St. Petersburg, Russia

Alexsandr made his way down the old gray and worn cobblestone sidewalk of Issakevsky Sobor as he pulled up the collar on his jacket and headed to St. Isaac Cathedral. Earlier, he double-checked the route to see if the Federal Security Bureau had tailed him. The message at his dead drop site read: Come alone, Sasha signed Popov. He hadn't had that name since Avery and Maizie came to his mansion a long time ago. He strode into the entrance of the golden mosaic interior of the cathedral.

Alexsandr made his way over to the spiraling staircase leading up to the viewing balcony. He darted up the stairs onto the balcony that overlooked the city. The oligarch had to admit to himself that this was a striking view. Just then, a woman approached from the shadow as she walked over to him. Her dark hair swung, revealing her tan European face with piercing eyes.

"You're the one who left me the message at my dead drop site and signed it, Popov, he stated in a curious tone.

"My name is Leana Pemberton, she told him with a trace of Russian in her accent. 

'If you don't mind me asking Leana How did you find out about me or know about me?" he inquired.

She chose her next words carefully before she continued.  "I'm Popov's daughter; Lena is the name I use when I'm undercover.  There was a photograph of you and your father hanging on the wall inside the safe house.  I didn't recognize my father at first; his appearance looked different than I remembered him When he left me.

You're operating under deep cover, then, I assume," he stated calmly.

"So what's so vital that we had to meet Leana?" he asked.

Orleana reached into her pocket on her jacket, pulled out her iPhone, and clicked on the photos. She came to an image of Avery leaving the United States embassy and pulling into a black van. She handed it over to him as he glanced at the picture on the screen.

"This isn't good, Shit I knew Bychkov would go after Avery. Does your chief of the station have any idea or intel on where they have taken him?" he asked, trying to figure out Bychkov's next move.

"No, she doesn't. The only thing we knew was that the Russians were running a covert wiretapping operation. "Listen into offices in the United States Embassy in Kyiv," she explained to him.

Yes, that would make perfect sense, he thought to himself; after all, the Federal Security Bureau had listened into hotel rooms here in Russia and embassies. Then it occurred to him that Bychkov must have been after the briefcase; there was one reason why she needed the list, it was all beginning to come together for him now.  To find out which oligarchs opposed the Russian President so she could eliminate them.

"What happened to your father, the last time I saw him was at my mansion with Avery," he asked in a worried tone, fearing he wouldn't like the answer he was about to get.

"I know you and my father were close friends Sasha, I'm sorry to tell you that he was killed at one of our safe houses on his last mission where he'd uncovered some vital intel that the Foreign Intelligence service had dispatched several sleeper cells to Infiltrate the echelons of the U.S. and Canadian governments. He left a message at his safe house that I was supposed to help you," She told him.

He tried to fight back the tears forming in his eyes, but he couldn't. He had to keep it together. The future of Ukraine was at stake. He knew that Maizie wouldn't let anything happen to the list in the briefcase, now it was all up to her, he had seen something in her before. Her dark eyes continually and subtly scanned the street down below while her ears listened for anything out of the ordinary. She had been so careful. She pivoted heading down the staircase and emerged out of the dome disappearing into the crowd. She glanced back to see if she had a tail on here, so far so good She thought to herself

 Sasha strode down the staircase and exited out of the cathedral heading down to the sidewalk. He had built his empire with the millions of dollars he had. The Kremlin believed differently that he had stolen millions from a state-controlled oil company  There was no chance in hell he was going them take Ukraine away. Anyone of the people strolling down the sidewalk right now could be a watcher or spotter for the Foreign Intelligence Service. He hurried across the street, trying not to draw attention to himself.

He nearly escaped from his mansion after killing one of the GRU agents with a gun that Popov tossed him. Although The Kremlin had seized the yachts he owned, he traveled from Kyiv on the train to St.Petersburg under an alias. he had used before. Now he needed to get back to his safehouse and figure out what to do about the CIA station chief. After he crossed several streets, disappeared into a crowd. He felt the cold on the back of his neck. He'd double-check to see if the FSB was following. With Russian Oligarchs falling from their offices' windows, he would have to be careful.

Sasha subtly surveyed the neighborhood as he walked toward his place. As soon he entered his domain, he shrugged off his coat and hung on the chair near his desk. Winter Albright emerged from the weapons vault slipping her Glock into her tactical-mini wig as her long dark hair tied in a ponytail showed her tan European complexion. She was considered a chameleon. With her mixed heritage of Russian and German, the agent could easily blend into any crowd in foreign. She met the Ukrainian-Russian oligarch once before at one of his many mansions In London.

"Sasha, You shouldn't be out in the open meeting someone. You have to be careful with Russian oligarchs falling from their windows and being poisoned. You could be tailed by The SVR," Winter said in a Russian accent.

"The message at my dead drop site was signed Popov. I had to see if it was him or not," Sasha told her.

"It could have a set-up or trap to lure you out so one of their assassins could eliminate you," The agent told him.

"It was nothing like that I met a lady named Lena Pemberton, who afterward told me she was Popov's daughter," The Ukrainian-Russian oligarch told her.

Winter raised her brow her forehead furrowed as she folded her in her dark sweater. She knew all too well who Lena Pemberton was. They had worked together on a joint operation before.in Monte Carlo. The last she heard the agent was back in Berlin grieving her father and husband. She glanced over at the surveillance screens seeing that there was no suspicious activity in the vicinity. 

"So what did you find from  Leana then," Winter inquired.

"She showed me a photograph of our CIA Station chief being snatched by GRU officers outside The United States Embassy in Kyiv," Alexsandr explained to the agent.

This wasn't good Winter thought if Boychkov found out about intel he knew ongoing clandestine operations would compromise every agent in Russia and even worse could put the theCIA station chief daughter in danger. The agent ran her hand through her hair trying to come up with a plan as she made her way over to a big wooden and studied the blueprints. She would need a team of operatives with specialized skills for this, the agent and knew to get to them.

The agent reached into her pocket inside her jeans and punched in a number on her burner. The burner vibrated in the pocket of the director's jacket. Laurette reached into her pocket and answered it.

"Director Hamilton," Laurette said in an authoritative tone.

"Director, It's Winter Albright," The agent told her.

"Winter what do you need," the director asked, glancing over to Holiday.

"I need a specialized team that can retrieve your CIA station chief from a GRU safe house," Winter said, looking at the blueprints.

"I send Summer and Nicky over to you. Where are you and what's your location?"

"St.Petersburg, Russia I'm at Alexsandr's safe house," the agent replied.

Laurette killed the conversation and voiced through Summer's earpiece shield by her leggy brunette hair. "Nicky, I need you and Nicky to go to St.Petersburg to work with Winter on a covert operation there. The GRU has our station chief.

"We'll take the helo there," Summer replied strolling out of the shooting range, placing her Sig Cross Hunter rifle back into the case as she closed it. 

Nicky slipped her newly Cabot Alpysco pistol into her Black-point Mini-wig as they emerged and headed over to their Jeep The Defender 110. The assassin tossed her pelican case into the back. She then slid into the driver-side as did the agent after tossing her laptop in the back. They sped down the narrow dirt road to an old hangar where a beat-up faded gray helicopter waited on the horizon.

After parking the jeep and grabbing the pelican case, and the laptop. Summer and Nicky jogged over to the helicopter, where the pilot immediately started it. Seconds later they were strapped in the seats behind the pilot as the chopper lifted into the night sky.