It hadn’t taken her very long to ascend to the operations directorate. A brief tussle for her between the S (illegal intelligence) and X (scientific) Directorates had been resolved by Zaslon quietly recruiting her while the others argued. No one questioned the most secret and elite black-ops team in the entire Russian Federation. Now, eight years as a Zaslon agent-saboteur, she drew a steady chain of challenging solo assignments.
Not that the Antonov captain looked to be particularly challenging.
“Good evening,” he said in a much warmer tone as he stood straight and squared his shoulders.
“Slow loadings?” She nodded toward his plane.
“Damned slow. Made the mistake of going to the café down the road rather than hiding in my bunk.”
“Tell that you did not the eating of Madame’s meat soup
