Amy Lynn, The Lady Of Castle Dunn Read online

  She remained expressionless, looking out the window of the cab at the architecture of the Kremlin. The message had been sent. If she had berated the man in Russian, the hit was off. However, she berated him in English. The hit was on.

  Operatives were busy preparing her extraction. Like throwing a light switch, Fenian returned and the mission was a go. Isadora Azarov must die.

  Chapter 3

  Boguslaw Zielinski, for the first time in over twenty years, was in love. Former Navy Petty Officer Amy Lynn Braxton, aka CIA operative Fenian, and on this mission—her very first solo mission—a flirtatious medical student and southern belle from a wealthy family named Elle May Judd, took up most of his thoughts. Boguslaw, at one time one of the greatest if perhaps the most unlikely spies Europe had ever seen, was now a lonely 42-year-old Polish billionaire who wanted to settle down and raise a family. He had found a woman worthy of his children. The question remained, was he worthy of her?

  For a little over two years, he followed her around the world. He never got in her way, but stayed just close enough for the occasional kiss and conversation. First he followed her to the Maldives, where she healed from the injuries incurred during her first training mission. Then he watched from a distance as she worked with Tatiana Aziz, preparing for what would be the most demanding training the world had to offer, both physical and mental. She went back to Langley, then “the Farm” (boot camp for covert operatives), followed by immersion in the Russian language. Next came Tel Aviv for a two month stint with the Mossad, another three months with British MI-6, then a month with Australia’s Defense Intelligence Organization. Finally she flew to Norway for what became her favorite training, NIS (Norwegian Intelligence Service). After all, that’s where the real James Bond was born. Tatiana’s colorful career had blazed a trail for her and gave her international contacts she could trust.

  Boguslaw worried about her. If something were to happen, well, he couldn’t imagine. She was a brand new operative; the bad guys didn’t know who she was. The CIA would use her repeatedly till the new wore off. Bogus would never ask her to quit. Maybe I won’t have to, he reasoned. He had total faith in her abilities. She was a natural, and the CIA threw everything they had at her in training. She was unshakable, and her mind just seemed to work faster than everyone else’s. Including his. He had to believe she would be all right. Just the same, he grabbed the rosary his mother had given him and prayed.

  Bogus left Russia and returned to his estate in Poland. A week later a little box arrived accompanied by two armed guards. He signed for it, shut the door, and opened the box.

  The ring was perfect. He had only seen one thing more beautiful than this in his life, and she would be wearing it. Bogus had fretted over the engagement ring for months. It had to match her. Large garish stones would be out of place on someone so, well, simple and pragmatic. However, the question he had needed to answer was, how do I express the depth of my love? He’d pored over hundreds of diamonds and settings. The big ones would look out of place on her hand; the small ones might seem bereft of value. Then an Israeli jeweler he had known for years set him on the right path. After an exhaustive showing he said, “Bogus, how rare is this woman?”

  “The most rare. Absolutely, the most rare.”

  “Very well, I don’t have what you need but it goes on auction tomorrow. It is what you are looking for. A most rare jewel, for a most rare woman”

  Bogus smiled, nodded his head and said, “Thank you Eli, thank you.”

  The following day he flew to Geneva and sat in the back row of the auction house, holding a numbered paddle as the bidding began. He usually sent employees to do such tasks, but not this. This he would do on his own. He sat quietly as tens of millions of dollars of jewelry and precious gems were auctioned off. People representing every major gem house and government as well as representatives from the British royal family were in attendance. He waited quietly, unnoticed in the back of the room, until it came up for auction. When they announced it, he stood and walked to the front of the room, made his bid, turned and looked down at the representative from the British Royal Family and whispered, “I wouldn’t bother.”

  The representative put down his paddle and nodded. Bogus walked out with the stone, handed it to Eli, smiled and said, “You know what I want.”

  Now as Bogus packed for America, another visitor arrived he had not expected, at least not this soon, although he realized that academics would do amazing things when grant money was at stake. Dr. David Ditchburn, Dean of Irish Medieval History at Trinity College in Dublin, and his assistant entered the foyer with a large trunk. Bogus invited them in and escorted them to his study, where they began a short presentation, placing old books and documents on the antique plotting table. The documents were old copies of older copies of patents of nobility stretching back to the fourteenth century. An overhead projector was used to meticulously run down the family tree. Bogus listened intently until he became confused by the Gaelic nomenclature. He finally asked, “Well? Is she or isn’t she?”

  Dr. Ditchburn looked up, smiled and said, “Oh yes. She is very much Irish royalty.”

  Bogus had one more call to make before leaving for America.

  Chapter 4

  Meyer Braddock awoke in his bed where his wife and assistant had carried him As the cobwebs cleared, he remembered what had taken place that afternoon, and he once again began to panic. He was out of time. He needed a liver transplant, and he needed it now. There had to be a way for him to save his own life. He called his international contacts searching for another way. For two days he called, left messages, chased underground black markets and dealt with people he would have never thought he would deal with. There had to be another source. There was, but what he could not find were the surgeons and staff available to do the operations. Did he want to lie on a third world operating table, get a new liver, and then die from an infection? There seemed to be a 50/50 chance of that happening. He didn’t like those odds.

  He sat at his desk looking at the number Carl gave him. He decided to try one more time. It rang three times, and then she picked up. “Helllooo?”

  It was the same long drawn out hello with the same creepy accent. “Hello?” he said calmly, “This is Meyer Braddock.”

  Silence screamed on the other end of the line for the world’s longest ten seconds. “Yeesss, vat can I do for you?”

  “I still need your help. I apologize for, um, for the way I spoke to you. I was out of line. Can we work this out?”

  “Meyer, Meyer. I am a forgiving voman, of course vee can. I still am vaiting for the answer to my question.”

  Meyer thought for a moment and remembered her question, “I will pay more attention to my family. I will treat strangers better. I will enjoy simple things like flowers and trees. I will use more of my money to help people. I will be a very different person.”

  “Yeesss, tis very typical of a man who has let his life pass him by in an alcoholic haze. It vas alcohol, vasn’t it Meyer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you destroy dis gift as you had before?”

  “No. No, I will stop drinking. I will stop.”

  “Very vell Meyer, I vill send you an address. You vill send your medical records. It may be months until vee find a match. You must take care of yourself until then. It vill be alright, Meyer. You vill live.”

  Meyer began to tear up when he stopped and asked, “How much will this be?”

  “Meyer, some zings are more valuable than money. All in guud time, I vill be contacting you soon. Goodbye Meyer.”

  “Wait, who are you? What is your name?”

  “You may call me… Countess. Goodbye, Meyer,” Then the line went dead.

  Meyer stood up and pumped his fist into the air. He walked to his liquor cabinet and, as he began to unscrew the tops and dump them down the sink of his wet bar, he remembered what Carl had said. “Your
soul, they will take your soul.” He wondered aloud, “Can someone really do that?”

  Chapter 5

  Fenian spent almost an hour sanitizing her room at the Ritz. There could not be any physical trace of her that remained. She stood on the balcony outside her room taking in the panoramic view, wearing the iPod and dancing to a song in her head, when it made a little electronic crackle and in Russian a voice said, ‘Torch says go. Torch says go.” She raised her arms above her head and did a little twirl. Message sent. Message received; time to get ready.

  She put up her hair, secured it with bobby pins, then slid in a five inch slightly curved needle-sharp stainless steel pick topped with a smooth gold diamond-encrusted (actually CZ encrusted) bow that was curved to fit her palm. As she laid out the La Perla lingerie, she expressed under her breath the biggest complaint she had about her body, “I wish I had some boobs.” She put the self-adhesive silicone breast-enhancing inserts in place, securely strapped on her inner thigh holster, checked the Barretta 21A Bobcat loaded with .22 stingers, and slid it into place. The thin throwing knife lay flat in a pocket below the nape of her neck under the seam of the dress zipper. As a final touch she pinned on a gold broach that looked like a three-inch long golden jewel encrusted trellis; two separate sticks with a connecting flower in the center. A crooked half-smile crossed her face as she adjusted it, for this was her favorite weapon. She was carrying four weapons, but had five ways to win, because she herself was a weapon too. A call from the front desk informed her that her ride was waiting. She slipped on the dress, her shoes, and grabbed the clutch. One last look in the mirror, some movement checks to make sure nothing slipped and she was ready. She bowed her head for a quick prayer, not for herself, but for the child she had come to avenge. “Amen,” she said aloud, then stepped out into the hall.

  She flowed from the elevator into the lobby with a slow but confident walk to the front doors. The loud murmur seemed to quiet and was replaced by the clicking of her heals as both men and women took in the visage of what could have been a movie star. The doorman opened the front door, and she offered a muted but polite, “Thank you.”

  Pavel stood by the back door of the long black limousine. He was a handsomely rugged man who, even when he wasn’t trying, gave off an air of menace and danger. The kind of dangerous man that many women fall for, always with disastrous results. As he watched her walk toward him, a glowing smile appeared on his face. She returned his appreciative gaze, took Pavel’s hand as he opened the door and said, “You clean up pretty good.”

  Pavel wasn’t quite sure what that meant but he said, “Thank you,” anyway. She adjusted her dress and slid down into the back seat. Across from her sat two people, a little older than Pavel, a man and a woman. They both nodded and smiled as Pavel climbed in through the other door and sat. He motioned to the couple and said, “Elle, I would like you to meet my boss and his wife, Nikola and Isadora Asarov.”

  Oh my goodness, this is going well, thought Fenian. She attempted a greeting in broken Russian while offering a less than cultured American handshake. Isadora stopped her and said, “I speak English.”

  Elle threw the back of her hand to her forehead in an exaggerated motion and said, “Whew, thank goodness. I was afraid there would be no one to talk to.”

  Isadora smiled a slightly condescending smile and said “So, what brings you to Moscow?”

  “Well, I’m a medical student, University of Tennessee, GO VOLS!” she exclaimed then giggled. “Anyway, I went to a World Health Organization symposium on infectious diseases in London. I had a few weeks off before my internship starts and I said, what the heck, let’s see Russia.”

  “So, you’re a doctor?”

  “Almost, still lots of work to do.”

  “What will you specialize in?”

  “Pediatrics.”

  Isadora seemed doubtful. Elle seemed to be too much of a simpleton to be that educated. Isadora liked playing mind games with people. She fancied herself an intellectual. She studied Elle for a moment and said, “Tell us about the symposium.”

  “Sure,” said Elle with a little excitement. “As you know, infectious diseases are caused by pathogenic microorganisms, such as bacteria, viruses, parasites or fungi; the diseases can be spread, directly or indirectly, from one person to another. Zoonotic diseases are infectious diseases of animals that can cause disease when transmitted to humans. What they were focusing on is an integrated global alert and response system for epidemics and other public health emergencies based on strong national public health systems and capacity, and an effective international system for coordinated response. The return of Polio is most troubling…”

  Elle zoomed over Isadora’s head like a fighter jet. Isadora nodded politely until Elle took a breath and she interrupted her with a “That sounds wonderful, darling.”

  Elle sat with a contented smile when Isadora looked across at Pavel and said in Russian, “You are too stupid to be with this woman.”

  Nikola laughed and the narcissistic Pavel also let out a small laugh even though it was clear she had insulted him. However, one says nothing to the boss’s wife.

  Elle continued to look at the scenery as they drove. She took a moment to focus on why she was here, why Isadora deserved her attention. The reason was Paige Ellen Bennett.

  Paige was a fourteen-year-old living with her parents at the American Embassy in Finland. Her father was the Chargé d’Affaires, second in rank only to the ambassador. One evening the (mature for her age) fourteen-year-old went clubbing with friends, became inebriated and was separated from the others. She was picked up off the street by an opportunistic kidnapper and sold to the Russian mob. The head of human trafficking for the Russian mob, Isadora Asarov decided to sell Paige to a wealthy Arab from Qatar as a sex slave. When Isadora learned exactly who it was they had, she also learned of an offered deal: bring her back, no harm, no foul. Isadora didn’t trust the deal, nor would she risk being caught.

  She handed Miss Bennett to a particularly sadistic associate who drove her across the border to his home in Latvia. He took his time, spending days enjoying her company in every way possible. Then he strangled her.

  But his luck ran out. On his way to dump the body, police stopped and searched his car at a checkpoint. Paige’s body was found and crime scene photos taken. Soon the police knew who they had, and Interpol became involved. Her body was returned to her parents and an investigation launched.

  Her killer was unceremoniously turned over to the CIA. People skilled in the art of battery-operated power tools received all relevant information from him concerning Asarov. A review of surveillance video taken on the streets of Helsinki and then a dogged search ended with her kidnapper beaten to death in Finland and CIA assassin, Codename Fenian, sitting in a limo with Isadora Asarov.

  The limo stopped in front of the Moscow Marriot Royal Aurora and both couples exited. Elle walked through the lobby, Pavel never straying more than an arm’s length away. Many of Moscow’s Elite, dressed to the nines, had gathered for the evening. Elle was probably not the best looking woman there, but she maintained a strut and an aura which announced loudly, “I have never been bought, and I never will be.” In a world of trophy wives and whores, this made her stand out.

  They approached the entrance of the ballroom where security politely but thoroughly checked its guests for weapons. Among the attendees were members of the Politburo, celebrities, and assorted politicians including the mayor of Moscow. Nikola Asarov entered with Isadora followed by Pavel and Elle. The alarm went off on the wand as Elle reached the security guard. He grabbed her by the arm, and she pulled away calling out for Pavel. He walked quickly between the Guard and Elle while saying, “Nyet, nyet,” after which a small argument ensued. She tried to explain the dress was setting it off. They wanted her to undergo a pat down. Nikola turned back and walked into the middle of the pending confrontation, whispered to the head of
security and smiled. The head of security smiled back and waved Elle through.

  Elle grabbed Pavel’s arm and asked loudly, “What was that about?”

  “Peasant guards thinking they are somebody,” Pavel exclaimed, looking at them with a sneer.

  Elle leaned her head against his shoulder and said, “Thank you, thank you so much.” He didn’t notice the crooked half-smile.

  Chapter 6

  The two couples settled at a small sitting area by one of several fountains. Elle began to act bored and said, “Isadora, do you reckon we could go see the kitchen? I love to cook and I am dying to see what’s on the menu.”

  Isadora raised an eyebrow as if to say, “Are you serious?”

  “Please,” asked Elle again with a cute smile and head tilt.

  Nikola glanced at Isadora and gave a little nod then said in Russian, “Go. We have a little business to attend to with the mayor.”

  Isadora nodded with a little shrug and said, “Da, let’s go.”

  Fenian had scanned everything, every person, every door and every obstacle to completing the mission, including the massive amount of security. Everyone of importance had a personal bodyguard, and teams were situated throughout the hotel. The main entrance to the hall consisted of four sets of double doors, three of which were closed for security reasons. At the other end of the grand room were parallel hallways on each side of the kitchen. These hallways stretched to a back exit and a loading dock. The restrooms were situated on each side of the kitchen just off the ballroom in those same halls. Fenian already had the beginnings of a plan.