David Golemon - Primeval

"I know what you're thinking, Evans, and yes, the director of Intelligence knows we're here; she made me contact CSIS to let them know we'd be in country. We'll soon have the company of the head of the Montreal sector of counterintelligence greeting us." She looked over the top of the Audi and shook her head. The older agents were getting so paranoid that someone was going to snatch their pension right out from under them since most refused to take chances any longer.

The Canadian government car stopped and a large man with a balding head stepped out of the passenger's side, smiled at Lynn, and held out his hand.

"Well, I thought your bosses at the Farm were keeping a closer eye on you these days?" the man asked, shaking the hand of the much smaller American woman.

"Hello, Punchy, how are the wife and kids?"

Jonathan "Punchy" Alexander had been trained through the offices of British Intelligence, MI-5, and was one of the best field men Lynn had ever met. He was the man responsible for shutting down the largest terrorist organization on the North American continent two years prior, and held the prison key to over one hundred and twelve enemies of the West. He was currently Canada's flavor of the month, or year for that matter.

"My kids are all anarchists and the wife is still mean as a snake," he said as he released her small hand. He looked at the pretty American and watched her eyes. "I suspect that most of my kids are downtown protesting with the rest of the crazies about independence from Ottawa. How's your brother? I haven't seen him in years, hell, I haven't even heard about him, and in our game that says something. I hope the U.S. government didn't bury him too deep after his little snit with the army."

"I wouldn't know about that. If he was dead, I'm sure my mother would have said something about it."

Alexander sensed anger behind the bland look that she put on her face as she casually uttered those words and decided to push a little more. He thought, Maybe I'll get something for my report.

"Still touchy on the subject of your brother, I see."

She looked straight at the much larger Canadian and tilted her head and raised her left eyebrow.

"Okay, I'll leave it alone." He knew the problems of big brother, little sister because of the career path the latter had chosen. His old friend wasn't happy his baby sis had opted for the intelligence end of things. Alexander cleared his throat and then looked up at the chateau. "Now, you're not standing in front of Chateau Laureal because of the early season tourist rate, so what are you doing in the great white north, Agent Simpson?"

"Gregori Deonovich and Dmitri Sagli," she said as she held the Canadian intelligence officer with her stark blue eyes.

All humor and goodwill left his features. He looked at Lynn and then immediately turned toward the giant house and then without looking away from the structure gestured for his men to exit the car and van.

"I take it you were informed of their arrival by a contact from my country who works for you?"

"Let's not get territorial, Punchy, I was informed anonymously and then I immediately called you people."

Alexander unceremoniously removed the field glasses from Agent Evans and raised them to look at the chateau, allowing Evans a chance to glare at the larger man.

"You're sure it's those murderous bastards?"

"They didn't even bother to disguise themselves coming through the airport. It was like they wanted to be seen."

Alexander lowered the glasses and fixed Lynn with a look.

"You know, they knew you would be called in any event. Of all the people in the world, they would want to confront you."

"Am I missing something here?" Evans asked.

"Yes. If I know your boss, you've missed everything. The two men of Slavic origin inside of that house have a file on them in every Western intelligence service and those files are over a foot thick. And somewhere in those reports you will find a reference to your Ms. Simpson. She's dogged them since the time she was first assigned to the desk she now occupies. Altogether these two Russians have killed five American, six British, one New Zealander, three Germans, and two Canadian intelligence people, and that's all after their time at the KGB ended."

"So what have they been doing since?" Evans asked looking from Alexander to Lynn.

"Don't you brief your field people?" Alexander asked, sparing Lynn a cold look. "They are the joint heads of the largest organized crime syndicate in Russia. That's what KGB retirement means nowadays. The last I heard, they were expanding into the Ukraine and Kazakhstan, which is why I'm so concerned about them coming here where they don't own the intelligence agencies or the police. Besides, with all of this rioting going on and with a major coup in the offing if things don't calm down, them being here makes a mess, just a larger mess." Alexander raised the glasses again and watched the house. "May I assume that your FBI and even your own director don't know that you and your boys are in Canada?"

"My immediate boss thought we could take care of this on our own, Punchy, without bringing both of our agency heads in on it; the legalities involved would have taken too much time. With what's happening here we thought a low profile was best. Look, Sagli and Deonovich are here for a reason, and no matter what that reason is, them being in that chateau uninvited is what we call, in the States, probable cause."

"I came across an obscure report generated by your NSA that says these two maniacs may have finally pushed the Russians into acting against them. It seems they were alerted to certain illegal activities by someone in the American intelligence community, and this person may have actually forwarded incriminating evidence of murder to the Russian authorities. Them being here may be the end result of that report so they may finally be on the run. Do you know who may have sent the Russians that report, Agent Simpson?"

Lynn held Alexander's gaze for a moment and then nodded toward the chateau. "Now tell me, Punchy, what is in that monstrosity of a house that would make them risk coming to the one continent where they would immediately skip trial and be unceremoniously hanged if caught?"

The glasses came down again and Alexander took in a deep breath, knowing it was exactly as he thought — Lynn had forwarded the report to the authorities in Moscow.

"Nothing new, antiques for the tourists to ooh and ah over. Maybe… Fuquay?" he called out to the small group of men he had brought along.

"Yes, sir," said the man in a heavy French Canadian accent. He stepped away from the group of ten Canadian agents and slung an automatic rifle over his shoulder.

"Wasn't there something about an exhibition on historical gold mining stopping off at the chateau?"

"Actually, we did receive a detailed report on the security for the exhibit. Nothing substantial so we didn't become involved. It's just some old mining equipment, letters home to wives from miners, that sort of thing. Turn-of-the-century items."

"You're kidding? Why would those two killers have interest in that?" Lynn asked.

Alexander nodded for the man to return to the A-Team of Canadians.

"They shouldn't be interested in anything that we've heard of in there. And that in itself is enough to worry me."

Lynn turned and leaned into the rental car, retrieved a file, and handed it to Alexander. "This was sent to us by our Seattle field office — they 'borrowed' it from the Seattle PD."

Alexander opened the file and the first thing he saw was a crime scene photo of an old man stretched out on a bed. A hole had been punched through his head on the man's right side. The bed he was lying on was soaked through with blood. Alexander turned the page and looked at the second, far more disturbing image taken by the Seattle police department showing twelve individuals, tied and gagged. Each one had been shot execution style and placed in a circle, feet pointed outward.