A week earlier - France

"Rodney!" The woman's shrill cry in the outdoor park café, turned several heads to follow the small boy falling down to his knees in front of the little dog. "Rodney, come away!" She caught up and took him by the arm, pulling him back.

"Is alright, madam. Dog does not harm."

She gave the owner a nervous smile, bending to deliver a tough love scolding to the boy as they walked away. The man reached down and scratched the dog behind the ears, then turned his attention to his woman companion.

— Так что же такого срочного требовала этой рискованной встречи? ("So what did this risky meeting require so urgently?")

— Владимир предложил Феликсу, что у тебя есть крот внутри Гильдии. ("Vladim has suggested to Felix you have a mole inside The Guild.") 

Taking the plastic stirring stick from her coffee, she nervously laid it on the table. "I think English would be less noticeable here, Ivan. This is a tourist town."

A dismissive blink. "This has been confirmed?"

"It has. Also, a courier is arriving with some kind of proof for a meeting."

"What possible proof? Is fabricated."

"That is all the source could supply. What action do you wish taken?"

He glanced about the small patio and sighed softly. "Very well. I will look into this. Continue to keep your eyes and ears open."

"Anything specific I am to watch for?"

"Anything to do with Russia's Department G, Europe Station, and Vladim Iilyin in particular." He tore off a piece of his fritter and fed it to the dog.

"You think he's working up conflict between you and Felix?"

"That, is question I wish to answer - and problem I intend to resolve."

The woman drank some of her coffee and gazed about the café, noting it was mainly seniors, nannies, and single men. Ivan sat in silence, staring at nothing in particular, and then spoke suddenly.

"We will need more subtle means of contact." He drew a small piece of paper from his coat and passed it to her. "Moscow Rules. And now, Gorky and I will go."

She watched man and dog stroll away, as inconspicuous as the millions of shadows the sun scattered through the trees.

Later that same week, Kirkland Hotel - England

After arriving, Vyacheslav Bugrov carefully opened the self-destruct case on the bed, and then returned the pound note to his pocket. Inside was a wireless mini receiver, a one-time pad, and the material to be delivered to The Guild. The other items were standard issue for covert couriers - items intended to ensure that their mission not become compromised.

Since he had arrived there were no new instructions on the receiver. He was to stay put until The Guild sent the appropriate signal. Vyacheslav was satisfied with that. He had free TV, including the pay channels, unlimited room service, and a mini bar stocked with ample supplies.

There was no time limit on the meeting. The concerned party would make that determination once they were absolutely sure of success. Meanwhile, he would relax with a view across the city, some spicy television, and a glass of his favourite scotch. While Russian by birth, Vyacheslav was western through and through in taste.

At the same time in Felix's home - France

Felix Kubavich pulled the blue bathrobe about his plumpish body and accepted the drink held out to him.

"Better now, Feely?" Ava asked, sipping from one of her own and looking at him under lowered eyelids, concerned. The use of the pet name had always made him smile before.

"I have much in my mind." He took her arm and guided her to the large balcony of his penthouse. She pecked his cheek and leaned on the stone rail.

He had been different of late, she felt. Still coarse, but distant. Distracted, and her primal response was sending little warnings she couldn't quite grasp.

"Did you know we are meeting one of your countrymen on business soon?"

The warnings amplified. "How would I, Feely, I'm not privy to your business?"

"Hmm." He tasted his drink and looked out across the skyline. "He has brought information for The Guild."

She suppressed the tremble in her voice. "Beneficial, I hope."

"If as advertised." His eyes found hers, and only his mouth smiled.

"Well then, let's hope it is." She turned her own smile up a notch and raised her glass as a toast.

"You never ask who it was."

"Who?"

"Your countryman."

She felt the alarms go off again. "I doubt it would be anyone I might know."

His chuckle was unnerving. "No, probably not. I think time is for bed."

"After all the trouble I took to look beautiful for you?"

"You are always beautiful, Ava. You are forever being beautiful around me."

She finished her drink and took his arm, praying her internal alarms would cease and not alert him.

Earlier that afternoon - England

Luka Stepanov hailed a cab in front of the airport departure doors and gave a destination, then sat back and watched the scenery. The message from Ivan had been terse and unmistakeable. Vyacheslav Bugrov was carrying information for The Guild that was a personal, imminent, and steps were to be taken immediately.

He had the taxi stop in front of a tube station, paid and left, standing for several moments before crossing the road and walking back the way he came. Another taxi and another short walk, and Luka entered the lobby of the Kirkland Hotel, taking a position in one of the conversation areas as he sat and scanned the scene.

He noted the stairs, lift, and the proximity of each to the front desk. A hallway ran beside the desk, parallel to the front of the hotel, and he got up and moved casually toward that to see where it went. Pausing by a stand of brochures, he noted what looked like cleaning and laundry carts lined against one wall of the hallway, and decided it was for staff only.

He checked his watch, made a count of regular personnel, then left the hotel and found a restaurant nearby. Dinner time would be when he made his approach.

Currently, Kirkland Hotel

She ran a mole in The Guild! Mallory's news had stunned him. How did his people not know about this? He leaned toward her, his voice an urgent whisper of incredulity. "She's your asset? You have the mistress of Felix Kubavich, the head of The Guild, as your asset?"

"Exclusively . . . almost. Percy doesn't know. Nobody knows . . . except you, now. This courier business possibly has very dangerous implications for both of us. Ava suspects Felix believes there is a leak in his organization, and is certain enough that he has made a deal for information that could support his theory. She believes this courier is carrying that information, and that it is about her."

Morrisey shook his head and glanced around the room at the other diners. "Let's continue this in the bar, it's a lot quieter. I'll get the coffee delivered there."

♟♟♟♟♟

The single ping brought Vyacheslav up from the bed, his movie forgotten, as he thumbed the button on the mini receiver.

"Ждите директора Воскова."

"Da."

"Слава Бугро. Вы будете следовать инструкциям из доставки сообщения на завтрашнем завтраке."

The message ended and he clicked the receiver off, returning to the bed. So, director Vladim himself delivers the message. Vyachesla preened a little, thinking how his abbreviated name had been used by a superior in conversation. Tomorrow's breakfast would bring the instruction he was to follow.

He lay back on his pillow and continued watching the TV; American westerns always caught his attention.

Dinner time

Returning to the hotel, the man waited until the opportunity arose to slip down the service hallway and find what he needed. He clocked the brief interest from the couple he passed in the lobby. The quizzical look from the man was considered and dismissed. Minutes later, he took the service lift to his target's floor and exited, standing motionless as he scanned the empty hallway.

Removing an RF detector from his coat pocket, he carefully swept the walls, and ceiling above where he stood, then moved slowly down the hall toward Vyacheslav Bugrov's room, alert for any unexpected traffic. The slight crackle stopped him, and he did a more concentrated sweep along the ceiling corners, homing in on the tiny camera hidden in the cornice opposite Vyacheslav's door.

With another piece of technology, a Spyfinder, he located the lens, and immediately applied a paint spray over the area. Now, having to move quickly before the monitor's reported the sabotage, he knocked with an agency recognized signal, then stepped back so Vyacheslav could see the maid's cart.

When the door opened, he fired without a pause. The suppressor still made a noticeable sound in the hallway, but he expertly hoisted the body into the laundry cart he had borrowed and conducted a speedy search of the room, grabbing the briefcase, placing it with the body, and covering it all with a sheet from the bed.