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"Two Deaths, No Funeral" Part 3 | |||
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On route to RGZS Headquarters February 15, 2008, 0811 hours The car pulled over to the side of the road. Nikolai looked at Sergei and got a shrug. Their `escorts' informed them that they would have to put the hoods back on, and both men complied with this order. Before long the car began moving again, and after what Sergei deemed to be about forty-five minutes they felt the car slow down to a stop. This time the hoods where left on, and the two men were led into a lift. They felt the lift descend, and after a few seconds it stopped. The doors opened. Their escorts led them to a room, sat them down, and then removed the hoods from their charges. Nikolai and Sergei blinked, and after their sight had returned they began to study their surroundings. It appeared that they were sitting in an office of some kind. A secretary's office: the computer on the desk, the row of filing cabinets, and the string of comfy seats on which they were now sitting were all indicators of this. The room hadn't been decorated yet, if it ever would be. The room appeared suitable for its function, and both men doubted that `creature comforts' would be allowed in. There were three doors in the room. Two were facing each other, and the other one was the one through which they had entered. The guessed this because it was the door through which their escorts had left. As they studied the other doors the one on the right opened, and a man stood in the doorway. "Sergei Semyonovich Popov," the man said, and Popov stood and entered the next room. RGZS Headquarters, Level Two February 15, 2008, 0815 hours Another office, this time visibly larger. Sergei presumed this was the office of whoever was running this place, possibly the man who stood before him. He recognized the face but couldn't place it. The troubled him. Usually he was very good with faces, but this one eluded him. The man stood slightly shorter than him, though he had broad shoulders and a physique that announced that he was not a man to be trifled with. If this wasn't enough, the look in the man's eyes told Sergei more than anything: cold and friendly in the same instance. This man was very similar to him, Sergei concluded, and worthy of respect. "Please, sit," the man said, gesturing to a chair opposite the desk. Sergei took it. "My name is Ilya Stepanovich Georgiev, and I--" "The CT guy," Sergei interrupted. So that's who you are. He was familiar with his early work, though he also knew that the man had retired a few years back. So what are you doing here? he wanted to ask. "That is correct. I am sorry, but we do not have time for formalities. Let us begin." Georgiev went on to explain a little about the RGZS but didn't give much away. Sergei just sat in silence, eyes locked onto Georgiev. Once the talk had finished Ilya pulled out some documents. Sergei managed to steal a quick glance at the title, and he was horrified to see his name on the documents. He realized that it was his service record. Georgiev began to go through it, and soon Sergei found himself explaining his actions on every mission he had ever been on. On a couple of occasions he found himself justifying things that at the time had appeared chancy, but now looked inconceivable at best. His mistakes where also laid out, and some of the memories came back, the faces of those he was meant to save asking him why he had let them die, but he knew that this was all in his mind, and he had overcome this a long time ago. After two hours of grueling interrogation they finally got to his last mission. "That course of action caused the death of two people," Georgiev noted. "True, but seven lives were saved at that point, and they were more important." Ilya Stepanovich consulted the notes in front of him. "You also broke several national and international laws," he said, his voice conveying the severity of his thoughts on this. "I have done worse. I felt, and still feel, that those laws were worth breaking in order to complete the mission satisfactorily. Had I not, then over thirty people would be dead, and some of them were indispensable. I had explicit orders to bring them back alive, and I did that," he explained. "The way you and your partner, Nikolai Ivanovich Plekhanov, went about the mission was incorrect. Too many risks were taken for it to have been deemed correct procedure." "Correct procedure would have resulted in the failure of the mission. Neither Nikolai nor I can be called orthodox, but that is exactly why we were chosen for those missions. Standard procedures were not compatible. We were," he replied, the tone of his voice belying the irritation that was building inside of him. "Thank you for your time. Would you please send Nikolai Ivanovich in." "Your up," Sergei informed Plekhanov. He stood and noted the look in him mentor's eyes: anger. Had it gone that bad? Maybe things wouldn't work out here after all, and they could go back to Moscow and the SVR. Could they just return like that, as if nothing had happened? He wasn't sure, but it did leave him thinking. "Please take a seat," the man behind the desk said. Plekhanov sat in the seat and looked at the man. "I am Ilya Stepanovich Georgiev. We haven't got time for formalities, so we shall begin with your service record." Georgiev produced a folder from a desk draw and opened it. Nikolai was pleased to see that the file was remarkably thin. He was also pleased with the knowledge that his true history had never been documented, so his secret would be safe from this man. Anonymity was something that he greatly enjoyed, and he wasn't about to let that change. Feeling bold, Nikolai asked, "Would it be possible for me to enquire upon the nature of this organization?" Georgiev looked up, clearly unhappy with his disregard of protocol. Georgiev gave Nikolai the same speech he gave Sergei, and after a couple of minutes he began on Plekhanov's service record. After thirty minutes he found himself where Sergei had been, defending his actions on his last mission. "Can you justify your actions?" Ilya asked. "Which ones?" Nikolai responded. Georgiev's eyes glanced over the page he had in front of him, and then looked back up at the youngster. "How about the dive through the second story window of the target building?" Plekhanov smirked. "Yeah, that was a rush. No, seriously, it was a calculated risk. I mean all other entrances were inaccessible." "That `stunt' endangered the lives of those you were attempting to rescue. They could have died as a result of your recklessness," Ilya said challengingly. "Ah, but they didn't. Like I said, it was a calculated risk. Also, it scared the fuck out of the kidnappers, and that worked to my advantage. Before they knew what had happened they had two bullets lodged in their skulls. Besides, the hostages would have been in more danger had I not got in. You can spend all day telling me it was wrong, but frankly I don't give a shit. I do things my way and people live. I do it someone else's way and they die." The interview lasted another ten minutes before Plekhanov was asked to wait outside. Once he had left Georgiev picked up the phone from the table and dialed a number. "What do you think?" he asked the men who had listened to the interviews via hidden microphones. "We would like your view first," the speaker replied. They had more power than he did, so he answered. "I say they are what we need." "We agree. Inform them." With that the line went dead. The door opened and Georgiev appeared. He signaled for them to enter the office and they did. Both men sat down opposite Georgiev and waited for him to speak. Georgiev took his time, sitting down in the chair, looking over notes he had made, tidying up the desk. Once he had finished he looked up, and he saw that both men had their eyes locked onto his. "A decision has been reached," he informed them. Neither man showed any emotion. "Nikolai Ivanovich Plekhanov, you are being recruited as a field operative, effective immediately." Plekhanov kept a blank face. "Sergei Semyonovich Popov, I am sorry to inform you�" Georgiev said, and saw the faintest glimmer of disappointment in the eyes of both men, "that you are being recruited as Commander of this agency." "Thank you." Sergei exhaled slowly. His heart rate was just beginning to decrease, and the tension that Georgiev had so skillfully built up was starting to dissipate. Georgiev reached over and shook both the hands of both men. "Congratulations," Ilya said, then reached into the draw and removed three glasses and a bottle of vodka. Sergei noted that it was Starka. The three men drank a toast to the RGZS. RGZS Headquarters, Level 1 Briefing Room 1 February 15, 2008, 1831 hours They walked from the office to one of the three briefing rooms in the facility. Georgiev led the way, his stride measured and purposeful, though Popov thought he detected a slight spring in his step. He guessed this was because some of the pressure on him had just been released with their appointments. Georgiev turned to them before entering the room. "The names are not important, you will learn them soon enough." They entered, and arranged around a table were fifteen men and women. Most of them looked athletic but a few were not. Probably support staff, Sergei mused. Ilya gave a little introductory speech explaining who they were and their positions. All of them eyed up the new boss, trying to gauge him as a person. Sergei just stood blank faced, not giving anything away. Then Georgiev motioned for them to walk round the table with him so he could introduce them. Sergei went first, with Plekhanov in tow. "Evgraf Zotovich Polyakov," Ilya said, indicating to a balding man of about fifty, "Deputy Commander." Sergei took his hand, gave it a firm shake, and then stepped ahead to allow Nikolai to do the same. Before Georgiev could speak Popov said, "Svetlana Maksimovna Ryazancev. Hello Sveta." She smiled. "Hello Seryozha," she replied. "We know each other from my time in the 5th Department," she explained to Ilya. "Hello Kolya," she said to Nikolai, and took his hand. He returned the smile. "Svetlana Maksimovna will be your secretary," Georgiev informed Sergei. The next man wore dark glasses, had a serious expression on his face, and a physique that told Sergei he was a shooter, probably Spetsnaz. "Maksim Pavelevich Tarasov, Field Agent." Handshakes were exchanged. "Olesya Mihailovich Dmitriev, Field Agent." The woman was beautiful, her vibrant green eyes fixing on her new boss. She took his hand and shook it. Her eyes then fell on Nikolai, and she gave him a little smile as he took her hand. "Nelli Levevna Timofeev, Field Agent." This time it was Nikolai who smiled. He could see a burning in her eyes, but he didn't let on. This one had demons. He resolved there and then to help exorcise them, for what reason he could not fathom, other than a desire to prove himself to the others. "Kirill Ivanovich Bogdanov, Field Agent." A strong handshake, Sergei noted, and a confident one. "Innokentiy Fyodorovich Smirnov, Field Agent." Eagle Eye, Sergei thought, what are you doing here? "Pavel Yegorovich Morozov, Field Agent." Sergei shook his hand. As Nikolai went to follow suit he thought he detected a certain air of contempt about the man, but ignored it for the time being. "Yevgeniy Olegovich Lukin, Field Agent." A boy, not much older than Nikolai, sat before Popov. He took the hand of his new boss and shook, all the while studying Sergei, his baby-face locked in an inquisitive expression. "Klara Borisovich Savin, Field Agent." Cold green eyes, long blonde hair, and a pretty face. Nikolai shook her hand, feeling her eyes bore into him. This is a tough one, he thought. "Svyatoslav Vadimovich Belov, Field Agent." A bald, serious looking man, Belov had eyes which told a skilled viewer all they needed to know. The eyes told Sergei that this man had killed numerous times without so much as a second of guilt. Popov looked forward to reading the man's service history. "Anatoliy Borisovich Kovalenko, Intelligence." Nikolai knew the name. The intelligence on their last assignment had come from him, and it was accurate. Nikolai nodded his gratitude to the man as he shook his hand, but Kovalenko didn't notice, and even if he had he wouldn't have understood its meaning. "Denis Arturovich Filippov, Weapons." Sergei saw he had the eyes but not the body of a shooter. A sniper, maybe, but not a shooter. "Zoya Vladislavevna Schetinin, Counter-intelligence." Nikolai was confronted with a warm and inviting face, much like Yelena's, and he couldn't help but smile at the woman. "Yevgeny Denisovich Lisovsky, Computers." Civilian, Sergei thought, judging by the way the man sat and the clothes he wore. Sergei respected the man though; he himself didn't truly understand computers. Georgiev waited for Nikolai to shake Lisovsky's hand, and then gestured for everyone to leave. He looked at Popov and Plekhanov, and they remained behind. The door hissed shut and Georgiev began to talk. "Now that you have met the team there are a few things you need to know. First is that this facility is not yet complete. It will now be your job to have it functioning quickly. Second thing is the need for the Fire Teams to be established. Including Nikolai we will have ten Field Agents, so that makes two teams of five agents. Third, you will not be allowed to contact anyone from your former life without prior agreement from me. Fourth�" "What about Krivenko?" Sergei asked. Georgiev thought for a moment, and then replied, "Yes, you can contact Krivenko. I will inform him of the protocols involved." He paused for a second, then continued. "Fourthly, there are still several areas that are undermanned, and most areas still require further recruitment. I will inform you tomorrow of the procedures. Any questions?" "When can I go for my family?" Popov inquired. "Now if you wish." Sergei nodded. "Nikolai Ivanovich, why don't you go and join the other Field Agents," Ilya said. "OK." He looked at Popov. "Give Lena my love." Nikolai walked over to where Polyakov was and asked him where the other Field Agents were. He informed him that they were on the training level, and showed him how to use the security devices on the lifts. Nikolai followed the instructions and soon found himself on Level Five. He saw Belov enter a room and decided to follow him, not knowing where else to go. There were three others in the room: Lukin, Smirnov, and Tarasov. All of them were looking at some documents on a desk. Plekhanov walked over, making sure that his steps were heard so he wouldn't have to go through the charade of coughing to get their attention. It worked. Smirnov looked up and motioned for him to join them. Nikolai saw that they were looking at CBQ tactics. Lukin was explaining his choices, and Smirnov was disagreeing, drawing on what he would do. Nikolai followed Tarasov's lead and kept out of it, though he felt the need to participate. After about five minutes of discussion he finally decided to air his views. "Why don't you go through the windows?" All four men stopped and looked at him. "That wouldn't work," Lukin said. "Yes it would," Nikolai replied, "if it's executed correctly." Belov was not convinced, and mentioned the dangers involved with such an extreme action. "Let me show you." Nikolai took the pen and began making marks on the diagram, making sure that he positioned everyone correctly. When he had finished he moved back and let the others look over it. Tarasov smiled. "Where did they get you from?" he asked. "I'm not at liberty to say," he replied, and that broke the ice. They all started laughing, and Nikolai laughed with them. When they eventually stopped Belov came up and patted him on the back. "You'll fit in fine here." "As long as he can run and shoot as well," Smirnov pointed out. "I'm sure I can manage. Where is everyone else?" "Training. Want me to show you around?" Smirnov offered. "Thanks for the offer but I'm gonna get some shut-eye. You could show me where Sergei's, sorry, the Commander's office is." "Why?" Tarasov inquired. "I'll sleep in there, seeing as I haven't got accommodation yet." "You can stay at mine until it's sorted out," he said. "I couldn't impose on you�" Maksim cut him off. "It's already been decided." Tarasov stood and gestured for Nikolai to do the same. "See you tomorrow," he said to the others, and walked out of the room with Nikolai in tow. On Route to Tarasov's Residence February 15, 2008, 2000 hours The journey passed in silence. Nikolai spent his time watching the scenery flash past while Maksim concentrated on driving. It took twenty minutes for them to reach their destination: a small two-story brick house. Tarasov led him in and gave him a brief tour of the rooms before walking into the kitchen to prepare some food. Nikolai sat down on the couch and began watching TV, a news channel. Before long they were eating, and the conversation turned to work. "How long have you all been there?" Nikolai asked him. He wanted to know because it seemed to him that some bonds had already been formed, and that would make things harder for him. "About a month now. We had to go through a selection process, then some training." "Were there many people who didn't make it?" "There were three groups of nine people. Out of them, nine got picked, and the rest never came back." That number puzzled him. Nine. Why nine? It would have been so much easier to have ten. That way there could be two teams of five. But they have got nine. Well, he thought, ten including me. Was that it? Did they plan to have him all along, and so only needed nine others? He hoped that wasn't the case. It was going to be hard enough trying to break into this group without being perceived as special. "Who is the toughest?" he asked. "Apart from me?" Maksim said with a chuckle. "I'd say Belov. He has no heart when he has a weapon in his hand. A born killer you could say." "Whose the best?" That question elicited another chuckle. "I am of course. Though that's what they'd all say, although it probably would be true. As far as everyone is concerned they are the best," he explained. "Ok. In your opinion, excluding yourself, who is the best?" Tarasov thought for a moment. "Innokentiy Fyodorovich." "Yeah, I get the impression he has been around the bushes a few times." "We all have, Nikolai Ivanovich, we all have," was the response he got. Return |
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