Kremlin's Shadow: A Spy's Revenge E-Book

Roberto Borzellino

• Herausgeber: via tolino media
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

When young Russian Army Major Aleksej Marinetto gets unwillingly pulled into an international conspiracy, his life is turned upside down as he becomes a pawn used by Russian intelligence to steal secrets about an American revolutionary weapon. Forced to run to save himself and protect his family, he's thrust into a lethal chess match between Russian Committee spies and the CIA. Hunted by ruthless assassins, Aleksej must make impossible choices to try and break free from the web of lies in the shadowy world of espionage. He'll have to face off with the powerful General Sherbakov and the merciless Petrov, head of the SVR, as well as confront the betrayal of Irina, the spy he loves. From the hustle and bustle of Moscow to the treacherous streets of Rome and Brussels, Aleksej will risk it all to stop the Committee's schemes, in a race against the clock filled with twists and turns. A high-octane spy thriller charged with adrenaline double-crosses, and shocking revelations. For Aleksej, surviving means trusting his gut instinct and diving headfirst into the unknown.

Leseprobe

Roberto Borzellino

"Kremlin's Shadow: A Spy's Revenge"

The Unpredictable Journey of a Russian Agent

Copyright 2023 © [email protected]

Chapter One

Saint Petersburg

1

"Shaibu, shaibu," Aleksej shouted, as a screech of skates on the ice played in the background. With a violent swing of the stick, the black puck quickly hit its target. "Bravo, keep it up, even faster - skate and hit hard - that's your task for today."

"Aleksey can we stop for a moment? We are exhausted," - replied Nikita.

He is completely sweaty under his field hockey goalie harness. From a distance, he looked like a Martian, with the mask covering his face and the gloves too big to hold the stick. He had to defend the goal from the repeated attacks of his teammates, but his mind was elsewhere, distracted as it was by the group of beautiful girls who were watching him from the edge of the rink.

"Guys, come here to the center of the rink. I have to talk to you," Aleksej shouted, intending to be heard by all members of the team, even those who were farther away. All in unison they started to skate quickly and formed a circle around their captain.

"Let me be clear for everyone, We only have a few weeks left of the Inter-Force Hockey Tournament, and from what I can see we are not ready yet. If my training methods don't work for you then complain to General Golkorov. But you already know how it's going to end... so don't make a fuss and resume skating quickly. You... Nikita... report to me at the end of training."

"Yes, Mr. Major" - Nikita answered, standing at attention while with the hand gesture, he made the military salute.

Even with his mask on, one could see his smile and the slight irony with which he had uttered that sentence.

He knew that he could count on the great friendship that bound him to Aleksej and it didn't worry him so much to have to report to his superior.

Nikita had often abused his privileged position. He was almost always late to practice and was the first to complain and end up in the shower. Aleksej had taken him at goodwill since his arrival at the Academy and had taken good care of him. He was the smallest of the group but had an exceptional character, always in a good mood and with a ready wit in any circumstance.

Among other things, he was also an excellent goalkeeper and Aleksej always encouraged him to improve. He believed in him. He told everyone that if he put his mind to it, he had the makings of the best goalkeeper the Academy had had in ten years.

"That's it, everyone takes a shower" - said General Golkorov - satisfied with the commitment shown in training by his boys.

He had been watching them all along from the stands of the Ice Palace in St. Petersburg. "You have only thirty minutes," continued the General in a peremptory tone. - "Our bus is waiting for us in the parking lot and I don't allow any delays."

Before heading towards the exit of the facility, he took Nikita by the arm: "Enough jokes for today or not, even your captain will be able to save you from an exemplary punishment", Then he threw a smile of complicity towards his subordinate: Major Aleksej Robertovic Marinetto.

Aleksej's surname betrayed his obvious Italian origins. He was already 25 years old and as a child had been chosen to attend the Military Academy cadets in Orenburg, in the southern Urals, about 1,200 kilometers from Moscow. It was a very prestigious academy to which only sons and grandsons of the Russian nomenclature were admitted. Aleksej could claim this right as his grandfather was a retired general. At the time of the old Soviet Union he had been a prominent member of the dissolved KGB, the Russian secret service.

Aleksej had risen through the ranks with surprising rapidity to the prestigious rank of Army Major, which showed proudly to friends and family. He had been a permanent fixture at the St. Petersburg Military Academy for a few years, where he also served as captain and assistant coach of the school's field hockey team. His boss and mentor, General Aleksandr Nikolaevic Golkorov, had been a member of the "team of the invincible", the team that for years had won the winter field hockey games for the USSR.

Only an indelible stain had conditioned his incredible career as a hockey player, from which he was unable to recover and which marked his definitive retirement from competition. He was still hurt by the memory of those XIII Winter Olympic Games in Lake Placid (USA) where his team was beaten in the semifinals by the USA, formed only by university students and amateurs at that time. It was an incredible defeat for the "team of the invincible".

In the end, they still managed to win the silver medal, but for years they only talked about the "miracle on ice" by the U.S., with a lot of Hollywood movies on the subject.

2

The bus was ready on the square, with the engine running, waiting for the arrival of the cadets. All were punctual and got on to sit in their assigned seats, followed by the stern looks of Major Alexej and General Golkorov. The last to arrive was Nikita, who, as usual, got a slap on the wrist from his commander. Outside the air was still humid from the incessant rain and everyone started to watch the imminent sunset from the windows. It was an incredible sight. The orange sphere was about to surrender to the first light of evening and suddenly disappeared with its glow behind huge gray buildings.

Golkorov took a seat next to his assistant coach and after a few words about the team's morale and athletic preparation, he suddenly became serious and changed the tone of the conversation.

"Aleksej... tomorrow morning at 9.00 you must report to the Commander, General Sherbakov, for urgent communications concerning you. I was told to deliver this message in person because they did not want you to go through the usual bureaucratic rigmarole."

The Major remained thoughtful for a moment and then tried to venture a request: "General" - he said timidly - "may I ask you a personal question?".

"Certainly," Golkorov replied, "ask away."

"As a child, my grandfather used to tell me that when you get messages like this, which are quite unusual, then you have to fear for your career or worse, your life."

The General burst into a roaring laugh that embarrassed Aleksej. "Major, you can tell your grandfather that the KGB systems are long gone.

Don't worry, at most you will be transferred to another post, maybe even to Moscow", he replied with a calm and smiling tone.

The General knew much more than what he was saying, but Aleksej didn't want to insist; with his curiosity, he had already dared enough. After all, he had to wait only a few hours to know the details of that strange convocation that took place outside the official canons.

In any case, a sense of agitation assailed him the whole way to the Academy, although he tried to mask the discomfort by maintaining his usual demeanor. He didn't want to arouse the suspicions of his fellow soldiers and wanted to avoid any kind of question. Moreover, he was not the kind of man to make easy confidences, not even with his closest and most trusted friends. As usual, they dined at the officers' mess and Nikita was not short on jokes.

Someone had brought a guitar and they invited Aleksej to play an Italian tune, one his mother had taught him when he was little. "I am an Italian... I am an Italian" they shouted at the top of their voices and the Major, to calm down that too, took the guitar in his hands and began to strum the tune that everyone was clamoring for. After listening to the General's words Golkorov wasn't in the mood, but he wanted the evening to end the way it was meant to and didn't back down.

He got up at the end of that improvised "performance" and after having dismissed from the group, with decisive steps, he headed towards his service quarters. While his mind was wandering in search of a logical explanation, the words of his grandfather Andrej came back to his mind - "Don't trust the military... never trust your colleagues... distrust everything and everybody... always leave yourself a way out, however difficult and dangerous it may be".

With a sharp blow, he closed,d the door of the room behind him and, without removing his uniform, sat down in the middle of the bed. He felt really tired as if he had lost all energy, physical and mental.

He gently pulled out some old faded photos from his wallet: the first showed his grandfather strutting around in his general's uniform, displaying all the medals he had earned in so many years of honorable service with the KGB. He had been retired for some time and lived in a beautiful house near the center of Moscow. Unfortunately, for some years he had been alone. His beloved wife Olga had died prematurely, struck with an incurable disease that had taken her away suddenly.

For General Andrej Vladimirovic Halikov that was the most painful and difficult mission of his life, from which he came out defeated.

He had had to surrender to the inevitability of that loss and regretted not being able to keep his "promise". He had sworn to Olga that, once he retired, they would travel together and go around the world. He would take her to distant and beautiful places, they would visit Madrid, London, and Rome. In the company of his wife, he wanted to enjoy exhibitions, museums, and parks in peace. Maybe he would take her to La Scala in Milan or The Louvre in Paris.

These were the places where Andrei had completed his most important missions. She had been a brilliant Russian spy, probably the most famous within the KGB. Many still admired him, even though he had long since retired. Even in the SVR, the new Russian secret service, many considered him a living legend he had overcome a thousand dangers and difficulties. Once he had been seriously wounded, but he was never captured and always managed to get by very well. That had been the most exciting and adventurous period of his life, but the sudden death of his wife had taken away all his desire for life. It had been a tremendous blow that had broken him inside and since then he hadn't had the strength to react.

Looking at that photo, Aleksej felt that his grandfather - the military man all of a piece - also had a soul. He felt pity for the old man he hadn't seen for so long and was tempted to call him to ask his advice. But he quickly abandoned that idea. His mother’s words, who had forbidden all his family members, including himself, to travel to Moscow to attend the funeral of grandmother Olga, his grandfather's beloved wife, were still ringing in his head.

He had obeyed but against his will.

He was forced to make that choice, knowing that his mother would never forgive him for any act of insubordination. Strangely enough, no one wanted to explain to Aleksej the reasons for that incomprehensible decision and everyone in the family kept it secret. Something truly terrible must have happened between father and daughter, so serious as to "force everyone" to stay in St. Petersburg.

Often Aleksej had tried to open the subject with his mother, but he had always received an abrupt and clear refusal. Once he had tried to soften her up by telling her: "But Olga is my grandmother, your mother, your flesh and blood, how can you do such a deplorable act? It is not like you. You are a righteous woman, always ready to help everyone who comes to you for help. I don't understand...why don't you tell me the truth? Why this secret?"

Maria had always been adamant with her son and the last time they had discussed the subject she had told him, peremptorily: "Aleksej we can talk openly about anything you want, but two subjects are taboo in this house, your grandfather Andrej and your father Roberto. With this, the subject is closed and I don't ever want to go back to it".

3

Aleksej carefully puts his Major's uniform in the closet, taking care not to crease it because it had to be perfect for the next day, in the presence of the Academy Commander. Then he put on his pajamas and lay down on the bed. He crossed his hands behind his head and began to stare at the ceiling, trying to get his memory back to when he was a child. As always he wanted to remember his father's face or, at least, to hear his voice again. But nothing.

Despite all efforts, absolute blackness seemed to have taken over the time when his parents still lived together. In all his twenty-five years he had always missed his father. He wished he knew the man with all his might to talk to him at least once. He wanted to know why he had abandoned him and had not been seen or heard from him in the last twenty years.

With time, the mystery of his father's escape had become a heavy burden that oppressed his heart and soul. The mother had always done her best for her only son to whom she had never lacked anything, to whom she had given support and love. But despite all her efforts, Aleksej had always lacked a father figure and felt that he had lived in a half-family.

Moreover, Maria, after her husband's abandonment, had not remarried and only recently Aleksej had discovered that his mother had never divorced his father. At the registry office in St. Petersburg, they were still officially married. He guessed that something terrible must have happened to his family and perceived, in any case, that the accounts certainly did not add up.

First of all, she wondered why her mother had spent all those years alone, always faithful to her husband, as if she was waiting for his return and as if this could happen at any moment.

He had tried to investigate to find out the truth, but until then he had found very little, if not a wall of absolute silence. One day he went to visit his mother and found the house deserted. He had taken advantage of Maria's absence to rummage in every corner: from the drawers to the closets, to the bathroom. It was all useless, nothing turned up, not even a letter or a photo that could justify the betrayal of his father and the end of their love. The sudden abandonment of that man and his hasty return to Italy remained a thick mystery still unsolved.

But Aleksej continued undaunted, not to give up. He was sure that one day or another he would find the right threads and untangle the complicated skein that continued to envelop his life and that of his family.

He fell asleep with this thought.

4

"Good morning Mr. General, Major Aleksej Marinetto reporting for duty" and immediately a sharp thump of heels slamming into each other on the floor was heard in the room.

"At ease Major..., take a seat in the chair," replied General Sherbakov, as he stared at him sternly.

"I imagine your surprise at this unexpected summons but I assure you it is nothing serious." Aleksej looked at his commander with lively concern, frowning as he used to do in moments of tension.

But he did not have time to open his mouth because Commander Sherbakov suddenly urged him: "Be ready to leave tomorrow morn.00 a.m.; a service car will take you to the Pulkovo civil airport where you will take the plane to Moscow".

He then handed him a piece of paper and added, "This is your reservation. You will have to travel in civilian clothes and you will not have to communicate with anyone, civilian or military. Your transfer is of the utmost urgency and confidentiality, so follow your orders scrupulously.

"Yes Mr. Commander," Aleksej hastened to reply, still in disbelief at the transfer order he had just received.

"Moscow, Moscow...", he repeated to himself, "but what am I going to do in Moscow... I don't know anyone there... I don't understand... but do you want to see that Grandfather Andrej's hand is behind all this?".

He got up from his chair and stood at attention. Then, with an increasingly worried expression, he turned to the Commander: "General, may I ask what is the final destination? I assume the Moscow Military Academy."

"Major Marinet...", replied the General annoyed "Stick to your orders and don't ask any more questions. At Moscow's Domodedovo airport, you will find someone waiting for you. That's all."

Aleksej took his leave from his Commander and headed for his quarters. It was his day off and no one had ordered him to stay confined in the barracks, nor had he read a service order to that effect. He had only been ordered to report to the airport the next morning and catch his flight to Moscow. Nothing more.

He then changed into civilian clothes and headed for the exit. He presented his documents and permission to leave to the guard and in a moment reached the subway station. Before leaving he wanted to say goodbye to his mother. He would have thought of his friends that same day evening, upon returning to the Academy. He had to maintain an attitude of absolute confidentiality and not reveal to anyone, not even to his mother, the day of departure and his destination. He knew that Maria was a smart woman and had to be careful, even the slightest word out of place could have made her suspicious.

During the subway ride, he would have thought about what to say to her. Maybe he could pull out the excuse of leave and say that he would leave for a vacation in the company of his new "flame". Everyone at the Academy knew about his "Casanova" skills. He had changed so much that the announcement of a new girlfriend would not have surprised anyone, at least not his mother. Only the prolongation of his presence in Moscow could have aroused suspicion in his friends and relatives, but by that time he would have been far away and safe from any indiscreet questions.

So he had no reason to worry.

He took line two of the metro and after a few stops got off at the Park Pobedy station. His mother's house was not far: he had to walk only a few hundred meters. When he reached Kosmonatov Street, he walked towards the bottle-green iron door, then typed in the access code and the door opened with a metallic click. He climbed the steps three at a time, as he used to do since he was a child. He had the keys with him and did not bother to knock or call. Maria with time had become accustomed to his "improvisations" and had never protested or reacted in a bad way. She was always happy to see and embrace her beloved son, her "little Alex", as she continued to call him.

He opened the front door trying to make the least noise and then, with a light flick of his hand, he moved the second door that gave access to the interior of the apartment. He gently leaned on the handle and put his head in the small space between the door and the wall. He paid attention to any sound coming from inside: he wanted to surprise his mother, who would suddenly find him in front of her.

He waited a few seconds but heard no sound.

She thought her mother had gone out shopping, took off her shoes, and headed for the living room. Here she had a gasp. A female figure sat on the couch, silently in the half-light of the room. She almost seemed to be praying. Aleksej, worried, but not afraid, immediately turned on the light.

"Mom!!!" She exclaimed in a surprised tone, "But what are you doing on the couch, quietly, in the dark...you're sick...tell me...what's going on?"

Maria slowly turned her gaze towards her son but, unlike usual, she didn't run towards him to hug him and with tears in her eyes she told him: "Aleksej sit here next to me. We need to talk. The time has come for you to know the whole truth about your family. About your father...your grandfather...and your brother."

"My brother...?" replied Aleksej as if intoxicated.

"Mom, but what are you saying... I have no brothers ... I am an only child". She looked at Maria's face and saw that the tears were now pouring out of her, like a river in flood, unstoppable.

"Yes Aleksej, you have a brother...you are not an only child. A twin brother named Luca."

He took an old, faded photograph from his pocket and placed it in his son's hands.

"Look...here you were three years old. Your father Roberto and I have always loved each other and still do. But sometimes life's circumstances are cruel. We had to make a choice. We were forced to make it, and your grandfather Andrej had something to do with it."

With the photo in his right hand, trembling, Aleksej tried to recover from the shock. He scrutinized its every detail. Now, finally, he knew the truth. He looked carefully at the face of his father Roberto and that of his brother Luca. He could almost feel them, he perceived their essence; they were right there, still, in front of his eyes. He remained silent for a few minutes, but then he felt as if he had woken up from a long sleep and began to storm her with a thousand questions.

"Mom...how is this possible? Why did my father abandon us by taking my brother away? Is Luca aware that his twin brother lives in Russia, or have you kept this secret for him as well?"

For Maria, it was time to tell the whole truth. Her son's questions were the ones she had always wanted to answer. She tried to calm down and relax and tried to tell her story while looking her son in the eye.

"As you know, your grandfather was a General in the KGB, the old Russian secret service. At the time you were born, he held an important position in Moscow. One day he showed up here in St. Petersburg with Grandma Olga, full of gifts for his two grandchildren. He had expressly asked us to meet you personally and that was the first and last time we saw the whole family reunited."

"It was only after lunch that Grandpa Andrej revealed the real reason for that visit: he had to recruit your father Roberto for the Russian intelligence services. He promised him that if he went into the service of the KGB, he would guarantee all of us a quiet and peaceful life, full of comfort and ease. They would provide us with a house in Sochi, by the sea, where we could spend our summer vacations."

"I knew your grandfather well."

"Those were not mere requests, but actual orders. But your father refused that proposal, he thought it was obscene and senseless. He said he didn't want to betray his ideals... his country..., that he didn't feel like a communist... that he was in Russia only for the love of his daughter and his family. Big words flew. In the end, your grandfather Andrej left... away, slamming the door without even saying goodbye. From that moment on, the happiness of our family was over".

Maria paused, as if to better visualize her memories, and then resumed.

"With your father, we fought that same night."

"I told him we had no choice. We had to cooperate with the KGB or our lives would be hell. But your father was adamant. He wouldn't listen to reason. When he calmed down, we studied a strategy together, a way out. We had to expect an immediate reaction from the heads of the KGB, surely they would have sent us all together to some work camp in Siberia. We had to protect you. You understand my son...the only possible solution was just to escape because very soon your father would have his visa revoked."

"That evening we packed our bags and went to the airport together, but it was already too late: At passport control we w, were stopped and identified. The customs officer looked at us with a frown and said peremptorily that only your father and a son could board the plane for Rome. I could never leave Russia. He had strict orders about that. He only gave us a minute to think, otherwise he w he would have arrested us all. Your father and I were forced to make a quick decision. You held my hand while Luca slept in Roberto's arms. It was destiny that chose us. We hugged each other tightly and kissed as if that had been our last time. And in fact, it was".

Maria breathed a sigh of relief as if she had gotten rid of a huge boulder that had been weighing down on her for far too long.

Aleksej, who had remained silent the whole time, took his mother's hands and held them in his own. Then he softly told her: "Now I finally know the whole truth. Now I understand everything. I have a brother identical to me. Unbelievable...and all so crazy...insane. I always knew you were hiding a big secret about our family, but then, never would I have imagined this."

Aleksej hugged his mother tightly and put his head on her chest; then he began to cuddle her, caressing her long blonde hair. Maria was almost fifty years old, but despite her age, she still looked young, with a beautiful body and a regal bearing. Her son often teased her and told her that when she was younger, she could have been a model. Mom played along and everything ended with a hearty laugh.

Now there they were, together, in silence, sitting on the couch, each immersed in their thoughts and memories.

Maria looked at her son with tenderness and that look gave Aleksej new courage.

He gently lifted her head from his chest to talk to her and confide his secret: "Mom, I have to tell you something important too. It is a military matter, but I know I can trust you. Tomorrow morning I will take a plane to Moscow. I've been transferred, but I still don't know the exact destination. Maybe Moscow is just a transit station. I'm afraid they'll send me to some remote region of Russia, perhaps beyond the Urals or to that very Siberia you and my father were so afraid of."

A veil of sadness descended on Maria's gaze as if inviting her son to read her thoughts. She didn't have an expression of surprise, but, on the contrary, she seemed to know everything in advance. That look did not admit misunderstandings and Aleksej turned to his mother with a mixture of agitation and resignation.

"Mom...but did you know that? How could this be possible? I was only informed by my Commander a few hours ago."

"Dear Aleksej, I am still the daughter of a KGB General. What do you think I don't have my sense of information too. I have always protected you and I will always protect you, wherever you are..., wherever you go. But don't worry, your final destination is Moscow and not Siberia." Then she smiled at him and with a wave of her hand signaled her son to follow her into the kitchen.

"Sit down and I'll make you tea with honey. Your favorite cookies I just baked."

Only then Aleksej smelled the strong smell of cookies coming from the oven. It was a scent that reminded him of his childhood but the hustle and bustle of that day seemed to have suddenly turned off his olfactory sense. The atmosphere in the house had calmed down and they both continued to talk, finally free from secrets, next to each other.

Chapter Two

Moscow

5

The car jolted and Aleksej, still half asleep from his early morning wake-up, suddenly opened his eyes and peered out the window. A drizzle was releasing his tears and each drop was quickly sliding on the windows to make room for the new arrivals.

"Major Marinetto," exclaimed the driver, "we are almost at the airport, and in two minutes we will be at the departure gate."

It was the voice of General Sherbakov's attendant. He had been assigned to accompany Aleksej to Pulkovo, even in the commander's black Mercedes C220. It was a great privilege and the Major was aware of it but, despite all the precautions, his fears for that unexpected trip remained unchanged.

"Thank you Lieutenant Chukov, please pull over to the side," she replied courteously, refraining from giving a military salute, then dismissed him with a simple handshake and a simple thank you. With his tiny luggage, he headed towards the check-in for Moscow. He had been instructed to dress in civilian clothes and carry only the bare essentials. And so he did. In Moscow, he would find someone waiting for him but he knew neither his name nor his rank.

"It's probably going to be some young attendant," Aleksej thought, as he disciplined and got in line with the other passengers. He was worried but he had to disguise his mood well and behave like a common Russian citizen. In that strange circumstance, it was necessary to abandonbial the martial air that made him feel so ridiculous without his uniform on.

"Flight S7022 to Moscow, hurry to board," croaked a gentle voice from the loudspeakers in the waiting room. Aleksej still did not suspect that this would be the last time he would see his beloved St. Petersburg. He had been given too little time and had not been able to say goodbye to all his friends and fellow field hockey players. Perhaps this was also why he felt strangely sad and empty.

The flight was short and quiet, with no strange or unusual encounters to report. He headed towards the exit of Domodedovo airport and stopped in front of the long line of yellow cabs that were waiting for their clients to arrive. He looked in every direction but there was no sign of his contact. "My attendant must be late," thought Aleksej while he looked impatiently at his watch. He could do nothing but wait because he had been ordered not to leave the exit, under any circumstances.

Suddenly he became aware of a man coming towards him with his arms outstretched. He had a smile on his face and the air of someone who seemed to have known him for a long time.

"Aleksej, my friend, how are you? At last, you have arrived," said the stranger in a sickly voice. He held him tightly to himself and whispered in his ear:" Play along and follow me without question, maybe we are being watched."

Aleksej remained completely motionless, he was surprised, stunned, and had time to mumble only a few incomprehensible words: "But who are you...".

The strange man took the small luggage from his hands and placed it in the back of the car; then he invited him to get in the front and together they set off at high speed for an unknown destination.

When they had gone far enough Aleksej turned towards that unlikely companion and with a firm and haughty manner told him: "So, you idiot, will you finally tell me what this masquerade is and where we are going? "Calm down Major Marinet," the stranger replied curtly, "let me introduce myself. Major Kostja Maksimovic Skubak, of the SVR in Moscow. I am an agent of the Services with the task of accompanying you to your destination." He pulled out a badge from his jacket and put it on the dashboard of the car.

Aleksej took the document in his hands and began to observe it. He was not an expert in forgery but it seemed to him to be an original or, at least, an excellent imitation. He gave it back to Skubak accompanying the gesture with a disapproving grimace.

"Secret Service...?" he replied irritably, "this must surely be the work of my grandfather Andrei. But tell him that he must resign himself because he knows very well that I have no sympathy for you. I disapprove of your Nazi methods, so it is useless for you to try to recruit me."

Then, in the peremptory tone of someone used to commanding and giving orders, he concluded: "Pull over and let me off. Immediately."

"Just be patient for thirty more minutes and then everything will become clearer to you," Skubak urged him. "We're on our way to SVR headquarters. Director Petrov himself is waiting for you. There you will understand everything and have all the answers to the questions that are on your mind. But until then please make yourself comfortable and relax. We still have a long way to go and I need to make sure that no one follows us until we arrive."

He put his right hand under the driver's seat and remained there for a few seconds rummaging around as if he were looking for something important, taking care not to lose sight of the cars in front of him. When he had finished, he put back the mat and showed Aleksej a pack of cigarettes, already opened and half full.

"Old habits dear colleague... die-hard..., but I'm trying to quit smoking. Anyway, you can call me Kostja. We're informal here at our place and I anticipate we'll be spending quite a bit of time together over the next few weeks."

"I categorically rule it out... colleague...", Aleksej urged him ironically, "this evening I will already be on the first flight to St. Petersburg. I do not intend to follow in my grandfather's footsteps and I certainly do not wish to become a spy. If he hoped that I would fall for this boorish trick, he was very wrong. Tell him when you see him.

"We'll see...we'll see," Kostja urged him, smiling, "but I think you'll meet him very soon, so you can tell him yourself, in person, directly to his face."

At that hour Moscow was already chaotic and immersed in morning traffic. A shy spring sun was trying to make its way through the huge clouds with all the strength of its rays. They continued straight towards the center, along Tverskaya street, then turned abruptly into one of the many side streets, but too quickly for Aleksej to read the address. After a few hundred meters the car stopped near a big yellow ochre building, with many windows put together one next to the other and with tinted windows. It looked like a classic administrative building, but it was the headquarters of the SVR in Moscow, the former KGB.

"We're here," Kostja exclaimed, "Please follow me without making a scene, and I promise you'll get the answers you've been looking for all your life. You are safe here, even better than in the Kremlin."

6

At the entrance, Aleksej was greeted by an imposing brown coat of arms. It was circular with a large five-pointed star in the center. A small blue globe shone inside. The inscription, in Cyrillic, pompously announced its name - Služba Vnešnej Razvedki Rossisnoj Federazi (International Intelligence Service of the Russian Federation).

They passed through the metal detector and showed their papers to the two guards. They were both unarmed. They received badges to access the seventh floor where Director Petrov was waiting for them. They hurried to one of the three elevators and took the least crowded one. When they reached the floor, they turned to their left and walked down a long corridor.

The floor was solid marble, white with small black specks, and a rust-red carpet covered the center of it throughout.

Aleksej noticed a great coming and going of men and women. They walked nervously from one side of the corridor to the other, going in and out of various rooms, holding files and piles of documents. In that bustle, no one gave them a glance or a greeting, as if they had been invisible.

"These are the Section I offices. They are the analysts who handle the daily briefings for our agents abroad. Don't worry, you'll get used to it. It looks like they're knee-deep in chaos but I assure you they're efficient and super organized. That's not where we’re headed anyway." With the thumb of his right hand, Kostja pointed upwards, as if to say: we have to go up again. They went up a few steps and found themselves on a mezzanine floor. Eventually, they stopped in front of a large and massive fir door with the inscription "Department S. - Director Petrov".

Kostja knocked vigorously and a gentle voice rang out from inside: "Come in, please, have a seat."

"Hello Silvya," he exclaimed, smiling, "as you can see we're right on time. I imagine Director Petrov is waiting for us."

Aleksej couldn't help but notice her: she was a pretty blonde girl, with short bob hair and big brown eyes. She wore light makeup and he thought she might be, more or less, his age. She had greeted them with a smile, but her cold and icy gaze betrayed a certain tension.

"Right on time Kostja. The Director is waiting for you. Come in", Silvya replied firmly, without adding anything else. Aleksej directed his gaze to the upper corner of the ceiling where a small camera was positioned.

Only now did he realize why the girl had been sitting the whole time and had not stood up to meet them. She had her right hand still resting on her legs, an unequivocal sign that she was holding a gun. Since their arrival on the ground floor, they had been followed step by step by the CCTV cameras. In another room, nearby, there must have been other armed agents, ready to intervene if necessary, to protect the safety of their boss.

They entered and stood in the center of the room. Director Fyodor Ivanovic Petrov was standing, his back turned, looking out the window. He was a man already over fifty, from the old school of the KGB. He had come through the transition period unscathed and was now in charge of the important Department S of Russian intelligence. His hair was shaved to nothing, he wore round, intellectual eyeglasses, he was long and thin, and he wore a grey double-breasted suit with impeccable tailoring. Everyone respected him and from first glance, he was able to inspire fear.

"Good morning director," Kostja began, slowly heading towards the window, "I have brought you Major Marinetto... as requested. No unforeseen events to report, even if at the beginning our guest showed some resistance. But it was easily predictable considering the secrecy of his summons."

Petrov slowly turned his head in the direction of the newcomers with a grimace of approval. He seemed to have been standing for a long time, probably worried about the long wait. Then he turned completely around and, after moving his black leather chair, rested both hands on the large mahogany desk.

"Bravo Kostja, very good!!!" he replied in a baritone voice, "but now I need to be alone with the Major.

---ENDE DER LESEPROBE---