The large boss, whose name was Ivan, ran out of a rear door. Michelle watched him go, and calmly and methodically finished up all that were left. The three men who had killed Gordon died, so she left her hiding place and quietly followed Ivan.
He had run to one of the vehicle sheds, and was now sitting in a Mercedes 4x4, turning the ignition over.
She walked into his line of sight, so he looked up and straight at her. The headlights were on, and he stared at this tall blonde woman with a scar across her brow.
She sensed his fear and confusion.
She caused a split in the HT lead, so this car was not going anywhere.
He realised it, so got out of the car, drawing a black self-loading pistol from his waistband.
“You! You bitch. Why?”
<<You murdered my lover, and tried to murder me!>> she screamed into his brain.
He fell to his knees, dropping the gun and holding his head with both hands. Thin trickles of pink fluid appeared from both ears, running down his thick neck.
He was an ugly man, swarthy and bull headed. He was about forty five and she was repelled by his mind, and all that he had done.
She played back everything to him. In moments, he was screaming and writhing in the snow.
She stopped and in the brief respite, he looked up at her. Her face pale and eyes very cold. This was not the face of mercy; it was the face of death.
Real fear gripped him.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I am the Avenging Angel, and you are going to die!” she said in fluent accent free Russian. The first words she had spoken.
He was kneeling on the ground, so she walked over to him.
She looked down and their eyes met. Ivan lost bladder control, so a large dark patch grew at his crotch, and the white snow between his knees turned yellow.
She raised one finger on her right hand and pointed it at his head.
He frowned and almost smiled.
“Bang!” she said, and Ivan was thrown back, his brain completely destroyed by force of mind. He died instantly.
She heard the approaching sirens, so turned and quietly jogged down the road, careful to keep her feet on the compacted tyre marks. She then hid behind a tree as the first police vehicles arrived, and then cautiously continued until she arrived at the hotel. She shinned up the same drainpipe and was in her room quickly. She undressed and cleaned her boots in the basin.
She slipped in to bed and lay there for a while. She tried to get her head round what she had just done, and found that she had no remorse at all. These were men who had killed and corrupted and deserved to die. The system had failed, and would continue to fail those it was supposed to protect because the system had to follow rules, and these bastards didn’t.
She made a pact with herself, that never again would she take life on this scale, but she felt she owed it to Gordon.
She remembered that gentle giant, and began to weep again. She cried herself to sleep.
7.
London was wet but not cold.
Rebecca met the plane, and the two women wept in each other’s arms for a long time.
Michelle had returned with Gordon’s coffin, and the police were only too happy to facilitate her departure from Russia.
They had come to her Hotel room and found her asleep.
The police officer on duty outside the door was adamant that she had been in her room all night.
She was escorted to the police HQ once more, and she found that there was a flurry of activity, with military units assisting.
“What has happened?” she asked the senior officer, he was senior to the local chief.
“There was a development in the early hours of this morning.”
“What kind of development?” she asked.
“We are not precisely sure. There was a firearms incident and several fatalities have been reported,” he said, clearly at a loss to understand what had actually happened.
“Is this anything to do with the bomb in the hotel?” she asked.
“We are not sure, but very likely as there have been items found which would indicate that the device was constructed there. But it looks like there was some kind of battle between different factions.”
“Will I be allowed to leave?” she asked.
“Of course. But should you be required to give evidence, then I would ask that you leave details as to how you can be contacted.”
She agreed, and asked about taking Gordon’s body home.
He told her that the papers were to be signed by the necessary official that very morning, and that once the post mortem was concluded, she could take him home.
She returned to the hotel and packed her meagre belongings. Gordon’s personal effects were given to her by a young officer who was clearly upset by some of the sights he had witnessed over the last 24 hours.
Michelle was genuinely in shock and mourning on one level, on the other she was assessing her powers, and wondering how to deal with them effectively.
She waited at the town hall, and as she sat in the waiting room with another police officer, a small deputation from the factory came to see her. They were worried what would happen now Gordon was dead, and she assured them that she would ensure that everything was kept as it was. They handed her a huge bunch of flowers, and she openly wept.
Some of the women had been there when they had struggled to make the works efficient again, so they wept with her.
She received her necessary documentation, and was escorted past the growing ranks of the international press. In a large van provided by the local state, she went directly to the airport with Gordon’s coffin.
Rebecca had contracted a local undertakers to collect the body of her son, and remove it to their premises pending the funeral. She took Michelle in a taxi back to her flat.
“You poor darling, it must have been an absolute nightmare?” she said. She was shocked at Michelle’s appearance. The tall girl was very pale, and the scar was very obvious. Her eyes were vacant and she was on the verge of tears the whole time.
“Rebecca, I am so sorry, I couldn’t save him,” she said, breaking down again.
Rebecca just held her and sobs wracked her for several minutes.
Finally, she composed herself, and told the whole story of the bomb blast.
“I awoke when the window broke, and just screamed and dived into the bath. It was all so quick. He never woke up, so there was no pain, no suffering. My God, he was such a mess,” she said, and the tears started again.
Michelle stayed with Rebecca, only returning to Gordon’s flat to collect her clothes. The funeral was arranged, and the two women supported each other. Gordon’s sister was located and returned and so there were three women in black on in the front row.
Michelle existed in a sort of numb limbo for several weeks, unable to face any contact with the company. Eventually, she had a meeting with the other directors, and was relieved when they announced no changes in immediate policies.
She found that Gordon had already altered his will in her favour and left her everything. She went to the cemetery, and cried over his grave.
Colonel Jim Robertson was excited.
Various reports of strange activity had filtered through to his office from the NYPD. Three separate tales of the Avenging Angel came to his notice, and he read them all with increasing interest. Normally cranks and other freaks were just able to confuse the issue, but there was something different in these tales.
For a start, the individual made no attempt to draw attention to herself. Indeed, she actually avoided any contact with the police of press. Cranks liked the publicity, and she appeared definitely not a crank.
Jim and Kyle had flown to New York, and made their way to Captain Mancetti’s precinct.
The good Captain was on his seventh cup of coffee of the day when the two uniformed Air Force officers were shown to his office.