The thick paper was faded and smelled musty, from too many decades in airless storage vaults under the Lubyanka or in a concrete directorate warehouse...down an unmarked guarded road outside Moscow. Across the top of each was a label with project and agent codes, dates, and routing numbers. “I would say they are operational files, quite old, judging from their look. I could perhaps place them more accurately if I saw the labels. But I’m not authorized to look at them, correct?” “The younger. Short blonde hair, light blue eyes, moderately pretty, very erect posture. Wearing casual dressy attire. And very similar to all of the rest of the mercenaries.Someone was trying not to stand out. Even if she did.If she wasn’t military intelligence, I would eat my helmet. Same with being a Hunter.“May I join you? I’m Natasha.”“Who let you sit here?” An irritated Jude asked our uninvited guest.Ed’s lack of reaction confirmed my suspicions.“Give her a chance, Jude. So, what brings you over to our. More

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