by Mike Gomes
The young girl looked at the door, seeing that it was made of thick wood and that the glass was shatterproof. The lock was simplistic, nothing too complicated. Store break-ins in Moscow were an infrequent thing. When robberies occurred, it was more likely to happen in people's apartments. Robbing the wrong store of an owner that had specific connections within the government, could cause a man or woman to find their way to one of the old gulags with no way back home.
Letting her index finger rub on the outside of the lock, she could envision the internal workings in her mind. A simple set of tumblers that would just need to be raked back and forth by a stiff metal object, letting each one depress and lock into place the way it should. Most people didn't know there was no need to have a key that had the proper indentations ahead of time, each set of the tumblers would drop into place when pushed there and would stay there until the others found their spot. Looking on the ground, she let her hands scan back and forth, finding nothing at the door entrance so she moved closer to the sidewalk. She then found a bobby pin that had more than likely fallen from some woman's hair as she was out doing some shopping.
Picking up the bobby pin, the young girl straightened it completely out and then began to bend it back and forth in the middle before breaking it into two pieces. At the end of each piece, she created a right angle that allowed the bobby pin to stick up slightly. With her left hand, she slid in the bobby pin and pushed down on the locking mechanism while her other hand worked the second piece, having the point that bent poking upward as she then started to rake the tumblers. She pushed each one into place as her hand went back and forth. Each time she completed a pass, she would attempt to turn with her bottom hand to no avail, until finally, click, the lock turned.
Gabriella held still, she did not move her body as she slowly pulled the door open enough for her to slide in. Her training had taught her, look up to the corners of the door for a flashing red light, and look down to the sides of the door to see if there was an electronic tripwire set up that she may need to climb over. Through her close and detailed inspection, she found nothing. So she simply moved inside the door and closed it gently behind her, looking up more closely at the door, she found no wires that came from the header and ran along the ceiling to give an alert, and the floor had had no adjustments to provide the same kind of alert to the police.
"Clothes?" Gabriella said to herself, unsure of how one shopped for their own clothing. In the show the KGB had allowed her to watch, women were consistently portrayed as hard and militaristic, needing no clothing other than straight black head to toe or military camouflage. But this store held so much more, there were dresses and pants, there were shirts and blouses, some for males, some for females, and some that could go either way. The choice astounded the young girl as she moved in and out, selecting random items of clothing with a careful eye, focusing more on their functionality rather than how they looked.
With three shirts in hands and four pairs of pants, the young girl put on a pair of boots and two pairs of socks. Going into the far end of the room, she extracted a 45-caliber handgun made by Smith & Wesson. Grabbing a backpack off the wall, she filled it with 45-caliber ammunition, and then collected numerous rounds for the 30-06 rifle that she found in a rack, she knew it would be perfect for hunting in the woods.
The young girl knew she was now on her own, she would have no family and would not be detained any longer by the KGB. She had her own life to live, and in the woods outside the city of Moscow and further into the countryside, was where she knew she needed to be to succeed.
Cruising to the opposite side of the store, Gabriella found numerous shelves filled with MRE meals that only needed hot water to be made. Jamming as many as she could into the backpack, she also collected a few pans and bowls that consisted of different shapes and sizes, all designed to fit within each other to make carrying easy and light. The young girl gathered all she knew she would need from her survival training.
Gabriella found flint for starting fires, and a small bag of gasoline-soaked tinder that she could use sparingly when she had trouble making a fire. She found a mummy bag to sleep in and a hammock, which would keep her body off the frozen ground. When she would make her way out into the forest, she would take her time in order to build a more secure shelter, but for now, the sleeping bag, the food, having a fire, and keeping her body off the ground were paramount.
With all that she had, she only needed one more thing to make her way out of Moscow and to have a life of her own. Closing the shop door slowly behind her, Gabriella's eyes looked up and down the street, seeing no traffic and no people. She knew that she stood out, a young girl carrying a rifle with a huge backpack stuffed to the brim on her back was a dead giveaway for anybody. So coming upon the first car she found on the side of the road, she entered in through the unlocked back door and slid herself forward. Years of training had taught her that about one-third of the cars she would encounter, would leave the keys either in the visor or under the front seat. Pulling down the front visor, a key dropped clearly onto her lap, so she picked it up and started the engine. Putting the car into drive, she pulled off the curb in a jump, and then hit the brake hard to stop.
"The videos they showed me didn't talk about this," Gabriella murmured to herself. The girl smiled at the idea that she entered a car just assuming she would know how to drive it from the training she had received. Though Gabriella still felt that she knew all she needed to know, and that the KGB had created her as the greatest weapon, despite the fact that she was a long way from finishing her training.
Depressing the gas one more time, gently and slowly, the car jumped forward, causing Gabriella to pull her foot off the pedal but not press the brake. The car rolled forward and she slowly let her foot go down on the gas again, making the car roll up to twenty miles an hour, then she stopped in front of a stoplight.
Letting out a large exhale, the young girl peered down the long street. She knew if she could make it through Moscow and simply get to the wood's edge, she could abandon the car there, and hike numerous miles into the woods to keep herself protected from anybody that may come after her.
And if any of them did… she'd be ready and waiting.
Chapter Three
Chile
CURRENT DAY
Dust pushed up from the ground, forming a miniature tornado, picking up stray sticks and leaves as it moved across the open landscape and headed for the vegetable garden on the far side of the homestead, before it broke apart and all the things helping form it fell to the ground.
The small homestead that sat on the unmarked border between Chile and Peru wasn’t worth a second look to anyone who saw it. It was simple, with a main home, garden, barn, and a large pen for maintaining the flock of sheep and goats. No connection to the outside world existed other than harsh, mountainous terrain that would eventually lead you to another homesteader or a small town filled with workers.
The land was unforgiving with mountains that pushed their way out of the sea and up into the clear blue sky. Jagged plates developed, and the land could go from bleak to lush in a short distance. Northern Chile held a harsh feel at times with cooler air and a cutting wind, but during the summer the heat had no problem skyrocketing over ninety degrees, putting a strain on growing anything.
The small, unknown homestead sat off the grid in every way. Anything it needed; it would provide for itself due to years of work from the inhabitants. Little connection to the outside world was what they were after, and other than an occasional trek into town for a mechanical part they could not produce themselves, they were isolated from the world outside. Exactly how they liked it.
“Come on girl, stay steady,” the woman muttered, as she pulled the large sheep into her legs while trying to hold a pair of clippers in the other hand. “This will be quick. I promise.”
Turning on the clippers that ran off the electricity from the wind turbine they had put up only a year before, caused the beast to jump at the sou
nd it was unfamiliar with.
Gabriella knew there had to be a better way. Though the clippers were going to make the job far faster than the old way they clipped the wool from the sheep. The old way did not scare them, and they were content to stand still and let the job be done. The introduction of electricity overwhelmed most of the animals on the homestead.
Reaching out and grabbing the nearby rope, Gabriella twisted it, fashioning a small loop. Lifting the front leg of the sheep, she slipped the rope around it and then walked the sheep over to the post used to tie off horses.
The move put her into the direct rays of the sun, letting the heat pound on her as the sun climbed to its highest point in the sky. Dressed in simple blue jeans, cowboy boots, a black tank top, and a dusty, tan cowboy hat, Gabriella formed a picture of beauty despite the sweat pouring off her. The work on the homestead was more than enough to keep her in peak physical condition.
Her dark-brown hair fell to shoulder length, naturally taking on a look of being just how she liked it. Her emerald-green eyes cut through the rest of her presentation, captivating men and women alike. More than once she had been asked if they were contact lenses because the color was so brilliant and sharp.
But none of that mattered to the stubborn sheep that Gabriella had tied off to the post, giving it only a few feet to move. Turning on the clippers, the sheep started to move away. No longer being held by the woman it stretched out the rope and started to tug, lifting its front leg.
Staying patient, Gabriella kept the clippers running and started to pet the animal’s head.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” she soothed to the sheep. The drone of the clippers tuned into white nose after a few minutes, and the sheep stopped pulling and lowered its leg.
In a fluid and gentle move, the clippers passed up one side of the sheep and down the other, dropping a lump of wool to the floor. Snapping its head to the side, the sheep watched the motion but refrained from taking a bite at the woman.
“That’s a good girl,” Gabriella praised, speeding up the job and dropping the wool at a more rapid pace.
Over the next hour, four more sheep were gathered up by Gabriella and taken to the post to be tied off, and the same system was employed to get them used to the clippers and the new noise.
“How many you got done today?” came the voice of a rugged man as he strolled up to the woman. He was handsome in the cowboy way, being broad at the shoulders and pulling in narrow at his hips. His face had not been shaved in two days, and the sun had left its mark on his skin with a deep tan one can only get from working in the sun all day, every day. The black cowboy hat sat firm on his head, and he walked in a slightly bow-legged fashion.
“Five so far,” Gabriella replied.
“Five?” questioned the man. “We got more than two hundred sheep to get though. At this pace you’re never going to make it.”
“They lose it over the clippers. I have to tie them off and ease them into it.”
“You’re joking, right?” the stern man asked with a look of confusion on his face. “These are sheep. Just animals. Grab a leg and flip them on their back, cut the fur off and move on. They don’t need to be eased into anything.”
“That’s not my way.” Gabriella looked at the man and shook her head. “That’s your way.”
“It’s the cowboy way. It’s the farmer’s way. It’s the homesteader’s way. These animals are not pets. They are for profit.”
“Antonio, I have been on the homestead as long as you. You do not need to speak to me like I’m a fool.” Gabriella walked over to the man. “I am no old fashion wife. I can do things my own way.”
Getting up to within a few inches of the man, she looked up into his eyes.
“That look from you is not fair, Gabriella. I should have put it in the vows you could not give me that look.”
“What look?” Gabriella asked softly, leaning up and kissing the man gently.
“Oh man, this is not fair.” The cowboy pulled back. “I can’t end up in the hay with you today, we have far too much work to do.”
Changing the tone of her voice, Gabriella called to her man that had started to walk away. “I was thinking of taking on a job.”
“What?” The man stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“I was thinking of taking on a job. We need to be ready for winter, and if we want to get everything right before then, we will need to get a lot of supplies out here. Only way to do that is with money.”
Slowly turning around and walking back to his wife, the cowboy looked into her eyes. “It’s not worth it,” he said coldly. “We can make do.”
“No, we can’t. After the wind storms that came through here, we need to fix the roof. Now that we have the turbine, we can do that easily, but the time it will take to cut down trees and mill the wood, winter will be on us.”
“We will be fine. I can make improvements even in the cold.”
“And what if you fall off the roof with the ice up there?” Gabriella asked. “You’re still fixing other things we have to get done, and then you have to get firewood and everything else we need. If I take a week, I can be back here with the money we need to make things a lot easier on us as we get ready for winter.”
“I don’t like it,” Antonio grunted. “Too much risk involved.”
“I will pick the right job. I know you’re afraid for me, just like I’m afraid when you go out for a job,” said Gabriella. “You went on the last one, so it’s my turn.”
“Let’s think about it and see if there’s another way.” Antonio then pulled off his hat and walked away.
Chapter Four
Ding!
The small bell sound came out of the cellphone that sat on the desk, much the way it did several times a day.
For Nathan Young, the chief officer of MI6 in London, it had become an all too familiar sound as his children had grown up and would reach out to him during the day.
A deep sigh came out from within him as he reached to the phone half heartily. “What could it be this time?” he said, just barely loud enough that he could hear it.
Bringing the phone to life with a tap, he placed his index finger on the screen letting it read his print and unlocking the phone.
Swiping to the folder that contained his text messages, Young hit the icon and opened it, seeing a phone number that was new to him. Opening the message, he saw only three words.
Tea. Now. M.
Looking up, Nathan looked out the glass door of his office and saw that nobody was looking at him.
So, you’re back, thought Nathan looking at the message again. He’d only had five others like it over the years, but they were always welcome, and they could always solve a problem he had no other answers for.
Sliding his chair out from behind the desk, he stood up putting on his suit jacket and overcoat, and walked to the office door.
“I’m going to grab some lunch with my son. I should be back within the hour,” Nathan said to his secretary, who looked up and smiled.
“Give Thomas my best,” she said.
“I will.”
Moving though the cubical farm of agents who were all busy on the phone or researching assignments, Nathan was greeted with a barge of handshakes and head nods. Being the chief officer in the area made him the one man you wanted to be on the good side of if you had a problem.
Pushing his way through the front door, the cold air hit him with a jolt as he pushed his shoulders up to block the icy wind from running down his neck. “Son of a bitch, why do I live here? Offices around the world, and I pick this one.”
Hailing a cab, Nathan told the driver to go to Harrods Department store. Within ten minutes, the cab pulled up and the man was out of the cab, lighter by a five-pound note.
Walking though the main door, he walked to the fresh market hall section of the store. The area was wide and open. Many of the venders having an area where one could sit and eat what they had just purchased, or you could go to a general seat
ing area as well. Nathan thought that if he worked for Harrods, he could go months without eating the same lunch twice because of the variety in the market hall.
Letting his eyes softly work their way over the crowd, he took each person in, just as he had years ago as a field agent. Never looking too long, the trick was to keep your eyes and feet moving. Always placing your focus on something other than people.
A leg rose up and crossed over another leg in gentle elegance. It held a red high-heel, and a skirt not quite knee length. Nathan knew those legs, and did not need to turn his head to take in the rest of the woman. Instead, he worked his way back around the room and would approach her from behind, showing her that he was still clever enough to be in the game.
Inching up behind the woman, Nathan stopped and reached out his hand.
“Good afternoon, Nathan Young.” Gabriella spoke in an American accent. “Still trying to get it right. I like that. It shows determination.”
Nathan extended his hand and shook Gabriella’s. “It’s nice to see you, Gabriella. I see you’re as sharp as ever.”
“Please sit down so we can talk.” Gabriella motioned to the chair. “I try to keep my skills up, but at times it can be hard.”
“How are the husband and kids?” asked Nathan.
Shaking her head, she made eye contact with him, letting her green eyes speak volumes. “You know I have never said anything about my personal life to you. But I did hear about yours. I’m sorry to hear about your wife. My condolences.”
“Thank you. It was a fast illness, so I was happy for that. Not much pain.” Nathan blinked his eyes rapidly, keeping the tears from starting, before he cleared his throat and continued. “So, what brings you here? Business or pleasure?”
“Business as always,” Gabriella replied. “I am looking for some work. Something less than a week with solid pay. Do you have anything like that?”