Sigma Division

Chapter 1

Budapest was one of the most beautiful cities in Europe but Spicer barely noticed. He’d been all over the world but never took the time to go sightseeing. That was the life of a government assassin.

It was a lot like being a mechanical equipment salesman, he judged. You spent every night in a different motel, visiting cities that were only names on a map, and then you moved on. And Spicer couldn’t wait to move the hell on from this country.

“Yes,” he said in passable Hungarian into the phone. “Don’t forget the extra cheese. Köszönöm.”

He hung up and looked outside the window of his sad-looking hotel room. He could see the Parliament resting against the Danube. There were newer buildings in the background but the Parliament was the tallest structure in in all of Hungary. It was glowing with scintillating lights. Nearby was Gellért Hill, standing guard majestically over the river. At the foot was the famous Danubius Hotel Gellért.

Spicer wished he could have stayed there instead of this place. He was sharing accommodation with three cockroaches and the bed sheets hadn’t been changed in a while, he was certain of it. It didn’t matter, he had stayed in worse. He went to refill his glass of scotch — a substandard East European brand — and he simply stared at the alcohol as it slowly melted the ice.

His face was rugged, not from the booze or even the job. From weariness. This was a young man’s game. He hadn’t been young in a long time. He had been working for the government in one capacity or another for over 30 years. That was enough.

Before he knew it, his hand was shaking, rattling the ice. He strengthened his grip and gulped the whole thing at once, letting the burning sensation soothe him. He needed this more and more these days before a job. Never a good sign.

At long last, Spicer stood up and pulled on a dark sweater over his undershirt. Once he was comfortable, he kneeled next to the bed and pulled out a small red gym bag. He brought it up to the unsteady table by the window, curtains closed, and spilled the contents.

There was a small makeup kit, some wigs and facial hair, and more importantly a black pouch the size of a frisbee. It was made of a fuzzy, steel wool-like material. From it he retrieved a Taurus PT-99AF pistol as well as a tubular sound suppressor. The handgun was a Brazilian version of the Beretta 92, sometimes deemed unreliable, but Spicer loved how familiar he was with the model.

He slid the chamber back for a quick inspection and made sure that the weapon was loaded. Without ceremony, he then shoved the gun down the back of his pants and pocketed the sound suppressor. He grabbed his leather jacket and slipped into it before stuffing the pockets with a wig and a baseball cap.

And now for the fun part…

He turned on the TV, which was surprisingly modern for this shabby hotel, and found the pay-per-view button on the remote. Without wasting time, he scrolled through the choices, went down to the adult section, and ordered the timeless masterpiece My First Orgy. It didn’t take long for screams of passion to fill the room and he cranked up the volume so it could be heard from the hallway. In his experience, purchasing $20 worth of porn always made for a great alibi.

He patted his pockets to make sure he had everything and left the room. After confirming that the door was locked, he carefully hung up the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob. He was satisfied that he could hear the actress getting properly serviced on TV. It wasn’t too loud for other guests to complain, just perfect.

From there the mission was a matter of stealth and deception. Spicer went down the emergency stairs and left the hotel through a service entrance. He walked two blocks, got into a car rented with fake papers, and drove off after putting on a white wig, a matching mustache, and the hat.

Marton Szabo was proud of his sumptuous home and even prouder of his family. He thought the two went well together. He thought of it as harmony. No, synergy. He was a scientist and couldn’t help trying to make sense of balance in nature. His family was perfectly balanced.

His wife Enikö was leaning over to cut their son’s meat while the nine-year-old fidgeted, waiting for her to finish.

“Today we saw a huge frog and the teacher said that if go to the zoo around Christmas we can see more of them.”

Enikö turned to their younger daughter who was fiddling with her vegetables. “Eat your carrots, darling.”

“Carrots taste like shoes.”

She made a face of disgust which Marton could barely resist. He had to force himself not to smile. Instead, he turned to his son.

“Maybe we can go to the zoo if you have good grades in your exams, yes?”

The boy nodded and Marton grinned. Yes, that was what it meant to be a family. You sat at the head of the table and looked upon your dominion. Sometimes a few lashes with a belt were necessary but it was for their own good. His wife understood that. She did now, anyway.

The children behaved and after dinner was over he sent them to bed. He always tucked in his son last.

“You know daddy, when I grow up I’m going to be a scientist, just like you.”

Marton was taken aback by that. Last week, the boy had wanted to be an astronaut.

“That’s great, son. But you need good grades for that. You need to be rested to get them. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He kissed his son and winked at his wife who was observing them from the door frame.

“Are you coming to bed?” she asked as he walked out of the room.

“Not now, I have some work to do first. Don’t wait up.”

He went into his study, a crowded old library with ancient books he had never read, and closed the door while he booted up his computer. He turned on his desk lamp before going to a small safe hidden in the wall behind a Vermeer lithograph. He punched in the code and finally produced a small device the size of a wristwatch.

He sat at his desk and proceeded to log onto the Internet through a secure VPN service. Then it was only a matter of accessing the dark net through Tor software. He typed in his destination but before he could connect to the Iranian-funded site he had to type in three different 14-digit passwords.

He turned to the small device he’d gotten from the safe and dialed in the time and date. This gave him a password on the small LCD screen. He promptly entered it in the computer. He counted 17 seconds for the website and the device to synchronize and this gave him another code. Finally, another 8 seconds went by and a third password was available.

When he was logged in, he smiled. It always gave him a thrill to practice his spycraft. It was such a pleasant diversion from his regular scientific duties. He was about to launch into his work when the doorbell rang.

“Szar.” Shit.

Procedure was paramount. He logged out and returned the password device to the safe before heading out to see who it was.

On the porch stood a pizza delivery man in a gaudy uniform. He was smiling and he lifted his white box for effect.

“Good evening 3,124 forints please.”

“I didn’t order anything.”

“You’re Marton Szabo? Because this is the right address. Extra cheese?”

“We had dinner already, this must be a prank.” Marton fishes into his pocket for a few forints. “Here, for your trouble.”

The pizza man was confused but this happened surprisingly often. “Fine, thanks.”

The scientist closed the door, cursed the waste of time, and returned to his office. He should have told his wife to get the door instead. He shouldn’t be so soft on her.

As he entered the study and shut the door, he noticed some movement to the right. Looking up, a man stepped out of the shadows.

While Spicer raised his arm, the silenced handgun coming up, the leather jacket made a friction noise and Marton spun toward the assassin.

His eyes grew wide but his throat tightened, his voice refusing to come out. All he could do was braced himself.

Spicer aimed at the scientist’s head and in less than a second he pulled the trigger twice. Both bullets hit the man in the head.

He approached the motionless body, the head bleeding out. Spicer’s was sweating and his gloved hand was trembling again. He took a deep breath, wiped his face with the back of his hand, and shot the man one last time in the forehead.