literature

Anastasia...

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FICTIONAL...

"Hmmm......?"

Sonya hesitated. Standing alone by the front door of the small office, she looked back across the 'Impound Yard' towards the abandoned airfield...

"That's funny?" she thought - Lieutenant Sonya Dimitrova worked the 'nightshift' supervising the police computers.

Located on the outskirts of Moscow, the nondescript building had once been a military compound. Inside, the computer mainframe hummed,

"Was that an aeroplane...?"

A truck rumbled passed. Tugging at her shirt collar, she turned back - Policewoman Katya Nureyev was busily entering data and seemed oblivious to Sonya.

The fresh-faced blonde wore the new uniform dress. Distracted momentarily, Sonya focussed on Katya's red scarf.

There was little or no 'security' - as far as most people thought, it was an 'Impound Yard' for the National Police...

"How is it going, Katya......?"

The policewoman looked up and shrugged with her usual smile. Out of sight, Policewoman Anna Marcovski was making them all another coffee.

She wore the pale-blue uniform dress now redundant - Sonya and Anna yet to receive the new issue.

Another truck rumbled passed. Sonya suspected that the young 'Cadet' in the guardhouse was asleep - the yard was full of semi-wrecked vehicles that interested nobody and had little or no value - from where she stood, she could see the older policewoman 'supervising' with her old-style white uniform shirt. She was contentedely smoking a cigarette.

But, had it been a light plane that Sonya had heard...?

She was not a police officer per se. She was a 'Computer Graduate' from Moscow Polytechnic who'd joined the National Police to work IT.

Neither were her two 'policewomen' - they were just glorified 'Data Analysts'...

"What is it, ma'am......?" asked Katya, sensing that something was on her older colleague's mind,

"I don't know?" Sonya replied with a sigh. Had it been an aeroplane twenty minutes earlier.......?

Katya resumed her work.

The airfield had been closed for twenty years. Earmarked for redevelopment, it was to be the sight of a new housing estate.

Sonya turned. Leaning back against the frame of the door, she looked across at the guardhouse - the 'Cadet' was nowhere to be seen.

Neither was Sergeant Elizabeth D'Urberville. Not that it worried Sonya - she had caught them up to no good more than once since the 'Cadet' had been posted to the 'Impound Yard' a fortnight earlier...

"What......?"

Sonya felt a sharp pain in her thigh.

She looked down and saw a small dart - it seemed so surreal,

"What the...?" she gasped. A strange feeling now engulfed her - Katya looked up and was surprised to see her 'Officer in Charge' slumped in the doorway.

It was then, that she saw a blonde woman. Sergeant Elizabeth D'Urberville...? A momentary glimpse,

"Sonya...?"

A second dart struck Katya in the chest - the sight of the missile sticking from the red folds of her issue scarf taking her quite by surprise.

Seconds later, she too was unconscious - the 'Data Analyst' sprawled across her desk....................

Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna hesitated. Not that the policewoman would've known her as a descendant of the last Tsar - she looked down at Sonya and smiled.

The self-assured Russian aristocrat knotted the white short-sleeved uniform shirt she wore, about her slender waist. Sergeant Elizabeth D'Urberville would not need it for now - the thirty year old Divorcee was unconscious in the guardhouse with 'Cadet' Bianca Louise Poklonskaya...

"Mmmm......"

Her new formula had been a success. A quick-acting anaesthetic. Sonya groaned,

"You like that, don't you?" Anastasia continued, reaching for her small Browning .22 automatic...

"Militia 'whore'......"

Anastasia was a myth. The twenty-eight year old great grand-daughter of Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna's illegitimate daughter, she was a product of wealth and privilege. Oxford and later Cambridge. Several years service with the Women's Royal Army Corps before working for the secret 'Signals Directorate' of the British Army.

The last of the Romanov Dynasty.

Raised in England, she now worked 'freelance' and had been contracted by the Ukrainian Sluzhba Bezpeky Ukrayiny, though she doubted it was official - NATO would never have approved of the 'Security Service' using the rogue psychotic to retrieve information from the Russian Politsiya in this manner...

"I have added a little aphrodisiac to your dose, Lieutenant Dimitrova?"

Sonya groaned.

Kneeling, Anasatasia now loosened the unconscious brunette's tie and slid her hand beneath Sonya's uniform shirt - Lieutenant Sonya Dimitrova wore a silver chain necklace to which was attached a key...

"Pleasant dreams......" she hissed, retrieving the key.

It had worked out much better than she'd hoped. So much for security - the Minister for Internal Affairs had cut costs and the secret 'Computer Section' of the Russian National Police had none of the trappings of 'security' that it warranted, in the hope that it would be overlooked as just part of the old 'Impound Yard'...

"Now, down to business?"

Raising the handgun, she now listened intently for the third policewoman.

Anna Marcovski...?

She had specific instructions - the policewomen were not to be killed, but her darts could not be relied upon and so she had the .22 calibre Browning with silencer.

Policewoman Katya Nureyev uttered a groan. Her body shuddered as she 'orgasmed' whilst still half-conscious,

"Where are you, Miss Anna?" Anasatasia wondered with a sigh. She could smell the aroma of coffee.