Flight of the Valkyrie Page 7

  “No, I am from the Moscow Centre,” she said.

  “KGB?” Marek asked.

  “Yes,” Alena replied.

  Marek turned back to Alois. “I specifically asked to speak to someone from the Kremlin,” Marek reminded the State Security Officer.

  Alois opened his mouth to speak, but Alena held up a hand silencing him. “Comrade,” she began. “I understand that you believe that the information you have is of the most vital importance, but please understand that we get scores of such claims every week. If we sent someone from the Kremlin to speak to every person who claimed he had information…” she let her words trail off. “Tell me what you know and if I deem it important enough, I’ll arrange a meeting for you.”

  Marek’s eyes shot from Alena to Alois and back again. “Very well,” he said before flicking his cigarette over the side of the bridge. “There is going to be a coup de’tat, expelling the Communists from power and installing a fascist government.

  “How do you know this?” Alena asked.

  “I have intercepted messages,” he replied.

  “Who is running the coup?” Alena asked. “The Americans?”

  Marek shook his head. “I don’t know exactly,” he replied. “Some group of bankers and corporate finance capitalists. Mostly former Nazis.”

  Alena glanced at Alois who looked just as perplexed as she was. He dropped his cigarette on the stones of the bridge and stamped it out with his foot. “Nazis?” Alois asked.

  Marek nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “They are heavily financed.”

  Alois nodded. “You told me you have the names of the officials involved in this conspiracy.”

  “Yes, yes,” Marek assured him.

  “Can you prove any of this?” Alena asked. “The Nazi connection, I mean?”

  “Of course,” Marek replied. “I have the intercepted messages. I am a code breaker. I deciphered several intercepted messages, comrade. They almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “I want to see them,” Alena replied.

  “I don’t have them with me. They are at my flat a couple of blocks from here,” Marek laughed. “Do you think I am some kind of amateur.” Suddenly, Marek’s head exploded with the impact of a high caliber rifle shot. Blood, brains and bits of skull rained upon Alois and Alena.

  Alena turned and looked out over the river in the direction from which the shot must have originated from. There, off in the distance, she noticed a man in a boat with a rifle.

  Alena was about to run after him when there was an explosion, causing her and Alois to duck for cover. They glanced up to see smoke coming from a building a few blocks away. Alois and Alena looked at each other and they both realized at the same time that Marek’s flat had just been hit.

  Alena stood and saw the boat speeding away down the river. Her face turned into a sneer as she gritted her teeth and took off after it, flashing off of the bridge in the blink of an eye, leaving a shocked Alois to simply stare off in the direction she had gone, unsure as to what had just happened.

  Genetically enhanced while still inside of her mother’s womb, Alena could move at incredible speeds. Much faster than the boat she pursued. In fact, it did not take very long before she passed the boat and was waiting on it, watching for it to dock.

  The boat eventually came to a stop at the edge of the river and the coxswain leapt out before pushing the now crewless vessel back out into the river. The man wore a heavy black coat, pants and a black ski mask. He jogged up the stone steps to the street above. As he began walking up the street he was hit hard from behind knocking him to the ground. He rolled over onto his back to see Alena standing over him.

  “Where do you think you are going?” she asked with a smirk.

  The man reached beneath his jacked and removed a pistol, pointed it at Alena and squeezed the trigger. By the time the bullet had left the barrel, Alena had disappeared. The man pushed himself to his feet and glanced around, the pistol at the ready. Suddenly, he was hit from the side and a hand slammed down onto his wrist, stripping the pistol away, causing it to slide across the street.

  Alena punched the assassin across the jaw, but he barely flinched. She swung again, but this time he caught her fist in the palm of his right hand. Then his left hand crossed in front of him as he slammed her in the cheek knocking her to the ground.

  Alena felt two swift kicks in the ribs before the man lowered himself down on top of her, pinning her down with his legs. She screamed in fear and frustration as she swung at him again and again. The man reared back to slam his fist into her face and something told her he was ready to beat her to death.

  The sounds of screeching tires caught both of their attention and the man glanced up from Alena to see two cars sliding to a stop in the street. Alois and other officers leapt out.

  “Hold it!” Alois shouted as he and the other men pointed pistols at the assassin. Suddenly, they all ducked down as an explosion from the river startled them. Alois turned to see the assassin’s boat had exploded, destroying all evidence of him.

  Alois turned back toward the man and Alena, but as he did so he noticed the assassin had already recovered his pistol. He raised the pistol firing it and hitting two of Alois’ men. Alois ducked down behind his car door. When he straightened back up, the assassin was gone. He sprinted over to Alena who was pushing herself up.

  “Are you alright, comrade?” Alois asked as he assisted Alena to her feet.

  Alena nodded. “Nothing wrong that a few aspirin and couple shots of vodka won’t cure,” she said as she stared out at river, where the remains of the boat were sinking beneath the water.

  ***

  Moscow, U.S.S.R.

  The bruise on her cheek from where the assassin slugged her was healing very nicely, but Alena was still ashamed of it and kept trying to hide it during her debriefing. She propped her elbow on the arm of the chair and leaned her left cheek against her hand, covering the bruise with her fingers as she stared across the desk at the Director of Special Operations at the Centre.

  “Clearly this Czech…um…Marek,” he said as he found the name on Alena’s report, “has discovered a real conspiracy. Otherwise, one would imagine he would still be alive today.”

  Alena nodded. “Yes, Comrade Director,” she replied.

  “But this business about former Nazis…” the director let his words trail off.

  “I believed it to be unlikely as well, comrade, until he was killed and I confronted the assassin,” Alena said.

  The director smiled warmly at her. “My dear, it does not take Nazis for a man with information about a coup d’etat to be murdered.”

  “I know, Comrade Director,” Alena said. “However, it is the identity of the assassin that has me convinced.”

  The director leaned back in his chair, intertwining his fingers in his lap as he stared quizzically across his desk at Alena. “Oh? From your report, I did not believe you got a look at his face, Comrade Sickle.”

  Alena shook her head. “I did not, Comrade Director.”

  “Then how could you know who it was?” the director asked.

  “Because there is only one person it could be,” she replied. “The Night Specter.” Alena watched as the director turned white as a ghost.

  The Night Specter—sometimes simply called the Specter—was so named because he was a like ghost that seemed to vanish into the night. He was widely believed to be a myth, an assassin that killed with such ruthless proficiency he never failed, was never captured, and defeated anyone who attempted to. Rumors of his identity abounded. The most popular was that he was a top German sniper who became a hired gun after the war. In fact, many of the deaths of Soviet Officers following the war were attributed to him, much the way the deaths of Nazi officers in Germany were attributed to the Valkyrie. Though the wise realized that the vast majority of those Soviet deaths were the result of Stalin’s many paranoid purges and had nothing to do with any phantom sniper. Still, the mention of his name evoked the same feelings o
f dread in Russians that the mention of Valkyrie evoked in Germans.

  The director swallowed hard. “The Night Specter is just a fairy tale used to frighten new recruits,” he said, but his words did not convince Alena of his sincerity. The dryness of his voice betrayed his fear and Alena realized that his words were meant to calm himself as much as dismiss her claims.

  “Perhaps you are correct comrade, but whoever this assassin was, he was strong like…” she thought of an example.

  “Your brother?” the director volunteered.

  Alena smiled. “No, not that strong. More like the Valkyrie.”

  “Yes,” the director said as he leaned forward in his chair. “That reminds me, I have a message for you from Brygida.”

  “Really?” Alena asked, somewhat perplexed. She had not heard from Brygida since she had gone to Washington to attempt to meet Axel and Rolf.

  The director found a piece of paper on his desk and handed it across to Alena who leaned forward to accept it from him. She unfolded the paper and read it. When she was finished her eyes rose from the message and met the director’s.

  “Is this for real?” Alena asked in disbelief.

  The director shrugged. “Your mentor is a lot of things, my dear, but a story teller is not one of them.”

  “But how is it possible?” she asked.

  The director chuckled. “How are you and your brother possible? How was that thing in Vietnam possible? It is time we all began to stop worrying about what is possible and what is not.”

  “So you want me to go to America as the Valkyrie requests?” Alena asked.

  “Yes, you and Alexi,” he replied. “We want Kammler…alive. He is extremely important and I am afraid the Valkyrie, if left to her own devices, would make him not so.”

  “I understand, Comrade Director,” she said.

  “And the object, if possible,” the director added.

  “Yes, comrade.”

  ***

  “Come on, harder!” the voice shouted. “Pull harder, Alexi!”

  Alena walked through the snow covered sidewalk to see her brother decked out in full winter clothing with a long, thick chain slung over his shoulder. The other end of the chain was attached to a truck that was stuck in the snow. Alexi was pulling the truck out as the driver shouted encouragement to him and continued to press the gas pedal spinning the wheels on the ice. Alexi gave the chain one more powerful yank and the truck leapt free of the ice.

  “Thank you, comrade!” the driver, a munitions worker shouted as he leapt out of the truck to unhook the chain. Once he had completed the task he climbed back inside the cab and drove away. Alexi waved to him as he left.

  “Good job,” Alena shouted to her brother as she clapped her hands. The giant shrugged.

  “I like to help,” he said sheepishly. Alexi had been submitted to the same type of genetic enhancement that Rolf had, and like Rolf was mentally behind his twin sister. “How was your mission?” he asked as he walked toward her.

  “Good. Boring though,” she lied knowing that if he found out about the assassination attempt he’d never let her go on a mission without him again.

  Once Alexi reached his sister he lifted her up in a huge bear hug and then placed her back on the ground. “I missed you,” he said excitedly. “There was nothing to do here but train. I’m tired of training.”

  Alena smiled and patted him on his enormous arm. “Well go pack your gear, Lexi,” she smiled. “Because we have a mission.”

  Alexi’s eyes lit up as a broad grin stretched across his face. “Really?” he asked.

  “Yes, really,” she replied.

  “Where are we going?” Alexi asked.

  “Washington,” she replied.

  “To see Axel and Rolf?” Alexi asked excitedly. He missed his old friends.

  “Hopefully not,” she replied causing Alexi to frown. “Brygida needs our help with something.”

  This cheered him immediately and he clapped his hands together excitedly. “I’ll start packing right away!” he shouted and turned to jog towards his quarters. Alena smiled as she followed him into the building and up the stairs to the one bedroom flat the two shared together. It was a nice flat, better than many had and she considered herself fortunate for that. But she was excited to go back to America where the accommodations were always better.

  Chapter 7

  Washington, D.C.

  The smoke wafted up to the ceiling of the conference room as Tom stamped out his cigarette in the silver ashtray in the center of the table. He stared at Ian who fidgeted with a file. Ian caught Tom’s eye for a moment, but quickly looked away, his eyes dropping back down to the file.

  “How long are we going to be sitting here?” Tom asked impatiently.

  Ian sighed. “Mr. X said he has something important to tell us,” the director replied.

  “Then where is the mystery man?” Tom asked, annoyed that they’d been kept waiting so long.

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Tom,” Ian replied. Ian’s mouth then turned into a broad smile. “What, do the wife and kids miss you?”

  Tom chuckled. “Oh, Ian, you know I’m married to my job,” he said.

  Ian shook his head. “Couldn’t ever find a woman who could put up with you?”

  “Never found one good enough for me,” Tom replied with a smirk as he pulled another cigarette out of the pack and placed it between his lips. He flicked his lighter and inhaled deeply.

  “Oh, I’m sure of that,” Ian laughed sarcastically.

  Suddenly the door opened and Mr. X strolled into the room wearing his customary black suit. “Gentlemen,” Mr. X, said as he pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I think you’ll find it was worth it.”

  Mr. X laid a manila folder on the table and slid it across to Tom who opened it and immediately noticed Valkyrie’s picture. It was out of focus and only caught part of her face, but it was enough for Tom to recognize her.

  “You found the Valkyrie,” Tom said as he slid the folder to Ian who took a look.

  Mr. X nodded. “She goes by the name Jane Matthews,” he told them. “She rents a small apartment downtown. The address is inside.”

  “How did you find her?” Tom asked.

  Mr. X smiled. “We have sources everywhere Agent Flemming. If you want her, go get her. But if you’d rather we send this to the FBI…” he let it trail off.

  “No,” Tom said as he held up a hand. “We’ll take care of the Valkyrie.”

  “Be careful gentlemen,” Mr. X said as he pushed back his chair and stood. “We’d hate to lose anyone.” With that he turned and left the room, allowing the door to swing back on its own.

  Tom looked at Ian. “Well what are you waiting for?” Ian asked. Tom shook his head, stamped out his cigarette and stood. “Take Ford and Hamil with you, Tom.”

  “Will do,” Tom said with a wink and left through the door before breaking into a semi-jog through the office to find the other two agents.

  ***

  The building superintendent fumbled with the keys as Tom, Ford and Hamil stood behind him, pistols drawn. After what seemed to Tom to be an eternity, he finally found the correct key and inserted it into the lock. Once the key was inserted Tom pulled the super back away from the door, motioning for him to hurry down the hall out of the way of any possible danger. Once Tom felt confident the super was clear he turned the key and pushed open the door.

  “Federal agents!” Tom shouted as he stepped into the room, his pistol aimed. He moved into the apartment with Ford and Hamil close behind. There was a room on the left and Ford quickly crossed into it, his gun held ready. Hamil moved to check the bathroom as it was clear that there was no one in the living room/kitchen. In fact, there was little in the apartment at all. No television. No radio. Just one chair sitting in the middle of the room with a side table. On the table was a ball of yarn, crocheting needles and what appeared to be the beginnings of a crochet scarf.

  �
�Tom!” Ford shouted from the bedroom. “You’ve gotta come see this.” Tom crossed the room and stepped through the doorway into the bedroom. The bedroom was just as sparse as the rest of the apartment. There was a single bed, neatly made, a bedside table with a lamp and half drunk glass of water.

  Tom saw Ford staring at the wall and turned to join him. Tom’s mouth fell open. The wall was covered with photographs of Axel and Rolf. No one else though. It was them everywhere—walking down the sidewalk, at the park, at a ballgame. Tom swallowed. “What the hell is going on?” he asked rhetorically under his breath.

  “She must have been watching them for weeks,” Ford said. Tom nodded.

  “I don’t know what this woman is up to, but we need to pull them in,” Tom said.

  ***

  The fire crackled and popped as Brygida stoked it with a metal poker. She was in a small cabin in the woods of northern Virginia several miles from Washington, D.C. It was a safe house she had used many times. She stood and rubbed her hands together in front of the heat of the fire. Suddenly, she noticed car lights illuminate the wall through the window.

  Brygida turned and quickly crossed the cabin to the window, peering out to see the car doors open. She smiled to herself as the occupants climbed out and walked toward the cabin. Soon there was a knock on the door and Brygida opened it up and stepped to the side. Alexi had to duck down to squeeze through. Alena followed him.

  “Oh, darlings, I am so glad you came,” Brygida said as she threw her arms around Alena’s neck. Alena returned the embrace. Next, Brygida hugged Alexi and the large man bent down so that she could kiss his cheek. “I’ve missed you,” she said.

  “I missed you too, Brygida,” Alexi said.

  Brygida smiled up at him. “Come, sit down near the fire and warm yourself,” she said.

  They followed her to the living room furnished with two chairs and a small couch or love seat. The furniture was made of light colored wood to match the rustic cabin feel.