The Comrade

  The man with the bushy moustache dropped his heavy boots onto the ground, the icy snow scrunching under his feet. He lifted his head, his tired, bloodshot eyes watered as the icy cold air hit them. He knew he should be used to the vile weather by now, but he considered, did a person ever really get used to winters which spread throughout all the months of the year like a desperate weed wrapping itself around and squeezing the life out of everything it came into contact with? The tall, thin man opposite him met his gaze and smiled, throwing his head back, his bony Adam’s apple bouncing excitedly in his throat.

‘Still cold, Comrade?’

The man stroked his moustache and glared at the other man. ‘Comrade? Really?’ He shook his head, still irritated by the codename he had been given. ‘You couldn’t have come up with anything more original? You may me feel like I’m in some god-awful sixties Cold War movie.’

The thin man laughed. ‘And what about the name you gave me, X?’ The thin man continued his cackle. ‘You started the spy novel analogies, I merely continued it, and besides, we both know that Cold War movies are fiction, the real truth is both dull and much worse. Today we moved into the new millennia, can you believe? The year 2000, so it is, after all, a whole new era. I hear talk of super computers, hacking, the good Lord knows what else, I suspect the time is up for dinosaurs such as you and I.’

The man known as Comrade stepped back turning his head to stare numbly at the frozen river which sliced through the landscape. He had been coming to Russia for what seemed like decades when in reality it was probably little more than a few years. He had taken the job because his superior had told him it was a sure-fire way to get a cushy promotion, a desk job in Langley where he could finally be the one giving the orders, sending saps into enemy lines, rather than being the sap himself. 

He felt as if the cold had burrowed into his bones and was eating away at him. The politics were one thing, he could deal with the daily minutia of paranoia and fear, it was, after all, part of his job, but the cold was a different matter. He thought to himself with a smile, the coldest part of the Cold War was the cold. He yearned for the warmth of his native Texas sun on his face, his hand wrapped around a cold beer dripping with droplets of cool water which would trickle down his warm fingers. It seemed to him that in Russia the only drink available was vodka so strong it could probably strip paint off walls.

‘You have the package?’ X asked with his usual causal air, as if he was ordering a hamburger. X reached inside of his fur jacket and pulled out a stainless steel hip flask. The Comrade stared at it, his eyes catching the bullet dent in it which X was always happy to tell anyone who would listen that it was this hip flask which had saved him from an errant bullet from the German Secret Police. The Comrade was not sure the validity of the story.  He had met only one person who had dealt with X before him and as far as he could ascertain, X’s career so far had been little more than acting as a facilitator between countries wishing to obtain detrimental information about their enemies. As far as the Comrade was aware the closest X had come to the battlefield was playing a board game.

‘I do,’ he answered, ‘and you, do you have the information we require?’

‘Dah,’ X replied pulling a folder out of his jacket.  He raised it to his mouth, his chapped lips pressed against the lip. He studied the Comrade intently, ‘you know what we have here, right?’ 

The Comrade frowned. As far as he was aware, as far as he had been told, this mission was no different to the others. Retrieve the information, get it back to Washington and extract the asset safely and securely. Before he could mask his confusion, X spotted it and pounced, like a wolf playing with a sheep.

‘Ah, so they’ve deemed you not important enough to tell you the full story,’ X said with a sense of triumph which made the Comrade want to punch his face in until he no longer had to look at the scrawny Russian.

The Comrade puffed out his chest. ‘Of course they’ve told me. I’m the only man with his foot on this god-forsaken ground,’ he replied with as much bravado as he could muster. He was angry. Furious. “Control,” his handler had told him nothing more than to meet X at the usual place, retrieve the file and secure a meeting point for the asset to be collected from. Nothing more. The Comrade had not even thought to ask, he never had to and there had been no reason to believe this extraction would be any different to the dozen or so he had been involved in before. The Comrade had merely believed it would be routine and that he would be on a special cargo plane back to the States with the asset safely hidden. He felt the anger growing in him, growling in the pit of his stomach like the wild animal he knew it was. He had struggled for most of his life to contain it and he had, on most occasions managed to do so. He knew how disastrous it could be if he allowed it to escape. People died. Good and bad people, his fury did not discern. He lifted his head to see X was studying him with a great deal of amusement. ‘What the fuck you looking at me like that for?’ he growled.

X raised his hands passively, a look of fear shadowing his pale, tight face. ‘No offence meant, Comrade,’ he said quickly. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised, that’s all, it’s hardly something they’d want broadcasting in case it got out, I’m sure it’s nothing to do with the fact they don’t trust you,’ he added with a flourish.

The Comrade moved towards X, his boots slapping angrily against the snow. He stopped in front of X and pulled him close to his face by his lapels. The Comrade’s eyes bulged angrily as he stared at the frightened Russian’s face. ‘What the fuck are you talking about you snivelling idiot?’ he hissed. ‘Now cut the bullshit and tell me what you know, Anton.’

X pulled himself away from the Comrade angrily, dusting down his lapels. He glared at him. ‘How the hell do you know my real name?’

It was the Comrade’s turn to throw back his head and laugh. ‘Do you really believe we don’t know everything there is to know about you, you snivelling prick?’ the Comrade asked with amusement. ‘Anton Veckenov, age thirty-four, junior scientist at MedLab Industries, married to the delightful Lena with the flaming red hair, four children, pardon, three children since the death of poor little baby Anton Junior two years ago...’

X stabbed his finger angrily into the Comrade’s chest. The Comrade wafted it away as if it were a bothersome fly. ‘You have no right!’ X exclaimed.

The Comrade shrugged. ‘On the contrary, we make it our business to know who we’re dealing with, it’s particularly important the money we pay isn’t going straight back to Mother Russia, do you know what I mean?’

X shook his head angrily. ‘Do you realise the risks I take in helping you? What they would do to me if they found out?’

The Comrade shook his head nonchalantly. ‘A winter in Siberia?’

X scoffed. ‘If only that were the worst, believe you me if that were all I had to worry about it, I’d be a practically happy man. You Americans have no idea what my country does to men it thinks are traitors.’

‘I disagree,’ the Comrade replied, ‘our ethos is not so dissimilar, believe me. But we do make sure we know whether our assets are playing both sides.’

‘I’m not doing this for the money!’ X exclaimed.

The Comrade laughed. ‘Of course you are, we all are. Oh, we can dress it up all we like, doing it for the greater good, saving our planet, etc. etc. You know what I say to that, old friend? Bullshit! That’s what! We’re all here for the same reason in the end, it pays well and it’s a little bit exciting.’

X glared at him. ‘You know nothing about me, what I’ve seen, nor my reasons for helping you.’

The Comrade studied the Russian. He had read his file and memorised it. He felt sure there was nothing he did not know about X that was worth knowing. Mid-level Government employee working in the scientific industry.   The Comrade reasoned the Russians made it easy to recruit scientists such as X by paying them so little and treating them so appallingly.  He sighed and glanced at his watch, it was already close to midnight and he had to get to the safe-house and begin transmitting the documents before one a.m. if he was to stand any chance getting out of the country by morning.  He realised he should not leave X on bad terms, in his business it did not pay to fall out with contacts because the truth was they could turn on a dime and sell you out without giving it a second thought.

‘I’m sorry, old friend,’ the Comrade said softly, ‘I mean no disrespect, I was just trying to let you know how we like to know who our friends are should they ever need our assistance, as I’m sure you know all too well. What did they promise you? A new life in the States for you and your family with fresh new identities, with names like Josh and Tiffany?’

X blinked several times, his throat tightening, a vein bulging in it. ‘Dah,’ he whispered.

The Comrade clapped his hands. ‘Well, that is good news, I look forward to meeting the lovely Lena in the flesh, so’s to speak. We’ll have to have your over for a good old traditional American BBQ, you’ll love it. Steak as big as your hand, I bet you’ve never seen such a thing, have you, after queuing up in stores and being dolled out your basic rations?’

X’s tongue darted out hungrily, slapping against his chapped lips. The Comrade slapped his arm around X’s shoulders and pulled him into a bear hug. ‘Friends?’

X met his gaze and slowly nodded. ‘Dah.’

‘Good, now, give me the file and tell me what I need to know before we catch goddamn pneumonia.’

X reluctantly handed over the file. The Comrade snatched it from him and flicked it open, his eyes narrowing as he tried to decipher the Russian language.

‘What the hell is Reinkarnitika?’ he asked after a moment as he eyes focused on the word which was repeated several times on the page.

X smiled again. ‘They didn’t tell you about them?’

The Comrade shot him a warning look. ‘Why don’t you tell me what or who they are?’

X moved away from him, pressing his hands against the snow covered wall. He pulled off his glove and traced his finger across the snow, writing the word REINKARNITIKA in it. ‘The Reinkarnitika are a group of people, a group of very important people.’

‘Important people?’ the Comrade asked, his eyebrow raised in interest. ‘What are their names?’

X shrugged. ‘That’s just it, no-one really knows who the Reinkarnitika are, and that’s what makes them so powerful, important and deadly.’

The Comrade lowered his head, tired suddenly, weary at the thought of something he felt sure was going to bring him a great deal of trouble. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

X stepped away again, smacking his hands together to warm himself up. ‘Well, I could tell you, but then, as the saying goes, I’d have to kill you.’

Despite himself, the Comrade smiled. He knew he could squash X with one squeeze of his fist, so the thought of a wimp like X threatening him amused him immensely. ‘Humour me, old friend,’ he sniffed, ‘tell me what you know.’

X nodded and began pacing, the excitement at sharing hitherto unknown secrets was intoxicating. When he spoke his voice was full of pleasure. ‘The power of the Reinkarnitika is that they are so secretive. They hold power we can barely understand.’

‘Yet, they can’t be so secretive if you know of them.’

‘I have a face that people trust, it is, I suspect one of the reasons you recruited me.’

The Comrade did not answer, instead indicating X should continue. ‘They are a secret organisation,’ X continued, ‘known only to those in the Government, and even then, only those with the highest of security clearances.’

The Comrade sighed again. ‘So, how do you know of them?’

X ignored the slight. ‘My department at the Ministry was seconded to a secret lab on the outskirts of Moscow, our mission to perform an intensive series of experiments, I later came to find out our codename was the Reinkarnitika.’

The Comrade frowned. ‘And what was your mission?’

X stroked his forehead. ‘The Reinkarnitika can be best described as being both a group of people, a collective of people coming together for a common purpose.’

‘A common purpose? And that purpose?’

X nodded. ‘To change the world.’

‘Change the world?’ The Comrade’s forehead crumpled with confusion. ‘In what way?’

‘The Reinkarnitika believe they have found a way to cheat physical death. The death of the physical body does not have to mean the end.’ He tapped his gloved finger against his skull. ‘The brain never really dies, Comrade. It never really dies.'

The Comrade stared at X incredulously. What on earth was the Russian idiot talking about? And more importantly, why was he risking his life extracting such a dubious sounding asset. Cold war or not, he felt sure Uncle Sam had finally began to lose his marbles.  

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ the Comrade growled, his mind awash with words which did not sit comfortably in it.

‘These men, these women, perhaps, are scientists, scholars who have spent a great deal of time and money investigating the issue.’

‘But what for? Are you talking about immortality?’

X smiled. ‘Is it such a preposterous thing, Comrade?’

Comrade regarded him with suspicion. ‘Well, yeah, it is. Preposterous and impossible. Hell, I have a soft spot for my old Aunt Ethel and I like to see her on the holidays but she’s an old coot who does nothing but moan and piss into the bag tied to her waist,’ the Comrade bristled. ‘I can stand a weekend of it, but an eternity?’ He shook his head rigidly. ‘No thanks, I’ll shed a tear at her wake and raise a glass to her and that’ll be that, and frankly that’s how it should be.’ 

X snorted. ‘Ah, there you go. That is the cruelty of time for you. Aunt Ethel is probably still as sharp as a tack in here,’ he added tapping his skull again. ‘What if the body is just a host for the brain and when we use it up we just move on to the next one?’

The Comrade frowned again. ‘I still don’t get it. What are you saying?’

X moved closer to him. ‘The Reinkarnitika believe they have found a way to successfully move the essence of a person from their dying body to a new one, a healthier one. Imagine that my friend if you can? Your body tires and decays and you just hit reset! Imagine that! That is true immortality.'

‘And this organisation, the Reinkarnitika as you call it, they think they’ve found a way to do it? To move a persons brain to a new host body?’

X nodded, a smug smile spreading across his face.

The Comrade did not answer and dropped his backside on to the wall. He turned around, his eyes scanning the immediate vicinity trying to satisfy himself they were still alone. He recalled hearing talk of research into the subject but as far as he was aware it had never progressed further than a lot of hypothetical talk which had not amounted to much. Could the Russians really have found a way to do it? If so, the implications could be enormous. He turned his head. ‘And how do they achieve that?’ he asked finally.

X gave him a pitied look. ‘I won’t bore you with the science.’

‘But it is possible? I mean, it actually works, we’re not just talking about some quack writing it down in his notepad and making outrageous claims?’

X laughed. ‘Nyet, I can promise you, the quack is making no outrageous claims. This is real and it is happening right now, in this great land of mine.’

The Comrade considered. He was not sure he believed X. He was not even sure such a thing was possible.  Why were his superiors at Langley interested in such hocus pocus.? They had to know it was a hoax. Wasn’t it?

‘Oh, I can see the scepticism on your face, Comrade,’ X said with a smile. ‘But for the moment, suspend your disbelief and think of what this scientific step forward can do for us. We can pick and choose who lives for ever. We can eradicate those who serve no purpose. We can create a superior race and weed out the runts.’

The Comrade laughed. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re not the first person to come up with that proposition and look what happened to him.’

X nodded. ‘Dah. This is very different to those leaders who came before us with a view of the world which had more to do with their own blinkered insanity rather than common sense and practicality. This isn’t about killing people just because they serve no purpose, or they are different, or they disagree with us. This is about moving the world forward, using our resources in the best way to sustain this planet for as long as possible. We don’t need to kill those people, we just don’t need to save them. And then, as we move forward with only the brightest and smartest of people, those who serve no use, no purpose will whither and die and generation by generation we will go stronger, better, healthier, more intelligent. Can’t you see the possibilities?’ 

‘I see you dressing up mass genocide in a fancy coat, that’s what I see,’ the Comrade snorted. ‘Tell me this, X, who gets to choose? Who gets to say who’s bright enough, smart enough to live forever and who’s left to rot in a grave?’

X shrugged but did not answer.

The Comrade studied X’s face. ‘And you’re saying you have the means to do this now? You have done it successfully?’

X nodded.

‘And you’re willing to give it to us, the Yanks? Why? What happened to good old-fashioned patriotism, or does this come down to the bottom line, cold hard cash?’

X smiled. ‘As you can imagine, it has got a lot of people very interested, the Chinese, for example, are practically whetting themselves over it.’

‘I bet they are,’ the Comrade whispered. ’And now you’re selling this particular piece of swamp land to the CIA for a much higher price than they’ve offered,’ he shook his head in disbelief, ‘they do say a fool and his money are soon parted.’

X pulled a folder out of his jacket.

The Comrade looked at it. ‘And these are the instructions?’

X nodded. ‘Dah. The exact formula and instructions to perform the procedure successfully. And this isn’t just about money. I want out of this godforsaken hell hole and this is my ticket out of here. I don’t trust the Chinese, I don’t trust the Yanks either, but as the saying goes, its better the devil you know.’

Before the Comrade could answer he felt the gentle vibrate of his pager against his hip. He stood up and flicked it off his belt and pulled it close to his face, his eyes narrowing to read the small text on the LED display. He sucked in his breath when he read it.

“Once package located = Ice X”

His eyes widened in shock. The instructions were implicit, but he did not understand them. X was a valuable commodity and killing a valuable commodity was something which was only ever undertaken in extreme circumstances. He turned back to X.

‘Have you told me everything, X?’ he asked.

X shot him a puzzled look. ‘What do you mean, friend?’

The Comrade did not answer and looked again at his pager. X followed his gaze, his eyes widening in horror as the realisation hit him. ‘Nyet!’ he gasped, ‘they can’t do this.  They promised me!’

The Comrade moved his hand towards his right hip and wrapped his fingers around the Colt and pulled it from his holster. He cocked it and raised it towards X. 

X stared at him like a lamb about to be slaughtered. He shook his head. ‘You don’t have to do this, Comrade,’ he cried, the tears falling down his cheeks. ‘Think of my wife, my children, please, I beg you! They’ll know I told you, they’ll kill my family!’ X sank onto his knees, lowering his head to the Comrade’s feet causing him to shuffle backwards. The Comrade shook his head.  Even in his line of business he did not understand what was happening. He lifted the pager again and re-read the message. An order was an order.

‘Sorry, buddy,’ he said softly, ‘it’s been an honour working with you.’ The roar of the bullet leaving the gun permeated the night air. A bird spooked by the sudden explosion in the night air shot from a tree above them and sprayed the Comrade with snow. He brushed it off his collar and waved a fist at the bird as it disappeared into the darkness. X fell to the ground, his face crinkled with confusion, his blood spraying onto the file in the Comrade’s hand. The Comrade tutted and wiped the blood into the snow. He turned around and began striding towards his car, his feet slapping against the newly lying snow. I hope I never have to come back to this goddamn place he thought. He turned his head slowly behind him once last time as X’s dead eyes watched him retreat.  

The Comrade started upon hearing a throat being cleared in the darkness. ‘Who’s there?’ he growled.

A pair of heavy-booted feet stepped into the moonlight lit walkway. The Comrade’s eyes widened. ‘What the hell are you doing here, Anatoly?’

A smile spread across Anatoly Petrov’s face. He raised a finger and scratched at the birthmark which covered his right cheek, an amused glint evident in eyes even in the moonlight. ‘Just as well I am here,’ he answered casting his gaze toward the bloodied remains of X spreadeagled on the snow. ‘You’ll need help with that.’

The Comrade shrugged. ‘No, I don’t. The cops’ll just figure it was a robbery gone wrong, or an assassination, what does it matter in this shit hole of a country? It’s all the same thing to you Ruskie’s, none of you know what the other is doing.’ 

Anatoly stepped over the corpse and lowered himself onto his haunches. He shook his head. ‘Still, it’s best not too many questions be asked about X’s demise. His work was quite specific.’

The Comrade shrugged again and spread his hands in front of him as if it was of no importance to him.

Anatoly stood up and moved back to the Comrade, pulling himself up tall because he knew when he did he cut an imposing figure. He was stocky, his face hard and he knew how his port-wine birthmark intimidated some people. In his business, intimidating people provided a distinct advantage. ‘Do you really want to risk being taken into custody, dear Comrade?’

The Comrade’s nostrils flared. He was not used to being threatened, especially by policeman of low rank like Anatoly Petrov. He was aware that while on active duty on foreign soil it was usually advisable to have at least one local on the payroll. Anatoly Petrov had so far proven to be loyal, but the Comrade knew that money only bought so much loyalty. It did not buy trust. The Comrade was sure that Anatoly would sell him out should it be in his best interest to do so. 

He turned his head, sure he had heard a twig snapping. He narrowed his eyes and exhaled, his breath clouding the dark, damp air.  He held his breath and cocked his head, searching for the sound of more twigs breaking. Somewhere nearby he had an owl cooing and then there was silence again. He turned back to Anatoly. ‘Did you come alone?’ He commanded.

Anatoly raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Of course I am alone. You think me foolish?’

The Comrade did not answer, his eyes scanning around the clearing searching desperately into the darkness. There were no more sounds and he realised that perhaps his nerves were on edge. He cocked his head toward the remains of X. ‘You’ll deal with that?’

Anatoly nodded slowly. ‘Of course. I’ll even make it look convincing. For a price, of course.’

The Comrade snorted. ‘For a price!’ he cried incredulously, ‘you’re not getting another cent from me, or old Uncle Sam, Ruskie, and you can threaten me as much as you like. You have far more to lose than me should our relationship be exposed, no? I hear they have a whole special wing in Serbia for dealing with Ruskies who play both sides. Take care of this satisfactorily and I’ll make sure Langley are fully aware of your helpfulness.’

Anatoly scratched his birthmark again and studied the Comrade intently, assessing him carefully. After a few moments had passed he smiled, as if pleased at the decision he had come to.

The Comrade continued. ‘And of course, you know how they appreciate helpfulness,’ he tapped his finger against the lapel of his jacket, checking to make sure the folder was still there. 

Anatoly watched him, his eyes twinkling with something the Comrade could not discern. What was it? Amusement? 

Anatoly pointed. ‘I hope you consider that worth it, your superiors must if they considered it worth X’s life.’

The Comrade’s eyes narrowed and he did not answer. ‘What will you do with him? How will you explain it so no questions are asked?’

Anatoly shrugged. ‘Oh, the usual, this area is usually a hive of activity, drugs, prostitutes, it’s not too much of a stretch to imagine a usually straight laced man such as X would be tempted over to the dark side, so’s to speak.’

The Comrade nodded. ‘Or...’ he trailed off.

‘Or?’ Anatoly asked, his interest piqued.  

The Comrade tapped his finger against his broad chin as he considered. ‘Or we kill two birds with one stone,’ he replied.

‘I don’t understand, Comrade.’

The Comrade looked at the body and then tapped the folder again. If the information it contained really was as valuable as X believed, though he doubted it was, then they needed time to explore its possibilities. A plan began to form in his brain. A plan which would get him out of Russia, divert suspicion and pay back someone who he hated very much.

‘I have a proposition for you Lieutenant Petrov, one which if you execute correctly should push you up the ranks a little. How does Major Petrov sound to you, Anatoly?’

Anatoly exhaled, his jaw jutting forward. He did not answer but his eyes sparkled like the moonlight above them.

The Comrade looked at the corpse of X. ‘The Chinese are always sniffing around, aren’t they?’

Anatoly nodded. ‘I suppose, why?’

The Comrade tapped the folder again. ‘What’s to say X wasn’t selling this information to them? It gives us time to figure out what the hell it means and it throws enough shade at the Chinese to bog them down for years.’

Anatoly frowned, considering what it was the Comrade was saying. As if sensing this, the Comrade went on. ‘Let’s just say, if your superiors believe the Chinese have escaped with valuable secrets it’ll keep the both of them embroiled in their very own Cold War for years to come. Gives the old U S of A a bit of breathing space, and you, my dear Anatoly the career progression you so covet. You grew suspicious of X and trailed him, found him hunched in a conspiracy with the Chinese and executed him. The Chinese spy, sadly, made his escape, but our dear X here made a deathbed confession, expressing his regret at betraying Mother Russia, you know the sort of thing you need to say to sell this to your superiors, threw himself and his lovely family at the Mother’s mercy.’

Anatoly’s tongue darted out.  

‘Major Petrov,’ the Comrade repeated, ‘national hero, murdered a traitor and chased off the enemy. You’ll be dining out on that for decades, my friend.’

Anatoly appraised him. ‘And what is in this for you?’

The Comrade shrugged. ‘To get out of this god forsaken hell hole once and for all. If this information is as good as X says it is, it should be enough for me to buy that piece of land in the Keys I have my eye on. The spy business is a young man’s game, my friend, and those days are soon to be behind me.’

‘And you won’t tell what really happened?’

The Comrade shook his head. ‘Why would I? I’ll be out of this country before the cold sun comes up, what does it matter to me if you take the credit for my kill.’ He stepped forward and held out his hand. ‘We’ll leave it at that, Major.’

Anatoly took the Comrade’s hand with suspicion and shook it. ‘Very well.’

The Comrade squeezed Anatoly’s hand tightly and did not release it, after a few moments the Russian yanked it away and dropped it to his side. ‘There’s something else, Anatoly. The woman with the hair and eyes the colour of a raven.’

Anatoly turned his head and did not reply.

‘I understand it’s difficult for you, Anatoly, but really, in our business there is no room for sentimentality. Whatever attraction this vixen has over you, you cannot let it cloud your judgement, you’re too good an officer for that, and more importantly your superiors would not take well knowing that little whore of yours.’

‘She is no such thing!’ Anatoly hissed spraying the Comrade with spittle. 

The Comrade shot him an amused look. ‘Apologies my friend, I didn’t mean to touch a raw wound.’ He stopped and raised his hand in an attempt to dampen Anatoly’s anger. ‘The point is, she’s sniffing around, hiding in corners, snapping away with that camera of hers. The fact she is so terrible at it would be funny were it not for the fact she might just, by complete fluke, stumble upon something which could be dangerous and deadly for us all. It’s your problem, Anatoly, unless…’ he trailed off leaving the words to hang heavily in the frosty night air, ‘you’d rather I took care of it?’

Anatoly narrowed his eyes angrily. ‘I said I’d take care of it, and that’s what I’ll do.’ He pointed angrily at the Comrade. ‘Be careful who you threaten Yank, some of us have a sting in our tails you wouldn’t like.’ 

The Comrade spun on his heels. ‘As you wish, Anatoly,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘But do it today, or else we will.’

‘Don’t threaten me!’

The Comrade smiled. ‘No threat, just a promise. Well,  dosvidaniya, Anatoly, hopefully our paths will never cross again, but if they do, forget you ever saw my face,’ he stabbed his finger towards the rigid body of X, ‘and remember what happens to those who are no longer useful or are a danger to me. Do as you are supposed Anatoly and Major Petrov is no longer a pipe dream.’

Anatoly smiled. ‘You know what I like most about you, Comrade?’

The Comrade shrugged. ‘My dashing good looks? My caustic wit? I give up, you tell me, Anatoly.’

‘Your arrogance,’ Anatoly answered.

The Comrade regarded him in surprise. ‘My arrogance?’

He nodded. ‘Dah. Your arrogance because it makes you stupid. You strut around like your cock of the walk, crashing into my country as if you own it. Your arrogance makes you stupid, Comrade.’

The Comrade took a step back. There was something about Anatoly’s tone which concerned him suddenly. It was still friendly but there was a coldness as icy as the night air spreading through it. He shivered. There was something happening which he did not understand.

Anatoly stepped around him, pressing his body against the wall. He reached inside his pocket and puled out a cigarette. He lit it, the tip glowing red as he sucked the smoke into his body. ‘It is kind of you, however,’ he said, ‘to think about me and my future. You’re right. Major Petrov does have a ring to it and it is what I deserve.’

‘And you’ll get it, friend,’ the Comrade said as lightly as he could manage. He suddenly felt afraid. He had always known how dangerous his business was but he could not bear the thought that it would end here, now, in a deserted field covered in snow

‘Major Petrov,’ Anatoly whispered to himself, a smile creasing his birth-marked cheek. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun, he reached into another pocket and pulled out a silencer which he began slowly screwing into place on his pistol. ‘I know we’re alone,’ he said as if discussing something innocent, ‘but I believe it always pays to be prudent.’

The Comrade watched as the silencer clicked into place. ‘You don’t have to do this, Anatoly,’ he said with desperation. ‘You know you don’t. Whatever you want, name it, we’ll give you it, you have my word. Money. Power. Whatever floats your boat.’

Anatoly took a step towards him. ‘You think I want YOUR money? YOUR power? Your arrogance didn’t just make you stupid, Comrade, it made you careless. Did you really think we were just going to let you walk away with our secrets? Did you?’

‘You’ve been playing both sides all the time, haven’t you? You double crossed me?’

Anatoly nodded. ‘Double crossed, triple crossed, what does it matter? When will you idiots learn you NEVER cross Russia. She won’t tolerate it. I was assigned to get close to you, to find out what you were up to, who you were in contact with. We knew somebody had betrayed us but we didn’t know who, so I was instructed to work with you to find out who it was.’ He looked at the dead body of Anton Veckenov. ‘It seems a shame it was such a nobody in the end, but it doesn’t matter. He served his purpose. A traitor to the Russian state was eradicated and we didn’t even have to do it ourselves, the Yanks did it for us.’

‘So what happens next?’

‘I think you know how this story end, Comrade,’ Anatoly responded. ‘You, an American spy, assassinated a Russian traitor to stop him talking and I, loyal servant that I am, stopped you from escaping. Very neat, nyet?’

‘You don’t have to do this,’ the Comrade said again. ‘You know how the game plays, Anatoly. You take me in, your bosses negotiate with my bosses, I get freed, one of yours gets freed and we all go back to playing at our War Game and we’ll be friends again.’

Anatoly took another step forward. ‘Not this time, friend, not this time.’ He kicked his foot against X’s back. ‘This idiot saw to that, so you have him to thank. We can’t take the risk of you passing on what you might know, not until we’re ready at least.’

The Comrade nodded. ‘So be it. From one soldier to another, make it quick, dah?’

Anatoly’s eyebrows raised. He lifted the gun and with a flick of his finger pulled the trigger and a bullet exploded into the Comrade’s chest. He looked down at it, his face crinkling with confusion as he stumbled and crashed to the ground, his blood spreading like a cape across the brilliant white snow beneath him. Anatoly lowered himself onto his haunches and reached into the Comrades’s jacket and pulled the folder out of it. He tutted as his hand pressed against the blood pumping from his chest and he wiped it off on the arm of the Comrade’s coat.

‘You have no idea the meaning of the word soldier, American, so don’t think to compare yourself to me.’ He stepped over the body and strode across the path. ‘Sweet dreams, Comrade, my colleagues will be along shortly to toss you on a nice warm bonfire.’ He called over his shoulder.  ‘That should please you the amount of time you spent whining about how cold you were!’ He added with a chortle. ‘And the best part is you died for a lie!’   

Anatoly moved through the clearing and passed through a row of trees where he had parked his car. He  stopped dead in his tracks, he could also hear footsteps retreating to the west, the opposite direction from where he was. The footsteps where soft and light against the snow. Damnit, he cursed. I warned you what would happen if you didn’t stop sticking your nose in. He stepped out of the light and begin striding towards the west of the park. I warned you, Salome, I warned you. He spat into the snow. Whatever happened next he was doing for his country, another was no place for sentiment. The stupid woman had every warning she was going to get. It was time she felt the wrath of her interference. 

‘You can’t run for ever, Salome!’ He hissed into the night. ‘I’ll get you, one way or another!’ He said as he jumped into the car and slammed the door behind him. He pulled the radio out of its cradle on the dashboard and clicked angrily at the switch, the angry crackle of the airwaves breaking the silence. He exhaled. ‘This is Major Petrov. Are you there?’ He let go of the switch, his ear trained to listen to the white noise of the radio. Time passed, he assumed it was only moments but in his black mood it felt much longer. All Anatoly wanted was to get away, erase his presence from the space he now inhabited.

‘Dah,’ a voice finally replied over the radio.

A smile appeared on Mikel’s face, relieved to hear the voice of Mikel, one of the best agents he knew. The man who asked no questions, was how some people called him, others called him the man with no face. Both suited him, Anatoly considered. Mikel was a man with a cold heart, an efficient and loyal agent, as adept at killing as he was into slipping into new faces and disguises. He was, in that respect, the perfect spy, there had been times when Anatoly himself had not recognised the agent when he was wearing a new “cover.”

‘I’m at St. Andronicus Monastery,’ Major Petrov spoke into the intercom. ‘Your presence is required.’

A pause. ‘Shall I organise a team?’ Mikel asked.

‘Nyet.’

A second, longer pause. ‘I undestand. Dosvidaniya.’

The static flatlined. Anatoly smiled. The man of few words would be another good name for Mikel, though perhaps not as interesting a one. Satisfied, Major Petrov turned the key in the ignition and his car reluctantly roared into life.

In the clearing a rat watched as the car disappeared and silence descended once again and is squeezed out from a crack in the wall and scampered across the snow toward the newly formed blood river, lapping hungrily at the thick liquid oozing from the Comrade. The rat stopped for a moment as a pair of eyes snapped open and flickered with confusion as if they were trying to focus on what was happening. Uninterested, the rat continued with his meal.