"Perhaps later, child. But I have something to tell you first. You must be strong because it is going to make you sad."
"I don't want to be sad."
"Then as I said, you must be strong. Valentina, your mother is dead."
"No she isn't. She was here last week. She brought my new jacket."
"Valentina," Alexei had said, "I'm sorry but it's true. She died a hero, fighting for our beloved Motherland. She was betrayed by the Americans. They are the ones who killed her."
Valentina had looked into his eyes and known he was telling the truth. She was still holding the book in her hand, the book by an American writer. She hurled it across the room against the wall.
"I hate them. I hate Americans. They are evil, mean people."
"Not all of them, Valentina. But the rich men who run their country are. One day the people of the world will realize that their hope lies here in Mother Russia. Your mother knew that. She worked hard to make that day come closer. That is why the Americans killed her."
Valentina didn't know what to do. The truth was that she wasn't very close to her mother. Mother was always off somewhere working for the good of the people. She saw uncle Alexei more than anyone. She was seldom home with her mother in Moscow. Most of the time she spent in schools like this one. The visit in the past week when her mother had given her the jacket was the first time Valentina had seen her in over seven months.
She supposed she should cry. People did that in the novels she read when someone died but her eyes were dry.
"I can be strong."
If her uncle was surprised by her reaction he gave no sign of it.
"Good. You are a brave girl. One day you will have a chance to get back at the Americans if that is what you want to do. For now you must continue your studies. But I promise you that they will not all be about books. Would you like to be someone who helps protect our country?"
"Like my mother? Like you?"
"Yes. Like her and like me. It is not an easy thing to do, Valentina. You will have to work very hard. Can you do that?"
Valentina had nodded her head. "Yes, I can."
It had been a persuasive story, truth mixed with lies, a story that had shaped her life and placed her by this window.
A noise on the street outside brought her back to her hotel room and the cold metal of the rifle resting on her lap. She looked at her watch, shocked by how much time had passed. It was almost time for Todorovski to appear.
She set the rifle down on the table. She got up and moved the curtains with slow and calculated motion, first one and then the other, fixing them open just enough to create a tiny gap and a clear shot at the balcony across the way. The interior of the room was dark. The rifle barrel would not protrude out of the window where it might be seen. The advanced suppressor on the muzzle would reduce the sound of the report by half. Most of the rest would be lost inside the room. By the time anyone figured out where the shot had come from, she would be gone and out of the hotel.
Valentina sat back down in the chair. She set the rifle on its bipod and looked through the scope at the balcony. She nestled the butt firmly against her shoulder. She set her left elbow on the table and grasped the stock under the barrel with her left hand. She placed her right hand on the grip and laid her finger alongside the receiver. She wriggled in the chair until the stance was steady. The balcony filled the scope. The light breeze was not a factor, not at this distance.
One of Todorovski's men came out onto the balcony and looked down at the crowd below. They cheered his appearance and he waved. She used him as a reference for the shot and made a slight adjustment. Through the scope she saw him looking at her building. His eyes passed by her window without stopping. He seemed to be satisfied with what he'd seen because he called something into the room behind him.
Jerzi Todorovski stepped out onto the balcony. He was bareheaded in the cold.
The crowd screamed its approval.
Jerzi! Jerzi! Jerzi!
Valentina let out half a breath and placed her finger on the trigger. The rifle steadied, unmoving. She centered the reticle on Todorovski's forehead and gently squeezed. The rifle kicked back against her shoulder. The sound inside the closed room was loud, even muffled by the suppressor. Todorovski's head exploded in a spray of blood and bone.
Valentina didn't bother watching the body fall, she knew he was dead. She stood and had the rifle disassembled in seconds. She'd practiced the sequence hundreds of times and could do it blindfolded, in the dark. The separate pieces went back into the foam bedding in the flower box. She slipped the ribbon and bow back over the box. Less than a minute had passed since she'd fired.
Valentina heard screams and shouts outside. She put on her coat and her round fur hat and put the box under her arm and left the room. The door locked automatically behind her. She'd already planned her escape route. She made her way to the fire stair at the end of the hall and hurried down four flights to the bottom floor. Valentina opened the door into a service hall. No one was there.
She followed the hallway back to the rear of the hotel. If anyone saw her they would assume she was making a delivery. If anyone tried to stop her she was prepared to kill them. She only needed one hand to do that. But as she'd suspected, there was no one about. They had all gone to the front of the hotel or had joined the crowd to hear Todorovski speak.
She reached the last door and stepped out into the alley behind the hotel and walked away into the cold morning.
CHAPTER 19
Nick and his companions left the bodies of Viktor and the others in the isolated clearing and drove back to the abandoned church where Josef's men had stopped them. Their rented car was parked behind the church, out of sight from the road. They changed cars, headed back to Debar and checked out. They drove through the night back to the Macedonian capital and checked into the same hotel they'd stayed in before.
When they got to Skopje Nick called Elizabeth and relayed everything that had happened. He told her what Josef had said about the Russians. Then he lay down next to Selena, dog tired. She was already asleep. He didn't bother to take off his clothes. He'd been out for about three hours when his phone woke him with a call from Virginia.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, Director."
"Wake up, Nick. Things have changed since I talked to you."
"Give me a minute."
"Make it quick."
Nick got up and went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. Some of the mind fog cleared. He picked up the phone, walked to the window and looked out at Alexander Square. It had been mostly deserted since the bomb had gone off in the stage area. Now people streamed in from every direction. Something had happened.
"Okay, I'm awake. Sort of."
"Somebody assassinated Jerzi Todorovski two hours ago."
"That's not good."
"That might be the understatement of the year," Elizabeth said. "Mitreski issued a statement expressing, and I quote, 'deep sadness over the brutal murder of a true Macedonian patriot' unquote. He went on to say that the assassin was an Albanian, part of the Albanian National Front. He said a note was received claiming responsibility. A lot of Macedonians will believe him."
"Is it true?"
"Nobody knows. The ANF is a real group and people know about it. They've been a thorn in the side of Macedonia for years. They want to reunite Macedonia with Albania. It won't be a good time to be an Albanian in Macedonia."