The night had grown cold and damp, and a gentle rain fell now and then against the windows of the luxurious mansion situated at the western end of Seoul's Diamond Street. It was in this house that the South Korean industrialist and arms dealer Ms. Park resided, a woman whose life for the past fifteen years had been devoted to making money through arms deals to nations near and far. Although she was careful never to accept deals too risky for her liking, no amount of caution could ensure her safety from those who sought to undo her and her family.
The Crimson Terror knew this well. From all appearances, it seemed that Ms. Park's only crime lay in daring to deal with a client she herself felt obliged to make an example of — the Republic of Burma. But that was for another time, another place.
She steeled herself, her mind and body together at full alertness, feeling ever more assured of her impending success. After weeks of planning, the moment had finally arrived: Ms. Park would be hers within the next hour.
Having taken careful note of the movements of security guards at the entrance of the building, Anastasia Ilyina stationed herself behind a particularly thick hedge that grew to one side of the outer gates of the house.
There were seven women here tonight guarding the residence. They wore Kevlar vests and carried 9mm Glocks. Anastasia decided their training was adequate, but certainly, nothing to boast about. The women looked young, except for the tallest one, who must have been in her mid-forties. Their uniforms were pressed; they looked smart and proud, like soldiers out of a war movie. However, Anastasia found their military discipline somewhat lacking since two of the girls lounged against the wall, chatting idly with each other rather than keeping vigil.
Well, perhaps it made no difference. Anastasia already knew that in the matter of a few moments, the guards would be dead — just as she intended Ms. Park to be.
Anastasia cast her eyes carefully around the immediate vicinity, quickly assessing every possible danger point. All seemed quite satisfactory, or at least, she hoped so.
Moving with quick stealth, Anastasia skirted along the outer perimeter of the house, staying low and avoiding every lamp she passed. In twenty seconds, she was up against the heavy hedge, directly across the path from the main portico where the two guards sat.
Five more steps, and she stood before them, hidden by the darkness and their own inattentiveness. It took only a slight movement of her left hand to flip off the safety on the 9mm handgun equipped with a state-of-the-art silencer; tucked into her belt. And then she could wait no longer. With practiced skill, the Crimson Terror raised the weapon and aimed it directly at the closest guard's head.
In the next instant, the weapon bucked in her grasp as the bullet found its target; the gunshot, quiet and muffled, sounded much further away than should have been possible. The guard slumped slowly, softly to the ground as if she were falling asleep. The second girl had her eyes open wide in shock, but by that time, Anastasia was upon her, the 9mm lodged deep into the other woman's forehead. She tumbled backward and lay still, half on top of the first one, their arms intertwined as though they had died holding hands.
Anastasia Ilyina stole through the gate like an insubstantial wraith, silent, invisible.
She dashed across the garden, darting between trees and shrubs, ducking behind fountains. Another guard stood at the front of the mansion, staring out into the dark. Anastasia slipped close beside the woman. She brought a knife up swiftly and, in a single movement, slit the guard's throat from ear to ear. Blood erupted from the wound.
A quick glance at the front door revealed that it was secure—locked and the security system armed. Not that she intended to use it now; she had other plans.
Picking her way around the side of the house, she began to work her way upward along the trellis which housed the building's ventilation system.
This particular mansion was quite extensive—indeed, far larger than its exterior appearance led one to believe. Inside, Anastasia moved from room to room, all the while keeping a sharp eye on every corner and door handle. She worked her way steadily but quietly through the huge house without being seen or heard.
The dead women would be discovered soon enough, she supposed. In any event, she needed to finish her task. A few more minutes were all that she needed to reach Ms. Park's bedroom.
Finally, near the end of the third-floor hall, she reached a large pair of doors that marked the suite where Ms. Park slept when she was in Seoul, away from her estate in PyeongChang. There would be another guard inside the room, Anastasia knew. Yet tonight, the woman's vigilance would surely fall to sleep, and her heart slow its beat. She was due for some rest; that's what the mission demanded.
Anastasia pressed the concealed latch of the heavy door, which opened silently on oiled hinges.
The guard sat by the window outside the suite, absently gazing out into the night. Her eyes were half closed, her body swaying gently as though she had dozed off for a moment. One hand lay on a table near the door, ready to summon help should a stranger enter.
In the distance, from outside, came a dull boom of thunder.
Anastasia Ilyina paused just within the doorway, listening intently to the low growl of distant rumble, trying to time her final steps to match the rolling rhythm. Carefully, she moved over to the guard, keeping to the shadows beneath the long drapes. The guard shifted her position ever so slightly as Anastasia approached, her eyes never quite opening fully to confront what fate awaited her.
With lightning speed, Anastasia brought the blade of her knife up from behind her, between the woman's ribs, piercing her heart. The guard stiffened, gasped once, and collapsed into Anastasia's arms.
Gently lowering the dead body to the floor, Anastasia walked silently across the rich carpeted floor. Stealing along one wall, she found the electronic keypad in the dimness and quickly punched in the code she had memorized and swiped the guard's ID card across it, too.
The door opened, revealing the elegant bedroom beyond, just as she had expected. A quick glance revealed the shape of the sleeping figure, still sprawled atop the bed. The Crimson Terror quietly crept closer, with infinite care, ensuring that not even a whisper could escape her.
Anastasia inched over to the bed and reached for Ms. Park's throat, tightening her grip like a vise, cutting off the woman's oxygen supply — but with excruciating slowness. She could feel the veins in the woman's neck distending under her fingertips, the slight trembling of muscles as she fought for air.
Then, finally, the struggling ceased, and the Crimson Terror relaxed her grip. There was silence for a moment, and then all she heard was the faint and labored sound of her own heartbeat.
As slowly and carefully as before, Anastasia Ilyina moved to the desk beside the bed. With utmost care, she examined its contents: a computer, an expensive cordless phone, and a pocket-sized address book.
With practiced ease, the assassin reached for the computer, inserting a tiny electronic device into its USB port. Almost immediately, the computer's monitor flickered to life, displaying a log-in screen for which the Crimson Terror knew the password.
With haste, unbefitting her cold elegance, Anastasia opened the computer and started copying files onto the data stick protruding from her left sleeve.
A few minutes later, every important file had been transferred, leaving only those not deemed necessary or useful. Then the assassin pulled out the little data stick and stowed it safely inside her pocket.
All this accomplished, the assassin slipped out of the room silently, shutting the door behind her. Leaving nothing but a very dead body.
Anastasia Ilyina would not stay to hear the sound of any alarm; she had no interest in being found here. Nor did she need to dawdle near the scene of her work for long; after a couple of minutes, she was already on the way back down to the lower floors of the building.
Once again, she took every precaution as she made her way from point to point, slipping unnoticed through the darkness by the thinnest of margins. One false move and she would be caught, but she pushed away such thoughts with practiced ease.
At last, she reached her vehicle, which waited nearby, its engine running silently. She swiftly slid inside.
Anastasia waited for the briefest moment before moving her foot down on the gas pedal. The powerful engines roared to life, sending her speeding off into the night.
Checking the contents of her pocket-sized data stick as the car sped away, she saw that the files she had just obtained contained everything that she'd hoped to find. All the information she needed to carry out her next mission.
And her next target.
'Kureha Fujiwara'
Thanks for the chapter!
Thanks for the chapter!
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