Valentina's mind had reeled as she'd tried to absorb all the information I have a sister. Who is she? What's she like? Then, Vysotsky killed my father. He's been lying to me all these years.
Vysotsky had told Valentina that her mother died in a car wreck engineered by the CIA. That she was a hero of the Soviet Union. It wasn't until Valentina read the file that she learned the truth. Her mother had been drunk. She'd driven off the road without any help from the opposition.
There was a reference to another file on the sister, Selena Connor. Valentina pulled it up on the computer.
As she read, her anger had begun to grow. Her sister was a spy as well, an active agent, working for a secretive intelligence unit answering to the U.S. president.
Maybe there's something in the genes, she thought.
More than a spy, her sister was wealthy on a level that would have made even a Russian oligarch take notice. She was accomplished, famous in her own right in academic circles. Newly married to her team leader. A woman who had everything.
Why had this woman enjoyed the warmth and comfort of a father, her father, as a child when Valentina had not?
It was unfair.
It had been a simple task to memorize the photograph of her sister and the information on the file before she shut it down. When Vysotsky returned he'd found Valentina standing by the window of his office, looking out toward the spires of Moscow.
That had been three weeks ago.
She thought about the sister she'd never met and pulled the handles of the exercise machine viciously together, the weights clanking at the ends of their cables.
Her phone signaled a call from Vysotsky.
"Valentina. Where are you?"
"In the gym."
"Finish whatever you are doing and come to my office."
He ended the call. Valentina looked at the phone and thought about hurling it across the room. She stepped away from the machine and headed for the locker room. She hadn't decided what she was going to do about Vysotsky, or if she was going to do anything. Until she did, everything had to appear normal.
Valentina was an attractive woman, with high cheekbones and intense green eyes. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders in gleaming waves. She had a body that made men look twice but her beauty concealed a mind deeply scarred by the absence of love. Under the calm exterior she showed to the world, Valentina simmered with rage. She'd been taught how to kill but no one had bothered to teach her the art of compassion. Her hands seemed as innocent as a child's but she could deliver a blow with either one that could break an oaken board or an opponent's bones.
She came into Vysotsky's office dressed in black walking shoes, black slacks and a long-sleeved black top, open at the collar. Her long hair was piled on top of her head. She wore no jewelry or makeup. She moved with the unconscious ease of an Alpha predator. Her eyes radiated a singular focused intensity that made Vysotsky think of a beautiful, feral angel.
He rose and came out from behind his desk and greeted her with three quick kisses to her cheeks.
"Valentina. You are looking lovely as always. Come, sit. I have a new assignment for you."
Vysotsky went back behind his desk. "I am sending you to Macedonia on a delicate mission."
"To Greece?" Valentina asked.
"No, to the country. The Republic of Macedonia to the north of Greece."
Valentina waited.
Vysotsky continued. "Macedonia is friendly to us. The Americans are providing covert support to a revolutionary movement in the country that seeks to overthrow the current regime. They want to see someone in power who will allow them to install missile batteries that could be used against us."
"How does this involve me?"
"The movement is called 11 October. The leader is a man named Jerzi Todorovski. Without him the movement would collapse. The different factions would turn on one another. Todorovski is the glue that holds them together."
"And you want me to melt the glue," Valentina said.
"As always, you perceive the heart of the matter."
Vysotsky placed a folder on his desk and pushed it across to her. "Everything you need to know about him is in here."
Valentina opened the folder and looked at the photograph of her target. A dark eyed man with a square jaw and close-set eyes stared back at her.
"He seems young," she said.
"That is one of the things that makes him dangerous. He attracts the students, the young radicals. He's intelligent enough to present ideas that bring in the intellectuals. He's educated and he knows how to talk with them but he comes from common people and speaks their language as well. It makes him a man to be reckoned with."
"When do I leave?"
"Today. The main demonstration takes place tomorrow in Skopje."
"How do you wish it to be done? Do you want visibility? A false trail, perhaps to the CIA?"
"That is an interesting idea, Valentina, but no. Better if it looks natural. A heart attack, for example. Perhaps an undetected anomaly, an aneurysm in the brain that led to his unfortunate death. There should be no indication of anything except natural causes, unless you have no other choice."
Valentina nodded. "I understand. You can leave it to me. All I need to do is get close to him."
"It shouldn't be difficult. He loves to mix with his supporters. It would be a simple matter to embrace him or shake his hand or whatever is needed."
"I understand," Valentina said again.
Vysotsky looked into her eyes and saw something primal and dangerous, as if Valentina scented her prey.
I'm glad it's not me she's coming after, he thought.
CHAPTER 8
It was midmorning on the day of the demonstration.
Nick, Selena, Lamont and Ronnie stood on the edge of the swelling mob. They wore press badges pinned on their jackets. Lamont and Ronnie carried cameras. The sky was gray, overcast with the feel and threat of snow, the temperature hovering somewhere in the low 30s. The crowd filled the square and spilled over the edges onto the stone bridge and beyond, a ragged riot of coats, hats and scarves bundled against the chill. Handheld signs and homemade banners condemned corruption, demanded Mitreski's resignation and called for new elections.
A succession of speakers exhorted the crowd, warming them up for the main event when Jerzi Todorovski would appear and make his speech. Ranks of riot police stood on the far side of the square. Behind them were four armored personnel carriers filled with soldiers.
"This could go bad real fast," Lamont said. "Feel it?"
Nick's face was tight. "Yeah. It's like that feeling you get right before a big thunderstorm, when there's a lot of ozone in the air. Like something's going to happen."
"Those soldiers are armed," Selena said.
"We already know part of what we're supposed to find out," Nick said. "Todorovski is who people want in place of Mitreski."
"We don't know how they feel about the Russians," Ronnie said. "Just because they like Todorovski doesn't make them anti-Russian, just against Mitreski."
"For the Russians it's the same thing. Whatever happens today you can be sure Moscow doesn't want to see Mitreski go. Those troops are a bad sign."
Lamont pointed. "Something's happening on the bridge."
A new group was pushing its way across on the stone bridge across the river. Their signs were different.
Down with traitors!
Todorovski is a puppet of the West!
Unite against the fascists!
"Who are the fascists?" Selena asked.
"Anyone who doesn't agree with them," Nick said.
They were standing near the spot where the bridge opened onto the square. As the group of counter-protesters came by, Nick recognized two of the hard men he had seen yesterday from the hotel window.