Visisonor's blog

Chapter 3

— I have some good news, Linda. You’ve been promoted to an agent.

They met at the entrance to the shooting range for the regular target practice.

— What? How? — this was clearly a surprise for her.
— Our last mission was deemed a success. So it counts as a passed test.
— A success… — she shook her head. — In the letter maybe, but not in the spirit.
— Don’t worry about the spirit. As far as I am concerned, you should have been made an agent right before we met.
— Thanks, — sincerity in her was was quite evident.

Both of them knew they couldn’t discuss the details openly in a crowded area — the secret of that mysterious rescue setting them somehow apart from the others. So they let it drop for now and proceeded to their shooting drills.

— I’ve been meaning to ask… — started Constantin after they were done.
— About my plans for the evening?
— Er, no. Why do you have your sidearm at your left side?
— To draw it faster of course, — she said with an air of someone stating the obvious. — If I have a rifle in my right, I have to discard it first.
— But then you’ll have to shoot with your off-hand… — pointed out Constantin.
— Yeah, but that wasn’t ever a problem for me.

She then demonstrated this in action by drawing her pistol and aiming a single shot at her target in one sweeping motion.

— Impressive, — acknowledged Constantin, checking her result.
— What about your two pistols? If the left one won’t get ya then the right one will?
— Nah, it’s rather for when I have to shoot at multiple targets in different directions, — he said dismissively, and then added in a barely audible whisper. — But mostly for show.

Before Linda could comment on that, a call to his radio interrupted them. She could only hear Constantin’s part of the conversation:

— Yes. Is it urgent? Got it. Over.

Then he hung up with a sigh.

— Something important? — implored Linda.
— Guess what. Our old friend Ian wants to see me. Right now.
— I thought you didn’t report directly to him, — she objected, looking slightly confused.
— That’s true, but he pulls enough weight to turn it into an official order from the Command.
— Does it happen often?
— Not really often. I remember two or three times, — he mused thoughtfully. — And it was serious all these times, so I’d rather go now. But you don’t have to.
— You think I’ll let you go to him alone — after all we went through in that tunnel?
— What does it have to do with the tunnel? — now was Constantin’s turn to look confused.
— The tunnel is irrelevant, it’s just we are starting to act as a team, and if you are heading somewhere dangerous, I won’t abandon you.
— You overestimate the danger he poses to me… But I appreciate your concern.

They argued for a while on the way, Linda kept insisting on coming along. She was not even dissuaded by Constantin’s assumption that she would be bored to death waiting by the door because he and Ian would talk one on one anyway.

This part of the city seemed to be less desolate, with fewer people in uniforms and more in fine civilian clothes. One of such people — a woman with long brown hair carrying a heavy-looking backpack in her hand — almost bumped into them as they approached an entrance to Ian’s apartment building, apologized hastily and went off in the opposite direction.

Linda watched her leave, but the woman was already out of sight when they reached the entrance. Constantin dialed the intercom, but there was no answer. He tried again, with the same outcome. So they went up to the apartment, and after two flights of stairs reached the door. The door wasn’t locked: it gave way just as Constantin knocked on it.

— Doesn’t seem right, — whispered Linda, following him cautiously.

They found Ian in a living room, lying face down on a coffee table. An open bottle stood nearby, and a toppled wineglass could be seen on the floor.

— Is he drunk? — asked Linda incredulously. — Or…

Constantin walked up to check Ian’s pulse.

— Dead, — he said with unreadable expression. — Still warm but… Dead.