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

the screaming in his left shoulder began. He imagined he could feel the gristle rubbing against ligament and bone and paused.

To the onlookers, his face remained calm and passive, but behind the eyelids his pupils were wide with pain.

“There is no shame in not being able to do it yet, Nikita; it is only two days since you were shot,” said Mrs Shapova crisply.

Nikita’s eyes remained closed and he began to force his arm upwards once more. He managed about ten more degrees before hitting a wall and having to let his arm drop.

“OK, now we have that little charade out of the way, perhaps we can get on with your treatment and recovery, Allochka,” said the doctor swiftly, taking hold of Nikita’s arm and pressing around the joint and wound. “Much as we may wish otherwise, this cannot be healed overnight and requires patience.”

“There is no room for patience in my line of work, doctor.”

“It is amazing how many of my patients seem to think that there is no room in their lives for patience. All of them seem to be a hundred per cent the most important people in the world, whether they are diplomats, spies or waiters.”

Nikita grunted but said nothing. He wanted to begin the mission immediately, wanted to enter the CIA and bring down the USA. The sooner he did, the sooner he could return to his family. He would pick being in Siberia with them rather than in his present Cuban luxury without them.

“How long before I can use my arm fully again, doctor?”

“Far more time than we have. I will do what I can, and with intensive physiotherapy and great care you should be able to manage your next mission. I understand it will be less physically demanding than previous ones,” replied Zhikov as he injected Nikita’s daily dose of painkillers into his thigh.

“What else do you know about my next mission?”

“Only that it will not be so physically demanding. I do not wish to know any more than what I need to, as your doctor, so do not reveal anything to me! Roll over onto your stomach.”

The doctor proceeded to dress the wound and was in the midst of inspecting a particularly painful scab crossing the spine in the middle of Nikita’s back, when there was a knock on the door. Ambassador Yitski entered without waiting for a response.

Doctor Zhikov started at the intrusion, accidentally prodding the scar deeply, causing Nikita to let out a moan of pain.

The ambassador stopped. “And there was me thinking you were meant to be the toughest agent we possessed,” he said with a wink.

He had grown a short beard since Nikita had seen him last, which covered his weak chin, making him look more distinguished and giving him a certain gravitas. Nikita could see more clearly now how he had landed a position of such key significance.

“Ambassador Yitski,” said Nikita, turning his head sideways, as Zhikov continued his survey of his back.

“Please leave us, doctor,” said the ambassador and waited as the doctor packed up and reminded Nikita that he would return again tomorrow.

“Mrs Shapova has presented you with your mission documents I trust?” asked Yitski.

“Ah, yes of course,” said Nikita, pushing himself round onto his back and up in to a sitting position. Mrs Shapova gave him a subtle nod of gratitude. “But due to Dr Zhikov’s visit I have not had a chance to look at them yet.”

“Very well. If your pain is manageable then we must begin preparations for your next assignment.”

“I am ready to prepare, thank you.”

The ambassador pulled up a chair next to the bed, asking Mrs Shapova to pass him the sheaf of papers she had earlier deposited on the bed, then asked her also to leave the room.

She did so swiftly, giving no sign of her earlier affection for Nikita other than a brief glance back at him as she left the room.

“So, Agent Allochka, you know the top line of what you will be doing on your next mission. Ordinarily Colonel Klitchkov or someone from the KGB would prepare you for this mission. However, following the death of the US Secretary of Defense, movements in and out of Cuba are being watched even more closely at present, and so I have been given special clearance to brief you on what will be expected.” He paused for a moment. “You know that you will be joining the CIA’s Soviet Counter-intelligence Branch, and it has taken an extraordinary amount of work to make this opportunity possible. It is absolutely vital for the balance of world power that at no point is your cover blown. Understood?”

“Understood. Will I still be under the alias of Nathan Martins?”

“No. That alias did not have a background that would be suited to a job such as this. A new alias has been created, and only through agents embedded in various other locations have we been able to assure the robustness of your background and reference checks. No KGB agent currently has a more important or more precarious mission. Mother Russia is relying on you, comrade.”

“That explains why it has shown me such unceasing kindness,” said Nikita, the faintest hint of a smirk upon the corner of his lips.

Yitski frowned. “Is there a problem, Allochka?”

“Not at all, ambassador.”

“You make a lot of people nervous; do not give me reason to become another.”

“Why do you think it is I make people nervous, ambassador? After all, I finished top in every category throughout my five years of training and have successfully completed all of my missions so far, as ordered. So I’m curious, what is it about me that would make Mother Russia nervous?” Nikita asked pleasantly, but with a warning in his voice.

Ambassador Yitski faltered under the gaze of the young man in front of