The Assignment
They told me it would be an easy job. All I had to do was get information from a target and eliminate him. We are only given a name, a picture, and a location. Nothing more, anything more and we ask questions. Questions impair our judgments, and get us killed. I remember that fateful day like it was yesterday. I sat in my office, on the twenty-second floor of the SVR building in Moscow, Russia. My office wasn't fancy to say the least. My steel desk was in front of a rather large window that took up that entire wall of my office. A few grey filing cabinets here and there and a coat rack in the corner of my grey walled, tan carpeted room. Always remembered the floors smelled of Lysol disinfectant. Pine scent, disgusting. The view wasn't at all breath taking. Two stories down was a train and everyday at 3 P.M. I could hear a train passing through. Brown and grey brick and concrete buildings littered the distance. The sunset was always nice to look at though. Outside my door wasn't too different the view outside. Cubicles of other agents were outside, in droves. The men and women of the SVR; gathering intel, tracking leads, investigating incidences. A slurry of information and different conversations, things from US presidential candidates to the office whore. Makes me glad I have a door to shut.
I was sitting at my desk, sorting through papers and talking to Dex on speakerphone. Now that I think about it. . . I had never actually seen Dex. He was the only friend I had at the SVR. He often was the person I'd talk to during my missions (through an ear piece), advising me on what to do or new intel he got. He was the reason I was still alive. The missions I got weren't hard for me to do, but little things like a target might be using armor plating on his vehicle or silent alarms on a computer that needed hacking really helped out in completing that mission. He was talking to me about his new girlfriend. "So has she asked about your job yet Dex?" I asked him as I shuffled through papers on my desk. "No, but as soon as she does, I figure I'd have to break it off with her. They always ask to many questions." Dex replied back. "Well, you know Dex," I said to him jokingly, "Girls love things that are mysterious.". "Yeah, they love it when I tell them that I help people kill other people. Really a thing that like to brag about to their parents during Christmas." Dex said. I was about to respond when a tall, older, maybe fifty year old, gentlemen entered my office. "I'll talk to you later Dex." I said as I click the Speak button off. There was something strange about this guy, I could just feel it. Maybe it was his black, greased back hair. Maybe it was his all black dress attire. Maybe it was his yellowish-grey smile as he plopped a kill order onto my desk. Who the hell smiles when they deliver a kill order? He turned around to shut the door behind him and shut the shades to the wall window facing the cubical jungle. I slowly reached for my MP446 Silenced Pistol concealed under my desk. He continued to close shades to the windows by the door. I started to line up shots in my mind. In to the right hand, because he was pulling the draw strings for the shade with that hand. Obviously his gun hand. Then one to the leg, so he couldn't run. I wanted him alive, I wanted to know who sent him.
"Velax comrade. If that kill order vas for you, you vould already be dead." He said as he went to sit down at the chair infront of the desk. I kept my hand where it was but relaxed a little. "I have a kill order you must fufill." he said as he slid the folder towards me. I didn't reach for it. "Where's Wilson? He's usually the person who delivers my assignments." I said to him calmly. "Vell, that is true comrade, " the man said as he shifted his position in his chair and crossed his legs, "But that's for normal SVR missions.". "Who are you?" I asked him. "My name is Ivan Petrov" he said. "I've never heard of you before." I said to him. "Then my people are doing their job." Petrov said as he smiled again, "I, as vell as my other associates, vork in a secret branch of the SVR.". "What's this secret organization called" I asked him. "Ve aren't given a name Mrs. Smirnova, That vould require the SVR to acknowledge that ve exist." he replied, "ve are only loosely known as Тень, vhen necessary hovever". "This seems hard to believe, Mr. Petrov." I said to him bluntly. "That such an organization exists.". Mr. Petrov stood up and headed towards the door. "Ve might not exist on the books Mrs. Smirnova, but look at the paper vork. It has all the official seals and signatures.". He opened the door and left. I took my hand off my gun and began to thumb through the paperwork. His story might have been hard to believe but the paperwork backed it up. All the official seals and signatures were there. Anastasiya Smirnova was required to gather information on nanite technology from a Mr. Peter Hill from San Francisco, California. Afterwards, I had to kill him. The mission required a two to three year commitment. Marriage was stated and false identity was established. If I choose to accept, I was supposed to report to Bykovo Airport in Moscow at 5 A.M the next day. I stood up and looked out the giant window at the sunset behind me. I could see my red hair in my reflection and my hands nervously picked at a thread in my lilac blouse. The eventually went to rest on my grey slacks. I guess I fully understand why I took that mission. Maybe it was the mystery of this secret organization that had existed so long, maybe it was because this target interested me. Whatever it was, it got me up that next day and at the Bykovo Airport.
The assignment didn't give me any directions on where I should be at five o'clock but I didn't have to worry about that as Ivan walked up to me, while I was standing at a terminal. "Hello comrade," he said with a dirty smile, "I'm glad you choose to do this assignment.". He interlocked his arm with mine and we started to walk towards the southern terminal. "Ve have established a cover for you. Your name vill be Samantha Thomas." He said as he handed me a passport. I flipped it open, and saw my picture mirroring my stare back. My hazel eyes against the picture's. "You are a saleswoman in the paper industry. Ve have also lined up a job for you." He handed her a business card with the company logo Paper Core, sprawled over the front with an address on the back. "Vhen you arrive to your destination, there vill be a duffle bag vith Samantha's name on it. It's contents are: A pistol, a brunette vig, another passport using the vig, and the device you're going to use for the nanite data collection, and Three Thousand US Dollars. Everything but the device vill be used for your extraction.". We got to the airport terminal and he handed me my ticket. "Oh, I almost forgot," Ivan said as he pulled out a cellphone and handed it to her. "use this cellphone if you need help.". He smiled at me as he patted me on the shoulder. I gave a weak smile back as I walked through the terminal and boarded the plane.
When the plane landed, I went to the baggage claim and picked up the bag labeled Samantha Thomas, just as Ivan had instructed. I unzipped it and looked around inside of it. There was a key and a letter among the other objects that Ivan listed. The key had a number corresponding to a locker. I opened the letter and skimmed it. I was supposed to keep the bag in a locker at the airport. The device to extract the data was a simple USB device. The letter made note that all I had to do was plug in the device to the PC that Peter would be using. The USB was programmed to do the rest. The letter also mentioned of a driver who was going to drive me to a place where Peter was at. I put the duffel bag in the locker, but after pocketing the three thousand dollars. I shut the locker and locked it. I headed out to the pickup area where I saw a driver holding a sign with the name Samantha on it. I walked over to him. He put the sign away and I walked over to the back seat of the car. He got into the driver's seat and reached over to the passenger seat to hand me a bag of clothes. "Change" he said. I took the bag and quickly changed out of my black skirt and white shirt. I got into a black tank top and dark blue capri pants. "I'll be dropping you off at a park. You'll meet, Peter there. Try to make a good first impression, don't have a Russian accent.".
We got to the destination and he dropped me off. I briefly scanned the area for Peter, based on the photo Ivan gave me. I saw him sitting on a bench looking off at the distance. He looked young for his age. He had short brown hair and he was fair skinned. He wore a light blue polo and tan cargo shorts. I walked over to him. "Do you mind if I sit down?" I said to him. He looked over at me and smiled. "Sure." he said as he scooted over. I sat down next to him. He continued to stare off into the distance. "So thanks for letting me sit down. My name is Samantha by the way." I said as I looked at him. "Uh, yeah. No problem." he said as he continued to stare off into the distance. After a few minutes of sitting and no talking, I got somewhat frustrated. "What are you staring at?" I asked. He pointed to a group of kids a few yards away. "I come here every day," he said, "Those bigger kids always pick on that little kid. I got tired of having to watch it so I told him what he should do." He continued. I calmed down slightly as I also began to stare at the group of kids. "You taught him some fighting moves?" I asked him. "Of course not," he said as he continued to watch, "I told him that bullies are just insecure losers. Told'em to plant his feet firm and tell the bully to leave him alone.". The tiny child did as Peter said and the bully responded by throwing a punch to his gut. "Crap!" Peter said as he got up, "My name is Peter!!" he said as he ran off towards the kids.
The next couple of months was some of the greatest months I had ever experienced with another human being. When you work in the line of work that I do, you aren't really allowed to lay down real emotional bonds or connections. Our jobs don't allow it. We have been trained to lay down fake love, to fake our lives. The fact of the matter is that we aren't meant to fall in love with the targets we are required to gather information from. We aren't supposed to miss their scent when they crawl out of bed. We aren't supposed to know that they love to order out Chinese food, or miss them when they are away. Up to this point, this was something I could do, I could perfectly establish fake love, fake emotions. . .up to this point. I didn't forget my mission, and I actively engaged in gathering the intel from his personal computer. This required me to spend personal time with him, which wasn't something I objected to. I still remember the day when I choose to come clean about myself. Not about Samantha Thomas but of Anastasiya Smirnova. I was in the kitchen, chopping up some garlic for a stir fry while Peter was typing away at his computer. I had made the call to Ivan the day before, I had finished extracting all the information and he called me back. I told him that I would be on the plane back to Russia the day after tomorrow.
I didn't quite know how I was going to tell him what I was supposed to actually be doing in his life. How do you tell someone you have been married to for several months that you are actually a Russian covert operative that has been sent to kill him? I just blurted it out to him, hoping that maybe he would understand. "Yeah right," he said. "and i'm a ninja" he said with a smile. "My name isn't Samantha Thomas, it's Anastasiya Smirnova." I said in my Russian accent. "Wow," he said, "how long were you working on that? It sounds so authentic!". I picked up the knife and threw it at a picture on the fridge of his mother-in-law. The knife dug in a few inches right between her eyes. "Hmmm, if you didn’t like her you could have just. . ." he started. "Look in the third drawer to the left of you." I said. He opened the drawer and gasped. The drawer contained several pistols with silencers. All incase in foam. He looked up at me, then back at the guns, then back at me. He bolted for the door. But it was locked. "AHHH, WHY WON'T THIS DOOR OPEN!!!" he said as he started pushing aggressively against it. "I locked it." I said as he turned around and I walked up to him. "Please, don't kill me" he said. I put my hand on his arm. "I'm not going to kill you," I said to him, "Why would I tell you that I was hired to kill you if I wanted to kill you?". "I DUNNO!! Maybe your trying to play some sick assassin mind game with me or something!!!" he said as he paced back and forth in the room. "All these months, you've been lying to me. I don’t even know you." he said as he stopped pacing back and forth and faced me. I walked up to him. "Does this feel fake?" I said as I kissed him. I could feel his pulse race in his chest as I pulled away from him. After a few seconds of him thinking, he responded. "Maybe, or maybe you've been expertly trained. The only way I can make up my mind is if you kiss me again." Peter said wittingly. I gave him a look and he raised his hands up. "Alright, I believe you." he said, "but what are we going to do?". I patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Don't worry i've got a plan.".
I've spent a lot of time around death. Sometimes it was something I couldn't stop, sometimes it was something I caused. Regardless, if your around something a lot you start to pick up patterns. I was planning weeks ahead how I was going to stage a fake death for Peter. He is known as a scientist among his peers. It wouldn’t be hard to convince the world around us that he was working on an experiment that went awry. With the right chemicals you can make a chemical accident effective enough to cause an explosion power enough to level a two story house and burn the remains to ash. Any bodies that were inside would be charred beyond any forensic recognition. No foul play would be suspected and it would be deemed an accident. I knew this would happen because I told Ivan this plan, but I left out a crucial detail that Peter wouldn't actually die. He provided a body for me and I was able to make a stand in for Peter. After the scene was set and it set place, I died Peter's hair black and gave him a fake beard and sent him away to the mid east. The vaguer, the better. Also preferable to drive there on back roads, less foot traffic and less security.
I headed to the airport after the explosion. Best not to stick around. I went to the locker I had put the duffel bag in and headed to the bathroom. I took my Samantha Passport and hid it in the ceiling tile in the roof. I put on the black wig and pulled out the passport that corresponded with it. I holstered the pistol in my jacket and left the bathroom. I headed to the security checkpoint and walked through it. "Your all clear, ma'am" the security personal said. It was the driver who had driven me to the park when I first arrived. I nodded at him and continued on to my terminal and onto my plane. I got to my seat and relaxed. Everything seemed to work out for the best at the moment. I didn't realize the trouble that lay ahead of me.
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