Flamingo Podnyalsya Ch 8

Flamingo Podnyalsya Ch 8

By Phillip Miller

Chapter 8

Mika sat on the first floor of The Sheeshal bar and restaurant, Brentwood, quietly sipping at her Vodka and Tonic. It had been a while since she had visited. A melodious Turkish love song played in the background. Her mood was melancholic as thoughts of her past flitted in and out of her mind. She was having difficulty sleeping, the stab wound aching and throbbing still, despite the tablets.

She thought of Tolyatti, the shit hole city where it all began and which still caused her to wake in a sweat now and then during the recurring nightmares: the stench of piss-stained, drunken men taking their turns with her from the age of thirteen, whilst those who were supposed to take care of her just pocketed the rewards.

She fingered the top of her glass in a circular motion causing it to sing. A large champagne bottle was uncorked some distance away, causing her to jump as another image flashed through her mind. She remembered her overweight uncle laying on her as a young girl, but it was after he brought back another younger, petrified girl, accompanied by five Russian military men, that her future was to change forever. She was shaking, but this did not matter. They just laughed and plied her with drinks. She started to cry and was immediately smacked around the head. They turned her around and around until she fell, then stripped her naked. Mika sat and watched as they played with her, like cats toying with a mouse, before forcing them together to perform the most degrading sexual acts on each other and themselves.

They were abused for almost three hours. By the end of the evening, when all was played out, all five men had collapsed into a drunken stupor, naked and exposed.

The younger of the two girls sat staring, zombie-like. It was a familiar scene to the soon to be enlisted secret service agent. Mika indicated to the young girl to get dressed and touched her lips with her index finger, whispering softly,“let’s go, come now.” They made for the front door of the run-down flat, tip-toeing over the soldiers as they went. When they opened the door, Mika stopped suddenly and broke away. “Go, don’t look back.” She closed the door and walked quietly towards the men that had brutalised them both.

The moment felt so surreal to her. She felt calm and light, light as a feather. She touched the small pendant that hung around her neck and remembered the softness of her mother’s hand, which just compounded her rage.

Military garb had been flung on to the floor in their eagerness for pleasure and so Mika rifled through the first army bottoms she came across. She took some bank cards and some cash. Inside one of the jackets, she found a Knife. The inscription read Vityaz. There was no emotion and no fuss as she went around quietly slitting the soldier's throats one by one. They were all so intoxicated that despatching them was easy. The last one was special. He seemed to have enjoyed the games more than the rest. She decided he should get special treatment. Her slender, bruised and abused frame squatted over him. She needed to take a leak and so raised her dress and urinated over his face. He stirred, moaning and spluttering, blinking, wiping away the warm liquid. Then he saw her, but it was too late. She sank the Spetsnaz preferred weapon of war into his left eye socket. He was dead instantly. She sat back, covered in blood. It was a further 10 minutes before she lost control completely, her inner rage unrelenting; the mutilation lasted almost an hour.

She heard the click in the door and ran at it with full force just in time to catch her uncle off guard. She left the knife embedded in his groin, screaming in agony, then sat and waited for him to slowly die.

When Captain Kaspersky was called to the scene, he immediately recognised the potential of the young girl; the execution of five of his top agents without a shot being fired was testament to that; it took her five years to become no.1.

A light tap on her shoulder jolted her back to the present.

“Excuse me, there is a gentleman to see you. He is in the VIP suite,” said a young waitress.

“Thank you.” She held onto the chromed balustrade and made her way up the glass steps to the mezzanine floor. The sumo sized frame that was one-eyed Bob remained seated, his demure and petite Thai wife sat beside him, fanning herself.

“let’s get down to business,” he grunted, mopping his brow.

Mika sat and ordered drinks and food via the menu pad screen on the table.

“There is a hard drive and laptop locked away within a data facility on the Isle of Dogs, Harbour Exchange. Nobody has access to it apart from my husband. The data hall is impossible to get into without authorisation so that will be needed also. It operates under fingerprint recognition. My husband’s fingerprints, middle and index finger of both hands. I will get the authorisation sorted. I Need that hardware.” She pulled a nail file from her small pineapple yellow Prada handbag.

“How much?” he asked, as his wife sat casually observing the slim, raven haired agent.

“Ten thousand sterling,” still filing her nails as the drinks arrived.

The big man laughed loudly then stopped abruptly, his face deadpan. “After the fuck up you made at my farm you think a poxy ten grand is gonna do me? Think again.” He placed the banana sized fingers of his left hand on his wife’s knee, rubbing it back and forth, grinning with salacious thoughts as Mika bent forward to reveal her fine cleavage.

“Sorry about that, but it was out of my hands. Ok! Another ten thousand for the hardware and another twenty thousand for that dump you call a farm. Take it or leave it.” Bob started to sweat more and Mika knew she could probably get what she wanted for nothing. He looked like her uncle, even worse, she thought.

“Leave it to me. I’ll get Credi. He has the right connections for this.”

“If this goes wrong Bob,” she warned, as she picked up a knife from the table, “I will take your bollocks and feed them to that slitty eyed wife of yours then I will play with her. Understood?” Mika sat staring into Bob’s good eye. Bob looked away, took a deep breath, replying as he exhaled, “Understood.”

Mika held on to the table to aid her in standing just as the food was being delivered.

“Leaving so early? At least have some food. I can’t eat all that.”

“I didn’t order for anyone else. It’s all yours you fat bastard.”

She took the steps slowly; pain was worse going down.

One eyed Bob helped himself to a large plate of Halep and started shovelling it into the tunnel he called a mouth. He waited till she was out of ear shot before turning to his torpid wife with a mouthful of kebab meat, “I’m gonna kill that bitch one day.”  

The war room at Command Centre was buzzing. Major Singha and Moreau were preparing for the meeting and Donyevsky had been sent to the armoury to try out a few new gadgets.

The Major finished his discussion with Moreau, clapped him on the back and said, “This is it, let’s go. They are all waiting in the War Room.”

“What about Craig, I think the chiefs of staff should see their man in the flesh, don’t you?” said Moreau, gesturing with open arms. “It’s cost close to ten billion dollars to reach this stage.”

“Not yet! Everything is set. We just need to….” He paused and looked at his monitor, then shook his head. “Wait, did you see that?  A red line, Hang on, I need to get the tech’s in on this,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“Sir! We cannot delay,” said Moreau with a sense of urgency.

“Gene, get the tech’s in here. Tell them I have some kind of glitch on my screen, a red line.” He cut off and they both headed for the War Room via an electric buggy.

Tom and Cody escorted Craig along to the meeting room. The main door had an armed guard and even though his escorts had probably known security by name, they still had to present ID.

Once through, it was evident that this was no game. The chiefs of staff of the Army, Royal Navy and Royal Air Force, sat around a large oval table along with their immediate subordinates and American joint staff.

Craig was taken through to a small office connected to the rear of the War Rooms. Tom was tasked with guarding him and Cody attended the meeting alongside Moreau. The Major began his opening address.

“Good evening gentlemen. As you know, Admiral John Stark was appointed brief and I would like to ask him to address you all shortly. We are at level two. Our allies, Okhrana, have confirmed that Operation Flamingo is at phase Four in the Russian capital and upon delivery of the Tzar, will be de-facto authority of Russia.” Major Singha prompted Admiral John Stark, who rose slowly to address the men that would soon be in charge of the destruction of the ‘old enemy’, Russia.

“In less than 48hrs we will be on the cusp of a new world order. Once Flamingo is established we will have complete control from the Baltic Sea in the west to the Pacific Ocean in the east and from the Arctic Ocean in the north to the Black Sea and Caucasus in the south. We, the Strategic Western Armed Response Mechanism, or SWARM, have consolidated our forces to maximum effect. Trojans one, two and three are in place. Telehouse Russia has been ghosted by our technical experts and targets at Novisibirsk, Seversk and  Angarsk, as well as those at Khamovniki, Savyolovsky and Gatchina have been locked on. The religious order of the Russian Orthodoxy has concurred that the man to be crowned has been proven to be legitimate, they support his ascension completely. Operation Flamingo Podnyalsya is good to go at exactly 02:00 hrs on the 14^th of June, less than 36 hours.

Copyright Phillip Miller