| "Taking the First Piece" | ||
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June 14, 2008, 1800 hours Tokyo Forestry Commission Forest Volkv had finally calmed down. It had taken him quite a while but the presence of a fellow countryman next to him gave him the added strength he needed to process the information he had whilst his body stopped trying to kill itself with fright and paranoia. The plan helped. This youngster � Plekhanov � and his partner planned to wait till dawn and then escort him out of the country on the same aircraft they used to enter it. The plan sounded far too simple and dangerous for his liking, though he realised that it was his best and only hope of getting back to his homeland. The thought of drowning his sorrows with a bottle of vodka was something that kept him going. Beijing, China Jun Shan opened his eyes with a smile. The noise of the city outside the building prevented him from meditating fully, but he had succeeded in shutting it out for a small amount of time. The call had been made, and his piece would soon be moving. A quick glance at the clock on the far wall of his spacious office told him that it should, in fact, be happening right now. He could barely contain his excitement. Within a year his country would be regarded as the most powerful in the world. His plan was of such dazzling brilliance and complexity that it would only ever be able to be fully appreciated long after his death. That was a shame, but it was something he had prepared himself for. His people would one day know of the sacrifices he made to make this country great, and his name would be spoken in the same breath as the great Chairman Mao. The Presidential Offices, Chechnya Was it all moving too fast? Kyznetsov wondered. To him it was. He had only recently been accepted into his current job, a task that had taken years to accomplish, and within hours of that success he had received the call to activate him for the mission he had been prepared for since he was a small boy. Damn, he thought, it was all going to happen now. Like most `sleepers' he had always waited for the day but, in the back of his mind, had never been sure if the day would come. It was a shock to him that it had, but his professionalism allowed him to marginalize that feeling so he could concentrate on the task at hand. He looked up to see his target sitting at the large desk. Master of his country, a man with power and influence, he would have to die. That is what Kyznetsov had been trained to do, to kill this man. Not this exact man, but whoever held this office. A lifetime of waiting was about to be rewarded. The man looked at him in a way that didn't appear too friendly, even though that is exactly how it was intended. He had simply been brought up to hate the owner of this office, and whatever man had been in here was an enemy, and nothing would change his thinking. His standard issue pistol came up quickly and evenly, and before the other bodyguards had a chance to react Kyznetsov fired four shots into the body of his enemy, the President of Chechnya. His fifth and sixth shots were off target as the bullets from the guns of the other bodyguards ripped through his flesh, the pain rippling through his body like the waves in a pond after a stone has been thrown in. He commanded himself to ignore the pain, and even managed to get another shot on target before one penetrated his skull, killing him instantly. Moscow, Russia Dmitriy Filippovich Ilin was on his way to the training ground when his mobile phone rang. He pulled the sleek machine out of his pocket and thumbed the answer button. "Ilin," he simply said. "Briefing in one hour," the voice on the end of the line told him, then hung up. "Ok," Ilin replied to the dead line. He replaced the phone in his pocket before picking up the pace of his walk. His mind was moving far quicker than his body was, trying to work out what the mission could possibly be. The previous few had been taking out various foreign dignitaries that had been deemed a danger to his boss, though the last one had been a strange one. They had had to protect a member of the State Duma on a tip to secure some funds. They had not been told the reason for this, only that the man was to be kept alive at all costs. A puzzling mission that had been, for not long after the man in question had been killed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the black car pull up alongside him. The number plate was one of the five he had been told to trust, and so he entered the vehicle without hesitation. Within seconds the car had blended back into the Moscow traffic, just another car among a multitude of others. Siberia, Russia The weather had gotten worse. All his men were inside the perimeter fence; something that happened rarely enough and so was a cause of even more anger to the Commander. He stormed through the facilities until he reached the communications area. His anger grew further when he learned that there had still been no call. The weather was wearing away his patience very rapidly, and there was little he could do to stop it. There was one note of importance though. It appeared that the Chechen President had been assassinated only a few minutes ago. Could this mean that his group would soon be called into action? The possibility raised his spirits quickly, so quickly in fact that the plummeting temperature and foul weather lost their impact on him. It would start for him soon. Moscow, Russia Elistratov replaced the secure phone in its holder and turned his attention back to the file he was reading. It belonged to Sergi Semyonovich Popov. Valentin allowed a smile to form on his face, something that seldom happened. Popov had been the bane of his life for a large number of years, a man whose integrity and skillfulness had grated on him like nothing before. He had had to operate skilfully himself to avoid detection. That bastard! his mind raged. Why did he always have to be there to foul things up? Krivenko's favourite servant. Valentin snorted at that. Two peas in a pod, each as irritating as the other. How Krivenko had even risen to command the SVR was a cause of constant disbelieve to the head of Directorate K. His intercom buzzed. "Da." "Comrade Commander, we have a priority communication from the Rezident in Chechnya." "Patch him through," Elistratov ordered immediately. He waited a few seconds for the lines to synchronise. "Speak, " he commanded. The Rezident relayed the events of the previous few minutes, citing that the events had been reported by two independent sources at the palace. That made it highly likely to be true. Valentin killed the line. Things were on schedule. He allowed himself another smile: you won't be able to interfere this time Sergi Semyonovich. Maybe things do come to those who wait. Narita, Japan The woman left. She had been extremely skilled, Ken'ichi Matsushita observed from his bed, and well worth the effort it had taken to get her. Not that that effort had been much for someone of his power and social standing, but a lot by his usual standards. The timing had been perfect, he saw as he gazed at the clock on the bedside table. The final phase of the operation should have begun by now. It had been a long time coming, and reaching this stage had required a lot of sacrifices, but it had been worth it. Matsushita got up and put on his elaborate silk robe before opening the large glass doors and walking out onto the balcony. He sat himself in the comfortable chair that faced out onto the city below, taking the time to admire the sheer beauty of the view he had. His country would be great again, ranked amongst the greatest in the world. Japan would be a superpower, taking its place after being denied for so long. He would help change the world. Of that he was sure. Return |
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