“Leave BSE to me. We know now they’re vulnerable and—”
“And what? No one knows where to find the location they’re operating from and for our plan to be successful, we need access to Federal and governmental servers and data. BSE controls all web and internet traffic in and out. None of our people, nor yours have been able to hack it. Pray tell, just how the fuck are they the vulnerable ones?”
“There are ways to expose individuals and that’s all we need. Get rid of one and the rest is easy … a funeral massacre comes to mind.”
“Wonderful. Kill off all of them and then what? No one will know how to bypass the systems they’ve put in place. I suggest you cool down and do reconnaissance of the situation before you act rashly. I’m warning you again. You’re going to burn your fingers and if you believe for one moment I’m going to assist you to crawl out of the fire, you better think again.”
Sergei ended the call and threw the rest of the vodka down his throat. It seared a white-hot path as it slithered down his esophagus but he reveled in it. He didn’t have to see the effect his words had, he heard it in the gasp before he ended the call.
In the past, Russia used to spy on their nemeses in only one way, the old fashioned way. Since the country has come under President Anton Petrov and with Sergei’s assistance, as a former Soviet spy himself, Moscow adopted a more multifaceted approach.
Now more than ever, Sergei knew setting up a deep undercover sleeper cell in Canada and America had been the right decision five years ago. Moscow’s spy services still utilized the cover of embassies and consulates but since he’d been put in charge, he’d moved to recruiting Russian emigres, established front companies, dispatched short-term travelers to the United States, and most successfully recruited Americans to penetrate computer networks and Federal institutions.
The tactic had been to send a large number of people, including only a couple of intelligence officers, streaming out on a diplomatic mission at once. This enabled them to be integrated much easier as it was harder for the FBI to identify which ones were the actual spies and which were planted as decoys.
“And they still have no fucking clue how many active Soviet spies are in the U.S.,” he snorted as he, yet again, ambled toward the bar for another drink. “Especially the illegals, our long-term agents with no demonstrable connections to Mother Russia.” He spat out a barking laugh. “They believed they caught them all in 2010 but they are so naive. Most of them are deep cover sleeper agents who were brainwashed before we planted them. They don't even know themselves exactly who they are and what they’re capable of.”
His eyes glimmered dangerously. “And they’re the ones we need to activate now to make an impact. Draw the attention from the president.” He hesitated as he listened to the echo of his words. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do. No one is going to undermine my plan of a successful coup. No one! This way, I’ll ensure that every bastard in SPEONUS knows who is actually in charge of the organization.”
He picked up the sat phone and dialed Mikhail Olov, another deep cover sleeper, although he wasn’t even aware of it. His brain had been programmed in a two-facet mission. One was to infiltrate the Russian mob, which he’d done very successfully as the local leader of the Contessa group in Brooklyn’s Brighton Beach. Something he believed he’d done without the knowledge of Russian Intelligence, but instead, it had given Sergei a hold over Bratva interference in Soviet business in the States. Olov had unbeknownst to himself, been supplying coded messages to Sergei with every report he’d sent to the Bratva leaders.
Now it was time to set in play the second part of his mission.
“To activate certain agents’ latent skills that would turn them from everyday citizens and mild-mannered slackers into deadly weapons, not just killing machines but by way of supplying the information they’d been gathering over the past seven years.”
“Olov speaking,” a brusque voice interrupted his soliloquy.
“Took you long enough,” Sergei snapped irritably. He was the only one who would call Olov on this specific line and he expected him to be alert at all times.
“I just landed in JFK. I had to find a quiet spot.”
“Is Spooner in place?”
“Yes, he arrived a couple of days ago. He’ll be back at the DEA on Monday.”
“Good. Listen carefully, Mikhail Olov.” Sergei paused and with a deep dark voice barked out one word. “Razobručiti!”
The word, translated as unleash, affected no immediate response, nor did Sergei expect it to. He waited. His smile was broad and smug as a soft mumble in Russian from Olov echoed in his ear.
“Da, power to Mother Russia.”
Chapter Ten
“Come with me, Cherub. I’m doing a Kinbaku session today in my training dungeon.”
Parker had returned with Stone and Hawk just before lunch from a meeting in Washington. It surprised Ava that she’d actually felt lost without his comforting presence. Not that he’d actually done much since her arrival five days ago. He’d been adamant that she get used to him around her all the time. He’d been a true gentleman and apart from hugs and nibbling kisses, he’d not pushed her into anything more intimate. She’d been impressed with his stellar control because she could feel his arousal as he hugged her. They’d gone swimming, shared every meal together, and he’d invited her to watch his training sessions. It was during those times, she met a different kind of Dom. He was funny, caring, and gentle but unmoving and strict at the same time. No wonder the trainees hung onto his every word … and touch for that matter. Those who were lucky enough to be chosen for demonstrations.
“Shibari?” A pinched look crossed Ava’s face as she followed Parker down the stairs towards the training dungeons after lunch. She didn’t like ropes; for that matter, she hated to be bound with them, courtesy of a training Dom who had almost choked her to death in a Shibari bondage scene two months into her BDSM submissive training.
“It’s the terminology that practitioners in the U.S. prefer, which is a more general Japanese word meaning, ‘to tie.’”
“So, what’s the difference?”
“Shibari is bondage tying but Kinbaku is Shibari with the added emotional connection between the Dom and the sub.”
He glanced at her as they entered the dungeon, watching her eyes sweep the interior like they did every time she walked in. Renewed interest sparked in her eyes.
“I keep being surprised. The training academy I attended was different. The rooms were dark, unappealing, and kinda made me think of a medieval torture chamber. This is more like a club dungeon.” She waved toward the rows of learners’ tables and chairs. “Except for the schoolroom area.”
“We prefer to do the theoretical part first and from there it’s easy to move over to the practical area. We found it has a calming effect on the trainees. You’ve been here almost a week and I still have to take you on a tour of our member dungeons after the lesson. Club Alpha Cove is nice and modern but our dungeons ooze with danger and excitement.”
“Dungeons? Are you saying there’s more than one? From all the entrances we passed on the way here, I assumed it was different training chambers, but now I wonder about that.” Ava couldn’t keep the awe from her voice.