TWO DAYS after the eventful night at the bar, Laswell contacted Price to reveal the fruits of her team's success in cracking into Hassan's phone. The process was grueling, as any high-risk terrorist such as Hassan would naturally adopt stringent security measures to safeguard any devices he used for communications. As difficult as it was, however, they eventually managed to unearth some intelligence; while they couldn't find anything on code names 'Jackal' or 'Station', they did find out more information on 'Osprey'.
Associated with that code name was a date, a location, and two names. June 14th. St. Petersburg, Russia. Anton Petrovich and Isaak Vlasov.
Deciphering the significance of the date and location required extensive analysis, but finding background on both names was simple– they were prominent figures in the Russian mafia. Anton was a fairly successful hitman who worked under the direct orders of Samuil Sokolo, the mafia king's right-hand. Isaak was the head supplier, overseeing virtually every shipment that was either delivered to or from the mafia. Further investigation revealed that both Anton and Isaak were long-time, close associates of Alexei, which strongly implied that they were either complicit in the impending attack or the very individuals responsible for doing the dirty work.
Later they cracked the code surrounding the date and location. June 14th was exactly three months and two days from the present day. According to Zero, the date itself held no importance to Alexei. However, upon delving deeper, they later found out that the Prime Minister of Russia, Rolan Pushkin, and the Governor of St. Petersburg, Akim Egorov, were set to meet Japan's Prime Minister Morikawa Keiichi. According to the schedule, the trio planned to attend a performance at the Mariinsky Theatre to view the Bolshoi ballet's rendition of the classic 'Black Swan' play. The specifics of the meeting were unknown, but ultimately meaningless. They assumed the specifics would be meaningless to Alexei as well. But the Prime Minister of Japan being assassinated on Russian soil? It would undoubtedly trigger widespread chaos.
That was merely an assumption, however. TF-141 still had insufficient information to confidently determine what exactly Volkov had in mind. The very night Laswell had delivered the news, the team had gathered at a round table within the hour, with the CIA agent and Shepherd on the laptop to aid the discussion. They all pondered the obvious questions: what could happen, why would Alexei target them, what was he planning to do– if killing them was his intention, how would he do it?
Laswell presented information on Alexei's past missions, revealing that he always carried out the killings himself, often going undercover unnoticed as a bodyguard, a driver, or waitstaff. He was meticulous in his planning, always having a backup plan, as evidenced by one of his failed assassination attempts; after failing to get close to his target, bombs planted in the basement of a museum detonated, killing the individual and many more. At this they noted that the Mariinsky had an underground tunnel system, which the Russian could potentially use to his advantage.
"Okay, so he goes undercover, gets close, kills one of them, maybe all," Price paced back and forth. "But how? There's going to be at least ten bodyguards in attendance. He won't even be able to raise his weapon."
"Who's to say he'll stick to his usual pattern?" Soap added. "We have Hassan's phone. We found out the details. He may not proceed with what's planned, or may do so at a different date."
"No," Zero disagreed, "he'll go on with it. He's psychotic enough to do so, and arrogant enough to think he'll get away with it."
"But get away with what, exactly? There's no clear motive, how are we sure he plans to kill them?" said Gaz.
She shook her head. "Don't overthink it. Alexei doesn't care for motives. He never has them. For as long as I've known him, he has always been impatient, impulsive, kill hungry. He likes power, and he likes money, of course. But above all he adores chaos. He just wants to watch the world burn."
"And how do you know for sure he'll be directly involved?" Ghost interjected with a frown, crossing his arms. "He's an important man. It's much safer to send subordinates to do the dirty work."
"Doesn't matter," Zero said. "He loves being the man behind the gun. He loves the risk, the thrill of it all, and especially blood on his hands. It's almost erotic. He'll throw himself in the way of death if it'll make his dick hard."
"The way you describe him," Ghost went on, taking a step closer to the girl. "Alexei seems like an unpredictable man. A psychopath."
"He is."
"So there's no telling he won't just... not appear. Change his plans, change his ways, show some restraint."
She scoffed. "I've known Alexei for years, Lieutenant. I know him better than anyone else. He will do it himself if he has the chance."
"And what if you're wrong, Sergeant?"
Eyes shot back and forth between the arguing pair, an uncomfortable tension suddenly enveloping the group.
Zero cleared her throat. "Sir, you don't know him like I do."
"It doesn't change the fact you're merely offering us an estimate that is so obviously blinded by your hatred towards him."
"Are you fucking serious?" Zero narrowed her eyes, her voice instinctively raising as she took a step closer.
"Watch your goddamn mouth," Ghost stepped closer to her until his chest nearly bumped hers. "You realize that if you are wrong, this entire operation is jeopardized? People will die."
"I was brought here for this very reason, sir. I was brought here to provide insight on Alexei that none of you have. Until we obtain more information, my 'guess' is the best we have to work with right now."
Zero had gotten in his face, pointing her fingers into his chest until both Gaz and Price pulled her back. She shoved them off of her, glaring at the masked man in front of her, who she knew was only challenging her out of spite. "Why don't you go find another bone to chew, Lieutenant?" She sneered, the inflection on her last word making a mockery of the title. "You'll break your teeth on this one."
Since their fight at the bar, the once-promising relationship between Ghost and Zero come to a staggering halt. In her drunken state, she had hurled accusations of jealousy towards Ghost and said dirty things. Ghost, in turn, had weaponized the deaths of Zero's family against her, most specifically her brother's. And now both soldiers, both damaged and instinctually untrusting of others, had put their walls back up.
Zero never ended up sleeping with Alejandro. She hadn't intended to, either. However, she did spend a drunken night in his room, ending with both parties mutually deciding they were far too inebriated to act upon any urges. She parted from his room that night, closing the door behind her, purposefully a tad too loudly. And then she giggled to herself as she stumbled back to her room, knowing her melodramatic actions would rile up the creative imagination of the man whose room sat across from hers, who would never know nothing had happened.
June 14th. St. Petersburg, Russia. Task Force 141 had exactly three months and two days of gathering intelligence, monitoring behaviour, and tracking patterns in efforts to stop the assumed attacks by Alexei. For one month and two of those days, that was exactly what they did, before they had decided that their best approach was to show as little presence as possible. Thus, for the remainder of that time, for the next two months, Zero and Soap were chosen to go undercover.
Zero was to be situated in Moscow as a government worker, and Soap became a mafia shipper in St Petersburg while the rest of 141 worked behind the scenes.
Every day Zero transformed into Ivana Chekhov, the new interpreter at the Japanese Embassy in Moscow, donning a blonde wig, black-rimmed glasses, and elegant attire. She went to work at the Embassy where she gained access to confidential information– names, updates, times, and locations– including the schedules of the Prime Minister, the Moscow Governor, and the Japanese Prime Minister. She discovered the hotel that Keiichi was staying at, when his flight arrived, when his driver would pick him up and the routes they would take. She dug deeper into his schedule to find out he planned to have dinner with his daughter and a few associates at Percoso, a restaurant in his hotel, around 6:00 pm the night of the ballet. Along with this information were the names and the faces of the security detail assigned to that dinner.
Zero's role was difficult, but crucial. It was her task to obtain the confidential information to find out more about who exactly Alexei was targeting. Based on what she collected, she deduced that it was possible that there was no backup plan for the theatre, but the theatre was the backup plan. That the dinner might be the primary target, and the Japanese Prime Minister had to be the one he wanted dead. After all, an important foreign official dying on Russian soil was consequential.
Soap's work was far more dangerous and far less rewarding. His day-to-day as Sergei Popov, mafia subordinate, was simple– he woke up in a boat by the docks he lived in, and then he spent the day tracking and moving shipments that came in by water. His routine involved tracking the shipments, searching the contents, and making note of any unusual shipments that contained weapons or explosives being delivered to Alexei and his associates. He was successful as well, finding a package that came in June 11th and was handed off to Isaak that contained weapons and explosives. Though, he couldn't stop the shipment. He also couldn't risk tracking it. But now that he knew what Alexei was adding to his arsenal, it would make it far easier for his team to prepare.
Due to the importance of this mission, the criticality of both soldiers keeping their identity secret and their lives from risk, there had to be little to no contact. As such, TF-141 set up two meetups before sending them undercover: May 28th, 1200 at the small café on the corner of Ligovsky Ave, Moscow called 'Coffee Time', and June 9th, 2230, at Club Voron, St Petersburg. Zero was to meet Price at the café, exchange information and set up another meeting time, and then later relay all of that information to Soap at the club.
On May 28th, 'Ivana' left for her lunch break at 1140 and arrived at the small café as the clock struck noon. She ordered a turkey sandwich and lemonade and took a seat by the window. Roughly five minutes later, a foreigner entered the shop. He ordered a blueberry muffin and coffee before walking to nab a spot at the window next to the woman.
"Beautiful day out, isn't it?" Price glanced over at the blonde woman as he took a piece from his muffin. Pinpricks of anxiety crawled up his arms. Not out of nerves, but out of slight joyousness. He hadn't seen her for almost two months now, and not only was it delightful to see her again, but to see her unscathed.
The girl sipped her lemonade, unable to control the smirk that overwhelmed her expressions. "It's good to see you, sir," She said, eyes kept on the sights beyond the window. "June 14th, 6:00pm, Keiichi is going to be having dinner with his daughter and a few of his associates." She kept her voice quiet as she gave him the address, and then relayed the route his driver would be taking to bring him to the theatre. "There are a total of 8 bodyguards that will be on the balcony during the meeting– 4 Russian, 4 Japanese. All cleared. I'm keeping track of the staff working the event and any changes to the Bolshoi's roster."
"Very good work, sergeant. I knew in my gut from the moment I met you that you would fit this team well," Price checked his watch and then stood from his seat. "June 14th, 1700. The 4th floor of the parking garage on the corner of Sovetskaya and Kirochnaya. We'll see you then. Be safe, soldier." With all said, he turned and left.
June 9th rolled around with the speed of a bullet train. Throbbing electronic music pounded in her ears, and blinding rays of neon lights flashed her in the eyes as she walked through the front doors of Club Voron. The large space was packed to the brim with a sea of people that moved and jostled like a tide. She snaked her way through the thick crowd, overwhelming smells of body sweat and cheap perfume oozing into her nostrils before finally she reached the bar.
"Vodka cranberry," the girl said to the bartender. Her red wig spilled down past her shoulders, eyelids covered in black eyeshadow, her slender frame decorated in a shimmering tank top that revealed excess cleavage and tiny black miniskirt. Her eyes wandered to the man to her right as her drink arrived. He was tall, muscular, with a shaved head and a thick beard. A grin made its way to her face. "Hey, handsome."
Soap turned to face her, his appearance a stark contrast to when she last saw him as he played the part of a mobster well. He returned the flirtatious grin, turning his body to face hers. "What can I help you with, sweetheart?"
Zero leaned in close, laying her hand on the man's thigh, playing her part by appearing as if she were flirting with him. "Why don't you and I take this conversation someplace else?" She suggested, and the man's wandering eyes was all the approval she needed. She pushed herself from the stool, her hand in his as she guided him towards the bathrooms.
The air was heavy with the scent of cigarettes and stale alcohol, the pulsating bass of the music vibrating through the walls as the pair stumbled into the dimly lit bathroom. Their lips collided in a frenzy of desire, appearing as if they were overly hungry for the taste of each other. Zero threw herself upwards, locking her legs around Soap's waist, his large palms swimming to squeeze her rear to keep her balanced in their heated embrace. The occupants in the bathroom, immediately disgusted, ran out the door– and the second the room was empty, Soap let her slide down from his grasp and turned to lock the door behind them.
"We should do that more often," he said with a grin, breathless from their moment of theatrical passion, wiping the red lipstick from his mouth. "You look... good, Zero. It's good to see you alive and well."
Zero rolled her eyes but found herself smiling uncontrollably. "I don't even know what I'm looking at right now," she gasped teasingly. "My god, John. I can't decide if you look hot or terrifying."
"Hopefully both," Soap turned to glance in the mirror, running his fingers through his thick beard. "Yeah, I'm still deciding if the mafia aesthetic is really my thing, ya know?" Chuckling, he turned to face her again. "I reckon we don't have long. What have you got for me?"
She didn't waste a moment, delivering as much information as she could in a rush. "I'm going to be attending the meeting as an interpreter for the Russian officials. Keiichi is having dinner at his hotel's restaurant before the ballet, so I'll be undercover attending in the case that the theatre might be the backup plan, and the dinner is the primary location of the attack." The woman glanced in the mirror to wipe her smudged lipstick. "June 14th, 1700. The 4th floor of the parking garage on the corner of Sovetskaya and Kirochnaya. Our final meeting before everything is set in place."
Soap nodded, then smiled. "It's good seeing you, Sarge. You lie low and be safe until then, aye?"
"You too," Zero returned, inhaling deeply before unlocking the door and exiting the bathroom. As she reentered the scene, she took in another deep breath.
Five days. Five days until all of this work finally was put to the test. Five days until Alexei's fate would be sealed at her hands.
—
June 14th.
Zero made her way out of the embassy earlier than planned to catch a 90-minute flight from Domodedovo Airport to Pulkovo Airport in St. Petersburg, arriving shortly after 2 p.m. Once in the city, she headed to a small motel located thirty minutes from the Mariinsky theatre, all while remaining incognito in her fake identity. Entering her room, she unpacked her suitcase, spreading out her files and clothes, before she spent the next hour going over every single detail. She plastered papers on the wall, pacing back and forth, mumbling to herself as she soaked in every bit of information that her eidetic memory would allow.
At precisely 4:30pm, she began transforming into Ivana Chekhov. Zero took a shower, then braiding her hair to make it easier to slip on a blonde, shoulder-length wig. It took her half an hour to perfect her smokey, sultry eye look paired with dark red lips, before slipping into a gorgeous white silk, one-shoulder gown that hugged her slender body and curves deliciously, with a long slit on the right side that showed off her toned leg. She slid her black-rimmed glasses onto her face, putting on dangly diamond earrings and slipping on black heels to add to her elegant but sexy look.
Her taxi pulled up to the parking garage on the corner of Sovetskaya and Kirochnaya, where she disembarked and made her way up to the fourth level, stepping over the yellow construction barriers, heels clicking against the asphalt as she walked. As the lot came into view, she spotted a large van with multiple familiar men surrounding it. Their eyes caught sight of her almost immediately, all four of them turning to face her as she approached.
She placed a cigarette between her lips, lighting it as she neared, her heels tapping against the concrete until she finally reached them. Her piercing blue eyes scanned them slowly, each of them wearing the same indicative look in their eyes at her enticing appearance. It had not only been almost three months since they last saw her, but they had never seen her out of her military uniform, let alone in a sultry gown. Despite how different she looked, with her blonde wig and glasses, she looked beautiful, evident by the way they all looked at her and how their eyes uncontrollably trailed up and down her body. As well, in a means to take on a different identity, the left side of her face was at last uncovered– but beneath the heavy foundation and the glasses on top, it was impossible to see what she had been hiding all this time. Her scars were unnoticeable.
"It's good to see you all," Zero said, exhaling softly but deeply. For the last two months she had played pretend, playing a persona as her part of the mission, and it was draining, both mentally and physically. It was also incredibly dangerous; and for the first time in those two months, right here in the comfort of her team, it felt as if she could finally breathe.
"It's good to see you too, sergeant," Gaz said with a smile, stepping forward to gently clasp a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes canvassed the group. She met their smiles, before inevitably meeting the gaze of Ghost, who averted his own once she met his eyes. Although, his dark orbs did not hold disdain as they did last she saw him, but something relative to concern.
"I have twenty minutes," she reminded them, taking another hit of her cigarette. "Let's be quick, da?"
Reunion out of the way, they launched straight into the task at hand, beginning their meeting by relaying every bit of intel Soap and her collected before turning their attention to the matter at hand: tonight's plan.
"Zero will be situated inside the diner exactly five tables away from Keiichi. Gaz and I will be scoping from the adjacent rooftops, while Soap and Ghost will keep watch outside the restaurant," Price began, presenting his orders in the form of pictures of the locations on his laptop. "The Prime Minister's dinner will be roughly 90 minutes long before he will be driven to the Mariinsky Theatre fifteen minutes away." He then switched the screen to show the mapped-out route the man was expected to be taking. "And then once he arrives, protected by security, he'll be escorted through the front doors and into the theatre, where he will take his place on the highest east balcony."
It was Zero's turn to present information, reaching into her purse to grab a file folder and passing out multiple papers for the group to pass around. "There are 8 bodyguards within the meeting's security detail. 4 Russian, 4 Japanese, all cleared. The names and faces of the staff who will be serving the group are in there as well, also all cleared. I've also provided you with the lines of code necessary to hack into the camera feeds, as well as the locations of all the cameras. I'll be acting as the interpreter for the Russian officials."
Soap spoke up next. "Alexei, for the last few weeks, has been ordering weapons– handguns, snipers– and small explosives. If we don't spot anything outside the restaurant, we can guarantee they're going to the theatre. The explosives are mostly small bricks of C4, so Gaz and I will be undercover as security staff to ensure all bags and belongings are cleared."
For the next five minutes they went over everything once more, ensuring all members of the group had their orders down to the tiny details, before Price pulled Zero aside, taking her to the ledge that overlooked the city. She closed her eyes lightly as she approached, the cold night air gently caressing her face.
"Three months of work to bring us to this incredibly crucial night," Price said, taking her smoldering cigarette from her fingers and taking a puff. "You've done well. Hell, that's an understatement. You've been exceptional."
"Thank you, sir," Zero said with a nod, resting her elbows on the concrete edge. "I won't let you down. I won't fail you."
"There's not a doubt in my mind about you. But you have a grave role." He turned to eye her carefully. "Your main objective of this operation is to keep the three assets safe, but with Alexei pulling the reins, facing him may be inevitable. You would not only have to protect our assets, but potentially take Alexei down."
"And I've been more than prepared to do so," She said as she faced him, determination in her eyes. "I've been ready for years. The second I get the chance, I promise I will do everything in my power to take him down."
"We need him alive, Zero."
She paused. "That... I can't guarantee."
"I know," Price nodded slowly, and then his eyes caught sight of a figure approaching. Zero turned to face Soap, and she smirked slightly. Price took it as his cue to leave, handing her back her cigarette before walking away.
"You shaved," Zero teased as he walked to stand in front of her, taking the final hit from her cigarette before flicking it away. "That's too bad. I loved the skinhead look."
Soap laughed, rolling his eyes. "You've been doing bloody good work, Robin. I'm proud of you."
She felt a pang in her chest at his words, and covered it up with a small smile. "Thank you," she said. Although, she had yet to understand where the nickname came from.
Soap's smile faded slightly, and he rested a hand on her shoulder. "Be wary out there tonight, yeah?"
"I'll do my best."
Shortly after, the pair returned to the group. With the clock ticking, it was time for them to say their final goodbyes before Zero made her way to the dinner. Ghost appeared from the back of the trunk, approaching her with two devices in his hand– a wire and an earpiece. "You'll be needing these," he said in his dark, Mancunian accent, his eyes stoic as usual while carrying a hint of unmistakable worry.
Zero nodded, taking the earpiece from him and concealing it in her ear. She then grabbed the wire, sliding her jacket off her body and revealing her bewitching dress in its full glory. She shoved the end of the wire into the back part of her dress, snaking it under the thick sleeve on her right side and pulling the other half up in between her breasts. Now the device was perfectly concealed. Picking her jacket from the ground, Zero slid her arms back into the expensive material with a sigh.
"Are you armed?" Ghost asked, and she nodded. "Show me."
She pulled two pistols from the inside pockets of her jacket, putting them away afterward. Then she lifted the slit in her dress to show off the knife that had been tucked in the garter around her hips. At the sight of the edge of her lace thong, the masked man lifted his gaze.
"Anything else?" She asked him. "I really need to get going."
Reluctantly, Ghost shook his head. The Russian took it as her cue to leave, nodding to the group one last time before she turned and began to walk back to where she came from.
"Zero?"
She froze in place, turning her head slowly to face the masked man who called her. This time, there was less effort to hide the worry in his eyes.
"Be careful."
At that, she nodded slowly, before parting from the group and finally leaving.
—
Nestled within the confines of a lovely, rounded velvet booth, roughly five seats away from the table where her targets dined, sat Zero in disguise. Across from her was her date, Desya Belov, the newly recruited embassy secretary that she had purposefully flirted with for the past five days so that he would finally ask her out and she could pick this place for their date. He sat across from her, his thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, a grin plastered on his face. His hungry eyes never seemed to leave her, his gaze appraising her as though she were a piece of meat.
Zero had ordered a medium-rare steak with a side of garlic mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. It had been a long time since she had an actual delectable meal, and she masked her pleasure well as she daintily savoured each bite. From where she sat, in the corner booth with her back against the wall, it was easy for her gaze to linger back and forth between the Prime Minister's table and the man across from her while they engaged in basic, boring conversation.
"If you'll excuse me," Desya said with an annoying chuckle, placing his napkin on the table's surface and sliding out of the booth. "I have to use the restroom quickly."
Zero shot him a fabricated smile and nodded as he left, practically sighing with relief as she watched him disappear. Her eyes landed on the table far in front of her once more, sipping her red wine gingerly as she put a finger to her ear. "Zero to Bravo, anything yet?"
"Negative from height," Gaz responded in a hushed tone.
"Nothing outside." Ghost and Soap grumbled.
"Nothing on the feeds, either," Price said with a sigh.
"Keep watching," Zero chewed on a piece of roasted carrot, before picking up her wine to down it. "The second there's movement, you–"
A hand suddenly clasped her shoulder with an iron grip, causing her to inhale sharply as a towering figure approached from behind her. Her voice was caught in her throat as the man, dressed in an all-black suit, slid into the booth in front of her with a sigh, picking the tablecloth up and wiping his bloody knuckles on the white fabric.
"He's not coming back," said the man as he leaned back in his seat, grabbing the knife and fork from the table and cutting into the steak.
" Zero, who's that?" "Who the fuck is that?" "What's happening?"
Zero's breath trembled as she slowly looked up, meeting the piercing yet soulless gaze of the man in front of her, who grinned the second they made eye contact.
"Hello again, moya lyubov (my love)."
Zero swallowed the lump in her throat, her fingers tightening around her wine glass. "Alexei."