JACK – Part Four – A Short Story

‘Bed and Gun’

I staggered through the doorway into the other room, my trousers were seemingly reluctant to leave my ankles, it would have been almost comical if not for the situation I found myself in now. The room contained only a large comfortable king sized bed, and of course a now very naked ‘Jill’. She stood side on to myself, and I knew by her body language that she was ashamed of being naked in front of me; I shuck my trousers at last, and then made haste to be by her side, my hand touched her shoulder. She didn’t move, said not a word, but at least she wasn’t shaking, wasn’t pulling away, this told me she was as determined as I. Jill whispered,

“Take me, take me from behind.”

She moved onto the bed and knelt buttocks up, knees well parted, I knew my trade and clambered up behind her, caught her hold by her hips, pulled her back onto my arousal, felt her inner warmth, she shuddered, I didn’t know if this was through desire or disgust. I started a slow rhythm, she matched it, and as my excitement rose towards fever pitch a man’s voice suddenly spoke loudly out of nowhere,

“Missionary position please.!”

I stopped my motion, it was hard to control myself, especially as I got off the bed to allow Jill to roll over, she was a vision of sexual beauty, and then there she was lying on her back, legs spread, her shaven sex drawing my attention. I climbed back onto the bed, taking my time, trying to think of something boring, anything to drop my excitement, again the same man’s voice,

“Get on with it.!”

As I lowered myself gently onto her hips keeping my chest off her with my arms either side, Jill inserted her right hand between us, making sure that I arrived in the right place. I started the rhythmic thrusts again, but this time I was quickly made aware that Jill was excited and I brought my head down to the left side of her head, breathed in her perfume and whispered hoarsely,

“It’s been a while for me.”

Jill’s breathing was rapid, and she gasped back,

“For me too and you are not too bad looking, good body, just my type.!”

Then Jill was bucking her hips, meeting mine, all her sensibility gone as she achieved her pleasure; I closed my eyes and allowed my own peak to flow over me, before letting go finally with a loud and satisfied groan. The mans voice cut through our afterglow,

“Okay, get dressed, have a quick cup of tea from the flask, get yourselves back to normal, and then stand by the steel door.!”

I lay a for few moments, enjoying the feeling of Jill’s body, her soft skin, but as my ardour dropped and I got slight goose bumps, I knew it was time to lift myself away from her, and then get up, dress and have that cup of tea as had been suggested, ordered maybe. As I left the bed, I took a good blatant look at Jill’s naked body, and then observing my end result in her, I suddenly thought of birth control. As I moved away from her, Jill obviously had the same thought, and said,

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill just in case you wondered, and I suspect you are free of infections, after all I would imagine you have been through the same rigorous health tests that I have..?”

I had made it into the other room and was pulling on my trousers, I don’t do underwear, when Jill arrived tugging her hold ups, straightening them, she reached down and grabbed her knickers and bra before turning her back on me,

“No I will not be giving you any STD’s, I’ve never actually ever had one.”

Silence as we both finished our dressing, I did however unashamedly watch her dressing, and I felt arousal stirring again, this woman excited me. I was the first to sit at the table, and opened the red vacuum flash, poured two teas; there was no sugar. As I sat there with a cup of tea in my hand, my training kicked in and it dawned on me abruptly, the flask had been ‘green’, when we had entered the room, it had been green, green for go, red now, red for danger..? I put the teacup down slowly as Jill sat opposite me, looked at the tea, looked at the flask, said three words,

“It’s red now.!”

I knew that Jill had been watching me pouring the tea, and then raising the cup towards my mouth, was this another test.? Time to stand up, time to go, Jill and I moved to the door, I was conscious we were probably still being watched, I took a look at the door handle, and then opened the door and walked out into the grey corridor, a quick look either way assured me that it was empty, I felt Jill’s presence behind me, moved out from the doorway and towards the steel doorway further down the corridor and away from the stairs. Jill was silent behind me, her high-heels in her hand, and I wondered what we would find behind the door we were very nearly at, and then it opened slowly, it’s size and thickness telling me it was very heavy, and that the walls holding it, would be reinforced to carry its weight, behind it, a large steel box, we didn’t need to be told what to do, we walked in.

We were in a lift, admittedly a lift without buttons, but definitely a lift, the door swung shut firmly, I felt the need to pop my ears, so I guessed it was pressurised, I swallowed hard, my ears cleared, and now it felt to me as if the lift was going down slowly. I shifted my gaze, running my eyes over Jill, she was all Miss Efficiency once again, and except for the fact she was holding her high-heels in one hand, she looked as though she had just brought me from the bar, straight to the lift, God this lift is taking it’s time, how far down does it go..? I spoke to Jill.

“How do you feel..?”

She stared back at me, I noticed for the first time that she has green eyes, I should have seen that the first we met in the bar, I’m letting women divert me from my career, and I knew if I knew that, it was already written down somewhere.

“I’m okay, it’s a job.”

She replied whilst I was still staring into her eyes and my innermost self was analysing if I felt anything for this woman I had just had sex with. The answer was worrying, I found myself wondering if we might be able to meet up again somewhere in London before we went our separate ways, maybe become friends, and in my heart I knew that would never happen.

The lift stopped, nothing happened for a while, and then the door opened slowly, this time my ears didn’t feel any pressure change, and I was certain this area was sealed off, and fed canned air, no gas attacks here. Although if the wrong person got in, and with poison gas, but then I predicted they had a plan for that as well. The corridor outside of the lift was bland, and just a short way down it there was a scanner set into the wall, ceiling and floor and at least six feet wide, no chance of slipping a gun past that. As I left the lift, Jill quickly bent and slipped her heels on, so as we advanced towards the scanner I heard her heels clicking behind me, they changed tempo and she passed me confidently, was this a race.? With her buttocks swaying she strode through the scanner and I now followed like a lamb… To slaughter.? A short way on from the scanner, the corridor branched in a T-junction. Jill turned left, and as I arrived at the junction I looked right first, twenty feet down a short corridor was a auto chain gun, its muzzle eerily tracked my movements, but seemed unable to see Jill, my back prickled as I turned to follow in Jill’s footsteps, it dawned on me then, Jill works here, she is ‘not’ an applicant like me, she is a test…

 

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.

Katarinka in Warsaw, Poland…

I have booked in at the Mamaison Hotel Le Regina near to Warsaw’s city centre, I need new clothes, and some weapons, both are readily available if you know where to look. I have just finished a swim in the hotel’s excellent pool, the service is good here, very attentive, I like that, and I am beginning to feel more like my old self. I do however, still have that special little tingle in my groin, an itch will need to be scratched sooner than later. As I dress, I realise my clothes really need to be dumped, and maybe my signature long hair cut, I am in a bit of a mess with old Bortnikov, and I don’t need to be travelling around the EU killing every field agent he sends my way just because someone recognises me. At the reception on the way out to shop for new clothes, I ask if the receptionist can recommend an excellent hairdresser, and like all good women, she knows exactly where I should go. The name she suggests is ‘Leszek Czajka’, and she also tells me that she can book an appointment for me right there and then, which is ideal. After a little more chatting I find they do a whole range of beauty procedures, and so I book for absolutely everything, it’s time I treated myself, all this killing makes one so weary.

Kayleigh driving back through Belarus towards the Polish border…

I’m getting tired, and so as there is no one ragging on me to be anywhere, at anytime, I decide to go back to Warsaw, and sleep for a night in my own flat, pack a bag, and then after a good breakfast, head toward Pisa.

Katarinka in the Leszek Czajka beauty parlour in Warsaw, Poland…

The last beauty procedure will be the haircut, and I have already laid out how I wish my new hair to be, I’m going for pageboy, with the back shaved up in several stages. The girls carrying out my beauty treatments are attentive, and one in particular, I have taken rather a shine to. She, like me, has the most beautiful blue eyes, she is slim, almost petite, and I wish I had the time to play with her, but there are too many other pressing matters, and I dare not murder anyone openly just for my gratification, Bortnikov would be on me like a rabid dog in heat in an instant, and I have yet to find my new weapons.

Nona, wife to the Russian diplomat Sergey Andreyev in Warsaw, Poland…

One of my innocent pleasures whilst away from Russia and our family is getting to use the ‘Leszek Czajka’ beauty parlour here in Warsaw, and I get to relax there at least once a week. I’m only in for my nails and hair today, and the girls are gossiping when I hear there is a very beautiful Russian woman in here today who they do not know, but she must be very rich as money seems to being splashed out without thought. I don’t like to ask them to tell me more, but needless to say I am puzzled, as nearly all rich Russians would attend the embassy here on arrival, and yet I know nothing of this women they describe. As the girls are polishing my nails they keep gossiping with each other, and eventually I find out that the lady in question, will soon be in here to have her own nails and hair done. I relax back and

after another five minutes or so, they become excited, and in strides a real beauty, fantastic body, and when I raise my eyes to her face, I realise I am looking at Russia’s biggest killer and sexual pervert, and who in the Russian hierarchy, does not know ‘Katarinka’ and fear her..? I shall have to inform my husband she is in town, he will be most interested. I wonder if she is here on business or pleasure, because the last I heard of her, she had been locked away in the also feared ‘Black Dolphin.

Katarinka in the Leszek Czajka beauty parlour in Warsaw, Poland…

Time for my nails and hair at last, I am walking to the next room, as I enter and gaze around the room though, there is one woman attracts my attention and whom I know, a diplomats wife, and as I spear her with my eyes, she looks back as though she is an innocent cow, she does not seem to be worried that I am here, so maybe she is just unaware I have escaped Bortnikov’s grasp for now…

Kayleigh in Warsaw, Poland, at home relaxing…

I finally relax, it’s the middle of the day, and I know I have nowhere to be for the rest of the day, or night, and if my contact does contact me, I can explain I am just checking out this Katarinka’s pathway. I realise I need to get as much sleep as I can get before heading for Italy… So off to bed I go, and just before I climb into bed, I turn off my phone without thinking.

One of the ‘Ivan’s’ who released Katarinka from the ‘Black Dolphin’…

Bortnikov has finished having me interrogated, he knows now that we were after his money, he knows we know of his quest for retirement, and so he has stopped just short of murdering me. He tried to get more information as to how many others know of his treachery to Mother Russia, and he will be worried about any whispers in the ear of Putin.

I am currently in the Lubyanka infirmary, but I do have my phone in amongst my personal possessions, they have examined it, found nothing abnormal, and thrown it back to lie with my clothes as they continued torturing me. Now I thumb through the list of contacts, and find the one for our ‘Angel of Death’ Katarinka, it’s under her name; I’m not that foolish. The phone speaker purrs in my ear and just as I think there will be no answer, a soft sibilant voice answers and I know straight away that I have Katarinka herself on the phone. I don’t waste time, tell her the name of the agent following in her tracks, and tell her where she can obtain information on this agent. She doesn’t thank me, and just I hear the click of the line going dead, hopefully I never see her again, hopefully she doesn’t come looking for me.

Katarinka in the Leszek Czajka beauty parlour in Warsaw, Poland…

My phone peeps at me from the safety of my coat pocket, I am enjoying a cup of excellent black tea, and feel relaxed, even the tension in my groin is satiated for a while. I lift the phone to my ear, and just breath the word ‘Yes’ into it… And I hear the voice of one of the men who rescued me from prison for their own ends. One of the men who found they could not control me as they thought they could. I hear information on the name of the agent they have put on my trail, but more interestingly he informs me in a hurried voice where I can obtain her file over the net. He asks for nothing for himself, no cry for help, and so I just switch the phone off. I ask one of the girls if they have a tablet available that I can borrow of a few moments, and of course they are more than willing to fulfil any need that a customer might have… An instant later, I have an iPad in my hand and I ask for a little privacy, they usher me into a small side room, and then close the door.

Flicking through this field agents file, I laugh to myself, they have released a mere ‘Babe’ on me..! No field experience, works as a filing clerk at the Warsaw embassy. Oh she’s passed her training, but that is all, everything is here in her file, her address, her phone number, I close the file, I have read enough. Picking up my phone, I ring her number, it purrs back at me from the other end, and then voice mail informs me that the phone is off and to leave a message.

“I’m coming to kill you..! You better be looking over your shoulder, because I am almost breathing down your neck …”

 Harry in London, in Charles Office at the river house…

I knock at Charles door for a few seconds, no answer, so I try the doorknob, not sure why, but it is open, cautiously I push door wider, and call out softly,

“Charles, are you here..?”

No answer… I advance over the threshold and up to his desk, the top of which is clear. Charles may have gone home, he’s not been resting much since this ‘Jack Peters’ issue started..! Well I cannot update him, or ask him the few questions I have running around in my head if he’s not here. Looking around the room casually, I see that his inner sanctum door is ajar, strange, it would normally be closed and locked, I know Charles keeps his personal files in there, but that is far as my own knowledge goes. I’m tempted to check in there for Charles, but I’m a little worried that Charles might just be in a meeting and could return at any moment. As my gaze crosses his desk again and I see his phone and an idea arrives. I can check if he is in the building by ringing reception, he will have been clocked if he has left. I pick up the phone and dial the front desk, they confirm he has left the building, and I ask them to ring me on my mobile number should he return, as I need to speak to him urgently. I turn and advance on Charles inner sanctum, I want to know what Charles and Jack Peters have been up to… And his inner office might just give me the answers.

 

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 76.

LONE – Part 76.

Jack in Switzerland…

Having deposited the money in a Swiss account, but not having got rid of the car yet, I decide to drive over the border and into France, where ironically, I leave the car in the service station that only a few days ago I had abandoned Kamila in. Sitting having a coffee in the same seat, I find myself feeling regret for my actions then, and if only if I had looked after her, there is fairly good chance that she would still be alive today. I have grown a bit of stubble, but could have done with a fake beard, nothing something I carry around though on the off chance I might have to play the part of a refugee. I have a change of clothes with me though, mostly sports clothing that I bought in Bern. These clothes fit in well with what the male Syrian appears to be wearing on their travel up through the EU, and more than likely no one will give a second glance.. I will need to procure a gun shortly though. I change in the toilets, go outside, and then using a bottle of mineral water and dirt; I make my face dirty and therefore darker. I rub the dirt well into my arms and hands, and then lastly I do my ankles. I have an old backpack from my house in Pisa, and this I have loaded with some old clothes, food, water and a little money. I couldn’t bring any weapons with me more than a knife, admittedly it is a wicked ‘Buck’ knife, but as a refugee I am not expecting more than a scuffle until I get to the coast of France. I’m heading for Saint-Malo, and once there I hope to either find someone who will get me across the channel for money, or a small boat I can steal, one way or another I will get to the UK, back home to Cornwall, collect what I need, and then finish my business with Charles… I set off in the general direction of Paris to start with, where I want go, and how I can get there, are two very different things, as I shall have to take the first lift I can get that is travelling in the right direction.

Precious in Pisa under interrogation in Pisa Italy…

Things are getting serious for me, I have nothing on me to prove that I am telling the truth, and the police have told me that they are handing me over to the ‘OVRA’, and the Italian secret police already believe that I am a terrorist, and so now my only hope is that I can get them to at least ring the number for ‘Charles’ my contact within Mi6, and then hope at least that he confirms that I work for him, if not, it will get difficult for me.

I am not sure where I am now..! The OVRA have moved me, and my head is covered in a thick hood, the journey has told me nothing, I was in a van, that much I could ascertain, and my guards were muttering in low voices, and from the little I could make out… I was being treated to something special..? We travelled for a long time, and then I was walked up some steps, I was still outside, and after being roughly pushed into a seat, I felt that we were moving again..! I felt us take off, and now know I am that I’m in a plane, the hood muffles most noise, but there is nothing much to hear anyway, no one seems to be saying much, and they have secured my hands to the seat arms.

Time passes, I am thirsty, I call out for water, no one answers, so I try my bonds, there’s no doubting that I cannot break them, and for all I know, there is a guard with a gun right near me… More time passes, and then I begin to wonder just how long this flight is going to take, it’s hard to judge the amount of time so far, and I am beginning to feel a little claustrophobic with this annoying hood, and damn it I need to scratch my nose and I start shouting again, a lot of shouting, I really lose it in a big way…

Somewhere along the journey, I tire of shouting and fall asleep, a troubled sleep, but sleep I need, God I am feeling tired now, tired and not a little grouchy.

I awaken as the aircraft touches down, and then taxis, I wonder where I am, and why they have flown me here.? When the plane stops moving, I do not have to wait for too long before someone arrives for me, I know this person must have come onto the plane for me, as I faintly hear the hatch being open, they say nothing however, and just release my manacles from the seat arms. Once standing, I shout at them as loudly as I can, call them ‘Muther fuckers’ and I get a terrific slap to the side of my hooded head that causes me fall back in the aisle-way of the plane. My assailant is powerful, and he lifts me back up as though I were a toy, once I am firmly back on my feet, he then pushes me roughly towards where the exit must be. As I get nearer to the doorway out, I can smell exotic aromas even through the hood, but when I venture out through the hatch out onto the top step, the intense heat hits me like a hammer, and wherever we are is also extremely humid, because I break into an instant sweat. Wearing the thick hood now becomes difficult as it is so humid that I feel as though I am drowning, it’s right at the moment when I believe I cannot suffer this fucking hood any longer, that the person behind me pulls it off… And my eyes unaccustomed to the glare of the sun only register vivid emerald green; I am definitely not in the EU anymore, and now… I at last become frightened…

Katarinka heading towards Warsaw, Poland…

So far so good, no one was interested at the border, which was the one place I thought I might have difficulty. None of the border guards seemed interested in me, or the BMW. Either Bortnikov is becoming too old, or something has drawn away the agent/agents I believed would be on the border crossing looking out for me. I have no doubt that the Ivan back in Minsk will have alerted his superiors, and that will have awoken the network, maybe even sleepers. I might be over estimating Bortnikov’s need to eliminate me, but I think not, there will be people out there looking for me right at this moment…

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

I pull my car into the hotels car park, there is a huge commotion going on near the main entrance into the hotel, and it appears as though some of the commotion is local photographers clambering at the doorway. Nothing much happens in Belarus of any note, the country is backward, and most of the citizens are living hand to mouth, or are no better than peasant farmers, so what can be causing this fuss..? I sit with the engine idling, and then it dawns on me; my mark has probably had an altercation with my contact here. I turn the car’s engine off and get out slowly, I’m try not to draw any attention to myself, I need information.

Once at the hotel entrance I can hear better what is being talked about, there has been a death, a murder in the dining room of a Russian citizen who was holidaying here. At last I hear that it is a man who has been murdered, and that he, the tourist, was murdered brutally by a woman who thrust a fork through his eye, and then on into his brain. It all happened very quickly, and there was no a fight or argument between the woman assailant and the man who died, at least not witnessed by the other diners. I know then that the woman is obviously my mark, and now I shall have no weapon, as my contact was to supply that one very thing… I turn away from the entrance and head back to my car, once inside; I phone my contact in Lubyanka, she will know what I should do next…

LONE Part 75.

LONE – Part 75.

‘Kayleigh’, driving from Poland to Belarus…

The traffic is light and although I have to concentrate, I have time to think about my first ever mission, and where it might take me. Hopefully my mark will depart Minsk and I will get to follow her, she may well visit other EU countries, places I have never been, which would be exciting. I’m about ten kilometres from where I will meet my contact at the Renaissance hotel, and I am looking forward to a five star meal at the bureaus expense, whilst he fills me in on my target and gives me a weapon to finish this my first job, quickly.

The ‘Ivan’ sitting in the Renaissance hotel dining room…

Katarinka turns, her eyes sweep the room, and as they pass over me, my neck sweat chills, but then like enemy searchlights they pass on, and luckily for me they do not return. I feel relief wash over me, she’s going to let me live, not that I ever doubted that she wouldn’t dare kill me here in the cold light of day, witnessed by all the other dining guests. Katarinka makes her way through the tables, she’s heading my way, but she has no choice as other guests are standing up from their chairs and getting ready to depart for a day of sightseeing or business. As she nears I find it impossible to drop my eyes from her face, there is no doubt she is a beauty, her skin white, her lips crimson and her deep blue eyes, it is a shame she is a such a savage killer..! I cannot help myself though, and in the few seconds it takes her to arrive at my table, I find myself running erotic scenes through my head, and with her in the lead role. So it is way, way too late to run from her as she bends forward slightly, whispers something I don’t quite hear, and then her right hand appears into my view, and she is holding her dinner fork in a tightly clenched fist. The fork spears me in my left eye, passing through into my brain. Of course I don’t know this, as I am already dead.

Katarinka in the Renaissance hotel dining room…

There is not even a startled look on his face as the fucking idiot dies..! It’s a short walk to the doorway out, as other diners suddenly observe his corpse, and the fork in his eye, a woman’s high-pitched scream follows me. I have nothing to collect from my room, it’s all in the car, so I go straight out, climb in the BMW, and drive off. Killing that ‘Ivan’ might not have been the most sensible thing to do, but damn it felt good, I can even sense a little tingle in my groin, something I shall have to mollify shortly. Thinking ahead, I need to get that money off ‘Jack Peters’, and make a new life somewhere out of the reach of Bortnikov… And knowing Jack, he will head for the money now that he is trouble and that means Italy once again, so I find myself heading for Terespol in Poland where I can cross over… I’ll need to cross two other EU countries to get to Italy, but soon I will be in the EU and with the Schengen zone helping me, it’ll be easy… Bortnikov will not talk to the EU, and maybe his ‘Ivan’s’ searching for me will not even finger me with the murder of the owner of this BWM… But they will know I have been in Minsk now, oh yes they’ll know my work, and how their agent died.

‘Harry’ in the River House London…

I have been reading and listening to what is happening to our ‘Jack’, interestingly though, a Russian agent seems to have been activated to kill Jack, and it’s a woman, a well-known wet work specialist. The reports are that she has slipped the chains of the FSB though, and escaped her boss General Bortnikov into Belarus, this I somehow doubt… I think is more likely the Russians are using this so called escape to awaken their intelligence system in the EU to a fever pitch, one can only wonder why though, and why at this time, is there something we are missing.? I think I need to lay this out on the table to Charles.

‘Precious’ in Pisa under guard…

The last interrogation was much more intense, and it would seem that they really believe I am a terrorist, and so.. It’s time to lay my cards on the table about being employed by Mi6, that might at least buy me some time before they start thinking of waterboarding me..!

Jack in Pisa at his house…

I’ve dug up the bag… I am betting that a lot of people would love to get their hands on it. It’s been a while since I saw so much money in one place, and I need to make it safe. I need to have it available for me to spend when I need it. There’s nothing like a Swiss bank account, I could gain a regular income from the interest and some of the capital each month, and live nearly anywhere in the. I have to give up on the idea of killing the agent who’s in jail here in Pisa, for the moment anyway, as the news is really bleating on about her being a terrorist. When I have completed my other unfinished business, she will be on my next list before I finally disappear. I have taken the Citroen back to the hire company, they were a bit surprised receiving it back here in Italy, but hey, why I am here is not their business. I know that Mi6 will know I have given it in, but they know I am here anyway, and for the moment I am not even thinking on the Russians. After dropping of the car, I walked around Pisa’s back streets, working my way slowly outwards until I found a car that was easy to steal. An old Fiat Super Mirafiori twin cam two litre, someone must love this car, as it’s old and not rotted out, unusual for a Fiat of this age..! The engine sounds as sweet as a nut, I drive back to the house, load the money into the boot and I’m off, Switzerland here I come. I will however dump this car in Switzerland, open an account, and place my money in their vault for now. Next I shall mingle with the Syrian refugee’s, and then make my way towards the UK.

LONE – Part 74.

LONE – Part 74.

‘Jack’ on the bed in his house in Pisa… Dreaming (Part Three).

The girl reappears with some food, it’s only a potato pottage with few of vegetables, but it’s the best thing I have had in months, as I eat, she watches my every move, and I have a feeling that something might be wrong, as she is looking nervous. I finish the bowl, and she asks if I want more..? I would love some more, but I’m also worried that my stomach might take well to this richer food, so I decline. As soon as I have finished she takes the bowl and disappears, only to return minutes later with the same bowl cleaned and filled with fresh water. Whilst I am drinking, she sits in the hay watching me, and when I have finished she takes the bowl from me and places it on the ground, and then takes my hands into hers and tries to thank me for my previous actions on the riverbank. She keeps gabbling at me and it’s hard to follow everything she says, but the gist is that she wants to give me something, anything..!

Now I know from her clothing alone, that her parents are hard working farmers, and although I would like help from them, I cannot afford to trust them, and seeing as they haven’t appeared with the food, I have to guess that she has not told them anything about me yet. She becomes quite upset when she cannot think of anything to do for me, and then looking at her, I think of something small which will most likely make her feel better, and point to one of her blonde plaits, and she looks puzzled, until I move forward to her, and touch the red ribbon tying her hair. Quickly she unties the ribbon and gives it to me, I make a real scene out of slowly and gently folding it and placing it into the pocket of my prison trousers on the hay. As soon as I have finished that little chore, I motion I wish to dress, this time she calmly walks away back out of the barn. I struggle into the trousers and then pull the rough matching shirt over my head, as I am smoothing it down, I hear the chatter of an AK47 and it sounds very near, the gunfire dies and I hear a woman screaming, and it’s not the blonde girl..!

I start towards the main barn door, when yet again the AK47 barks and the screaming stops abruptly..! I guess that the owner of the gun is one of the guards from the prison out looking for me; there can be no other reason that someone would shoot the farmers. Keeping well back in the barn I cautiously look out into the farmyard, and see the girl running away from four guards, they are laughing, and on the ground at their feet to people lie, these must be the girls parents. The girl, her hair flying backwards due to the lost of her ribbon, never looks my way, and changes direction to take the now following guards away from me. My mind goes into overload as I try to think of a way to help her, but I cannot take on four armed men, I would just end up being slaughtered, and so I watch as she heads out into the fields, leading them away from me, she is repaying me now for my help earlier. When I’m sure they will not see me, I slip from the darkened entrance of the barn and put the farm buildings between them and myself. As I run at a crouch I hear loud laughing behind me, and also high-pitched screams, I know now that they had caught up with her, I wince and wish there was something I could do, but her fate is out of my hands now… But as the distance between us lengthens, the one thing I do not hear is the repeated bark of the AK47.

Later after returning to London having journeyed mostly on foot, I put the red ribbon in my wallet, and promise myself that I would return one day and find those guards, even though in my head I know that it will be impossible.

‘Jack’ awakens in bed in his house in Pisa…

I open my eyes, and realise I have not had that dream for quite a few years, strange those memories should surface now, and once again I wonder what actually happened to the young blonde girl. I sit on the edge of the bed for a few seconds, thinking some more, and then reach out to where my trousers are lying on the bedside chair, pull my wallet out and reach inside. I fumble a little, but eventually extract the red ribbon from where it still resides, it’s a little battered, the colour is a little drained, but it still means a lot to me. I wonder if she, the blonde girl, is still alive, and if she is, how she is, not that I shall ever find out now as the Russians would love me cross their border, and they certainly have a painful ending planned for me I am sure.

‘Kayleigh’, Russian sleeper at the border in Terespol…

My phone beeps again, and I read the text… I am to go to Minsk to find another agent who is on holiday there, there is an address, and his name, when I find him, I am to find out where the mark I have been watching for is..? And then kill her..! The text tells me to use maximum caution, but to make sure she does not get away. However if she has already fled Minsk, I am to follow her and kill her in the best way I can. It appears that the agent in Minsk will secure a weapon for me..!

An ‘Ivan’ in Minsk at the bar of Renaissance Hotel having breakfast…

I find myself unable to look away from her eyes, and I stammer out that I am sure we have never met, it’s clear in her eyes though that she does not believe me, and I can see she is assessing me for any dangers, and then she leans slightly forward,

“I will eat my breakfast now, and when I have finished I will kill you, if you try to run away in the meantime, I will just have to kill you all the sooner…!”

I can think of nothing to say, and feel my pants fill with my warm urine, for I know she is easily capable of carrying out what she threatens me with, and the most I can do is look her in the eyes, and even that is a strain. Never before have I been so frightened of anyone, and as she moves away to an empty table, I slip my phone from my pocket; its damp with my urine, but I don’t even notice, and text my contact in Lubyanka… All the time I am using the phone, I try to keep my eyes on Katarinka because I have no idea what she will do next as she is so unpredictable, one thing I am reasonably sure of, is that she will not kill me in a dining room full of tourists.

I have been nervously sitting on the edge of my seat for over half an hour now, Katarinka is finishing up her breakfast now and sipping at her coffee. She hasn’t once looked my way though. She wipes her mouth daintily with a napkin, and rises from her seat, she has her back to me, and I cannot see what she is doing clearly, she may be doing nothing, but I have the jitters as my life hangs in the balance with her next actions…

LONE – Part 73.

LONE – Part 73.

‘Jack’ on the bed in his house in Pisa… Dreaming (Part Two).

The guards pass by and then move off along the riverbank on the other side of the Volga, but I keep my position in the reeds on the opposite bank. My body is rapidly cooling now and I will have to get out of the water soon, but for now I dare not move.

A few minutes after the last guard has disappeared, I hear footsteps on the bank above me, and I can hear someone moving about above me. Even though I am shivering now, I keep as still as I can, for it might be more guards searching this side of the river, having been alerted by the prison. I am just thinking I will have to take my chances with whoever is above me, or die here in the water from the cold, when I hear a gruff voice, followed by a young woman’s voice, the woman’s voice is pitched a little high, and I guess she is under duress. As quietly as I can, I pull myself out of the water, and whilst still amongst the reeds, I try to make out what it being said, my Russian at this point is none too good.

From what I can understand, the woman’s voice is just saying ‘No, No’, followed by something about her parents not being too far away. The man’s voice seems to be demanding something, maybe he is looking for me as I first suspected..? Slowly I pull myself higher on the riverbank, and when I am about halfway up, I hear the woman start to scream hysterically, and so I speed up a little as I need to see what is happening. At the top of the bank and with long grass to lie low in, I see a man who is standing with his back to me, he has hold of someone, which must be the woman, it’s hard to tell as he has a very broad back, and is wearing an army great coat.

I watch as this guard shakes his victim and growls in a low voice, asking the same thing over and over again, and then suddenly with a flurry of action he pushes the woman down and lands on top of her. From where I lie hidden, I can clearly see he is going to attempt to rape her. I know I cannot intervene without giving myself away, and how do I know that the woman isn’t his lover and they both like to play rough..? So I do nothing, the guard fumbles with the front of his trousers and then forcedly enters the woman, I hear her scream long and loud and I am now beginning to believe this might be an actual rape, but still believe I am better off keeping quiet… It is only when he lifts himself away from the body underneath him, to get a better look at the woman he is fucking, and as he holds himself up and away from her with his arms so that he can thrust even more fiercely into her, that I see her face clearly. She is not more than thirteen, her eyes are wide open and staring directly at where I am hiding, and those eyes seem to plead with me to intervene to help her in her time of need.

I stand slowly, my prison garb is soaked and I am freezing, but my head is banging to music only I can hear, I feel my rage rise as I hear him grunting in pleasure, see her bright blue eyes watching me, pleading with me, and see her gritting her teeth with the pain of his thrusting. I stand behind him as he cums into her and then tries to rise, he manages to kneel between her wide open legs, and then I catch his head in an arm lock, clamp his neck into the crook of my arm and hold him firmly as he struggles. The guard tries to breath, I feel his drool on my forearm, and I increase the pressure on his neck, and then I feel him starting to go limp, change my grip quickly and using both hands, twist his head around to face me, there’s a loud crunch, his eyes start from his head, and I allow his corpse to fall from my hands. The guards body is crumpled at my feet, and I am left with the girl, who looks frightened, and I am not surprised, she’s just been raped, and now she is faced with a man that she does not know, and has no idea what his intentions are..!

The girl is wearing a light blue cotton dress, nearby on the grass is a cheap coat, she has socks on and heavy shoes, her hair is blonde, and in two long pigtails tied off with red ribbons. She continues to lie on the ground legs akimbo, and as my gaze passes over her I see where the guard has used her, her white undergarment is pulled to one side and his seed is obvious in the crease of her young pussy. I lean down and pull her dress back down, there’s nothing I can do about her maybe getting pregnant, I can only hope when she returns to her parents that she will tell them what has happened and they will know what to do…? I watch though as she rolls over, gets to her hands and knees, and then stands shakily, she is crying softly now, but walks to the guard’s corpse and lands a heavy kick to his head.

She stands quietly for a moment or two, and then kicks him again, not so hard this time, and then she turns to me, her attractive face is tear streaked and in shaky Russian she asks if he is dead..? I nod, and she smiles a little, God she’s a hard little bitch, she will be a handful when she grows up. Suddenly she crosses the short distance between us and catches hold of my hand, and then pulls me away from the bank and out into a plough field. On the other side of the field I make a small farm, this must be where she lives. She holds my hand hard, and with her free arm she points to the prison in the distance on the other bank, and I nod, and then she pulls harder towards the farmhouse and I begin to think I might actually be in luck.

We reach the outhouses of the farm, which I see is a mean affair, but there is one large well-made stone barn, which must be very old. Inside it’s full of farm implements and hay, there are two horses in a stall on one side, and a cow that is wandering free. She guides me to the back of the barn, and I see a space behind the hay, and know she intends to hide me here. She makes motions of me undressing and then disappears, only to return a few seconds later with an old and smelly horse rug. I slip out of my wet prison uniform, rub myself down with the dry sweet hay, before covering myself in the rug, all the while she stands with her back to me. When I am decent again, she lays out the uniform on the hay to dry, smiles and leaves the barn; I can only wonder what her parents will think…