Tatyana Petrova rose up and down onto the young man below her on the stiff hotel mattress, her muscular body pounding the man deep inside her. But she knew the junior captain could take it. She had hand-picked the man for this most important duty, keeping the general of the army happy, from hundreds of applicants to the SVR. It wasn’t as difficult as one might think. After all, she had required all applicants to provide a sperm sample just in case someone might try to compromise them during undercover work. Of course she had also filmed them providing the sample, so she knew exactly what she was getting with this man — or any of the others she had “interviewed” since taking over as the deputy director of counter intelligence for the SVR. Size did matter. But she also required a fit body worth viewing.
With a final release, her body shuddered in a wave of ecstasy that sent a shiver through her frame from head to toes.
Her cell phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand and she used that as an excuse to cut her session short. Besides, she was done with this one for now. He had passed. With a wave of her hand, she sent the man to the bathroom, his penis still hard as a rock and wrapped in a condom with a full chamber.
Once the captain was gone, Tatyana lay back onto the bed, checked who was calling her, and answered with an annoyed, “Yes.”
“Ma’am, we have a problem in Germany.”
It was her assistant, Colonel Vladimir Bortnikov.
“This can’t wait until morning?” She checked the room clock. It read a few minutes past one in the morning. This had been round two for her and the young captain. She needed to make sure he had the stamina required for covert ops. Which could take a while longer to assess.
“Afraid not, General Petrova.”
Silence for a moment.
She was constantly bothered with the colonel’s ticks and hesitations. Yet, he did have his good points, including his discretion setting up this room for her at least twice a week. “Well?” she said. “Out with it.”
“One of our former assets has been killed in Baden-Baden, Germany. It’s…”
“I know where it is. Who died?”
“Vladimir Volkov.”
Volkov was a legend in the old KGB and had even made the transition to the SVR before retiring a few years ago. She expected this call eventually. Had even planned her reaction to the news. She would have to be outraged, of course. Maybe a subdued outrage.
“How did he die?” she asked, concern deep in her voice.
“Murdered. Gunned down in his apartment.”
“What do you think, colonel? Who could be responsible?”
Hesitation and only breathing on the other end of the line. Finally, he said, “I can’t be sure. I would guess maybe either German BND or the CIA. Perhaps Mossad.”
Where did he come up with these grand ideas? She had asked him this question knowing he would blame the usual suspects. Then her next orders would seem as if they were his idea.
“Contact our people in Berlin,” she said.
“They’re the ones who called me, general.”
Of course they had, she smiled to herself. “Did they ask for direction, colonel?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what I’m giving them,” she said. “Have them investigate but not retaliate. Not before getting back with me. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Tell Berlin to contact me in the morning and give me a briefing on their progress.” She thought for a second about the good captain in the bathroom. “Make that around noon our time.”
Without waiting, she hung up on her assistant, flipping her phone shut and setting it on the nightstand. This was working out better than she expected. Just think of all the money she was saving the State by getting rid of pensions from some of these old officers. Then the Americans would get blamed for the killing. When their old officers died, they will assume it was out of retaliation for the SVR officer killed. This would either be a new Cold War or a Hot War. Action and reaction. Their choice.
She got up from the bed and looked at herself in the large full-length wall mirror. Yeah, she still had it. Twisting and looking at her backside, she grasped a cheek in each hand and squeezed down onto her hard buttocks, her finest assets. Satisfied, she called out for the captain to come back.
He smiled as he entered the room naked, his freshly cleaned manhood still partially enlarged, swinging side to side as he approached. Stopping a few feet away, he knew not to come any closer unless asked. A good soldier. She smiled at him, wondering if he could go again so soon.
22
Toni and Franz drove from Frankfurt to Bonn, the former capitol of West Germany. That was before the country was reunited with their eastern brothers and sisters in the nineties, and the capitol moved back to traditional Berlin. During her days working in Germany, sometimes with Jake Adams, she’d spent a lot of time in the city on the Rhine. Not all fond memories, though. She and Jake had run a number of agents there during the waning days of the Cold War, working with a company that was selling missile guidance components to Czech agents, who then transferred them to their Soviet counterparts. Jake had gone undercover in the company and was nearly killed. But he was able to bring down the ring almost single handedly, sending many company officers to prison for a long time. When she and Franz had downloaded information from the Russian in Frankfurt, one name stuck out with her. This person might still hold Jake responsible for his long incarceration, and had enough money to afford a one million Euro bounty.
They checked into a hotel on the Rhine in the downtown a few blocks from the Beethovenhaus, the museum which was the birthplace of Ludwig van Beethoven. The two of them ate an early dinner and got back to the hotel for a couple of drinks at the first-floor bar.
Toni didn’t like how Franz looked, though. He was still coughing up blood and now seemed to be getting a fever, his forehead bubbled with sweat followed by the chills. The man needed to see a doctor.
Now they were in his room at the hotel.
“We need to get you to a hospital,” Toni said, pacing back and forth, her hands on her hips.
Franz stuffed his thick hand into the mini-bar and came out with a handful of small liquor bottles. “I’m fine,” he said breathlessly. “We finish with this case and then I’ll think about it.” He coughed into a wash cloth, which was already spotted with blood, and then plopped himself onto the bed, opened the first bottle and sucked it dry. He re-capped the empty and clanked it into the garbage can.
“Fine, my ass.”
“Yes, it is. I can see why Jake liked it.”
Christ. Half dead and he was still looking. Maybe he wasn’t dead yet.
“Listen,” Toni said, “I need to do this myself tonight.”
“You should have back-up.”
“I do,” she lied. “Our office in Berlin has sent a couple of officers.”
Franz tried to force his eyes open wider, but he was clearly tired and needed to sleep. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, we still have some secrets.” She smiled.
“That you do.” He paused to study her. “You just have to talk with a man.”
“Yes.”
“All right. Let me know how it goes.”
“I will. I’ll come by at eight for breakfast.” She patted him on the shoulder and left him in the room.
She got to her car parked in the hotel ramp and sat for a moment. Emotions welled up in her, bringing tears to her eyes. She’d known Franz for years and hated to see him like this — dying little-by-little day-by-day — his pain obvious but the strong man that he was pushing the anguish out of his mind. This was no way for a man of dignity to die. She wiped the tears away and drove out of the ramp.