Green Eyed Burn Read online

  Green-Eyed Burn by

  David A. Lloyd

  PublishAmerica

  Baltimore

  © 2004 by David A. Lloyd.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

  First printing

  ISBN: 1-4137-2028-5

  PUBLISHED BY PUBLISHAMERICA, LLLP

  www.publishamerica.com

  Baltimore

  Printed in the United States of America

  Perseverance!

  I would like to dedicate this book to the girls,

  Caitlyn, Kira-Lynn & Tammy,

  who have been there since the beginning.

  “Believe in yourself.”

  I would like to acknowledge the cast of

  THE RUN!

  who, although in a different form,

  helped breath life into some of the characters.

  Sheri, Laura, Rick, David, & Norm.

  Also mucho gratitude to Pam for the guidance and advice,

  & Mike for making sure French is French.

  BOOK ONE

  In the wrong place…

  Prologue

  Near Fairbanks, Alaska, United States of America

  02:16 hours 21 April, 2020

  The flickering oil fueled lamp sat on the uneven floor of the old general store. Its hot blue glow sent shadows, hinting of secrets, dancing across the dusty walls. Lighting himself another American cigarette, Probably the only good thing to come out of that over commercialized country, Russian Federal Security Service Operative Vladimir Zadneprovsky hoped to calm his nerves. He inhaled deeply and wished his skin would end its parody of his mysterious doppelganger on the walls and ceiling. Vladimir glanced at his watch. Even that simple motion sent frightening images from his childhood in the slums of New Moscow around the room.

  Why did they pick me for this? I’m just a paper pusher, not a frigging spook!

  Vladimir crushed out the cigarette beneath his snow boot, then stood up and crossed to the log structure’s lone window. Lit by the faint yellow glow from a street lamp was a snow-covered parking lot. It was silent and still, save for the fat snowflakes that drifted lazily through the night. Where is she?

  The reluctant operative slowly returned to his creaky chair and was about to light up another Camel when the door abruptly swung open. Vladimir dropped his forgotten vice and sprang to his feet.

  “Vladimir!” cried the figure in the doorway.

  “Nikita?”

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  DAVID A. LLOYD

  The tall Russian woman kicked the door shut behind her and stepped into the dancing light.

  “What’s happening? Why did you want to meet here?” Vladimir asked.

  “We were to be back home yesterday morning.”

  Nikita ignored the question and knelt down before an overworked space heater.

  Kneeling beside her, Vladimir tried to study her face still hidden beneath the hood of her parka. In the darkness, he could catch a glimpse of her shimmering blue eyes, “What is it?” he asked carefully. Her temper was legendary.

  “Nothing. I am fine,” she replied without emotion. Then after a moment, she unbuttoned the top of her parka, reached in and withdrew a small silver box. Nikita studied it a moment then handed it over to Vladimir, “Take this.”

  “What is it?” he asked, turning it over in his hand.

  “Death,” Nikita replied solemnly.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  She ignored him again and rose to her full height.

  Vladimir watched silently as she crossed to his chair and shoved it aside. It was then he realized her legs and feet were bare. She was out in the snow like that? “Nikita!” Vladimir cried as he rose to his feet, “What the hell is going on here?”

  “Help me with this,” Nikita ordered. She reached down and flipped the throw rug aside. Hidden beneath was a trap door. Vladimir helped her as she struggled to open it.

  “What it this?” he asked as the rusted hinges finally gave.

  “Your way out,” Nikita said as he stared warily into the inky darkness below.

  Vladimir squinted at her, “What is it? Why-”

  Nikita grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and pulled him close,

  “Vladimir!” she snapped. His eyes, wide as plates, stared into the shimmering blue fire of her eyes, “Listen to me. There is no time. They are coming. Go to Toronto and give that box to Paul Forrester at CSIS and nobody else. Do you understand me?”

  “Nyet, but I will do it,” Vladimir said. His voice cracked, “What is it?”

  Nikita released him, “A data disk with information that may topple three governments.”

  Before Vladimir could respond to that pronouncement, the high-pitched drone of snowmobiles sliced though the icy still. Nikita dashed to the window 10

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  and cautiously glimpsed outside.

  “They are here,” Nikita said, “Now go. I will hold them off.”

  “Who? How?” Vladimir stammered.

  Nikita tore open her parka and withdrew a .357 Magnum. Vladimir realized she was completely naked underneath.

  “There is a jeep hidden at the end of the tunnel. Drive straight for the Canadian border. Do not stop for anyone!”

  The time for debate was over. The drone of the snowmobiles grew steadily louder then dropped to a dull hum. Vladimir scrambled into the darkness, then stopped and looked up at his sister. She flipped him a “thumbs up.” Her jaw was set with determination she did not feel. Vladimir nodded and moved deeper into the blackness below.

  Nikita pushed the trap door shut and replaced the rug just as three powerful spotlights burned thorough the faded curtains and cracks in the logs. Keeping low, she scurried into a shadow near the door and chanced a glance out the window.

  Eight shadows, all armed, all dangerous, all after her. One shadow moved forward.

  “We know you’re in there. Make it easy on yourself and come out before this develops into something messy.”

  Nikita smashed the barrel of the .357 through the frosty glass and fired three rounds into the lights. Two spots shattered and faded. She then pulled back and pressed herself into a crouched position with her back against the wall. She knew that negotiations in front always guaranteed an attack from behind.

  The Magnum bucked twice in her hands and a white clad figure backpedaled out the rear door with blood spurting from his chest. Breaking glass.

  A pair of hands reached through the remains of the window and grabbed Nikita’s arm as two men crashed through the front door. The first man backhanded her across the face with such fury that both Nikita and the weapon flew across the cabin. The Russian struck the floor next to the rug. The weapon dropped just out of her reach.

  Then as the two men stepped toward her, Nikita rolled to side and scrambled for the Magnum. Both men brought their weapons to their target too late as Nikita’s finger clamped down on the trigger. The left side of the first man’s head was blown clear away. The second man managed to squeeze off a shot. It tore through the floorboards between 11

  DAVID A. LLOYD

  Nikita’s knees. The Magnum bucked again and his chest exploded open. Movement in the doorway.

  Nikita swung the Magnum around as Uzi fire ripped through her legs. She screamed and crumpled to the floor as the weapon slipped from her fingers.

  Another shadow stepped into the cabin and stood over her, the smoking weapon still in his hands.

  Nikita knew this was it and awaited her fate. I did all I could. Vladimir mus
t have reached the Jeep by now and is gone. Soon my pain will end…

  Nikita clamped her eyes shut. She was exhausted and had been running purely on adrenalin since the recall came from Moscow. A gun will be pressed to my temple, or a knife will skate across my throat. Soon…. Someone else had entered the cabin. She sensed it and opened her eyes. Nikita looked up into the ugly face of the man she humiliated. Somewhere deep in her heart she tapped a final reservoir of purpose. The ugly man knelt down so his face was in hers. The diamond in his front tooth glinted, taunting.

  “Where is it?” he growled with breath that stunk of spoiled meat.

  “Where is what?” Nikita mocked his slight accent as she slowly slipped her left hand from sight.

  “Don’t give me that crap. I know you took it.”

  “I do not know what you are talking about.”

  The ugly man grabbed her long fiery mane, hair that he had balled in his fist in passion mere hours before, and twisted, “I know you have it! I want it now!” Spittle sprayed from his mouth.

  There was a flash as Nikita produced a straight razor from the lining of her coat and carved open the right side of the man’s face from the temple to his chin before he knew what she had done.

  The ugly man screamed. He stumbled back and cried out, “Kill the bitch!”

  The other man raised his Uzi and pointed it between her eyes. This time Nikita did not flinch or turn away. She was now ready to stare death in the face. Nikita felt a silent satisfaction that her fierce gaze unnerved her soon-to-be assassin.

  As his finger began to squeeze down on the trigger, a new voice as smooth as velvet said, “Stop.”

  Nikita’s eyes moved toward the speaker. He stepped over the body of one of his men and approached her.

  “Where’s the other one?” he asked her.

  12

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  Nikita said nothing and refused to let her eyes betray her by glancing toward the trap door.

  He kicked Nikita’s bullet-riddled shins, waited until she finished screaming, and calmly repeated his question, “Answer me. Where is your partner?”

  Nikita chomped down on her lower lip. She would not give him the satisfaction by crying out again.

  The man stepped back and turned toward the man Nikita cut, “Take her back to the camp.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And Smyles...”

  “Sir?”

  He produced a handkerchief and handed it to the ugly man as he stood up,

  “Have that scratch looked at.” He glanced back at Nikita and smiled woefully,

  “It’ll be a pity to see such a beautiful woman go to waste.” He then turned and, stepping over the corpse again, walked out.

  With the handkerchief held to the gash on his face, the man called Smyles crouched next to Nikita again. However, when she took another swing at him with the razor, he grabbed her wrist. Nikita never saw his hand move. It was as if pain gave him an edge.

  “Now, lets try that again,” Smyles hissed in her face. “Where is it and who has it?”

  Nikita remained silent.

  Using simple brute strength, Smyles twisted her arm back and placed the razor next to her own throat.

  This time fear flickered behind her wide eyes. My God… She looked deep into his gray eyes, and found nothing. No clue to tell her what he was about to do. Never before had she met a man so comfortable with pain.

  “Mr. Stein wants her alive,” the other man said.

  “I know Max, I know,” he slowly twisted her wrist until the razor slipped from her grip. It left a crimson impression across her throat. “Still tight lipped, eh? You’re screwed.”

  He broke her wrist.

  Then finally, Nikita screamed.

  13

  1

  The Kieran Crudup Estate

  South of Sudbury, Ontario, Canada

  03:02 hours 25 April, 2020

  “They promised us a better future, but here it is and nothing has changed,”

  the young woman whispered to herself. She stared past her reflection at the large ominous dwelling spread out before her, lit only by the reflected luminosity of the fat moon hanging overhead.

  Her destination.

  The limousine eased to a stop at the base of a long curving pathway. The driver climbed out, circled the vehicle, and opened the door for her. “It’s cool tonight,” he said bowing slightly.

  Catherine Wildman shivered slightly as the chill of the air tickled her spine. Gene Hatton closed the door behind her.

  “I shouldn’t be any more than an hour,” she said.

  “If you are,” Hatton smiled, then added with a Cockney accent, “I’ll mount my trusty steed and rescue thy fair maiden.”

  Catherine laughed quietly. “Oh, you bet’cha.” She then kissed him softly on the lips. “Back as soon as I can.”

  “Be careful.”

  She flashed him a knowing smile then turned and began to scale the stone pathway, eyeing the grounds as she proceeded. There were very few trees and almost no foliage to speak of in the yard. With the exception of a large fountain off to the north side and a maze of low, neatly trimmed shrubs circling 14

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  the driveway, the grounds reminded her of a graveyard, with small tombstonelike rocks. Catherine patted her arms slightly to fight off a chill as she stepped beneath the red security light above the front doors. She snuck a glance back at Gene, when a light flicked out in the distance beyond the estate snared her attention. What? Just then the enormous oak doors swung open before she could consider the light further and a tall man in a tuxedo stepped through the threshold.

  “Good evening,” he said and gestured for her to enter. “We have been waiting.”

  Catherine handed him her overcoat and followed the tall man, What’s his name? Rae? up the wide spiral staircase and toward a set of double doors overlooking the front foyer. They opened automatically as they approached. Catherine fought back nausea as the pungent stench of alcohol, tobacco, marijuana, and sex assaulted her nostrils, followed by a deafening blast of hard core chi music.

  She struggled to hold the moment as a portly man waddled toward her. He snapped his fingers and Rae left, the doors closed automatically behind him.

  “Cat, baby! How nice to see you!” his eyes ravaged her voluptuous figure,

  “Wow. Vacation was good, eh?” he cupped her chin with his sweaty palm and inspected her face as one would a prized pet.

  “Bonjour, Monsieur DeCoteau. Oui. Merci.”

  “That new?” he asked eyeing the small gold ring through her left nostril,

  “You know how Mr. Crudup feels about anything that damages the face.”

  “I’m sure he won’t mind,” Catherine flashed her best diplomatic smile as she contorted away from his offensive grip. “Where is Monsieur Crudup?”

  she asked, glancing past the fat man.

  “In South America,” DeCoteau said hooking his arm through hers. “I want you to meet some people. After all, you are our best girl.” He aimed her toward a large group of Japanese men.

  “Merci, tout a l’heure,” Catherine said slipping from his clutch, “I just spotted someone I have not seen in a long time. I’ll be back shortly.”

  Catherine ducked away from the repulsive man and wove through the crowd toward a small table in the middle of the room. Hide in plain sight, Catherine thought. The lone occupant looked up nervously as she approached.

  “Cathy!” Vladimir exclaimed. He stood and clasped her hands; his were shaking.

  “Vladimir Viktorovich,” she kissed him on the cheek, then they both sat 15

  DAVID A. LLOYD

  down. Instantly a waiter hovered over them. Vladimir ordered two vodkas and faced Catherine, “You still look as lovely as when we last met, but that dress?”

  Catherine glanced down at her spaghetti strap black satin slip dress with plunging neckline and slit to the hip, “It’s what Crudup likes his girls in. So when in Rome….” />
  The waiter returned with the vodkas, sat them on the table, and left. Catherine studied Vladimir as he gulped down his drink.

  “We’ve both been resigned, Vlad. OSA crashed and burned. Why did you insist I meet you here of all places?”

  A memory seemed to flash behind his eyes before he answered. Then Vladimir glanced around quickly before pulling a small silver box from his jacket. He slid it across the table toward her, “Take this and hide it.”

  Catherine picked up the box, studied it, then placed it in her small handbag,

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Death,” the Russian replied.

  “Vlad?”

  Vladimir licked his dry lips and eyed the untouched vodka before her,

  “It’s a data disk,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know what’s on it. But people have died for it, good people.”

  Gears in Catherine’s head kicked in as her nerves began to tingle. She watched a droplet of sweat roll down his temple. “Someone followed you.”

  His eyes snapped up, “How did you know?” The fear that started in his voice began to take root in his actions.

  “Where?”

  Vladimir motioned toward the way she came in, “One is over by the door. Blue suit, dark glasses, and a mustache.”

  Catherine scanned her memory, checking all the faces she saw as she entered. She found him. “Look at me, Vladimir,” Catherine said, her voice taut, her words sharp. “Keep your eyes focused on me. Anyone else?”

  “Two more,” he said scarcely able to maintain eye contact with her. Catherine’s eyes were piercing, “One is standing about five meters behind you. His jaw dropped when you sat down. Dark suit, sunglasses, a very nasty scar on the side of his face. Diamond in his front tooth.”

  Catherine cocked a dark eyebrow, “Diamond?”

  “Da. There is a third, but I don’t see him.”

  “All right, Vlad,” Catherine squeezed his shaking hand as reassurance,

  “This is what we’re going to do. Keep looking at me. We are going to stand 16

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  up and dance. Then you are going to proposition me for sex and we’ll go upstairs to the bedrooms.”

  Vladimir swallowed hard, then nodded.