Russian Roulette

ВТОРОЙ ШАНС – SECOND CHANCE

“I have to say, Yassen, we are extremely disappointed with you.”

Sefton Nye was sitting behind the desk in his darkened office, his hands coming together in a peak in front of his face as if he were at prayer. A single light shone above his head, reflecting in the polished brass buttons on the sleeves of his blazer. His heavy, white eyes were fixed on me. He was surrounded by photographs of leering pirates, trapped in the headlines of the world news. His family. He was as ruthless as they were and I wondered why I was still alive. In Silver Forest, an assassin sent by Scorpia had made a mistake. He had emptied his gun into Vladimir Sharkovsky but had failed to finish him off and for that he had been executed right in front of my eyes. But I was still here. Oliver d’Arc was also in the room, his hands folded in his lap. He had chosen a chair close to the door, as if he wanted to keep as far away from me as possible.

“What do you have to say?” Nye asked.

I had prepared for this scene, on the plane to Rome, the train to Venice, the boat across the lagoon. But now that I was actually sitting here, now that it was happening, it was very hard to keep hold of everything I had rehearsed.

“You knew I wasn’t ready,” I said. I was careful to keep my voice very matter-of-fact. I didn’t want them to think I was accusing them. The important thing was to defend myself without seeming to do so. That was my plan. If I tried to make excuses, it would all be over and Marat or Sam would spend the evening burying me in the woods. I was here for a reason. I still had to prove myself. “Your agent followed me,” I went on. “There was no other reason for him to be in Central Park. And I was never needed. He would have done the job… which is exactly what happened. I think you knew I would fail.”

D’Arc twitched slightly. Nye said nothing. His eyes were still boring into me. “It is true that Dr Steiner was not satisfied with your progress,” he intoned at last. “He warned us there was a seventy per cent probability that you would be unable to fulfil your assignment.”

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. Dr Steiner had been hired because he knew what he was doing and, despite my attempts to fool him, he had read me like a book. “If I wasn’t ready, why did you let me go?” I asked.

Very slowly, Nye nodded his head. “You have a point, Yassen. Part of the reason we sent you to New York was an experiment. We wanted to see how you would operate under pressure and, in some respects, you handled yourself quite well. You successfully broke into the offices of Clarke Davenport, although it might have been wise to change your appearance… perhaps the colour of your hair. Also, you were seen by a secretary. That was careless. However, we can overlook that. You did well to work out the movements of your target and Central Park was a sensible choice.”

“But you didn’t kill her!” d’Arc muttered. He sounded angry, like an old lady who has been kept waiting for her afternoon tea.

“Why did you fail?” Nye asked me.

I thought for a moment. “I think it was because she spoke to me,” I said. “I had seen her photograph. I had followed her from the office. But when she spoke to me… suddenly everything changed.”

“Do you think you will ever be able to do this work?”

“Of course. Next time will be different.”

“What makes you think there will be a next time?”

Another silence. The two men were making me sweat but I didn’t think they were going to kill me. I already had a sense of how Scorpia operated. If they had decided I was no use to them, they wouldn’t have bothered bringing me back to the island. Marcus could have shot me down with the same gun he had used on Kathryn Davis. I could have been stabbed or strangled on the boat and dropped overboard. These were people who didn’t waste their time.

Nye could see that I had worked it out. “All right,” he said. “We will draw a line under this unfortunate event. You are very fortunate, Yassen, that Mrs Rothman has taken a personal liking to you. It’s also to your advantage that you’ve had such excellent reports from your instructors. Even Dr Steiner believes there is something special about you. We think that you may one day become the very best in your profession – and whatever the reputation of our organization, we haven’t forgotten that you are very young. Everyone deserves a second chance. Just be aware that there won’t be a third.”

I didn’t thank him. It would only have annoyed him.

“We have decided to take your training up a notch. We are aware that you need to make a mental adjustment and so we want you to go back out into the field as soon as possible – but this time in the company of another agent, a new recruit. He is a man who has already killed for us on two occasions. By staying close to him, you will learn survival techniques, but more than that we hope he will be able to provide you with the edge that you seem to lack.”

“He is a remarkable man,” d’Arc added. “A British soldier who has seen action in Ireland and Africa. I think the two of you will get on famously.”

“You will have dinner with him tonight in Venice,” Nye said. “And you will spend a few weeks training with him, here on the island. As soon as he agrees that you are ready, the two of you will leave together. First you will be going to South America, to Peru. He has a target there and we’re just arranging the final details. Assuming that goes well, you will return to Europe and there will be a second assignment, in Paris. The more time you spend together, the better. There’s only so much you can achieve in the classroom. I think you will find this experience to be invaluable.”

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“When you are travelling together, you will address each other using code names only,” Nye replied. We have chosen a good one for you. You will be Cossack. There was a time when the Cossacks were famous soldiers. They were Russian, just like you, and they were much feared. I hope it will inspire you.”

I nodded. “And his?”

A man stepped forward. He had been standing in the room, observing me all the time, lost in the shadows. It seemed incredible to me that I hadn’t noticed him but at the same moment I understood that he must be a master in the ninja techniques taught by Hatsumi Saburo, that he was able to hide in plain sight. He was in his late twenties and still looked like a soldier in his physique, in the way he carried himself, in his close-cut brown hair. His eyes were also brown, watchful and serious, yet with just a hint of humour. He was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. Even as he walked towards me, I saw that he was more relaxed than anyone I had met on the island. Both Nye and Oliver D’Arc seemed almost nervous of him. He was totally in control.

He reached out a hand. I shook it. He had a firm clasp.

“Hello, Yassen,” he said. “I’m John Rider. The code name they’ve given me is Hunter.”