NIGHT DROP( A Eric the Red thriller: Book 1)

Chapter 19: Secret operations are essential in war

He voiced through his Red's earpiece. " Red, Did you get to Gunner before the wet job team scrubbed him?"

"Yes, Gunner is with us now and the wet job team is eliminated," he voiced through Holiday earpiece.

"Get him to one of our safe houses," Holiday remarked.

"Maize is going to take Gunner to our safe while I go after Emlin," Eric replied through Holiday earpiece.

"Good, see if she can recruit him to work for us as an asset," he told Red.

"I will let her know," Eric stated, as he glanced over at Maize.

Holiday ended the conversation in his earpiece as he thought There was no intelligence on the location of the Headshot organization. It finally dawn on him that Callan had used the assets he had inside the CIA and maybe even the NSA to make sure that there was no intel on it. It made sense to him to after it would be the smart thing to do. Their only hope of finding out where it was Gunner.

For him, it was all about timing and putting everything together. That was what intelligence was, but when there was no intel too, gather he was left with fewer options and the private party was drawing closer. He exited out of the operations centre and made his way over to the counter where he kept his chilled bottle of vodka. Reaching under the counter, he grabbed it and shot glass as he poured some into it. The first time he had a sip of it was when he was stationed in the United States embassy in Moscow.

As the strong liquid slowly burned down his throat, he favoured the taste as it numbed his nerves. He placed the shot glass down on the counter. He was missing something? But what was it? That was the question. Then he remembered an old saying from Popov after he had been recruited him in Moscow.

"In wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard,"

After a while, he placed the chilled bottle of vodka down under the counter, his world of shadowy intelligence was becoming more complex each moment. He headed back into the operations centre as he rubbed his chin, although he had looked into Emlin Medusa earlier. A sudden drop in his stomach told him that something wasn't right. He preferred getting intel the old way.

It was risky going to and dicey meeting this asset of his. After all, he was an ex-KGB chief who ran many agents over the years, but if he was going to find out more about Medusa and who she, really Was?  Intelligence work was always risky, but he did it methodically and discreetly. He strode out of the back room and emerged from behind the counter and exited the shop. Walking over to his Mazda, he surveyed the area before sliding in and closing the door behind him.

He flew to Moscow after that he rented a car and paid with money for it. He glanced sideways as he surveyed the parking lot. He couldn't be to be careful knowing that the FSB would be watching the airport. after all, he was a former spy. He slid in, closing the door behind and headed over to the United States embassy. Glancing in his rearview mirror, he noticed that there were no vehicles behind him. It felt odd being back in Russia after those years.

He arrived at the embassy parking outside, stepped out and closed the door behind him. He strode way down the old worn gray cobblestone passing through a crow, he knelt pretending to his shoe to see if he could spot any FSB agent tailing him. So far, so good, he thought to himself. He dashed across several streets in a steady jog, he slowed his pace as he came to Gorky Park, which extended several acres beyond it with a swath of green between the southwest loop of the river and the sharp slope of Sparrow hill.

He made his way over to a bench,sat down on it as he observed people strolling casually by him. A couple walked by holding hands, not paying attention to him. If Headshot wanted him dead, he didn't believe they wouldn't go this far to do it, but nothing was impossible. They had gotten to Miguel in Washington DC and eliminated Davenport in Oslo. He brushes his hand against his shoulder holster, he was alert. He had to be here.

A few minutes later a man entered the park as he swiftly tucked his hands in his pocket, he strode up to the bench as his eyes darted back and forth looking for anything out of the ordinary and says. "Were you followed here?"

"No I wasn't Yuri, I made sure of that relax and sit down. I need some intel on an assassin named Emlin Fallen Medusa?"

The former Russian spy chief sat down on the bench beside Holiday and thought for a moment before he spoke. "She's not an assassin and her name isn't Emlin Medusa. Her real name is Valentina Petrov, and she's a sparrow for the Russian Intelligence service!"

Holiday froze for a second. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, but then his asset had never lied to him. Did HeadShot have a Russian sparrow working for them? He wouldn't rule out anything, still confused about Valentina Petrov, who was a suspected sparrow and who was now an assassin for the assassin organization. 

"Who's Valentina Petrov's handler," Holiday inquired.

"General Mikhail Grigorevich Sokolov, Head of GRU Counterintelligence, Yuri stated.

The Spetsnaz sniper peered through his scope on his deadly ghost black Orsis T-5000 Russian bolt action sniper rifle, his finger resting on the trigger. His orders were to eliminate Vasilyev and Holiday. He held his breath and fired. The rifle recoiled as the hot smoking flipped outside beside him and the round soared out of the muzzle, striking the old Russian spy chief in his head as he dropped to the ground.

Holiday jolted to his feet as he whipped out his Sig as sprinted with all his might as another round was fired from the distance. It was too late for his asset, but not for him still taking in everything his asset had told him about Valentina Petrov. He darted down the cobblestone heading for his vehicle, he pondered if Headshot had any connections to the Russian intelligence or if they had someone inside the Kremlin on their payroll.