October 1982
Aleksandrovka, Republic of Norica, West Asia
What is beauty? Is it what we perceive as emotionally pleasing or is it the existence of a true aesthetic empiricism? What beauty is, or all things beauty form, may never be measurable, and beauty pageants even need a set of questions – and a matching set of correct answers – to decide who would be the most ‘beautiful’ contestant. There might be no such thing as beauty in the objective nature of our infinite universe, but as the wind breezed calmly onto the flapping collars of their shirts, and the sunlight shimmered over the blue-green waters of the man-made lake in front of them, two young souls cared not of what dialectics behind the term ‘beauty’ was; the undeniable sight in front of them, the cool perfect weather paired by the dusking horizon easily explained what beauty could look like, whether empirical or not. Their eyes were fixed to their front, but their minds travelled to other places; places where matters were more pressing.
“I try not to worry, Anya, but things are getting a bit out of hand.” Said the man. Bespectacled, mustached, and wearing well-fitted denim and a matching navy jacket on top, he didn’t tower over the woman, but was significantly taller.
“What do you mean, out of hand? My division hasn’t taken notice of anything.” Said the woman, whose deep hazel eyes went well with her dark brown hair.
A cigarette was in the man’s mouth. The cool breeze blew the smoke away from them. The shallow but not-so-shallow waters in front of them stood in silence, along with the low clouds, who witnessed them in a calm quiet.
“It is no secret that the new administration is making changes. People have been disappearing.”
“What do you mean disappearing?” she asked. “You think the Second Directorate would do that to their own?”
“Not sure who it is,” said the man. “But as far as I’m concerned we are not at quarrel with everyone, especially since the last change of seats in the government pleased both East and West.”
“And how are you so sure people have been missing?” she asked.
“People I know, that I have cooperated closely, have abruptly went silent.” He stepped closer to Anya, whose eyes reflected his shadowed image. He spoke slowly to her ear. “The Divisional Head of Section Three has been going on vacation to the Maldives for the last three weeks with his family, but no word has come from Mr. Chernenko. Not a single one.”
“Never thought you were so close to your boss, Aaron.”
“He’s a friend. Usually calls my office at 1500 Hours every Tuesday and Thursday with the code ‘Cricket’ – a safe sign. Two weeks ago, the calls ceased.” He turned his sights to the lake. He sucked on his Lucky Strike Original Red and threw the burning cigarette butt onto the ground with a flick of the finger. He took another one and looked at her once more. “And it isn’t like there are no phones in the Maldives. So how was work?” His tone suddenly changed. He put an arm around her, and, looking back once, started walking around the man-made lake set in the middle of one of the city parks.
“We’re going through some regular cases; but somehow… dissident activists, supporters of CONDOR, have been going up quite significantly. This month alone we have apprehended forty-three names and put them to trial.” She said. “And I thought it was over last year.” The thought of work clicked her head, and, stopping in her tracks, she took a metal cigarette case from the chest pocket of her jacket. She took a Marlboro Red onto her lipstick-red lips. Her short, neck-length hair was swept aside, as she let Aaron light her cigarette.
“Internal conflict within the services. People disappearing. A bureaucracy divided. And worse, potentially another rebellion. The sorry state of our country seems like a playground for the foreign services. Not surprised if, not before long, if the politicians keep using us for their own gains, our dearest republic could be split easier than a piece of cake for the West and East.”
“But what can we do about that? We serve the system, a system which the people trust, whether we like it or not.” Said Anya.
“For now, do our jobs. Perhaps once in the future, there might be people with aspirations. But for now? As you said, we are servants.”
As the two continued to walk down the paved pathways, out of the park network, and back to the bustling streets of a Friday afternoon. The high towers of the capital lit up as the sun set to their backs, the overcast that stood overhead turning from a dull gray into the dark blue of night. Cars traversed back and forth, and although the boulevard they traded upon was relatively quiet, distant sounds of horns and swearwords underlined the bustling nature and the rather sad mismanagement of the city’s current of traffic.
“So where are we headed now?” she asked, her tone stoic and well-composed.
“I’m meeting someone. I need you to come.”
“Where?”
He looked across the street He noticed a man in a flat cap, the visor hanging low over his eyes. He walked in a direction in parallel with the couple. Behind him, about twenty meters ro his back, two men in trenchcoats and hands in their pockets treaded in a relaxed but… peculiar manner.
“Take this alleyway to the left.” Aaaron said. Anya grabbed him by the arm and followed him into the three-across path between buildings. They then took another right, ending up behind a middle-class apartment building which curtains had been lowered with lights switched on. They waited by the corner, backs to the wall. Anya had an impression that they were here to lose a tail, but she knew Aaron, and Aaron was never reckless enough to let someone tail him.
With his gloved hand, Aaron reached into his jacket. A leather shoulder holster could be felt, and slipped in it, a Mauser Hahn Selbstspanner C (Mauser HSC), a semi-automatic concealable pistol chambered in the small calibre of .32 ACP. It was smaller than most pistols he had handled, being not much larger than the palm of his hand. Unzipping his jacket, he suddenly took Anya into his arms, embracing her by surprise and hugging her tightly. Moments later, the man in the flat cap passed, sinless and innocent.
Not much longer, came the two men in trenchcoats, their face now filled with contempt knowing that they had their prey secluded and ready to take down. However, as they appeared over the corner, where a couple embraced, five shots cracked the calm breezy night, and not only was the silence of the night broken, but so was first blood. Five rounds were discharged from the barrel in
The first man, the man closest to Anya and Aaron, fell instantly, two bullets striking him at the base of his neck and the other piercing the side of his skull. Blood splattered the wall behind him, and his body was soulless even before it touched the cold pavement below.
The second one had a less swift ending as the first man. One shot capped his knee, forcing him to fall in his tracks, and as he fell, another two rounds pierced his flank, the hollowpoint fragmenting right within and through his spine. He fell, in pain, but far from lifeless.
Aaron released himself from Anya’s embrace and went over to the second man, kicking away the pistol in which he dropped, followed by the one held by the late first one. Not much longer, the man in the flat cap turned about and appeared next to Aaron, whose side-swept hair had gone out of the initial comb, a few streaks falling over his moustached and stubbled face. “Good work, Mikhail.”
“I actually expected them to be a bit better, sir.” Said the man in the flat cap.
The second man moaned in pain. Without a moment of hesitation, Mikhail punted him right in the face. There was a crack. At least the man was unconscious, and now, silent. Moments later, the rumbles of a truck engine could be heard from the other end of the alleyway. The two men carried the bodies away and into the pickup truck that waited on the other side. The pickup driver, a fat man with dirty clothes, covered the bodies with a large sheet of canvas and tied the ends to the sides of the tray. Mikhail, a pale man with a downwards nose, slammed the tailgate shut, and not before long, the truck rode away with no further words.
Anya stood with the wall at her back and a cigarette in her mouth. When Aaron came back, she had a look on her face he had never seen before. She was staring at the blood near her feet. “What was that all about?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No,” she said, and rose from the wall. “No, it’s fine.”
You have to tell me what this is all about, Aaron.” She said.
“By knowing this you’re at risk of persecution. Are you sure?”
“You killed two people in front of me. I’m already fucking involved. What the hell is this about?”
Aaron sighed. “Let’s find a better place to talk. The residents should’ve heard those shots.”
“You owe me a damned explanation, Aaron. I have the capacity to charge you with acts of unprovoked offensive action and misuse of government assets, so you better have a damned good one or you’ll have to deal with other Second Directorate-“
“And I do have a damned good one.” Aaron said. “But not here, ma’am, not here.”
***
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