The Soviet Comeback by Jamie Smith (best ereader for academics TXT) 📕

said and held some to Nikita’s lips. Nikita tried to push it away but Brishnov pulled it out of reach and poured the contents onto his face from a height, soaking his bed

Nikita sputtered and held up a hand as Brishnov took a final swig to empty the bottle before throwing it against the wall to the other side of the bed, smashing it.

Nikita thought longingly of the gun in the drawer, but knew that an agent as experienced as Brishnov would not have left it loaded for him.

Brishnov giggled. “How refreshing, no?”

Nikita lay back, controlled. “We’re on the same side, remember… comrade?” he whispered.

“Ah, maybe the same side, but pointing in different directions. To represent the Komitet Godudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti is a great honour; we are the secret soldiers of Mother Russia, of the world’s biggest and most powerful empire. There is no greater prestige, but you, you do not choose this. We only have you as long as we can contain you. There is no honour.”

“Flaying a man only teaches him to watch his back. I have done everything asked of me and more, despite the hatred that follows me. I nonetheless serve the Soviet Union faithfully.”

“You expect my pity?”

“I expect and want nothing from you. But modify my orders again and I will kill you, comrade.”

Brishnov leant back in his chair and smiled at him. “Perhaps if you managed that, you would have my respect.”

At that moment the door opened again. Brishnov didn’t turn, instead keeping his gaze fixed on Nikita, whose eyes were distracted by the new arrival.

The highly polished black shoes clicked and gleamed on the tiled floor but it was the face that drew Nikita’s gaze, the cold blue eyes piercing the gloom before the pale skin and grey hair did.

Nikita attempted to push himself up and salute. “Colonel Klitchkov, sir.” But he could not sustain the pose and fell back while continuing to try and maintain a salute.

Klitchkov chuckled. “At ease, soldier, let your body rest.” His eyes wandered over the broken glass and Nikita’s wet face, and raised an eyebrow at Brishnov.

Nikita was full of questions, but held his tongue, waiting to be addressed.

The colonel stood with his hands behind his back and looked down at Brishnov in the chair. “Leave us.”

Brishnov looked up at him petulantly. “I’d rather stay.”

Without taking a breath, Klitchkov kicked Brishnov off the chair.

Brishnov looked outraged and leapt up catlike from the floor.

“You wish to say something, Agent Brishnov? To your commanding officer?”

Brishnov’s face flushed red, but he controlled himself with what appeared a superhuman effort. “No, sir. Sorry, sir.” He appeared to be chewing on the words as if they were sour milk.

“Then get the out of the room, now,” Klitchkov said softly, with a menace more powerful than if he had screamed it.

The international assassin stalked from the room like a wounded dog, but left the door slightly open.

Klitchkov turned and pushed it gently shut until the latch clicked into place, before walking back to the chair and sitting down. He leant back and crossed one leg over the other and surveyed Nikita.

“You were very stupid.”

“I had no other choice, sir.”

“You may be young, but you have received the world’s finest training for five years and the only choice was to be beaten to death by three stupid American brutes? You were trained precisely to employ alternative choices to that one.”

Nikita said nothing.

“But you did an excellent job on your primary mission. It broke on the news this morning.”

“And?”

Klitchkov raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry, sir. What are they saying on the news, sir?”

“That the death isn’t being treated as suspicious, which is as much as we could hope for at the moment. I am sure they will reveal more in time, but I trust that nothing will be revealed that could suggest foul play?”

“No, sir.”

“Very good. We found the Dragunov Sniper in our car. Why would you have needed that for this mission?”

Nikita paused. It would be easy to destroy Brishnov with one revelation. But I want to owe him nothing, to be even, Nikita thought to himself.

“Well, agent?”

“It, ah, it was a routine backup plan, sir, just in case something went wrong and had to be tidied up.”

“You are trained so that things do not go wrong,” snapped Klitchkov, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. “A sniper shot would have ruined the entire operation and tilted the balance of power around the world. And from a Dragunov rifle, no less! This is the last mistake I will attribute to your youth.” It was the first time Nikita had ever seen anger in the colonel, or any emotion at all.

“Yes, sir. I had no intentions of using it, and planned my mission meticulously,” he lied.

“You know me better than to take me for a fool, Allochka.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your next mission will demand scrupulous planning and detail.”

“My next mission, sir?”

Klitchkov leant back again and resumed his previous relaxed pose. He briefly turned and checked the door. He stood and walked over to the television, turning it on and turning the volume up.

The news flickered onto the screen. The picture was fuzzy, with the aerial needing to be moved, but Nikita could see images of Secretary Conlan’s house with a reporter speaking about the sudden death of ‘one of America’s most respected politicians’.

Klitchkov walked back and returned to his seat.

“You are to enter the United States Central Intelligence Agency. The importance of the International Nuclear Treaty cannot be understated for the survival of our Soviet Union. You are in a unique position to prevent the Americans from seeing all of our movements and intentions.”

Nikita’s head was buzzing. The pain was overwhelming and the noise from the television distracting. The CIA was the largest