stopped every morning. Heidi lived in an apartment near the Rhone River and was a professor at the University IFM Geneva, an international business school where she taught economics. Her husband, Aldo, had also been a professor and operative working for the GRU for more than ten years. He’d been killed in a terrorist attack in Paris while on an assignment for the Russian government, an assignment that the Snow Maiden had planned. That was just a year before the war, and because the Snow Maiden had worked closely with the man, she felt responsible to help his widow, despite the GRU’s insistence that she not make contact. Consequently, the Snow Maiden was vague regarding the details of Aldo’s death and only identified herself as one of Aldo’s research assistants. Izotov himself had learned of this security breach and had threatened her if she continued offering assistance. She’d threatened him: It was the
During the last few years, the Snow Maiden had kept in touch with Heidi and had even visited to have lunch with her several times. They’d had a lot in common and e-mailed each other a few times per month. Heidi was like the sister the Snow Maiden had never had and truly the only “real” female friend she’d ever had.
The trouble was, the Snow Maiden had never been honest with Heidi, but that was part of the Snow Maiden’s protection, her armor, and she’d always known that having a friend in Geneva who was in her debt would someday prove invaluable.
At the Snow Maiden’s request, the coffee shop owner contacted Heidi, who came to the shop and went into a back room, where a table had been set up for them. The Snow Maiden had, of course, paid the shop owner handsomely for this small luxury.
Heidi wore her hair a bit shorter than the Snow Maiden had remembered, and her new “academic” plastic- framed glasses reminded the Snow Maiden of the woman’s devotion to scholarship.
They spoke in English, as was Heidi’s wont. She was more than a little surprised. “Viktoria, I didn’t know you were in Geneva! It’s so good to see you! But why are you back here? Why all the secrecy?”
Chopra and Hussein were seated nearby and watching, and their uneasy expressions caught Heidi’s attention. “Are they your friends?”
“No, we are not,” said Chopra.
The Snow Maiden looked fire in the old man’s direction. “Please…”
“Viktoria, what’s going on?”
“I’m wondering if we can stay with you for the night.”
“We? You mean them as well?”
“Yes, I’ll explain everything, and I’ll take care of your rent for the rest of the year.”
Heidi shifted in her seat. “This is, uh, quite strange. You drop in unannounced with these people. Can’t you get a hotel?”
“No, I can’t right now. It’s complicated. I just need you to trust me. And we need to talk.”
“You know I don’t have much room.”
“We’ll sleep on the floor. I just need this right now, and I can explain everything once we’re up there.”
“I was about to have dinner. I don’t have enough food for us all.”
The Snow Maiden grinned. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Viktoria, what’s wrong? What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
The Snow Maiden reached across the table and clutched both of Heidi’s hands. “You can trust me.”
Brent had bought himself a little condo just thirty minutes away from Fort Bragg. In fact, the place was almost paid off, and the resale value wasn’t bad, despite the ever-fluctuating market. Most folks who lived in his complex were military, and demand for such housing remained high. A condo was the way to go for a single military man: no lawn to worry about mowing, no building maintenance to perform, but the HOA fees would eventually bankrupt him, he knew.
He was on his way home after heading down to central Florida to see George Voeckler’s parents. They lived in a small retirement home in The Villages, and it was with great sorrow and resignation that he expressed his condolences in person. The NSA had already sent representatives to notify them of George’s death, but Thomas had beaten even them to the punch. He’d called his parents while en route back to the States, and as expected, neither Frank nor Regina Voeckler had taken the news very well.
Thomas had not been present during Brent’s visit. Regina had said he’d gone off to his time-share on Captiva Island. The Voecklers were exceedingly proud of their two boys and made a point of telling Brent about the great influence George had been on Thomas. They feared that without George’s continued guidance, Thomas might slip back into a depression and into his “old ways.” He’d already been talking about quitting the NSA job when he’d come home. Regina had taken Brent’s hand and had begged him to talk to Thomas. Brent said that he would.
But for now, he needed to get back home for a meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Susan Grey, DCO, 1st Bn, 5th Special Forces Group, a long title for a woman short on patience. Grey was a lean, athletic woman with short blond hair who seemed demure before she smiled and ate you for breakfast. She headed up Ghost Recon and had not endorsed Dennison’s selection of Brent to lead the Snow Maiden mission. She would remind him of that, and the meeting would, of course, determine his future in the military, if there was one at all.
As he’d suspected, the team had been pulled off the hunt and sent back home, and were about to be reassigned. Lakota’s eyes had burned when she resignedly had taken his hand at the airport.
Brent did something stupid and said that now that they weren’t working together, he’d like to take her out and buy her a beer.
“You mean a date?” she’d asked.
“I don’t know what I mean.”
“Well, when you figure that out, give me a call.” She’d given him a curt nod and walked away.
Oh, yes, he was quite an operator when it came to the ladies..
It was late afternoon when he got back home and he was too tired to cook, so he drove down to the Liberator for a burger and a drink or two. He sat alone in his usual booth, and Schoolie, the big boy with the scarred face, drifted over and slid into the seat opposite him. “Back from Europe.”
Brent made a face. “I know why you’re here, and I’m not talking.”
“You don’t have to. I got some scuttlebutt.”
“We’re friends now? Sharing secrets? I thought you wanted to bust my chops.”
“Well, that, too.”
“Then why are you talking like my buddy?”
“I’m still your buddy, Brent. But when I offered my hand before the mission, you should’ve taken it. You jinxed yourself.”
“Okay, whatever.”
“Look, let me tell you what’s going on…” Schoolie leaned in closer and scratched his stubbly jowls.
Brent rubbed his eyes, leaned back, and sighed deeply.
Schoolie’s tone grew emphatic. “Word is they’ve just assigned a new team to your old operation.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I’m on the new team. We just got briefed. You didn’t hear this from me — but they found her again.”
Brent nodded. “We knew she’d turn up.”
Schoolie winced, took a deep breath, and said, “This isn’t the kind of stuff we should be doing.”
“It’s a different war now.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I don’t like it.”
“So why’re you telling me this?”
“Because I know you, Brent. You won’t take this lying down.”
Brent accepted his beer from the waitress and, after a long pull, said, “Maybe I will.”
“Why don’t you talk to Dennison? I’ll drive you down to the comm center.”
“I need a chauffeur?”
“You parked on the grass again, and they just towed your car. You didn’t learn your lesson from the last time?” Schoolie tipped his head toward the front windows, where a tow truck was just leaving with Brent’s car hanging from the back.
Brent burst up from the table, cursed, and started toward the door.
