Mary L. Schmidt / S. Jackson
Dmitry wasn’t sure what to do...his handler stateside was dead...no intel...even worse was the fact that the Russian agent who’d infiltrated Scotland Yard had news...Olga Pasternak had been caught placing a chipped frame onto a painting in London at the art gallery...that intel was unsettling to put it mildly...he needed that chip! He needed Olga Pasternak doing her part...now he was fully alone...Olga Pasternack was kept locked up somewhere...and she could break...the complications maddened him...he must stay calm...be the Russian you were born to be...the one heavily trained in special tactics and more...the expert...keep that persona inside and remain the nice, rich, oligarch from Russia...that he could do with aplomb...until the oligarch above him stopped funding him...and that would mean only one thing...he would then be on that Russians’ hit list...best not think about that overly much... ***He had become a liability and Dmitry had to protect himself. He would not take his own life like the general. Yes, he was heavily trained in special tactics, and yes, his own oligarch money sat nicely in a Swiss bank account under a holding company that was untouchable. Russia could do absolutely nothing about his Swiss bank account. Yet he WAS touchable!!! Even though he, himself had never once killed anyone, he had been complicit by his position between those who ordered hits and those who carried them out. Thus, he packed a bag and drove his luxurious SUV down to Denver, to the Federal Center, and asked at the gate for Director James Tilson, that he, Dmitry Ivanov, had top-secret information for him. One of the guards radioed inside and spoke with the director. Director Tilson informed the guards that two members of his team would go to the gate and escort Dmitry Ivanov inside. Dmitry had to turn himself in if he wanted to live!It was the last Thursday in May, a lovely day in the mountains, and he wondered if he would ever see the mountains again...or daylight, for that matter...or Susan Davis...he’d come to love her...at age 30, his budding romance with Suz, a gorgeous 25-year-old, green-eyed redhead who was a perfect angel...his angel...she painted like an angel...in watercolor...he would never see her again...he’d come to love her...love...True Love...now that part of his life was over...again...he wouldn’t see any of the people he’d come to know and truly cared about during his time spent in Evergreen...so many regrets...he’d come to care deeply for the children as well...he was racked with grief for what was not to be...and for his numerous regrets...
