by Mike Gomes
The training of Gabriella brought both men to the forefront in the re-condition program, and the desire to create the ultimate weapons. Without mechanics and controls, the perfect weapon had a mind of its own, but fell into strict parameters. Initially, their thoughts were to create a robotic fighting machine that had the ability to deduce and figure out situations the way a human could. Trial after trial showed failure in a mechanical front until Makarov decided that perhaps gaining youngsters, no older than four or five years old, would allow them to shape them into the exact machines they had wanted.
"Well, I'm very glad to hear that you're happy with what we did and what I'm doing now. But we have a problem with Gabriella," Vladimir pressured. "You know as well as I do, that she is very, very special."
"I agree, but we've hardly heard from her since the day she left here," Makarov sighed. "There have been a few sightings and flashes when she took on some work as an assassin, but she's never made any overtures toward us."
"That doesn't mean she hasn't been planning!" Vladimir growled. "You can't just trust that she won't harm you or I."
"I think you have no fears when it comes to Gabriella. She's not an assassin that would come after you," Makarov said frustrated, as he felt as though his work was being questioned. "She sees you as family. She's connected to you. So no matter how angry she may become, to strike you down would be like striking down one of the people that gave her life."
"Well, I'm very happy to see that you think that, but the problem is, that Russia does not need another assassination of a political figure. Something like that could spin the entire dynamics of world power into question. And besides, I have absolutely zero interest in dying, no matter what the cause or for who."
"I can assure you it will not happen. I would bet my career on it," Makarov assured, sounding confident and strong in his training and his abilities.
"You've already bet your life on it," Vladimir grunted, he was getting annoyed at Makarov’s seemingly unbothered attitude. "We will have no mistakes, we will have absolutely no errors in this endeavor, you're going to find the girl and you're going to kill her."
"You want me to kill her, or you want me to direct people to kill her?" Makarov asked, looking for a deeper clarification about the possibility he would have to harm someone he did so much for to bring to life.
"No others on this mission. You need to draw her close or find out where she is. And when you do, you need to kill her."
"It would be like destroying a Picasso or a work of Michelangelo," said Makarov with frustration. "She was developed, she was primed, and I'm still not convinced that we can't get her back."
"Enough from you, Makarov!" Vladimir barked, pounding his fist upon the desk strong enough that Makarov could hear it in his earpiece. "You are not to disobey my orders. Remember that I could have you removed from this earth in a moment. No one would know what became of you. When you entered our kind of work, you knew what the sacrifices would be. And for you to compare yourself to Michelangelo or to Picasso is an insult to the great artists of the world. You ripped a mind from a young girl and replaced it with one you like, that's not art, that's creating a killer and nothing more."
"But it did take some art to get there did it not, old friend? Did we not have some kind of finesse in the way we worked things, how we got her to believe, how we got her to commit?" Makarov asked, reckoning back in his mind to the young girl who sat between him and Vladimir waiting for instructions for her next task. "Can't you remember, Vladimir, when she came to us and how confused she was? But then you and I worked with her day in, day out, slowly reconditioning her out of her own name, her own identity, until we created what we wanted. Isn't that what an artist does, create something from nothing?"
"You always did have a way with words, Makarov," Vladimir said in a calmer tone. "But we're not talking about a diplomatic solution now. If this was any other kind of weapon that had fallen into the wrong hands, you would not bat an eyelash at the idea of going in and destroying it and anybody around it. But you have an affection for the girl, I've always felt that you had crossed the line from being her creator to feeling like you were her parent."
"In a way, we are. We gave her everything she knows, we gave her every moment of her life until she left us," Makarov said with a smile.
"Kill her," Vladimir ordered, letting his tone become abrupt and ridged. "I've had enough of your reminiscing and fondness for the girl, will you be able to kill her or will you not?"
"My commitment to Mother Russia has never been questioned."
"I question it now, I question from the top of our government straight to you," Vladimir said sharply. "I can promise you one thing, Makarov, that is if you don't kill her, I will kill you. She was just another mission, and to tell you the truth, despite all your waxing poetic about her and feeling that she is this great success, she was a failure."
"How can you say that?" Makarov asked, letting out a small cough at the end of his sentence from the years of smoking. The cigarette sat in his hand still unlit, waiting for the moment where he felt he needed the immediate release of relaxation that it would bring, but fearing that doing it too soon would bring the wrath of Vladimir at the other end of the phone. "She's the best thing that we ever did."
"She's the best thing you ever did. I am currently in the best thing that I've done." Vladimir cleared his throat. "That's much of the problem you and I have had, Makarov. We were the best of friends back in those days, but you got so fixated on mind control, you got so focused on one area, you never allowed yourself to see any other areas. And now here you are all these years later, looking for a young woman who you once controlled who left you long ago. She never loved you, she never cared for you. She was an automaton, ready to strike and kill when told to, not the missing child from your life that you always wanted."
"Vladimir, that is enough," said Makarov sharply, hit hard by the comment of his lack of family.
"You never tell me when it is enough. I am the leader, not you," Vladimir growled. "You just make sure you get this taken care of."
"And killing her is the only way?" Makarov asked. "Is that what you’re saying to me? That the only thing I could possibly do, would be to kill her. What if I bring her back, what if she's ready to come back and work with us? We would have the ultimate weapon."
"She's not the ultimate weapon," Vladimir said with frustration dripping in his voice. "She was never even close to the ultimate weapon, she ran away, we never completed the project, and in fact, they didn't view our project as good enough to continue with another person. So let it go, friend, move on, because if you don't, I can no longer help you."
"Help me? Sounds like the last thing you're trying to do is help me. I have fought for everything that I've gotten and I deserve it all."
"Makarov, are you serious with me right now?" Vladimir asked. "Do you think you really would have been allowed to keep conducting this kind of research if it hadn't been for my help? You've worked for thirty years on projects that have resulted in nothing. If it hadn't been for me protecting you and making sure you were well financed, you would have been out of a job many, many years ago, and selling peanuts at the Moscow Circus."
Makarov held himself still at the revelation that Vladimir had dropped on him. The idea that his friend had simply taken care of him rather than them seeing value in his research strained the man, causing him frustration and angst that he would not allow out over the phone.
"I wasn't aware of that," Makarov said, holding his voice as tight as possible without any registration of emotion.
"Well, now you know. So, go kill her."
Chapter Twenty
The air started to warm slowly as the sun started to rise over the western Russian sky. The fog that had filled the low-lying areas started to burn off from a thick mist to nothing at all. The Russian nights were cold no matter what the time of year. The chill outside the city made people move to the indoors with the setting sun.
Turn
ing over in his sleeping bag, Otto had buried his head inside it all night keeping himself as warm as possible. Gabriella watched with envy, never being able to do that comfortably. The sensation of the air getting hard to breath overcame her, and her mouth would have to seek to reach the air outside.
The tent provided by Claudia had done an admirable job for the two. It was designed for one but they both pushed inside, creating more body heat. The outside was a simple camouflage pattern of greens and browns. The tent was low to the ground, only three feet high, it slid into the landscape and could easily be passed by if someone was walking beyond ten feet from it. The sleeping bags kept them from direct contact with the ground. In training, Gabriella was taught that the ground was a killer overnight, it would drop you into hypothermia sucking the heat from your body as you slept. Many a person went to sleep in a survival situation never to wake up again due to the ground sapping the heat from them.
Letting a small sigh escape from her mouth, Gabriella looked at the man sleeping just inches from her. If she moved he would wake up, and he needed to sleep all he could. Reserving herself to the idea of staying a few days in this location while Otto recovered was not a bad plan at all. Things would blow over to some extent, as there was always something knew coming up in the KGB to take their minds away from a situation like this. Most situations would get a team of two agents assigned to it and they would not be tracking people into the woods.
“Gabriella,” whispered a soft voice from inside the sleeping bag next to her. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” Gabriella said, keeping her voice low. “You can keep sleeping it’s okay.”
“I need to start working,” said Otto with a cough at the end of his sentence.
“You need to recover,” Gabriella said softly, keeping her volume down. “You can only do that with sleep.”
“I have been much worse off than this.” Otto pulled his head fully from the sleeping bag, revealing a head with hair going every which way. “Besides, this is all mental work for me at this point. I can’t just sleep all day.”
The cuts and bruises still held their place on the man’s face. The swelling around his eyes and cheeks made it hard to tell what he would look like when the swelling went down. His face was round from the swelling, and lacked definition that was sure to be there when he was back to normal. A few new scars would join the others on his face showing his courage to his fellow agents.
“I don’t like you much, Otto,” Gabriella muttered, causing the man to roll over and look at her with a questioning look on his face. “You’re pig headed like me. That makes for waves on a team. We need to come to an agreement that I call the shots.”
“Excuse me, but when did I start working for you?” questioned Otto. “I have kept my ass alive a long time without any help from you.”
“Well you got my help yesterday,” exclaimed Gabriella.
“I wasn’t dead when you found me, was I?” Otto asked. “This isn’t my first rodeo, and also not the first time I was tortured. They would have made a mistake at some point, and I would have pounced on it like I always do. You two just got me out earlier than I would have.”
“This is my mission, Otto. You were asked to assist me from London. Not the other way around.”
“So you say, but I have heard nothing from them.” Otto zipped down his sleeping bag two feet letting in some of the morning air, helping him adjust to the change. “Honestly I have no real idea who you are. Until I do, I will do as I want.”
“I could have killed you last night if I wanted to,” Gabriella said. “Why would we get you out of there and then not just kill you if that was our mission?”
“Who knows? I tell you what, I’m going to go for a little walk for a while, when I come back we can talk more,” Otto said, undoing the sleeping bag the rest of the way and unzipping the door to the tent above his head. “If you follow me, I will know you’re against me and I will need to kill you. If you stay here, I can trust you.”
Through gritted teeth Gabriella snapped at the man, “You’re making this extremely difficult.”
“I know, but it is my life.” Otto pulled himself up to his feet with a grunt. His movement was faster and nimbler than Gabriella had expected after the lengthy time he had spent being tortured at the hands of the KGB. He looked stronger in the light of the day. His shirt clinging to the mussels on his arms and chest. There was little fat on his body, but a touch of gray har around his temples.
“I can understand that,” Gabriella said, placing her hands behind her head. “I will be right here when you get back.”
“Good to know,” Otto smiled.
Setting off into the woods, he got his bearings for the terrain around him. The highest point is what he was looking for. The deeper he pushed his way into the forest, the less ground cover there was, and the trees thickened creating a canopy above his head.
I will never get a signal out here without getting to the top, thought Otto looking for any opening he could find in the trees overhead.
Inspecting the forest as he moved, he pulled on branches and tested them for strength. Some just cracked and broke, while others bent and could not hold his weight. After moving from tree to tree, he saw an out cropping of rocks that lead twenty-feet up the birch that was next to it. The sunlight more than likely hit the side of the rock reflecting the light onto the tree as it grew. But thirty-five feet up was an opening where the tip of the tree poked out, gathering all the light it could.
Placing his foot in the jagged rock, Otto slipped slightly. The morning dew had made the rocks slick and unpredictable, but this was no time to hold off and wait. Returning to his training, Otto placed his hands and feet on the rock. The more points of contact the less likely you were to fall.
Finding hand holes that turned into foot holes, Otto moved up the rock slowly and methodically. A twenty-foot fall could result in death or permanent injury, Gabriella would have no way to find him.
Reaching the top of the rock, he placed his hands on the tree, feeling the bark was as slick as the stone. Moving his hands to his belt, he unbuckled it and pulled it from the loops on his pants. He placed the belt around the tree and grabbed onto it, giving himself extra support as he climbed higher and higher. It took longer with having to move the belt around each branch, but it was far safer.
Within ten feet of the top of the tree the branches had become too thin, so Otto made a seat of two of the branches that were close together. Using his belt, he strapped himself in and pulled the cellphone from his front pocket.
The KGB had done a number on the phone, smashing it on the ground and stomping it with their shoes. They had then slid it back in his pocket, mocking him and his lack of communication with the outside world.
“Okay, let’s open you up,” Otto said to nobody but his phone. Pulling the battery from the back, he reveled the miniature solar panel that had been installed for a situation just like this. “Now, let’s see if I can get the satellite.”
Lifting the phone in front of his face, he kept the sun shining on the back of his phone. It vibrated, coming to life, despite no screen to see any of the controls. Turning up the volume, Otto typed in a series with the buttons on the phone.
On switch, on switch, home key, volume up, home key, home key.
After a long pause the phone hopped to life with a series of noises and hums.
“My old friend Morse code. Nobody looks for you anymore.” Otto smiled to himself, listening to the sounds as they jumped out in a series and started over again. Listening to the message three times he was sure he got it right, ‘Gabriella will contact you. Follow her instructions.’
Chapter Twenty-One
“Follow her instructions?” Otto muttered to himself as he dropped from the last branch onto the ground and shook his head. Placing his back against the tree, he plugged the silver tip of the wire he had running up to the top of the tree into his phone. A make shift antenna that he had used numerous times before. Running it up
trees or buildings was easy, and the wire was so small nobody gave it any thought.
Otto felt the pulls and strains from the dealings with the KGB on his climb up and down the tree. His body was starting the mending process, but that only meant that he was going to be sore for a while. Sliding down the tree to a sitting position, Otto pulled out his cellphone again and brought it to life. Striking the keys on his phone he rapidly sent a message, then unplugged it. Getting back to his feet, the strong man dropped the phone and crushed it under the heel of his boot.
Returning to camp, Otto saw Gabriella sitting next to a fire that she had built while he was away. Pulling himself up next to the fire he sat down across from her and smiled.
“Did I give you enough time for your adventure?” asked Gabriella. “You boys always like slipping away.”
“You filled your end of the bargain by not following me,” Otto said with a smile. “And I filled my end of things.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
“I mean got you a meeting with Akio Mari Moto,” Otto grinned.
“Just like that?” questioned Gabriella. “You just slip away for a few hours and come back with a meeting with the biggest terrorist in the world?”
“He needs me.” Otto picked up a stick and started poking the logs in the fire.
“You’re one of those guys who likes to play with the fire,” Gabriella muttered. “I know your type. You like to fix things and improve them. You cannot leave well enough alone.”
“You have been around some bad guys.”
“No, I am just observant,” Gabriella huffed. “What do you mean that he needs you?”
“He has the bomb, but not the know how to use it,” Otto said looking deep into the fire. “Right now, the bomb is useless. He has to have someone he trusts to set it up for detonation for him.”
“Detonation?” questioned Gabriella raising one eyebrow. “I thought he was holding Moscow hostage with it.”
