Chapter 11

David went to the back alley, finding the Volkswagen GTI. He admired its sleet appearance in black and opened the trunk. He quickly memorized the French license plate, DW-0921-JB, noting with a smile that it had his real and alias initials. There was the usual spare tire and first aid kit. He was surprised to find a drone complete with a charger kit, camera, and video receiver. Underneath the drone was something he’d never worn before, a bulletproof vest.

“This ought to be fun to try,” he said of the drone’s black color and four blades.

He unlocked the GTI, noting that it had a six-speed stick shift and all the amenities of a modern car. He looked in the glove box, finding the registration in his name and address, likely Pam’s. He started the car, feathering the gas pedal and hearing the silent rumble of the turbocharged engine. He didn’t care much for GPS to show his way; it didn’t show his progress fast enough, relying more on his photographic memory of a city map.

He knew that Paris was circled by the Bd Périphérique, a four-lane highway, and entered the GPS for a round trip. He didn’t need to follow the 70 km/h speed limit, and most others drove 80 or higher, risking being caught. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, so he let the speed cameras capture the other offenders.

He drove a full circle, then exited, driving aggressively through the city streets. He cut off more than one car making a sudden left or right turn and felt satisfied with the GTI.

Returning to the safe house, David was growing hungry and searched the phone book for restaurants. He wanted a takeout order to reduce his appearance in public. He wasn’t in the mood for seafood and relied on an American standard, Pizza Hut.

He walked to the Pizza Hut located a block away and placed his order. He’d have leftovers in the morning before eating again. He ordered one of their specials: two medium pizzas, chicken wings, and a two-litre bottle of pop.

Stepping into the safe house, his nostrils flared at the scent of a fragrance in the air. He walked to the kitchen counter, placed his food down, and picked up the only thing available, a drying towel.

“If you didn’t want me to know you were in here, you shouldn’t have worn any perfume,” he said, his back to the stranger.

He turned to his right to be greeted by a foot kick to his right side. He noted his assailant was a woman wearing black clothing with a deep V revealing moderate cleavage under an open-waist jacket. He flicked the towel, snapping it like a whip at the person’s face. She backed off, to the crack and whiff of air from the towel. She attacked, hitting him with repeated blows to his chest and midsection, and a high leg kick grazed his left ear.

Heavy breathing replaced any conversation as David attacked with a series of lightning-quick punches to her head and stomach. He could hear her exhale from the blows, and a sweep of his right leg behind her knee put her on the floor.

He was mindful of her feet kicking at his kneecap, and she twirled around quickly, gaining her feet. She exhaled grunts, as she tried landing blow after blow, her long ponytail exaggerating her head movements.

He fended off her strikes with his hands, as if in a friendly sparring match. She spun, raising her leg to reach his head. He grabbed her foot, pushing her backward, landing on the floor, and pushing a table against the couch. She picked up a fallen statue off a table and threw it at him, and he leaned left to avoid it hitting his head.

“You’ll have to do better than that if you’re trying to kill me.”

As she regained her footing, she pulled a knife from a sheath on her right hip, attacking with slashing motions. David snapped the towel at her hand, the blade close enough to slice the chest of his jacket.

He wound the towel around his right hand, using it to fend off her repeated attacks. On the next thrust, he grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her and forcing the knife from her grip. It fell to the floor, and they wrestled to be the first to grab it. She bit him on the neck as his fingertips touched the handle. He gave her a solid punch that stunned her, then grabbed the knife.

David pinned her down with his upper body, placing the sharp blade against her throat. Their chests heaved from force-fed adrenalin, and she felt the edge press against her skin. Her hands gripped his forearms, and a leg bent at the knee against him. He saw the deep valley between her breasts as she breathed quickly and heavily.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t cut your throat! Gib mir einen guten Grund, warum ich dir nicht die Kehle durchschneiden sollte! Nazovi mne odnu vescuyu prichinu, pau kotoroy ya nay dolgen pererezat tebe gorlo!” He said it in English, German, and Russian.

“If you kill me, you’ll have a bloody mess on the floor and will have to dispose of my body. Pam Landy wouldn’t like that. More importantly, if you kill me, you’ll never find out who is going to try and kill President Zelensky.”

David lessened his grip on her, moving the knife from her throat.

“I feel fortunate to have fought the infamous Jason Bourne and lived to talk about it. I was testing you to see just how good you are,” she said with a thick Russian accent.

“I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”

“You didn’t.” She touched the corner of her mouth, a tooth causing her to bleed from his punch.

“You sure have a funny way of introducing yourself. I take it that you’re Nikita Federov.”

“You don’t look anything like your picture. I like the long hair and beard. You had better watch your back. I play both sides against the middle for my benefit. Right now, you’re worth more to me alive than dead. The Russians are offering a million euros if you’re killed, but the US government is offering me two million to help you prevent the assassination of Zelensky.”

Nikita placed her hand on the back of his neck, drawing him closer. “Now that we’ve had our first fight, let’s see how well we work together.”

She raised her head, her lips meeting his. They hadn’t recovered their breathing, which soon increased. and they kissed. Her hand went from his bicep, down his side, and under to grasp his crotch and rub it.

She moaned softly as his tongue probed her mouth, and he let her slip from under him. Nikita stood, guiding him to the bedroom. She took off her coat and pulled her top over her head, his eyes taking in her firm, naked breasts, slightly larger than the size of the palm of his hand. She helped him off with his jacket and shirt, then caressed her bare tits against his chest.

Her aggressiveness in fighting him carried over into her passion as she kissed him hard and tried to unfasten his pants. He helped her, and she knelt, pulling them and his underwear down. She caressed the droopy shaft of his cock, then stroked and sucked on it. They could feel it growing hard in her mouth.