Dangerous to know /ONC 2023

ONE

Moscow, Russia

Upon regaining consciousness, the assassin found a woman with empty, icy eyes beside him, as the pounding headache in his head started to subside. The strong-bodied man with a sturdy build felt lightheaded as he strove to prop himself up, scrutinizing the den; a window looked out onto the property. The weaponized contractors clutched their Steyr AUG rifles, the cold metal slicing into their palms as they stood guard. The assassin took a glance at the bag containing twelve billion dollars, then at the pelican case.

The Russian oligarch entered his tailor-made European suit, giving off an expensive feel as he carried a file in his hand. "I see you're awake now," the oligarch said in his old Russian accent.

The muscled man gazed around, his voice filled with confusion as he asked, "Where am I?"

"You've arrived at a secret location. I guarantee you that you are protected."

His voice quivered as he asked, "Safe from who?"

Volkov spoke his next words with the utmost caution. "There are highly dangerous and powerful forces pursuing you. You must have stolen from and double-crossed someone powerful in whatever you did."

The assassin's voice was laced with skepticism as he asked, "Who are you?"

"I am known to many as Constantine Volkov," he replied.

"Who am I?" the man asked, his voice full of worry and uncertainty.

"Apollo Fox," Constantine declared with authority.

The assassin turned from the window, heading towards Volkov. He knew his name now. The unknown had seen this man before. The name rang a bell somewhere in his memory, but where had he heard it?

Volkov flipped open the file as he spoke.

"You were a paramilitary officer for the CIA Special Activities Division (Ground branch)."

The man ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair and rolled his eyes back in disbelief that he could be mistaken for a paramilitary officer for the CIA. That was impossible? He didn't remember any of that.

"Who is the woman? "the assassin inquired.

"Evelyn Fallon is her alias. She was hired to kill you, "The oligarch informed him.

He raised his eyebrow in confusion as he shook his head, unsure what to think. Shooting a sidelong glance back at the bag and then at Volkov. He had to discover the truth for himself, traversed to the case, and opened it, snatching the AR-30 bolt action sniper. rifle After, he finished assembling it and slotted in the ten-round mag.

What the fuck?

The Muscled man found it unbelievable that he'd been able to assemble a sniper rifle. Fox had no recollection of undertaking any secret mission for the CIA or National Intelligence. The assassin wondered how Volkov had gotten a hold of his redacted file. Fox Placed the rifle back in the case and closed it.

To gain clarity of thought, the assassin knew he needed fresh air. Sitting for a while helped. This was all too much for him. Wouldn't his government and the CIA be looking for him if he was free-lance?

He felt like he was looking through a clouded window, everything just a blur. A lurch in his stomach alerted him to a problem. A flood of questions flooded his mind at this point. Was Volkov aware, more than he had told him? Was there a hidden agenda in his mind?

Fox emerged through the entrance and was hit by a gust of cold fall wind as he grabbed the door handle and stepped outside. His memory came slowly back. The assassin still, didn't know why the duffel bag of twelve billion dollars was beside the pelican case. By taking note of the way they had their weapons, he was able to sense the atmosphere. They were quick on the draw.

This safe house was unlike any other that fox had been in before. The road was empty except for the Hummer parked farther down the road from the Dacha, its shiny chrome grille reflecting the morning light.

He could feel the cold, hard barrel of the gun pressed against his temple before he turned around.

"Don't even move," the mercenary demanded.

"I just needed some fresh air," Fox mumbled.

Fox was aware that the ammunition used in these men's firearms was 5.56 mm and that they shot without first asking any inquiries. He wasn't a moron. Certainly, he may use a rifle to overcome a foreign agent or a terrorist. He spun around and grasped the rifle without hesitation. He threw an elbow at the mercenary, knocking him off balance.

His mind raced to find explanations regarding how he knew how to perform these things.

Putting the Steyr AUG to the ground, he looked sideways and saw Volkov storming out the front door of the dacha. The Russian waved his way over to Fox. lifted his palm and replied, "Stop, they work for me."

"Well, one of them pointed at a barrel behind my head," Fox explained to Volkov.

The Russian mercenary sprang to his feet, snatched his weapon, and yelled, "He was gazing at the hummer suspiciously."

Volkov's pupils constricted as he pressed his fingers into a steeple. He wasn't concerned about him gazing at the hummer. There was nothing fishy about it. What he might learn. The Russian oligarch indicated for his men to remain back as he assessed the situation. It didn't surprise him that Fox still had his skills, but then that didn't matter.

"I'm still not sure why Evelyn Fallon was hired to kill me or who sent her." Fox inquired.

Maybe it has something to do with the twelve billion dollars in the duffel bag," Volkov speculated.

"You informed me that incredibly dangerous and powerful forces were looking into me," Fox explained.

"Marko Ivano is a murky Russian and Ukrainian businessman with deep ties to the Kremlin and the White House... Volkov was pacing back and forth... "What do you know about Nightdrop?" Volkov said.

Fox shoved his hands in his front pockets. "What is Nightdrop?" he inquired, intrigued.

"After I skimmed through the redacted file, I could only make out what was in it." The oligarch told him.

"Listen, Volkov, I'd want to know how you're doing with my redacted file," Fox questioned.

"Let's just sit and say I got that from your CIA Station chief from your embassy," Volkov explained.

His detailed knowledge of the embassy was so extensive that he could pinpoint every minute detail of it. For example, whether the FSB bugged it and which offices they listened to. How to scale it rapidly down a. wall. During a risky assignment, his ability to save his ass saved the lives of countless others. Fox remembers why he had the duffel bag of cash. The weight of it is still heavy in his memory. His covert mission had gone awry.

He considered the idea of making the ideal move, but he could still feel uncertainty lingering in the air. What action should he take if he reaches out to the embassy's station chief? He was racing against the clock. It took him a while to think things through and come up with some answers. Despite Fox's skepticism about coincidences, their number was vast. Getting to the US embassy meant avoiding Volkov's goons and Ivano's assassins.