Geri Krotow - Snowbound With The Secret Agent

Brindle had joined the staff while still pursuing her undergraduate degree at Penn State, Harrisburg and now was on to postgraduate work.

“What are you doing here so early? And, ah, good morning.”

Brindle’s mouth twisted into an apologetic grimace. “It’s not that early.”

Portia looked at the clock. She’d been here for two hours already?

“Sorry to startle you, but I had to get out of my sister’s house. Her baby was up all night, and I have two exams this week. I’ve been at the diner since four, and I was hoping you were in early today. I left my car in their lot and walked over.” Brindle knew that Portia came in early many days, especially in January, during the weeks before the gala.

“No problem. As you can see, I came in for the quiet, too.” Brindle was taking night and weekend classes to achieve a master’s degree in library science, and she also knew from firsthand experience how stressful working full-time and pursuing a degree was.

“I’ll use one of the study rooms if you prefer.” Brindle seemed truly sorry to intrude upon Portia’s space.

“No, that’s not necessary. I just boiled water for tea, or rather, I did when I came in. It’s in the insulated pitcher. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

They settled into their respective workspaces and Portia’s mind wandered yet again. She’d been doing a lot of this lately. Drifting when she should be getting something done, like finalizing the list of items to be auctioned off for the gala. Instead she’d scared herself half to death.

Robert hadn’t helped. She’d dated the local politician, helped him organize the personal details of his campaign. She was vehemently opposed to most of his platform, so no way would she help him with the actual campaign events. If she dug deep enough, she had to admit that she’d hoped to change him. Make him at least see her point of view on many issues. But it had never happened. When had trying to change someone else ever worked for her? A snort escaped her and she tried to cover it by sipping her tea. Brindle looked up at her and offered a smile.

“Sorry. Thinking out loud.” She raised the ceramic mug as if she hadn’t spent another sleepless night tossing and turning, wondering where ROC’s next victim would show up.

Robert hadn’t supported anything that helped drug addicts, including the fund-raiser she’d done for Silver Valley’s homeless shelter, where she volunteered at least one evening or day per week. She was glad she’d dumped his sorry butt. Unfortunately she’d also found out he’d been messing around with one of his supporters, a local lawyer. Her logical side demanded that his cheating ways would make the breakup that much easier, but it hadn’t. She’d talked it out with her best friend, Annie, and decided to take a break from men for the time being.

Shoving thoughts of her cheating ex aside, Portia skimmed the morning emails, all the while regularly checking the one monitor dedicated to library security. There were five security cameras in the building, one on each floor and one at each entrance. The back entrance was employees-only and in fact only used as an emergency exit. The screen was divided into quadrants and she’d so far been able to help a senior who’d fallen in the back corner of the cookbook section, break up several different teenaged couples who were clearly aroused by the smell of paper and last fall she’d ushered out a raccoon who’d smelled the tray of cider donuts intended for the toddler Halloween story time.

But she’d never seen a person completely dressed in dark clothing from head to toe, fully hooded, trying to pry open the back door of the building with some kind of instrument. In broad daylight. Well, if not complete daylight, dawn, as the sun was climbing over the Appalachian Mountains.

Portia shot out of her chair and made for the back. “Do me a favor and keep an eye on the back exit’s security screen, Brindle. If it looks like anything serious, call 9-1-1 for me.”

Brindle’s eyes widened and she got up from the worktable and walked over to the monitor. “Will do.” Portia would have laughed at her obvious trepidation but she had to get to the back door and tell the person to knock it off. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to chase interlopers away from the back door. It was an easy place for teens to hang out, next to the 24/7 diner and two buildings down from the pharmacy.

Even so, she couldn’t remember ever having to stop someone from trying to pry the door open before. The images of the headlines about ROC flashed through her mind and she forced herself to take a deep breath. Yes, Silver Valley was under fire from an established crime ring, but what were the odds that ROC had any interest in the town library?

Ludmila Markova couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, but it was nothing she wasn’t used to. Whether the police or FBI or one of her superiors, someone was always keeping tabs on her.

So be it. Right now she had to make sure she delivered the goods to the library so that the other worker would know where to find their delivery.

She’d gained many points with Ivanov, ROC’s local leader, when she’d come up with the communications plan. Because their cellular phone calls were always in threat of being monitored, and the same with email or SMS, they’d needed a way to pass information back and forth. The transportation manifests were complicated, especially the ones involving shipping heroin. Exact instructions were needed for each delivery; each pickup and every gram of product had to be accounted for.

Let the American law enforcement groups search her group’s technological devices. They’d never find what they were looking for. She was the best, trained by the Federal Security Service, or FSB, in Russia. It had earned her a visa to the US under an assumed identity.

She hoisted her backpack up higher, walking quickly to the library’s back entrance. At this hour, with the building still closed for another twenty minutes, she’d get in and out with no fanfare. The only problem was the security camera, which she couldn’t risk disabling because she wasn’t certain if it was tied to the local police or not.

No matter, this was why she wore a ski mask. The camera would never capture her face, not with enough detail for identification. Someone would have to be in her personal space to see her eyes and her mouth, and even that wasn’t always enough. Besides, if anyone got that close, she’d eliminate them. She never left a witness alive. It could spell too much trouble down the road.

She had to keep this job with Ivanov, her current boss. For just one more operation. Anything was better than going back to Russia and having to be at her government’s bidding again. A one-nighter with an oligarch led to the slick deal that got her here.

She planned to keep herself out of Russia for the rest of her days. Whether she found a quiet life under an assumed identity in the US or Canada didn’t matter to her. She wanted freedom from the constant killing, always having to take orders from above without question. Whether she’d be able to give up the life that she was the best at in the world was a valid question she needed to address, but not now. For now, she had to remain the trained assassin that she was, the best that ROC could ever hope to have on its side.

Only one more mission and she’d disappear, go somewhere where no one would find her. Start the free life she’d always dreamed of. Before her own government had killed her family.

The lock on the door would be an easy pick, but she preferred the much quicker muscle method. She pulled a long knife from her backpack and wedged the thin end into the line that separated the steel door from its frame. Using her body weight as leverage, she began to break into the Silver Valley Public Library. In three more minutes, she’d deposit the laptop where the next operative would find it, where she’d told them to look. It would take them all of thirty seconds to download the information onto a USB stick. If library personnel caught them, they could play dumb and claim they’d forgotten to sign the computer out at the front desk.