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Infectis – Chapter ?

March 31, 2018

“Saw my wife. We were eating at Denny’s of all places.”

Brian smiled before he continued, “My kid’s just like me.”

Parker laughed.

“He has his mother’s nose, but looks like me otherwise. Acts like me.

“He said if I didn’t make a move on Maya, he was going to come down and do it. Because he wants those ta-tas.”

Brian took another drink. Parker just listened from across the table. The Denny’s they were in, which sat between the north and southbound sides of the interstate, was mostly otherwise empty.

Parker had met Maya as well. He had noticed the chemistry between her and Brian, but kept his mouth shut about it most of the time because he knew of Brian’s self-destructive streak and contrarian ways.

Best to leave it alone and let them sort it out, had been his thought on the subject. Of course now they were pretty far from her and Arizona.

“Just like me, the kid. It was nice. Was the first time I’ve had a dream about them…that wasn’t a nightmare.”


Andreyev Felinov had at one time been an Olympic champion. Winner of seven gold medals and dozens of silver and scores of bronze, under the old Soviet system he had been known in Poland, Georgia, Latvia and elsewhere as “the Great Throwdini.”

Today, someone else held that title. Felinov had defected to British intelligence in 1985. Since then, after several months in various Scottish safehouses, which he referred to as his Loch Ness vacation, he had become a contractor.

He had at times killed for Mother Russia. Now, he killed for the highest bidder.

Felinov, traveling now under the name Cliff Robinson, sat quietly and waited until the last—or nearly last—customer left the restaurant and drove off to the north. He knew there wouldn’t be any more customers coming in. The routes in and out were blocked.

Someone else had called in the chemical spill scare. He had seen the staff of the restaurant leave quietly a few at a time out the back. Whatever they had been told ensured that they neither panicked nor said anything to the remaining customers.

Felinov’s prey seemed not to notice, even as one of them looked out the window and watched the last customer, apart from the three of them, drive away.

Though he had gotten older, Felinov/Robinson still practiced every day and had had corrective laser eye surgery to keep up with what Mother Nature attempted to take away.

He stood and moved to the register. His hand went inside his jacket and with a swift, smooth move of his right hand, the knife, and flat piece of metal every bit as decisive and deadly as any bullet when flowing from his hand, flew unerringly towards the back and the arterial/heart region of the smaller man at the table.

It would be over soon. The deaths would be blamed on a knifing, a mugging gone wrong. Felinov would collect the rest of the contract money. He was considering retiring soon, but hadn’t yet decided where he would do so.


From → Infectis, Novels

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