Tempest - Kris Michaels Page 0,73

an assassin referred to as the Raven. To his knowledge, the operative wasn't a freelancer. Last he'd heard the man... or woman, was attached to the Mossad. Guardian had tracked the payments through whatever cyber magic they did, and the transfer of money coincided with the death of the woman's husband. Well, well, murder for inheritance was becoming a trend, wasn't it? Francesca offed her father to inherit her fortune, and Nadia Volkov, a Russian born entrepreneur, inherited her wealth from her late husband. Coincidence? Hardly. Which led back to the question, were the Fates and Stratus utilizing assassins?

He tipped the envelope and Nadia's calendar for the next three days slipped into his hand. A map of St. Petersburg was next. He spread the map and studied it and the itinerary. This one was going to be a bit more difficult. Not impossible, not by a long shot. He slid his eyes to Sierra team as they loitered by the door giving him time and privacy. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He had the assets; he'd use them. With methodical precision, he once again studied the evidence Guardian had provided, committed the schedule to memory, and pocketed the map. He tipped the folder. Six passports, a stack of Russian rubles in various denominations, six credit cards, and two sets of keys fell onto his lap. The last piece of paper was stuck inside the envelope. He reached in and extracted his instructions.

Code Authenticated, Sunset Clearance. Confirmed via Counsel. TOD to be a statement. C, E and I requested. Delay discovery if possible. Report when mission is accomplished.

He found his passport and took a thick stack of money before shoving his credit card into the pages of his Russian passport. He tossed the envelope with the rest of the money, keys, passports and credit cards to Travis when the man entered the aircraft.

Travis glanced in the pouch. "Fuck. I hope you speak Russian, my friend. None of us do."

Tempest spoke perfect Russian, but he shook his head. "If we do this correctly none of you will have to speak Russian."

"Well then, by all means, let's do this correctly. Are we the perimeter again?" Travis looked at a passport and tossed it to Ricco, then glanced at another and sent it airmail to Scuba. Both passports sailed past their targets.

"Stop throwing stuff, Skipper, you can't hit shit," Coach mumbled as he picked up one of the passports which had hit him in the back.

"Stop bitching. It isn't a hand grenade." Travis laughed and handed the envelope to Harley who continued to disburse the contents.

Tempest laughed and turned his attention back to the conversation. "No. You'll be a little more involved this time."

"Well all right. Do you have a plan?"

"I do." He spread the map and began a detailed explanation. When he finished, Travis wasn't smiling. The guy wasn't even looking at him. "Are you good with this?" He pointed to the map and the places he'd pointed out.

"No. I can't say as I am. We haven't done the stealth mode breaking and entering gig before. Enter quietly, take down the bad guys, rescue a hostage, and get the hell out without losing a team member, yes. Enter quietly and steal all the electronics without setting off alarms? Not so much, but we'll do our best." Travis rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. "This target is for sure keeping information we need to remove?"

"Affirmative. My handlers are requesting all computers and electronics on this one."

"So, I gotta ask, why?"

"An assumption only, but I'd bet it is because this target is responsible for kidnapping and selling children, and young men and women, into the slavery. She's made money off drugs, guns and believe it or not, starting wars. She has politicians in her pocket and several very unsavory characters who would kill you for the thrill of it alone. No payment required. These are the people who went after the Kings."

Travis' head snapped up. "These are the motherfuckers?"

"They are."

"Dude, you should have led with that bit of information. You make whatever statement you need to make. We'll take care of our end. Not saying it will be completely silent, but we'll do our best." The man extended his hand and Tempest grasped it. Only time would tell if Sierra team would fulfill their end of the mission, but it was theirs to conquer. His fate lay in another direction.

The line of cars snaked along the Mokhovaya Ulitsa. Commoners' vehicles