Vladim sat perfectly still listening on his private phone. He stared across the room at the framed photograph of Nikolai Platonovich, secretary of the Security Council, and the Russian flag, his mouth drying. He heard his own voice and that of Felix Kubavich discussing their arrangement for the assassination of Ivan Vokov.

"— Кто говорит?" He rasped.

"English please, Vladim."

"Who is this? What do you want?"

"This is your new friend, just calling to let you know you have someone looking out for you. Someone who will keep what you just heard from finding its way to your masters. Think it over and I will call in one week. As for what I want, I'll let you know." There was a purposeful pause, then "Bye now."

A week passed, and Morrisey still hadn't been released from SIS secondment. Staying with Mallory had been a bonus while he waited, and they plotted together how they would use the advantage they had achieved. Another call was placed, this time Morrisey spoke, and when he hung up, he showed thumbs up.

"He's ours." Mallory laughed and tossed the burner phone on the bed.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." He lay back on the bed, arms behind his head. "First we steal the contents of the briefcase, now we've got the hottest recorded evidence, and we're the only ones who know about both."

"Feeling guilty?"

"Feeling bloody scared."

She sat down beside him, her face composed in a suspicious frown. "Do I have to worry about you?"

"No more than usual. We could eliminate Russia's operatives in Europe over time with a simple phone call, Mal. Doesn't that scare you?"

"Only about what you might have in mind."

"What, you think I'll become another Grant Duggan?"

"It crossed my mind."

He laughed and lay down beside her. "It crossed your mind. And how did that make you feel?"

She rose up on one elbow and had a long look down at him. "Horny." She fell on top of him and his loud laugh was interrupted by the buzz of her phone.

Signalling him to shush, she reached for the phone, answering. She mouthed Percy and made another shushing sign. Morrisey watched her face settle into a blank slate, her eyes adopting a thousand yard stare. The phone fell from her hand and she sank back onto the bed looking at him.

"Percy wants everyone in stat, for a crisis meeting . . . Vladim Iilyin committed suicide early this afternoon"

END

To any and all who gave their time to read this book, I hope I achieved at least a modicum of the spy thriller genre. I read along myself, and saw many places I could have changed direction. But, as I have mentioned in the past, I'm a lazy editor and I write too fast to consider all options.

Thank you again, the comments and votes are a nice tribute. Until the next one then.

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