The Assignment

Rain hit the windows of Malone's office heavily. The head of CI5 sat at his desk, motionless like a statue, staring out of the window into the evening darkness that had fallen over London. The continuous rain against the glass deformed the innumerable city lights of the metropolis. But Malone didn't seem to notice - he seemed lost in thoughts or maybe in memories of a time long gone. The absent minded look on his face could have given an outsider the impression of the cool and emotionless boss - he most of the time was - who ruled his organisation with a cool, distant and stony attitude. But then Malone shook up out from his reverie, picked up the phone and dialled an overseas number.

"Craig, good morning - it's Harry," he said and took off his glasses. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, pondering on how to continue. "I'm sorry to disturb you this early but I've got something to tell you. Yes - more than delicate. Prepare yourself for terrible news."

For an instant the carefully maintained outer layer of heartlessness had been transparent. For a very short moment something of the caring, concerned man, Malone in reality was, showed. But no one had been around to witness it.

******

Sam carefully slipped out of the bed. In the darkness of the room he gathered his clothes, which were scattered all over the floor - trousers near the bed, shirt near the door, one shoe under the chair, another under his trousers... In bed, the woman slept peacefully. Their longing for each other was emphasised by those silent items. He grinned in the dark. It had been feverish, warm, passionate and wonderful...if only he could have an eight hours sleep after it; it would have been perfect. Don't wake her up, he thought, don't ... He moved silently, but as he was zipping up he suddenly felt her warm hand on his bare back.

"What's wrong?" she asked with a soft and sleepy voice.

"Nothing, go back to sleep," he answered gently and turned to her. In the darkened room they couldn't see too many details in each other's faces but nevertheless he smiled.

"Why are you leaving?" she said, more awake than she'd just sounded. "The night isn't over yet, you might miss the rest of the fun."

"I'm sure I will. But it's an emergency. Twenty four hour job, remember?"

He tied up his shoelace, bent over to her and kissed her - taking her breath away as he did.

"We'll continue soon, promise," he said. Calmly he stood up and, accompanied by a deep sigh from the attractive woman in the bed, he left the room and her apartment without further words. Sam knew they would never meet again.

*******

The sun on his face made Chris wake up. Sleepily he glanced at his alarm clock, only to be wide-awake instantly.

"Shit," he mumbled as he jumped out of bed, rushed to the bathroom and took a quick, cold shower to drive the sleep from his body.

Diving back into the bedroom he hurriedly dressed. Stopping by in the kitchen he stuffed a stale donut in his mouth and was just about to open the front door when the lock being turned made him stop.

"Morning, Chris. You're late - I was getting worried the redhead might have worn you out," Sam greeted his partner cheerfully. He threw a closer look at the American. " You look tired, buddy. Night of wild passion was it?"

"Morning, Sam," Chris shot back with a wry smile. "Nothing happened, I brought her home and that was it. Guess she wasn't in the mood after all. How did you go last night?" he asked him and took his leather jacket from the hanger.

"Could have been worse," Sam replied with a cheeky spark in his grey-green eyes. "Stop avoiding the subject. Why didn't you take her home with you? Your charm didn't work on her?"

Chris waved his hand and said airily: "I guess even my Wonder Boy Magic doesn't always do the trick."

Sam raised an eyebrow but let the subject drop and shut the door behind him.

"Now, that we're late anyway, Chris, what about a cup of coffee?"

"Jesus, she really must have been a damn goddess!" Chris smiled, "The ever so accurate Sam Curtis is willing to risk an article 15 on being late."

"A what?"

"A note to your personal file..." Curtis stared back blankly and with a sigh, Chris gave in. "Ah, not now! ... Drop it, okay?"

"Okay then," Sam laughed and patted his friend on the shoulder, while he reopened the door, "Come on, let's get to HQ before Malone loses his temper entirely. We're already late."

******

Half an hour later they were just about to walk into the operations centre when they heard Malone's voice echo through the hallway.

"Mr Curtis, Mr Keel, to my office..."

"How does he do that? We're just in and he..." Chris said amazed. Sam shook his head.

"Do you need a hand written invitation?" their boss bellowed, which made the two agents grimace at each other in mutual understanding. One of those days again, they knew. They stepped into the commander's office and greeted their boss.

"Good Morning, Sir," Sam said, trying to look like innocence personified, while mentally preparing himself for a scolding about their belated entry. Chris, next to him, adopted the same attitude and mumbled something likewise. Much to their surprise, however, Malone went straight to business. He handed Sam a folder.

"This is your new assignment, gentlemen. A young Securité agent, an ex-BND officer and the former head of the MI6 branch in Germany have been murdered within the last four days. All three have been executed in the same way. A single shot through the back of the head from an unidentified weapon. Ballistics is still working on it. All we know so far is that two of them had been on a co-operative assignment a couple of years ago, which was aimed to set Nikolai Fjodor Ulmanov free."

"Ulmanov?" Sam repeated and a deep wrinkle appeared over his eyebrows.

"Does this name sound familiar to you, Mr. Curtis?"

Indeed the name rang a bell but Sam couldn't quite put the right face with the right name. At least four years had passed since he'd left the service and he had seen so many faces and heard so many names that it took a while before the details began slowly to resurface.

"Well, Sir, during my time with MI6 I heard people spreading rumours about Ulmanov, the legend of KGB, who - in the late sixties, early seventies - succeeded in infiltrating MI6 and even fooled several other services of the West as well. If I remember correctly, they also talked about him being killed by his own guys."

"That's not quite right, Mr. Curtis."

"Sir?"

"This was the official declaration. In reality, the team, I mentioned earlier on, managed to organise his escape from Lubjianka. They brought him to a safe place. Nobody was able to discover the secret of his 'new home' until now. Very few know the truth. The whole mission ended..." Malone stopped.

Sam and Chris had the distinct impression that Malone was reluctant to tell them what was going on and that there was much more they should know, but weren't told. Chris made a mental note to ask Sam more about the character Malone had been talking about.

."Miss Backus is already trying to gather as much information as possible. You gentlemen should pack your bags. I want you to attend a funeral."

"Lovely - that's what I call entertainment!" muttered Chris, "I knew this wasn't one of my days."

"A funeral, Sir?" Sam's professional curiosity rose its head. .

"Miss Backus will provide you with further information. Dismissed."

"Aye, Sir."

******

"Well, don't you boys look bright and happy this morning...", Tina said with a smile that lit up her pretty face, ".... both of you. Didn't you get you much sleep last night?"

"Don't you just love that woman?" Sam asked ironically.

"Yeah, a real sweetheart she is." Chris grinned at Sam.

"Here are your tickets", Backup ignored their comments. "Your flight is leaving at 16.00 hours Gate B 28. Sam, how is your German?"

"Not too bad, why?" he replied with questioning eyes.

"You are flying to Berlin. Malone wants you to attend the funeral of the assassin's last victim, Carl Rosen. Here's the list of people who have been send an obituary - call it a guest list, if you like," she said with a wink.

"That's not a funeral, that's an international conference," Sam muttered and passed the neatly stapled sheets of papers to Chris.

"Wow, lots of names on here.... Does any of those ring a bell?"

"I'll study them during the flight, but at first sight, I'd have to say no or at least not right away."