by Mike Gomes
Lifting her cellphone to her face to take pictures of the area, Gabriella spun in circles like many of the other tourists taking panoramic photos of the entire area. Her eyes fixed on the screen, locking in as she saw tiny boxes appearing on each of the faces she passed by.
Gabriella’s phone had been a gift years ago, from her good friend back in England, which had facial recognition software built-in. Every face, she ran by the scan into the database, and within thirty seconds it pinged with any matches there may be. Though there were only two matches she was really interested in. The first being Otto. Did the man leave her alone and let her go on her own, or would he feel the need to follow her? The other was anybody in connection with the mad man toting around the suitcase bomb. Anybody associated with Mari Moto would more than likely be easily recognizable with the software that had worked flawlessly in the past.
"Aright, looking clear," Gabriella muttered to herself as she started to walk to the Northern end of Red Square.
From time to time she stopped and took pictures of the area, scanning the crowd each time, looking for anyone who may be following to pop up as duplicates on the screen. If there was someone, and they weren't in the database of faces, they were about to be taken on a ride as Gabriella was ready to work them through their paces if they would dare to follow her.
Getting to the street, Gabriella picked up her pace, gliding down side streets, back onto main streets, and even dipping into the occasional shop to look like she was browsing… and to also pull in any followers there might be.
"Can I help you ma'am?" asked a teenage girl with long blonde hair and blue eyes, smiling at Gabriella.
Sharing a smile with the teenager, Gabriella felt a twinge inside of her, as she had reached the point in her life where she had started to be called ma'am by strangers. "Oh, I was just looking around to see what's come in."
"Well this is more for the kids that are my age, but we have some really cool stuff in the back here too for the parents," said the teenage girl. "My mom comes in here all the time and she like to get things."
"How old do you think I am?” Gabriella asked the girl with a smile.
"I don't know, maybe forty or forty-five," the teenage girl answered, not really wanting to get more involved in the conversation.
"Well I'm not quite there yet, I have a few years to go,” Gabriella said, amused. "If your mom still shops here, she's not quite that old either."
Rolling her eyes, the teenage girl turned up the music that was playing throughout the store.
Sufficiently happy that nobody was following, Gabriella weaved her way back and forth until she found the small restaurant that the meeting was going to take place in.
Getting to the front door, she twisted the handle allowing her to enter, leaving her directly in a lobby area that had a counter with an older man flipping through a heavy bound book.
"Sir, are you open right now?" Gabriella asked him.
“Yes, ma'am, we are," the man said as he looked up from his book.
"If I could, I'd like to sit down and have a cup of coffee, please.”
Lifting his hand and pointing to the side, the old man showed her through to the dining room. "Help yourself, take any seat you would like."
The man's head went back down to his book and he flipped the page, immersing himself into whatever he was reading.
Gabriella froze for a moment and then made her way inside, with the realization that the man was not about to leave his counter to take her to her seat. He had far too many years and it was clearly too much effort for him to do so.
Gabriella opened her phone again, this time flipping the screen to a thermal indicator. If there was anybody behind the walls or keeping an eye on her in any way, she would pick up on it through the scanner, which was also able to find reflections of cameras and let her know where they were. There was a comfort in knowing that she was not being tracked by any surveillance device that was inside the small coffee shop.
People had done their homework and found a place where there was a small mom-and-pop type place open to have a meeting of this kind. The dining area was small, only holding about twelve tables. Most were along the walls but there were a few that weren’t. The walls were fifteen-feet high, and approximately ten-feet up on each wall there were small alcoves that held plants. The plants had clearly not been trimmed in years, and rolled down the walls, creating a comfortable and exotic feeling for those who enjoyed the coffee shop. Gabriella smiled at the sight.
"This will do just fine," she said to herself in a low voice. At that moment, the waiter came out and placed a coffee down in front of her, despite her not having ordered it. The old man at the front desk must have relayed the information, and nobody had cared to even ask her whether she wanted milk and sugar.
Reaching into her purse, she pulled out three small metal tubes, approximately three inches in length. Snapping the three tubes together at one end, Gabriella was then able to move them in and out despite them being connected on the other end. Her hand again drove into her purse, and she pulled out a small item that looked like a toy machine gun. She twisted and fastened it to the top of the three tubes, and then did the same routine with another, all plucked from the same purse. In total, the small turret-mounted machine guns were no more than four-inches high and four-inches wide.
Sliding her chair back and tucking the tiny guns under her arms, Gabriella moved to the door that led into the kitchen, it was cracked slightly so she could look in. There was no movement and no signs of any people in there. Moving with purpose and dexterity, she crossed the room and dropped herself into one of the seats along the wall. She then placed one of the machine guns behind the leaves of the foliage of one of the bigger plants, and faced it forward. Dropping herself to the floor, she went to the other end of the room and did the same again, before returning to her seat to inspect her handywork and making sure that the guns were not visible. Moving back into her purse for her cellphone, she flipped it open and made the link with each of the small guns.
Popping up across the screen, the indicator of mm1 and mm2 coming online was shown to her, and then a scrolling note came across the bottom asking if she wanted to use facial recognition. Typing the Y button, the machines had their mission in place, and asked what face she would like to connect the miniguns to. Pulling up the picture of the man who wanted to blow up the world, Gabriella uploaded it into the system. The machine guns then sent a message asking,
‘Execute command anytime? Execute command on your order?’
Gabriella set the cursor over the second question, letting the machines know to wait for her before they did anything.
Lifting the cup of coffee to her lips, Gabriella took a long, slow sip of the strong liquid. She placed the cup back down on the saucer, now bearing a lip ring from her red lipstick. A feeling of satisfaction developed over Gabriella, as she knew she had completed the perfect kill box that could eliminate the mad man and his threat to the world.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-four hours had passed, and Gabriella found herself walking side-by-side with Otto down the streets of Moscow, making their way to the coffee shop. There was a breeze in the air which held no extra chill but was consistently pushing into her face faster than normal.
"Gabriella, you ready for this?" Otto asked, turning his head to her as they rounded the corner making their final leg of the walk to the coffee shop.
"Sure. It's not liked the fate of the world relies on it or anything," Gabriella snarked, smiling to herself.
"Very funny," Otto laughed, keeping his hands stuffed into the pockets of his overcoat. "The problem being… is that the fate of the world could actually depend on this. If this whack job sets off that bomb, who knows what the Kremlin will think."
"The Kremlin won't think anything," Gabriella said with a smirk on her face. "I won't be there anymore."
"Gabriella! I'm trying to be serious here," Otto snapped, clearly frustrated with her at this moment. "
The Russian powers at the top could easily think this was a tactical move by the Americans. What if they decide to retaliate? What if they decide to launch their whole arsenal at one time?" Otto shook his head.
“The soil would be contaminated, the oceans would be contaminated… it would only be a matter of time before everything was eliminated. And even those who were not infected by the initial blast would end up starving to death with an inability to grow or catch any food."
“I was hoping for a little more optimism out of you," Otto said, shaking his head again. "This whole thing is just a mess. I don't know what the guy is thinking at this point. He might have the bomb with him. He might have it somewhere else. There's no real way to tell with him. He has this kind of general paranoia about him that if he got frustrated with us, he could just set the damn thing off."
Getting to the door of the café, Otto grabbed the handle and opened it, showing Gabriella the way in. Stopping behind him, she extended her own arm to allow him in first instead. "No, after you, sir." She gave him a wink.
Otto smiled and entered the café, knowing that Gabriella let him take the lead in case there was any trouble ahead. Letting her eyes run quickly over the room, nothing had changed at the entrance.
"Sir, may I help you?" At the host stand today, was a young man dressed in black pants and black shoes with a white button-down shirt that was long-sleeved and buttoned tight at the neck, with a black bowtie in front of the top button. He held a broad smile across his face, as the young man in his late teenage years obviously had no idea of who he was talking with.
"We’re meeting with someone, he told me we would be meeting in the back room," Otto politely said to him.
"Oh yes, sir. He’s been here for about fifteen minutes, I’ll show you through." The young man at the host stand led the way for Otto and Gabriella to follow.
Taking the short hallway, the open door to the back room was just as Gabriella had seen the day before. Fighting the urge to look up and the check the mini guns, Gabriella walked in, following behind Otto.
The mini guns were sharp and accurate, and there was very little kick to them to make the second shot go off target. Holding only twenty-two size caliber ammunition, most would feel that the weapon didn't have the power to do what was needed. Only ten rounds were contained within each gun, making their job that much more difficult. But the use of the facial recognition increased their accuracy, making them become far more deadly. That, and the fact that in the head of each of the bullets was a small amount of cyanide which was strong enough to kill the average man or woman.
"Otto! So glad to see you again, sir." With a pair of handcuffs attaching his wrist to the suitcase that he was carrying, Mari Moto took two steps towards Otto and wrapped his arms around him.
"It’s been a long time, friend," Otto said, pulling back and taking the man's right hand in his own, and shaking it profusely. "You look good, much better than the last time I saw you."
“I'm sorry that it took us so long to get back together."
"It's amazing how quick time goes by, even when you've been through the things you and I have been through together."
Otto turned to the side, pivoting on his left foot and exposing Gabriella to the man holding the bomb.
"Akio, this is Gabriella. She's a friend of mine. The one I was telling you about that could help us with some of the security information we need." Otto moved to let Gabriella take a step forward and extend her hand.
Taking her hand in his own, the mad man turned her hand upward and placed a kiss on the back of it. His attempt at being charming gave Gabriella a shiver up her spine, finding the man clumsy and misguided in his attempts to seem suave and debonair.
“Pleasure to meet you," Mari Moto said, clutching onto the suitcase and looking through the top of his eyes as his lips slowly separated from her hand.
“So good to meet you too," Gabriella said politely.
Gabriella noticed there were two men standing across the room, as far from the door as possible. Both wore suits that were black on black, and sunglasses stopping anyone from seeing which way their eyes were looking.
Taking a seat at the table, the three-person group settled in their chairs to get comfortable. Attempting to enter the room, the waiter was stopped, and told he wasn’t needed and to be on his way in the opposite direction.
"This may be a longshot, but are you the one they call Mantis?" Mari Moro asked, raising his eyebrow.
"I get that a lot in this kind of work," Gabriella replied, turning her eyes away to appear bashful. "Seems that any woman with green eyes gets labeled as the Mantis. To tell you the truth, I think it's more than one woman. The story has become a legend, and we all know any legend usually comes from a myth. People are making it bigger than it ever could possibly be."
"It's just your eyes are so stunning it makes me think that you could be the one."
"Gabriella the Mantis?” Otto laughed. "She's not really one for battle. She's more on the technical side of things. Computers, security systems, all that sort of stuff. If you faced her during a fight, you’d surely win."
It was clear that he was trying to cover for her by dismissing any skill she could have. Knowing she could easily dismantle the two men in moments was no consolation when she simply had to batter her eyes and play the submissive to the arrogance of the men. Mari Moto’s face changed to a smile as he looked away from Gabriella and towards Otto, making his feelings known that she was not his contact.
Otto’s con did exactly what he wanted it to do, so the people in the room, and now Mari Moto, knew that Gabriella was not the woman that severed the head of a Russian KGB agent just days before. She was nothing more than a weak computer hacker that had no business being in the field.
"This will be a meeting that lives on forever," Mari Moto declared.
"And what do you mean by that?" Otto asked, surprised by the sudden statement.
"Someday, children will open their textbooks and read about the man and his friends who destroyed the Russian Empire in one fell swoop."
"Is that what the objective is here?" Otto asked. "To eliminate Russia from the map?"
"Isn't that what you want?" Mari Moto said.
"It is tempting. After everything that we've been through. The gulag, the rat, the beatings." Otto looked down at the table. "It's just that all the Russian people didn't do that to us. Just a select few of bullshit people in the KGB. I wish we could just target them specifically rather than killing off the whole country."
"They're all the same!" Mari Moto snapped. “The people are the ones that allow the system to stay the way it is. They deserve just as much of the blame for what happened to everybody in the gulags. I'm not about to let them get away with complying by looking away and pretending that nothing is happening."
He grabbed the handle of the suitcase and held it up, a hard metal shell covered the entire outside of it and it glistened with a look of stainless steel. On the top was a combination lock that lit up digitally, but was lying dormant.
"This is what's going to do it for us," Mari Moto said with a sinister look in his eyes.
"Immediately?" Gabriella asked.
“I don't mean now, young lady. You two will have more than enough time to get on the other side of the planet before I do what needs to be done. It will be my last great stand. And to ensure that everything goes right, this case will remain chained to my wrist, even as the detonation happens."
The hair on the back of Gabriella's neck stood on end, and a chill ran through the air at the words of the mad man who was content at declaring his own death sentence. He was not simply matter-of-fact in his words, but he was celebrating them. He was finding joy in his own demise, and the fact that he would take all those in Moscow with him.
"We should get some drinks," Mari Moto clapped his hands. "After all, this could be my last party. We want to make it a good one. That starts off with good friends. The kind of friend that's there for you when you're contemplating
suicide. When you don't think you can go any further, but he's there for you. A man like you, Otto. You're the kind of man that I want to spend and enjoy my last night with."
“I feel the same way about you. We came a long way. I don't think anybody else could have got me through that place the way you did. We make a good team."
"I will go as far as saying we make a great team. This is the ultimate Revenge, Otto. This will set the record straight, they will have to know who we are. It'll be a warning to the rest of the world to not behave the same way those animals did to us."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Feeling a lock of hair fall from its place and dropping over her right eye, Gabriella slowly brushed it back, keeping her eye contact with the man who held the fate of Moscow in his hands. Placing a bashful smile across her lips with their extended eye contact, she attempted to find a weakness in the man.
“Gabriella, you look like you have something you want to ask,” Mari Moto said as he leaned forward across the table. “It is okay. You can ask anything you like.”
“Well, my guess is that you have a wife somewhere or a woman who loves you. Why kill yourself?”
Mari Moto leaned back in his chair as his lips pursed and he looked away.
“You heard my story about the gulags?” he asked.
“Yes, Otto told me”
“But I did not tell you everything,” Otto interjected.
“I had a woman I loved, and she loved me,” Mari Moto explained. “In fact, she looked a lot like you. Not the green eyes, but the hair that dropped down onto her shoulders. She was in our kind of work and knew what a risk it was. I begged her to leave but she was a strong woman. She could make me smile at any time.”
“She sounds wonderful,” Gabriella said, keeping her eye contact locked on him.
“She was, but then she wanted to back me up as I went to secure some documents from the Kremlin, to get them to a country who had paid well for them. I tried to say no, but she was right that she was the best person for the job.”
