The Telling

Deadline Midnight Saturday :: 13 March 2010

The cold noonday wind blew snow down onto the ground in Regents Park. The London air
was crisp and frozen, causing the less appropriately dressed to chatter their teeth and shiver.
Kristen pulled her scarf up to her nose in an attempt to warm herself. The note she found stuck in
the door to her apartment said to meet her contact at the East side of the park at noon; it was
almost ten minutes past. ‘He’s never late,’ she thought. Looking around, she spotted two figures
coming her way. She tightened her grip on the Walther PPK in her jacket pocket and pretended to
not pay attention to them, keeping her eyes peeled for any hostile movement.

As they neared, she caught a glimpse of their faces. They didn’t seem like they were there for her,
primarily because one of them looked to be in his sixties. Exhaling, she turned and headed in their
direction, back the way she came. She left her cell phone in the car and was ready to phone her
contact to ask where he was.

Walking slowly, she passed the two men, both of them greeting her. Forcing a smile, she discreetly
looked back and watched them disappear deeper into the park. The sounds of cars driving over
snowy pavement grew louder as she reached the street. Suddenly, she sensed something wrong.
Turning around, she saw another dark figure coming her way at a quick pace. Removing the pistol,
she concealed it from his sight and kept walking. Hearing his footsteps, she turned around and
aimed the gun at him. He was by her side not a moment later, grabbing the gun from her hand.
Throwing it, he kicked her in the stomach and removed a Fairbairn-Sykes knife from his pocket.

Kristen dodged his blade and disarmed him, elbowing him in the face and dove for her gun. Picking
it up, she turned and fired three shots to his chest. Breathing deeply, she searched him for anything
that could be of help. Finding nothing, she sighed. “Who the hell is this guy?” she asked aloud.

“An assassin,” a voice said from behind.

Turning around, she aimed the gun at the man, but lowered it when she realized who it was. “Jack.”

“Good afternoon.”
“How do you know him?”
“I intercepted a communiqué from his superior. Just a heads up, he isn’t the only assassin that
Reznov sent after you.”

Police sirens were heard in the distance and Kristen quickly holstered her German handgun. The
two of them ran to street level and headed for her sedan. “This work of yours, Kristen...it’s risky
business.”

“I know. But it was much, much easier when he was still alive.”
Jack nodded in sympathy. “Trust. Let’s get out of here, I sense a chase coming on.”