BLACK WIDOW

smultroställe

smultroställe
(n.)
a special place discovered, treasured, returned to for solace, relaxation; a personal idyll free from stress or sadness

•••

"Thank you, naivety, for failing me again."

•••

The room was dark. It was a study. A very wealthy study at that. The walls were beautiful mahogany wood along with the desks and the two small working tables. The chairs were too, excluding the fine fabric that lined on the rear for comfort. There were priceless Soviet drawn paintings hung about the walls. Heavy curtains keeping out all natural light. The only light was a soft glow of an expensive lamp cast over a desk where 27 manila files sat stacked in a neat pile in one corner of the mahogany rest with various feminine names attached to them while another lay open with the contents spread out so that the observer could see all.

The observer sat at his desk facing another man who sat across from him. Both of them radiated a feeling of wealth, power, and danger. The man sitting in front of the desk, rather than at it, waited with patience for the other to speak.

"These are the twenty eight girls that will be moving to the final phase," he said finally, gesturing to the files.

"And you are promising the Widow will be used for HYDRA too, correct?" the man asked. He was a small man with little hair and even smaller glasses.

"As long as you can promise Russia use of your new asset. After all, we did permit you to build your facility in Siberia," the man at the desk said. He had a large build, though not seeming to have not much strength. All his time was spent confined to his office, using his brain instead of his brawn.

"Of course," the small man in the glasses answered with a wrinkled smile. His eyes moved to the file the man at the desk was looking into. "Who is the one with the open file?" he asked. The man at he he desk closed the file and handed it to him.

"Natalia Shostokov," he, leaning back in his chair and folding his fingers together.

"Shostokov? I do not remember any Shostokovs," he said, searching her file.

"She has just married. Maiden name Romanova," he excused, handing him another file.

"Is this the husband?" he asked, looking throughout the file. The larger man nodded in response. "Alexi Shostokov? The man is royalty."

"So was Romanova," countered the larger man.

"But she doesn't know her lineage, correct?" The big man shook his head.

"Not that it would make a difference. The Romanovs were a dying race." The man with the glasses pursed his lips and nodded, believing the man.

"If this is the woman you were talking about with such fondness, then she can't be married, correct?"

"Well we can't just terminate the marriage, Dr. Zola," the larger man said. "That would raise suspicion."

"Of course we can. Not in a legal sense, no. We could have Alexi killed."

"Kill Shostokov?" he said, thoughtful in his voice. It may come down to it. Sounds like a brilliant first mission for the Asset. And it could be used as leverage."

"Why would we need leverage?" asked Zola.

"She was approached for the project. She turned it down immediately."

"How is she moving to the last phase if she wasn't even a part of the first and second?"?Dr. Zola questioned as if the opposite man was daft.

"Trust me, doctor. We have have been keeping and eye on her for years. Doing as much as we can. This is our girl. And besides. Phase two of the advanced category is not over. There are five girls left. We can get her in there. She already had everything for Phase One. Knowledge and languages and such. The handler took good care of that."