Moscow

Elena glances at the piece of paper pensively as she stands in front of ****-Donna, dossiers firmly in hand. Her lips tremble. She’d been used to Donna as a mentor, even lover. But more than ever this dreary summer morning, she struck the intern as nothing more than a headmistress or one of those people in middle management.

It’s all she can do not to blanch.

“So what’ll it be?” ****-Donna interrupts her thoughts.

“Mmmm…Mmmmm…”

“Spit it out.” The blonde commands her. “I don’t have all day.”

“—oscow.”

“Moscow. That’s great! Do you speak the language?”

Elena shakes her head.

“Jesus Christ on a crutch.” ****-Donna throws her hands in the air. “Pick another one.”

“Right now?”

“No, in the next fifteen minutes. I’ll even throw in a free Ginsu knife. Of course I mean right now!”

The intern shrinks in ****-Donna’s presence. If I wanted a lecture, I’d go to my mom.

“Stop staring!” ****-Donna snaps her fingers. “I gave you an order, ****!”

Elena shakes her head.

“No.” Her voice is insistent. “I want to go.”

“And what gives you the idea that you’ll be any good?”

“I…I took some classes in college.”

“What kind of classes?”

“’Anna Karenina in the 21st Century?”

****-Donna narrows her eyes.

“You majored in English, didn’t you?”

The intern nods.

“I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it! That explains why Mistress is so fond of you…”

“What’s that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” ****-Donna waves her hand dismissively. “Here’s your file.”

Alone for the first time all morning, Elena pours herself a cup of coffee and slumps into the loveseat overlooking Midtown. It’s not five minutes before she’s fighting not to spit take.

       Target: Oleg Chekov

      Occupation: Entrepreneur

      Age: Mid-40’s to early 50’s

      Eyes: Blue

      Hair: Black

      Height: 5’7”

      Weight: 200 

       Identifying marks: scar near left eyelid, tattoos on forearms and abdomen

       Brief: A veteran of Soviet and Russian gulags, subject has been identified in the past as an associate of organized crime. Has ties to numerous families trafficking in counterfeit and pirated goods, pornography, and traffic in persons. According to a source deep undercover in subject’s organization, he is currently a self-styled entrepreneur specializing in fiber optics and broadband internet, to operate several front companies for Internet pirates in the Eastern Bloc. 

        It has recently come to the attention of the Invisible Hand that subject plans to unload several copies of pirated material of a prurient nature on the black market within the next fortnight. Orders are to rendezvous with source at a predetermined location (see enclosed document) interdict and destroy the package. This is a code yellow operation.         

Elena laughs.

“These people are crazy. They are truly, truly, crazy.”

A quick call later and ****-Donna bursts into the room, red with rage.

“What’s so important that you have to call me away from my morning facial?”

“What’s this?” Elena waves the dossier in front of her. “Is this like a game or something?”

“I’m afraid it’s not a game. It’s real.”

“You’re telling me this Mickey Mouse show is real?”

“Real as Britney’s tits.”

The intern rolls her eyes.

“You’re telling me I went through all this trouble?” She rubs the indenture mark on her stomach. “All so I could play Jane Bond or something?”

“I didn’t like it either.” ****-Donna shakes her head. “But once Mistress gets an idea in her head…”

“She can’t get it out. Reminds me of someone I know.”

“Someone you know?”

“Nevermind.” Elena shakes her head. “You guys know how to put the secret in secret society.”

“You don’t know the half of it. So I guess this is a yes?”

“I…guess?”

“Yes or no. There is no guess.”

“Yes, then.”

“Well then. Let me make a few calls and I’ll have a plane on the ready.”