“What can go wrong?”
“The aircraft may have to turn back through technical difficulties, they could crash if the weather is bad down low. They cannot fly over the weather, they would be seen and maybe shot down, either way the gig would be up.” The general glanced around the room.
“Once they are down, they have some of the most inhospitable terrain on the planet to cross. They have to avoid detection and prevent the alarm being raised on the mainland when they take the place. If they can do all that, then there is the big what if,” pausing for a moment to take a sip of water.
“What if the satellite that receives the codes is not the transmitter, what if it is just a relay station or just the first of several relays passing the arming codes to the one satellite we need to neutralise?”
“Jesus Henry… next time I ask you what the difficulties are, just tell me Mr President, you really don’t want to know… ok?”
“Yes sir.”
“Is there anything else about this I should know?”
“Mr President, you really don’t want to know.”
There was a touch of frost in the air of the forest. The chill wind from Siberia that moaned through the conifers was helping to bring the temperature down and whip away the smoke issuing from the chimney of the smart stone and log dacha.
The only illumination in the main room came in the form of flickering light from the log fire. Its resulting shifting of light and shadow leant a romantic atmosphere to the room and emphasised the good looks and curves of the blonde who sat naked astride Peridenko. Sweat dampened her skin and it shone as if oiled. Beads of sweat ran down her pale skin as she panted and rode him. Her golden hair was only visible where it emerged from under the nun’s headdress that she wore. Her breath had begun to come as sobs as she came near to her climax.
“Not yet!” Peridenko snapped, and rolled her off him. Kneeling up, he moved in order that she could occupy the lambskin rug before the fire. She knelt on elbows and knees facing away from him, presenting him with two choices.
“You do not come before I do!” he ordered.
She was facing away from him so he took the opportunity to reach under the rug and removed an object that he draped it over his shoulders before putting his left hand on her hip as he lined up.
“Not a pretty sight at all.” A voice declared from the shadows. The blond let out a little yelp and pulled away from Peridenko to squat defensively on the floor facing toward the voice with her arms wrapped about herself.
Serge stepped out of the shadows; his face blacked with camouflage cream and clad in a one-piece camouflage coverall and paratroop jump boots. He wore a headset with its boom mike before his face. The AKM-74 assault rifle sat easily in his grip as weapons do in the hands of those practised and confident in their use.
Peridenko was knelt upright with his hands covering his manhood and his eyes darted about. He appeared to be considering calling for help but Serge saved him the bother.
“Bodyguards should be bodyguards, not gravediggers Anatoly Peridenko.” The assault rifle stayed unwaveringly on the naked man as Serge let go the stock to pick up a garment draped over a chair back. He regarded the Aeroflot uniform before looking at the girl and then to Peridenko.
“Ah yes,” he said as he recalled something said by the other on a flight to Beijing.
“I see that the curtains matched the carpet after all, Anatolly?”
“Did you come here to mock me or just to indulge in voyeurism Serge!” Peridenko snapped back.
“As it happens, I came here to kill you,” was the calm reply.
Peridenko stared.
“What… why?”
“Our Premier ordered it so; it seems he believes you will not be satisfied with being mere head of the KGB once more.” He smiled genially at the frightened man before adding.
“Actually I was going to kill you myself anyway. This way just adds some legitimacy to the affair.” He stepped sideways in order to check for possible weapons within Peridenko’s grasp.
“From here I go to take over my new command.” He said with a nod indicating his camouflage clothing.
“This was an addition written at the foot of my orders.”
Peridenko began to jabber and offer inducements but Serge ignored him, addressing the girl instead.
“Did he tell you the significance of the Christian nuns garment… no?” The girl merely shook her head.
“I imagine he offered you some inducement to overcome your reluctance at allowing a hairy slobbering pig to screw you?”
Peridenko snapped at him.
“Are you here to kill me or insult me?”
Serge regarded him for a moment before he answered.
“Unlike yourself Anatolly I do not kill for pleasure, I am not mocking you; I am justifying to myself the necessity of killing you in cold blood.” Again addressing the girl he said.
“I also imagine that he promised you a move to one of the runs with more potential, in the West?” He studied her for a moment. “Affluent money men, more generous of your favours than ours or the Chinese. Possibly even a posting on the ground in one of the airline offices in the West. There you would have the chance of escape from low wages and state built hovel with garbage on the landings and elevators that never work. Meet a nice wealthy man and become his mistress or his bride?” She looked at the floor in shame.
“Ah, I see, that was it… Anatolly is an exploiter of beautiful things by offering them their dreams, young lady.”
With quick steps he snatched the object from around Peridenko’s shoulders and retreated. Serge held up the length of cord with wooden toggle handles at both ends and the stranglers knot in the middle. “The lovely Miss O’Connor believed she had merely escaped a fate worse than death by refusing your offer, Anatolly.” Tossing the strangling cord into the flames he spoke briefly into the headset microphone in answer to some communication.
“Now where was I? ah yes, Miss O’Connor. Had she accepted I am afraid I would have killed you before your date had been kept. I rather liked her you know. The sort of girl you would hope your son would bring home to meet the parents, and far too nice a girl to partake of one of your special celebrations.”
Peridenko cursed at him.
The words had no effect.
“Your bodyguards are occupying the grave intended for this lovely young creature, Anatolly… how many others are buried out there in the trees?”
The girl at last realised what Peridenko had intended for her and scrabbled further away, open mouthed in shock and looking at her lover through horrified eyes.
Peridenko bared his teeth, glaring in hatred at the soldier but did not answer.
Serge was stood calmly watching him, the assault rifle held almost casually at the hip but the muzzle never leaving Peridenko. There was a tinge of sadness perhaps in his eyes. Not sadness for the man nor for the girl either, but for himself. Again he spoke, after a few seconds that had seemed far longer in the atmosphere of the room.
“No answer?… no matter.”
In the confined space the single shot was deafening thunder as he shot the crouching man in the face without raising the butt to his shoulder.
The girl screamed aloud and darted into a corner of the room. Tears and visible, mortal terror spoilt her looks as she huddled in the corner, attempting to make herself as small as possible as she pleaded for her life. One arm was outstretched toward the muzzle of the weapon he held, hand open, palm facing outwards as if she hoped to ward off the high velocity bullet’s that she knew would come.