Black Widow r5-6

by Cliff Ryder

  The man became aware of her as she stepped alongside him. He swiveled his head toward her, not thinking anything was amiss, just a peripheral read. He should have opened the space between them first.

  Without warning, Ajza swung her right forearm around and struck her target in the throat. She caught his right wrist in her left hand and shoved it up behind his shoulder blades. At the same time, she kicked his right foot behind his left leg and caused him to trip.

  Off balance and still fighting for breath, the man fell forward. Using his trapped arm as a lever, Ajza shoved him forward. He smashed face-first into the alley wall. As he slumped to the ground, dazed and hurting, Ajza put a knee in his back to pin his arm, then jerked his jacket up and pulled the semiautomatic pistol from the holster at his back.

  She flipped the pistol's safety off and shoved the barrel into the man's jaw.

  "So far," she said in an even voice that she had to work to achieve, "I haven't killed you."

  The man gasped and wheezed and tried to push himself up. He lacked the strength.

  "I will kill you if it becomes necessary. Do you believe me?"

  The man swallowed hard, obviously trying to regain his breath. "Why are you doing this? I helped you earlier today."

  "Yet you hang about and spy on me."

  He didn't bother to reply.

  "A good Samaritan would have vanished after his good deed." Ajza patted the man down and found his wallet inside his jacket. She took it out. "Seeing you out here all day, I had to start wondering what nefarious things you were up to."

  "If I'd wanted to hurt you…"

  Ajza pushed the pistol barrel harder into his jaw, making it difficult for him to speak. "Shh. Don't speak unless I speak to you."

  "We were here to look out for you."

  With a vicious twist, Ajza raised the man's arm. She felt it pop out of place, then settle back in.

  He cried out in pain.

  "Talk again and I'll break it. You have my promise on that." Ajza felt him cringing beneath her. She hated the way she felt, but all she had to do was think of her parents in the shop across the street and all thoughts of mercy vanished.

  She went through his wallet and found his identification almost at once. His name — perhaps — was Warren Lesser. He was a field agent for MI-5, England's domestic intelligence agency.

  "Your photograph is a good likeness," Ajza observed. She took it from the wallet and slid it into her pocket. A further check of the wallet turned up nothing else of interest, and she tossed it on the ground near Lesser's head.

  Cars passed on the street. Even pedestrians walked by. No one came to investigate.

  "I want you to pass a message along for me," Ajza said.

  Lesser nodded but he didn't speak.

  "Tell your bosses to find whoever put you two onto me," Ajza said. "That person has until ten tomorrow morning to contact me. If he doesn't, then I'll find you and your partner and start making people uncomfortable. Understand?"

  Lesser nodded again.

  "Tell him he can reach me in a chat room for Annie's Dungeon." Ajza gave the web address and made him repeat it back. "They're to log in as anything with the word cardinal in it. Understand?"

  Lesser nodded.

  "Stay down and don't try anything. If you do, I will shoot you." Moving carefully, Ajza shifted her weight from Lesser's back.

  The man moaned as she released his trapped arm. If he tried to do anything quickly, she knew the limb wouldn't hold up under him.

  Ajza kept the pistol in her hand as she ran to the other end of the alley. Before she stepped out onto the street, she shoved the weapon into her coat pocket.

  She didn't try to go back to her parents' apartment. It wasn't safe there. The only way she could protect them was to stay away. Until she knew how she'd become compromised, she could only hope whoever was looking for her would leave her parents alone.

  20

  New York

  Kate stabbed a forefinger at the touch-screen monitor and picked up a call on speaker phone. "Sam?"

  "I see you're still at work," Samantha stated.

  "Guilty." Kate's eyes roved over the other files on her monitor. So many things were coming to fruition on a lot of fronts. Some days she didn't know if she was leading operations or struggling to trail after them. This was one of the latter.

  "It appears that we've stirred up a proper hornets' nest with our newest possible protege," Samantha said.

  "What happened?" Kate asked.

  "She spotted the men I had watching her."

  "That proves she's as good as we thought. She's going to have to be if she agrees to come on board."

  "Evidently she has her own ax to grind. A short time ago, she approached those men. Took one of them down. Then threatened him."

  "Who did you have on this?" Kate asked.

  "MI-5. I called in a favor from a friend," Samantha answered. "This won't track back to me."

  "What does Ms. Manaev want?"

  "To meet whoever put the tail on her."

  "That sounds reasonable. Did she give you a place to meet her?"

  "No. The men watching her reported that she left her parents' home."

  Kate nodded. "She knows she can't protect them."

  "That's what I was thinking, too," Samantha replied. "She's setting herself up as a target."

  "Or going to MI-6 for help."

  "I don't think that has happened."

  "MI-6 could provide a bodyguard or take her parents into protective custody," Kate said.

  "You and I both know bodyguards only raise the cost of an action. They can't negate it over the long run. Taking her parents into protective custody would reveal what she does."

  "Which her parents don't know."

  "Correct."

  Kate thought about that. "Obviously she's comfortable in her skills to protect herself."

  "And she's convinced that whoever is after her is after her alone. She's curious."

  "Curiosity killed the cat."

  "True. But now we're curious. We knew she would eventually spot the tails we put on her, but we thought she might go to MI-6. She's quite confident in acting independently. That's a quality we value, given the nature of the assignment we're going to ask her to take on," Samantha said.

  Kate leaned back in her chair. "She's used to keeping secrets. Her parents don't know what she does. They didn't know what her brother did."

  "She's trying to keep it that way."

  "Why?" Kate trusted Samantha's judgment when it came to understanding young women.

  "She wants a home," Samantha said. "Someplace inviolate where her work doesn't overshadow everything."

  Kate opened Ajza ManaeVs computer file and flipped through the images she had of the young woman. Most of them were around the family shop or at corporate functions where she maintained her cover. She looked happy and outgoing. Judging from the pictures, she and her brother were close to each other and to their parents.

  "Keeping secrets makes for a hard life," Kate said.

  "Especially when you're keeping them from those you love," Samantha agreed. "Ajza told the MI-5 operative that whoever sent him has until ten tomorrow morning my time to contact her."

  "How are you supposed to contact her?" Kate asked.

  "Through a chat room at an Internet porn site."

  "Lovely."

  "I thought so. But those sites are heavily protected. After all, most of their clients can't afford to be found out."

  "And traffic will be high on those sites."

  "Yes. With lots of linkers and people getting off and on — no pun intended."

  "She'll use a cyber cafe, of course," Kate said.

  "Of course. I would."

  "I can put some of our techs onto the site. They can try to ferret her out for you," Kate said.

  "Do it. I want to know how good she is."

  "We need to know how good she is."

  "I'll talk with her, then get back to you," Samantha sa
id.

  "Do that." Kate said goodbye and broke the connection.

  Kate drummed her fingers on her desktop. "I'm beginning to think Ajza Manaev is too good at what she does," she muttered to herself.

  21

  Leicester

  Ajza leaned into the phone booth at the rail station. The building trapped the noise of conversations and the arriving and departing trains. She glanced at the digital clock over the entranceway to the boarding area and matched it against her watch.

  Surely it wasn't too early. Trevor had had hours to work with the information she'd given him. Less than four hours remained before she was supposed to be contacted.

  She dropped coins into the slot, punched in a number she'd memorized when she'd first called Trevor, and waited. He picked up on the first ring.

  Ajza took solace in Trevor's familiar voice. He was a childhood friend of both her and Ilyas. For a time he'd lived in Leicester, then migrated to London with them when they all attended university. Where Ilyas had majored in history and art, and Ajza had majored in business, Trevor had gotten a degree in computer programming.

  Incredibly bright and talented, with the most inquisitive nature Ajza had ever seen, Trevor could have taught the classes he'd taken. Only the constant scams and pranks he'd performed at university had kept him there. He'd become the bane of the computer department because he'd been so intelligent and enjoyed the rivalry and competition as they'd struggled to find some way to expel him.

  On more than one occasion, he'd admitted his friendship with Ilyas and Ajza had barely lifted the university experience up to tolerable levels.

  "You are making do, I trust?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "No lurkers or other dreadfuls about?"

  Ajza scanned the passengers who filled the station. "Not unless they're very skilled," she replied.

  Neither she nor Ilyas had told Trevor that they worked for MI-6. But he'd kept watch over them and knew they were more than they let on. Besides being very talented with computers, Trevor was a keen observer of people. He'd known exactly when Ilyas and Ajza had decided to keep secrets from him.

  Sometimes she felt guilty for not telling Trevor. She knew, when it came to secrets, Trevor could keep quiet better than anyone.

  "Let's hope that they're not," Trevor said.

  "I haven't much time," Ajza apologized.

  "No problem, love. I've got the information you requested."

  "Was he really MI-5?"

  "Yes. I hacked into their network and confirmed the ID. I also went back through his files and matched up details with news stories. He's the real deal."

  Ajza let out a breath. That wasn't a surprise, but it was off-putting all the same.

  "So what have you done to raise the ire of MI-5?"

  "I don't know."

  "Love," Trevor said more quietly and with less-boyish enthusiasm than before, "if you're in trouble with this lot, it can be quite bad."

  "I'm not in any trouble that I know of."

  "Then why are these blokes interested in you?"

  "I don't know." Ajza changed the subject. "What about my parents?"

  "They're fine. I broke into the security cameras there. Your pop has already opened the store. He's still a workaholic, I see."

  Some of the tension in Ajza's stomach eased. "Keep an eye on them for me, please," she said.

  "Of course. You know, if you need a hole to drop out of sight in, I've got a couple."

  Not all of Trevor's business interests were exactly legitimate. He sometimes ran computer scams.

  "Thank you. That's very generous. I'll keep it in mind. But at the moment I prefer to work this out alone."

  "As you wish, love. But do look before you leap. I haven't got many friends, and I should hate to lose another."

  "You won't lose me."

  "Didn't think we'd lose Ilyas, love, but he was gone before we knew it."

  Ajza didn't say anything.

  "Sorry, love," Trevor whispered. "I didn't want to have to point that out."

  "It's all right. But I think I'm better off out here alone right now."

  From the moment they'd learned of Ilyas's death, Trevor had scoured the Internet for information regarding his murder. Trevor had invaded government databases and almost brought disaster upon himself. In the end, he'd had to admit defeat. That was something he didn't easily do.

  Ajza checked the time. "I've got to go."

  "All right, love. But if there's anything else you need, call me."

  "I will." She thanked him and hung up the phone, then walked to the boarding area. Her mind raced. She had to trust that her message had been received. At least, for the moment, her parents were being left out of whatever mess she was in.

  * * *

  London

  Ajza stepped off the train at St Pancras station and glanced around warily. Although she felt somewhat secure in the crowd of people rushing to work, Ajza's paranoia ticked steadily inside her. She discovered it was easier to be on her guard while undercover than at home with her parents.

  In Istanbul, everyone she'd met had been a potential enemy. None of the terrain had looked overly familiar. That had been true of several assignments she'd drawn while working for MI-6.

  But here in Greater London, everything looked too commonplace. She regularly rode the train from Leicester and frequently walked along the platforms she was on now. She felt even more out of place because she carried no baggage, while nearly everyone around her had a briefcase or valise.

  She hailed a cab on Euston Road after making certain no one followed her.

  "Where to, miss?" the driver asked.

  "Broadway Market, please."

  The driver flipped on his meter, pulled away from the curb and battled for a place in traffic. "Do you have any place special in mind, miss?"

  "I'm just going to wander." Ajza pushed herself back in the seat and tried to relax.

  After paying the driver, noting that her cash was dwindling quickly, she stepped into the flow of people patronizing the local shops and restaurants. The overcast sky promised dreary weather and the possibility of rain.

  Broadway Market was a center of activity on Saturdays, when farmers brought their produce to sell. The neighborhood consisted of narrow buildings squeezed among several alleys and narrow streets. It was, Ajza had concluded, a particularly good spot for being elusive if the need arose.

  Keeping her head low, Ajza used the shop windows to check the area. She scanned the reflections. No one followed her.

  Unless they got here ahead of you — perhaps you're not as clever as you think you are, she cautioned herself.

  She forced those thoughts from her head. She was clever. Not only that, she had no choice in what she was going to do.

  The sights and smells of all the food around her made her stomach grumble. She knew she had to eat to keep her strength up. During the train ride, she'd managed to sleep most of the hour-and-twenty-minute journey, but that was nowhere near what her body craved. She still hadn't decompressed from the Istanbul assignment.

  She purchased a blueberry scone from a small pastry shop, picked up a newspaper to check the headlines and walked into the Java Highway cyber cafe, squeezed between a wedding-apparel shop and a shoe store. The smell of fresh coffee gave her a lift.

  A short counter with two staff took up one corner of the room. Computers and tables filled the rest. Dim lighting enhanced the blue-gray screens of the computers.

  Ajza paid for an hour and took a computer near the back wall. The doorway to the alley was only a short distance away. She settled in, opened the account Trevor had created for her, then logged on to the Annie's Dungeon website.

  She negotiated the handful of screens noting that the user was entering a zone for adult material, followed immediately by images of men and women in garish clothing, chains and holding whips. None of it made an impression on Ajza. This was all pretend. What she had seen in the field — what she had done — was much wor
se.

  She logged into the chat room and looked at the names. No one with cardinal was on the roster provided.

  The time was nine-fifty-three.

  As calmly as she could, she sipped her coffee. She knew she should eat the scone, but she didn't trust her stomach.

  Mum and Dad are fine, she told herself. But she kept thinking how quickly Ilyas had slipped away. He'd been gone before they knew it.

  The chat room was active. Ajza watched each new name that entered. She ignored the suggestive and outright inflammatory remarks the other users posted. During her training, she'd been taught how to entice and lure over the Internet. The cyber battlefield took shape the same way as physical terrain. In the end, though, everything was filtered through human lust and greed.

  And, perhaps, sometimes self-preservation.

  CardinalSin logged on at nine-fifty-seven.

  Ajza cracked her knuckles out of habit, then leaned into the keyboard and monitor.

  22

  Chechen Republic

  "Bring them out." Taburova stood in front of the shack where the women were held. He'd spent the night talking and drinking for far too long. Now he was getting a late start and it angered him.

  Two of his men entered the shack and herded the women back outside. In the daylight, they looked like scarecrows wrapped in light coats. Most wore headscarves, but none of them had veils to cover their faces. None were beautiful, but a few of the younger ones were pretty enough.

  One of the older women fell to her knees in front of Taburova. She cried out for mercy and touched her forehead to the ground.

  "Don't cry out to God," Taburova told them. "He will not hear you. Today, only I am listening."

  Quickly the other women knelt and pressed their faces to the ground. A handful of them cried, their thin faces jerking with their repressed sobs.

  "Your tears will only hit the dry ground, and even it will remain parched rather than accept them," Taburova told the women. "No one cares about you. You are nothing. The Russians made you that way."

  The men stood around them with their weapons but didn't speak.