Audi, Kamila is driving, and my arm is still numb from the bullet, shot by one of those following agents. With them both dead, the FSB or whoever, are off my tracks for now, and once I get this arm fixed up… We’ll be moving on.

‘Kamila’

I’m not used to driving such a large car, but I have no choice, and Jack has told me where to go, he’s lying in the back wounded, and so I am watching the sign posts, and trying not to drive erratically, as the last thing we need is to be stopped.

I still cannot believe I have shot a man, and even though he was about to kill Jack, my religion tells me I have done an evil thing. Jack didn’t even thank me for my sinning, he just seem to think it natural that I’d pulled the trigger on the gun he gave me. On Jack’s instructions I had gone quickly through the pockets of all three men, the two who had been following us, they had nothing but a large sum of money each, but the other man had a badge, he had been a detective out of Paris. So now it would appear I am going to be a fugitive on the run from the police in the EU, and even worse maybe on Interpol’s list of most wanted murderers..!

‘Jack’

I have told Kamila to watch out for a sign to ‘Arras’, it’s just a little way off the ‘A1’ from Paris, and where I know that Mi6 has a safe house on the outskirts of the town. As far as I am aware, there is no one living at this house full time. Once safely off the road, I will be able to fully assess my arm, it’s coming back to life now a little, and is beginning to throb somewhat. I find myself thinking I could do with a bottle of Jack Daniels right now, but until we have sorted out this arm, I am going to need to keep alert. I have no doubt whatsoever that the bullet is still in there, and that Kamila will have never been asked to do what I shall need from her soon.