Shards

James righted the couch and led her to it, as she was shaking so hard she barely could stand up, much less maneuver on her own through the rubble. 

"Why would anyone--?"  But then, she knew why.  She knew very well.
"Shh.  Here, you just sit down for a minute and catch your breath," he advised, squatting on his heel to retrieve her groceries, "and I'll pick up this stuff- for-" 

There was a sound from the little kitchenette, the crunch of a heavy foot on broken glass.  James' face flashed up and he rose slowly, like a cat, putting the side of his hand to his lips for silence.  "Stay here," he whispered.  He lifted the heavy faux-stone bust of Beethoven off then made his way to the short hall that led to the kitchen and back door.  Marissa could see it now, see the broken pane that had allowed--who?--to break into what she had thought was a safe place.

James' feet made no sound at all as he slipped into the kitchen; then, abruptly, there was an explosion of sound, of scuffling and of blows and muttered bursts of anger.  Then there was the sound of a heavy body falling, and a large, silhouetted figure flung open the back door and plunged down the stairs and away.

Where was James?
Marissa ran to the kitchen only to find him, pale and sweating, curled on the floor around a widening pool of blood.  The Beethoven broken, lay in it, getting stained.  She grabbed a clean dishtowel from the drawer and pressed against the bleeding wound in his side, and James opened his eyes. 

from Simon1973

James breath came in bursts. “Can’t protect…any more.” His eyes closed.

Marissa leaned back, curious. “Can’t protect?”

James’ shallow breathing rasped. “I’m MI…sent by London. Protect. Planted as neighbor.”

Marissa wrung her hands, desperately looked at the cabinet for something to tie off the wound. 

His hand caught her. “No time. Get flash drive from my laptop. Before they…my house.”

Marissa tried to cradle his head. “I left this a while ago. I…”

His eyes shot wide. “Dmitry won’t forget. Flash drive…on Mumbai counterfeit…flood market.”

His voice drifted. He shuttered. Then choked. “Only chance…Chinese embassy. T’so Chang.”

His hand slipped as more blood soaked the floor.

Marissa pushed herself up, and waved hair from her face. She glared past the kitchen to the rear door, wanting to know what was in Jame’s laptop. The Mumbai black market was one of her last CIA operations. Back then rumors about the Russian mafia leader wanting a piece of the action was rising.

She had to move. Her hand dug into her pocket for her cell as she moved to the pantry. Flipping the cell, she punched into the company. Under the rear plank beside the stack of ten pound rice bags, she pried loose her 38 SPL magnum.

The cell answered. “Marissa. You shouldn’t be calling.”

Marissa took a look at the cell in surprise. “Nice to speak to you too Clara.”

“Don’t know what you’ve got yourself into, but the agency is going crazy.”

Marissa left the pantry, back through the living room on way to James’ house. She passed the wide screen, showing the upcoming economic summit in Hong Kong. “Clara, what are talking about?”

“Good thinking to have a secure line.”

“Clara…what’s happening?”

Shouts came from the TV from some bankers being interviewed.

“Marissa. Agency’s after you. They found your prints on a Chinese counsel’s body just hours ago.”

Marissa stopped short by the door. “Counsel? Who?”

“Someone named T’so Chang. Agency wants to see you because they have Chang being visited from an old friend — Dmitry. Listen…I have to go.”

Marissa flipped the cell shut, trying to put some answers into focus.

Before leaving through the door, her eyes caught the banker on the screen. The man standing next to the fellow in Hong Kong was Dmitry’s favorite assassin.

from TomFrodo

Marissa could hear sirens approaching as she snuck into James' apartment to find his flash drive.  One of the neighbors must have heard the gunshot that wounded James.  The laptop was in plain site on a desk between the living room and the kitchen.  She pulled the drive and slipped out the back door.  She wasn't going to be able to use her car if the agency was after her.  She crossed the back yard into the alley way where the trash is collected and calmly walked back into her old life of espionage.

She was never more glad that she had taken an urban apartment than she was now.  It was a short walk to a local internet cafe where she was able to slip the drive into a computer and see what kind of trouble she found herself in.

T'so Chang was an economic advisor for mainland China.  He had been advocating loosening trade restrictions with the west so they could broaden China's markets to the world, but the Chinese Communist Party opposed the open exchange of ideas with the west.  They feared western influence would upset the delicate balance of power, but Chang thought that if they could only import more western technology, then they could start to import more jobs from the west.  

She closed her eyes and hung her head as she figured out the connection.  Mumbai would suffer if the west started outsourcing more jobs to China, and Dimitri has spent years setting up his counterfeit rings across India.  China had their own pirates and counterfeiters, and no room for his operation.

Marissa pulled the flash drive and started walking towards the bank.  She was fairly sure that nobody would know about this bank box, but she scanned the street anyway, looking for out of place agency personnel.  The one thing she couldn't figure out, was why her fingerprints were found on the scene.  She posed no threat to anybody.  Why would someone want to pull her back in?

She grabbed a collection of passports and various different countries currency from her safe deposit box and stuffed them into her purse.  Next, she visited a local mall and purchased a big knit hat that covered all her hair, and some dark sunglasses.  She hailed a cab and headed for the airport. from Ivory

Marissa stood by the potted plant near Gate B5 at the airport. She held her position just under the overhead ventilator, holding her breath at the image of Clark. He calmly sat in one  of the waiting seats, hands on a newspaper. She had been involved with those hands. Once felt safe there. Then shared with those fingers. Then…

“You’re really too good at this, you know — staying away from surveillance cameras.”

His voice brought her back to those times when he held her tightly. She closed her eyes, whispered. “In the men’s room.”

She bolted right, past the fountain and into the men’s room she checked just moments before. Her eyes caught the emptiness under the stalls.

The door burst open as Clark entered. His face a mixture of worry and surprise. “What’s on Jim’s flash drive?”

She pushed her hair back. “Strange you called me right after I visited the bank.”

He turned away, looking at the floor. “Things are getting messy.”

He glanced at her. “You’ve got your travel hat on. Trying to help Sagar?”

She stabbed him with a building anger. “Sagar-bhai’s going to get hurt in the mix of this China/Mumbai mess.”

Clark twisted his head. “You can’t go to Mumbai.”

Marissa grabbed his arm, but kept a distance. “Listen. I told you I wanted out of this. Now the Company thinks I killed Chang.”

Clark rubbed his forehead, his eyes lowered. “That’s why we exist. The old CIA can’t figure out today’s problems.”

His hand thrust a ticket into her palm. “You’re on flight 677 for Hong Kong. Another name…of course.”

She shoved the ticket away. “I’m not helping your ops. I want you to help clear my name.”

Sirens whirled from outside.

He paced to the door, hand on the knob. “Dmitry planted your prints.”

More anger thrust from inside her as she spun him around. “I’m now more interested in why Jim’s intel files had traces of your ops people on them.”

More sirens whirled outside. Shouts erupted down the corridor.

“By now, the local police is setting up a perimeter…you can’t get away unless it’s…” His eyes looked at the ticket in her hands.

Feet scrambled outside. He sighed, then slowly opened the door. He drew to the right, past a crowd of running people.

“Marissa. You need us. You can’t get away from this. Besides…you’re the only only who can stop Dmitry.”

Marissa shot a glance at the stairs, then the car. “Clark. I’m not in your damn Blackraul.”

He smiled, pulling her into the car. “Good. Because I can’t trust them.”

In the seat, he fired up the car. She bounced into the passenger side as the car sped off, down the ramp.

“Something’s strange going on inside. It’s connected to Dmitry. Your package has the name of Sagar’s contact in Hong Kong.”  

He crashed through a metal gate as the image of the giant Air China Jet loomed ahead. “Listen. This thing is beyond Blackraul.”

The car whizzed up to the rear loading elevator for the jet. The baggage handler nodded.

Before Marissa could object, the handler pulled a gun, shooting Clark. His side opened in redness as his eyes gave a desperate glance.

Marissa spun the door on the handler’s hand, knocking the gun away. With one thrust, she locked the fellow’s other hand while she came from behind to wrench the neck. His body went limp as more sirens blasted down the tarmac.

She ripped open the handler’s uniform to see a tattoo from Blackraul. 

She made sure she had the ticket as she scrambled up the elevator. She knew life was gone in the car — her path led ahead to find Dmitry.

from TomFrodo

"She is coming now.  Petrov and Vasily are on way to aeroport now.  Victor is on ground crew where aeroplane will get the fuel, and Aleksandra is serving the peanuts and drinks on her same flight.  She will not escape us, I am giving the guarantee."

"No.  Don't take her.  You follow her, but not Aleksandra, she will be recognized.  Tell Victor to stay out of sight and watch for her.  She might not be using the normal exit.  Put drivers at all exits.  She is very resourceful, I do not want her driving by you.  You do not want that either."

"We will not fail you."

Dmitri waved his hand weakly, dismissing Yurik.  He folded his hands in a triangular form with his index fingers held against the bridge of his nose and muttered under his breath, "You had better not."


Clark knew what kind of seat Marissa liked, and so did Dmitri.  She would have to be especially on her guard, they knew she would be on this flight, in fact, Dmitri probably arranged matters to force the agency to put her on this plane.  Surprise would not be on her side.

Marissa settled into her seat, near the back of the plane next to a window.  She pulled her hat down over her ears and leaned her head against the glass and closed her eyes, it was sixteen hours to Mumbai.  If Dmitri went to this much trouble to bring her back to him, he wasn't going to do anything to her now.

It had been a trying day, made even more so as she forced herself to transition her mind back into her old self.  She fell into a steady rhythm, inhaling and exhaling, deep slow breaths.  Sleep came easily, but her sleep was anything but easy for her.  

Her mind betrayed her and rewound her life back to when she and Dmitri first met.  She was supposed to meet him.  She was arranged to meet him, and worse yet, she was trained to meet him.  She knew what she was getting into, and she agreed to go in, if not exactly whole hearted, she at least went in whole body and soul.  She sold her soul to the devil, and her body to Agency, which in this case meant Dmitri.  She would have thought running an evil empire would have taken his mind off of her betrayal, but apparently not.  He wanted his pound of flesh, and the other 120 odd pounds that came with it.


from Ivory

Marissa’s eyes shot open. The flight would not be the problem. Aleksandra was sloppy with her peanuts as an attendant. So, the danger would come later. But before Dmitry, she had an errand to save someone.

After landing, she ducked by the car approach at Chek Lap Kok airport.

A car slid up. “Get in…fast.”

A blare of sirens followed them as she glanced at the scar on the driver. “You should be with Aabha, safe in Mumbai.”

A scoff followed a shift into another lane. “No one is safe, Aabha died last night from one of Dmitry’s raids.”

The radio filled a brief silence. “Changming’s death, the head of Economic Reform, is being attributed to poison. Authorities are hunting for Petrov Mikalokov, a known Mafia operative.”

The driver turned off the radio. “You shouldn’t be here. You should go back to Clark.”

She spotted the road, anxiously. Flipped on her cell. 

The cell answered. “Marissia, listen. Something strange. Dmitry’s bank accounts of his front organizations…lately they’ve been getting a windfall of funds from…of all places…Blackraul.”

“Clara…listen. We’ve got a problem leaving the airport. Authorities are all over the place.”

“Give me a second…take Connaught Road to the Western Harbor Crossing.”

  Marissa clicked the cell shut. “Khad-bhai, She’s tied into satellite coverage of police activity.”

A black van swerved behind them. Her hand opened a narrow scope, showing three dots of lights in the van. “Pull over, make like we crashed.”

The van stopped after them, spilling out three men. Marissa’s door kicked open on one, knocking him down. Marissa erupted from the seat. As she thrust her leg at a nearby hostile, her hand lifted a knife from a boot that fired into a third. 

“This wasn’t CIA.” Marissa forced one up. “We’re taking him to a place I know.”

Before they could move, three black Humvees blasted down the road. Four men jumped from the third to grab them from behind.

Pushed into the rear of the Humvee, Marissa looked up into the shadows to see a weather worn craggy face.

“Petrov…run out of Chinese diplomats to assassin?”

A slap cracked her face, drawing blood. “You think you’re smart? Would I kill a target after being on camera? Dmitry set me up…maybe we have common enemy — da?”

# # #

Dmitry’s furrowed brow twitched as he gazed through the window at the ice on St. Basil’s that filled the Moscow night. He twisted the glass to hear the click of ice touch the vodka.

The door knocked. “Shto!”

Without turning, he heard Yurik. “Blackraul called. They are worried about Marissa.”

Dmitry coughed a deep laugh. “Da. Nepolkho. Not to worry. Petrov has made contact.”

from TomFrodo

Marissa stared into Petrov’s eyes and thought for a moment. Blood dripped from her nose. She couldn’t—shouldn’t trust him. But she knew if Petrov wanted to kill her, hewouldn’t bother with conversation first. He never played cat-and-mouse. Hisstyle was quick, silent, and deadly. “Why should I trust you, of all people?”

“Because you’re still alive, aren’t you?” Petrov smiled.

“For how long?”

“You can’t take Dmitry alone. But he would never expect the twoof us working together. It’s your only chance. You can listen to my plan, orget out now and let Dmitry kill you before sunrise tomorrow.” 

from ruphass

   Marissa was more than just a bit uneasy with her new partnership.  Petrov was not one she could trust, and evidently, he was not someone Dmitry could trust either.  He was a ruthless psychopath who had found an occupation willing to accept him for what he was, a born assassin.  At best, Marissa could hope that he would provide a suitable diversion while she enacted her own plans.

   Mumbai had changed a lot since her last visit.  Even then it had been a growing city, and now it had grown beyond it's ability to police it's own growth.  It was like a living being with a complex structure of veins and nerves orchestrating all the various organs into a single thriving metropolis, except it was infected with cancer.  Marissa exited from one of those cancer cells, where Petrov had interrogated her.  She wandered into the streets, hoping to find some landmark she could recognize.  There were places where she could find some sanctuary, where she could clean herself up, where her own people at the CIA may or may not interfere.  It was hard to tell at this point if they were just giving her a little rope to go on her own.

   Blending in was not an option.  Marissas pale skin was a beacon warning all that she did not belong.  Her tattered clothes and bloody nose could work either way for her.  She might find some people willing to help, but there would be those who smelled trouble and would not want to get involved.

   A cab pulled up beside her and summoned her, "Get in!"  When would the abductions end?  She darted into an alley way where the cab could not pursue her.  The cabbie stepped out of the car and yelled out, "Marissa!  Panda savaka!"

   Marissa screeched to a halt.  Panda savaka, literally translated meant panda cub.  Only one person ever called her that.  Haroon Patel had christened her panda cub because she looked at the world in shades of black and white.  She accepted no in between ground, at least in her earlier years of service.  She turned to see him.  He was a little older, a little grey around the temples, but the smile that beamed from his face could only belong to Haroon.

   She ran back to him with open arms, but he said, "No time, just get in."

   She had hoped she would find a safe harbor, but instead it found her.  And even better, Haroon was ex-interpol, and he hated Dmitry and his black market enterprises.  He hated what they did to his people, he hated what they did to his country, but mostly he hated what they did to him and his family.  Dmitry framed Haroon and had him drummed out of interpol.  Marissa could not have stumbled upon a better ally, and Petrov was right about one thing, she would find it very difficult to go after Dmitry alone.

from Ivory