Heart of Evergreen

"What did you just say? The senior officer (Special Agent Thompson) of the two men from Homeland Security, that both Nancy and Kim knew prior, repeated, 'Rob and Liza Caldwell were taken out as a hit' in Boston last night and we think their assassin is the agent handler extraordinaire, who put out the hit job on the President, and on you, Kim, last November. The hit man's name is Jeffrey Sanders, we don't know any alias, ethnicity, or if male or female. Security cameras were disabled before the actual hit. Rob and Liza were asleep when it happened early this morning. A silencer was used, and neighbors heard their dog barking non-stop and became worried. The couple checked on them, found them dead in their bed, and called 911. The police detectives could tell it was a professional hit and called us. Special Agent Hughes and I flew directly here from Washington, DC. A note left at the scene read, 'Two down, eleven to go' and the eleven to go are most likely both of you, the President, and people unidentified. Make no mistake. The hit man will take out anyone with you, when, NOT if, they find you." *** "How dare you take out my two best assets! I'm coming for you, Kim, and your friend, Nancy! Never mind, my best assets died in a roll-over accident! They were after you, Kim! Now I'm going to finish the job! Both of you and yours are going down! I know where you are and who you have in your life! Tit for tat. The same back to both of you!" *** 'The Gallery Loft of Evergreen' was Kim's heart in the world of art and creativity. Kim stepped lightly down the stairs from her art gallery's second floor, all five feet, three inches of her trim body sporting seafoam green eyes, and curly blonde hair that bounced with each step. "What is up, Nancy? Need some help?" With a paint brush in hand, a smock over her top, and sporting dark blue skinny jeans with rugged black leather boots, Kim stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the two men. Fear gripped her heart and lungs tightly, and she barely breathed as she stared at both men. Oh my...no...never...not again...why are those men here of all places... fear caused her blood to feel like ice as it coursed through her jarred and shocked body...Steve and Gary are dead, killed in the accident...Nancy and I are safe now...no assassins are after us, no assassin is after ME...both died in that wreck...both bodies had positive identification...this is not happening...it can't be happening...NO...Steve and Gary are dead...get a grip now, Kim...close your eyes...then reopen...only Nancy will be there...except they were there... *** Paul never saw the large black dual cab truck, with a black bull bar in the front, hit him at an angle that directly threw his Land Rover over and into a rocky and briar-filled ravine coming to rest on the passenger side, driver's side wheels spinning in the air. *** The agents coordinated together so they all arrived near the same time. With bewildered occupants, they drove through their assigned gate and to the building that housed the FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation).

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...