Fic Update: DWP - AU Intuitive, Chapter 24
Devil Wears Prada -AU
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: NC-17/M
*The information and general ideas are based off of one of my favorite international intrigue authors: Eric B. Lustbader. Derived from his Asian-American-Soviet-era, Nicholas Linnear novels such as The Jian or Second Skin, I began to imagine Miranda and Andy in such a startling and complex world where loyalties are few and the shadows are often dangerous.
This story has some disturbing images of violence and sexual violence, but is necessary to the storyline. Please pass if this is makes you uncomfortable.
Please allow for some serious artistic license and any historical and cultural inaccuracies, I’m only a ‘fan’ of history, not an expert. But I read lots and watch lots of documentaries, so hopefully that’s gotta count for something… right? lol
Finally, my interpretation or illustration of various cultures is not a suggestion that they are correct; I’m just a humble fanfic writer, sharing the love.
A/N I apologize for taking so long to update, but RL and my computer acting like a scorned-Ex, it was simply a matter of means, and a reluctant muse. I appreciate your patience and I hope this update makes up for it.
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Chapter 24
[Bombay (now Mumbai), India]
Andy hated wearing white in a city like Bombay (Mumbai). The sheer mass of humanity, along with the veil of gray air pollution from every vehicle sputtering diesel fuel, made wearing white a dicey proposition. India’s population, pulsing with a billion, perhaps more people, is often forgotten in lieu of its larger, more distant neighbor to the East, China. However, anyone visiting any of its more populated cities is quickly reminded of this prodigious attempt to re-populate the gene pool. But for the kind of work Andy does, it can be very useful - getting lost in the crowd of humanity to get rid of a tail, can also work against her - it could be just as easy to lose a tail, and then a knife is sticking out of your stomach.
Currently, Andy was dressed androgynously, her head and the lower half of her face, hidden by a head-scarf, along with gauzy, light-weight pants, and tunic. At the moment, the was doing the tailing. The man casting furtive glances around him, clutched a briefcase as if afraid someone was going to rip from his hands at any moment. His face was red either from sunburn or the heat, had him mopping his brow from the sweat constantly dripping down his face. Usually, he was calm, cool, and collected, but as Andy always suspected, all those years of ‘playing it safe’ from behind a desk did him a disservice. What was even more unfortunate for him, was that the person tailing him was Andy, and given that he never fully… appreciated her skills, he was about to get a first-hand taste of them now.
She’d almost feel sorry for him if he hadn’t ruined so many people’s lives. But first she wanted to see who he was meeting. When two swarthy men dressed in dark suits approached him, Andy was surprised. Mossad?! In a practiced move meant to contain someone, they enclosed Alex Shores on either side, taking hold of his arms, while one of them grabbed his briefcase. At the moment Andy realized she’d have to alter her plans. Andy knew she’d have to intervene, because if the the agents managed to get him into the idling black Mercedes nearby, she knew she wouldn’t see him again.
At the very least she needed answers and he was the only that had them.
Quickly approaching the men from behind, she was almost startled when one the agents turned around with a gun. But Andy was already moving, she grabbed the wrist with the gun, and stepped into his body, sharply elbowing his stomach, while she pinched a nerve in his wrist, causing the gun to clatter to the ground.
Immediately she kicked it away and then just as quickly stepped from the agent, holding her hands up in a pacifying gesture. In perfect, if slightly accented Hebrew Andy calmly stated, “I just want to talk. Mostly to him. And after that, you can take him away.”
The look of naked fear in Alex’s eyes as the other agent shoved him into the car, clued Andy into just how potentially complex Alex’s treasonous action might be if the Israeli government is taking a vested interest into his activities. Closing the door on Alex, the agent pointed a gun at Andy, while checking on his gasping friend who was busy glaring at Andy. “You can speak English, American. And why should we grant you this request? Especially after you just attacked us.”
“Well, you’re Mossad and getting in between you and your prey is a little dangerous. So I simply wanted to get your attention. Otherwise you’d be dead.”
The other agent who Andy attacked, chimed in. “You think threats will make us grant your request?! Perhaps we’ll just kill you AND your friend.”
Andy sighed - she was never good at being… diplomatic. “True. I wasn’t making a threat. If you’re after him, then you know who I am, and you know that I do not make threats. You also know that we have a leak. I’m the ‘plug.’”
The one holding the gun asked, “How do we know you’re not the ‘leak’? After all, you are a rogue agent. It is within our rights to kill you on-sight.”
“Two things: one I plan to go ‘home’ to rectify the situation and two) not before I have proof. And he is the proof…” she tilted her head in consideration, “particularly if you’re here for him.”
The one with the gun motioned with it. “Get in.”
Andy needed those answers from Alex. She guessed she had two choices: one) take a monumental risk, get into the car, and hopefully get those answers. Or two) not get into the car, kill these agents, then be placed on an Israeli kill-list as a result. At this point, she needed the path of least resistance.
“What assurances do I have that you won’t kill me?”
The agent who she attacked simply smiled. “You don’t.”
Suddenly Andy had an idea. She smiled back, immediately wiping the smile of his face. “Sorry.” And she moved, ending with a sharp and lethal weapon at the agent’s jugular, with her body pressed into his back holding him in place. “So this is how we’re going to ‘play’ it. We’re all going to get into the car, nice n’ easy, and then we’re going to drive somewhere discreet. Everyone will have a nice sit-down while I question Alex. I share any pertinent information with you and afterwards, I go quietly into the night, while you get to have fun with dear Alex.”
That was how they found themselves ensconced around a chipped folding table, in a dimly-lit room. Alex hand his hands cuffed behind his seat, sweating profusely, and trembling in fear. The one agent placed the briefcase on the table. Andy looked at the other agent who she now attacked twice.
“I am really sorry. But a lot of lives are in the balance - including mine.” The agent glared at her for a few moments before grunting, and turning away to grab some equipment, and then leaving the room.
The other agent lounging in a chair off to the side had pulled out a cigarette and was puffing away, as he considered the situation. “I hope you do not mind that we tape the conversation.”
“I trust you know that if any sensitive materials are leaked in any way, we’ll know where it came from?” she politely inquired.
“Of course.” After all, he was curious too.
At this point Andy focused her attention on Alex. “Boy Alex, you ain’t lookin’ so well. Heat not agreeing with you?” she asked with faux concern. “Well, you know how this works… oh wait, you really don’t. But no worries, we’ll fix that straight-away.”
She narrowed her eyes, allowing her anger to simmer in her bronze-colored eyes. “I can either torture it out of you - which I’m fairly certain with your lack of field experience will have you caving even before I make the first wound. Or you can answer concisely and honestly, and this goes by fast.”
She idly checked her somewhat ragged fingernails, wondering, slightly hoping she’ll have to beat it out of him. “Your choice. But I promise you’re not leaving this room without giving those answers. Shall we begin?”
“Let’s start simple. Why have you come to attention of the Mossad?” even though the remaining Mossad agent could have answered, or not, he decided to enjoy watching this traitorous American ‘give light’ to his… activities in front of his co-agent, or perhaps former co-agent.
When Alex attempted to obfuscate, Andy leaned towards him, menace suddenly emanating from the brunette. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t clear before - you’ll only have one chance for each question. After that, things will go from zero-to-painful very quickly.” And with that, one of her hands disappeared for a moment to reach into one of her pockets, pulling out a switchblade, which she unsheathed.
Suddenly the pooling icy dread in his stomach, spread outwards, almost paralyzing him with fear. From every debriefing mission, rumors, and legends spoken about Andy Sachs, he knew that Andy was efficient, completely deadly agent who got results. Shakily nodding his head, wanting to appear strong, but his family had never prepared him for this. He’d spent the better part of two days trying to reach his godfather, to no avail. So he went to the appointed rendezvous point and waited. All the coded messages he left were never returned. Nothing, no one appeared to give him the life-line he’d been groomed to receive from the time he took his first steps. That’s when the curdled knot of worry started to grow. However, the full-blown panic and terror gripped him when both the Mossad agents AND Andy Sachs, the operative he burned, appeared at the same time.
Andy had gotten too close and once she got the scent of a trail, she was like a junk-yard dog looking for a buried bone.
Until these last few days, Alex had led a charmed life; secretly being groomed for a leadership position to continue the legacy his father and godfather started in Germany in the 1940s. He never used his godfather’s name because it was very recognizable in certain circles; his godfather had been Commandant at a lesser-known camp. Hence the reason he was able to escape and live undetected in the last place people would think to look: the Soviet Union. Alexi Kurylenko, formerly known as SS Commandant Franz Paul Stangl of the infamous Treblinka Death Camp, had somehow managed to escape the Allies, even by hiding, creating a life in the place least likely to find him - the Nazi’s most feared adversary, the Soviet Union.
Him, along with his friend and co-conspirator, Grigory Olav, also formerly known as Christian Wirth, another infamous Nazi SS Officer, and was more commonly known as Christian the Terrible, had been collecting, using, and transferring Soviet trade secrets. Along with similar implants within the United States government, their mission was to steal these secrets for their … friends or escaped high-ranking Nazis, mostly in South America . they planned to create a new Nazi movement and government to continue the work they started in World War II. Alex father had been a young, up and coming SS officer under Stangl’s command. Stangl took him under his wing and treated him like his own son. However, Stangl was nothing if not pragmatic - he saw the ‘writing on the wall’ and made plans to escape when the ship started to go down. He also made plans for Alex’s father, hence his escape to the States. However, Alex’s father had been captured by Mossad agents 8 years ago.
Hearing this information, Andy’s disgust and rage grew and it was all she could do to not attack him. She figured the Mossad had a much worse fate waiting for him. “Wow, you’ve exceeded my scumbag-meter expectations. A Nazi revival?!”
Needing to calm the simmering need to throttle the man, Andy stood up, and began to pace. “So what did I have to do with this? How did I threaten your ‘plans?’”
“You were getting too close. When you stumbled upon one of our people at your last operation, I knew it wouldn’t take you long to start connecting the dots. So I had to take action. Plus…,” he smirked, after years of breeding, even in the direst of circumstances, Alex couldn’t help his arrogance and hate. “You’re a Jew, I didn’t think you’d get this far.”
The rage continued to build. “You killed Kurran? And set my dantai up? You were the mole?”
An ugly laugh pierced the air. “Of course I did!” he proudly declared. “I was always smarter than you, or that bitch Joan, even that idiot dough-boy, who everyone thought was such a prodigy. He went to a state school for god’s sake!” he sneered. “You should’ve never underestimated me. You thought that because I was stuck behind a desk, I wouldn’t know how to handle an operation. But I fooled you all.”
Desperately trying to calm herself, she continued. “Who else at the Tombs had anything to do with this?” Alex was a victim of his own hubris, and also not nearly trained enough to fight against an interrogation. In essence he was a coward and dumber than he believed.
“Are you kidding?! Those people couldn’t wash their own asses without needing a memo first. You think they’d have the ability to be involved in something so complex, so courageous?!”
Andy looked on in disgust, taking in his lank and sweaty blonde hair, his too-red face, no doubt from the heat and probable dehydration. However his physical problems had just begun. Suddenly Andy kicked the table into the wall, and then launched a kick, hitting him dead-center in the chest. She stoically watched his body crashed into the wall behind him, the remaining Mossad agent calmly stood out of the way.
Feeling as if his chest was caving in, Alex struggled to catch his breath. He was almost positive a rib or two were broken. Andy stood over him, staring at him with pitiless eyes. “Well, at this moment, I have to part. Have fun in hell; I guarantee you, you won’t be lonely. “
Nodding at the Mossad agent, Andy made her way out of the building, and into the night.