The Mark of the Assassin

before death. Graham
    dragged a chunk of coarse Spanish bread through a plate of virgin olive
    oil and shoved it into his mouth. "Helen, Michael and I have a little
    more work to do. Do you mind if we take coffee upstairs?"
    "Of course not. I'll bring you dessert in a few minutes." She turned to
    Michael, a rapturous smile on her face. "Michael, I'm so glad you
    enjoyed the paella."
    "Helen, I can't remember the last time I had a meal like that."
    Graham choked on a crust of bread.
    MICHAEL CAME OUT of the bathroom. Graham said, "You all right, mate? You
    look a little green around the gills."
    "Jesus Christ, how do you eat like that every night?"
    "You ready to watch a movie?"
    "Sure."
    They sat down on the couch in the drawing room. Graham picked up the
    remote control from the coffee table. "Mr. Yardley had another problem,"
    he said. "He liked women."
    "Did the Service know about this, too?"
    "Yeah, Personnel told him to cool it. He told them to go fuck
    themselves. He was single, and he had a few years left till retirement,
    and he was going to enjoy himself."
    "Good attitude."
    "The Service discovered the body. We went in before the police and had a
    go at his house. We discovered the lovely Colin Yardley had installed a
    secret video taping system in his bedroom so he could record his
    conquests and replay them at his leisure. Had quite a collection, our
    Yardley. The watchers have been using them to relieve the boredom
    between assignments."
    Graham aimed the remote at the video machine and pressed PLAY. The
    camera was mounted somewhere above the headboard. Yardley lay on the
    bed, undressed, slowly masturbating, while a tall woman performed a
    sultry striptease. She unbuttoned her blouse, ran her hands over her
    breasts and inside the waistband of her panty hose. Graham froze the
    image. "Who is she?" Michael asked. "We think she's Astrid Vogel."
    "According to our information, she's living in Damascus."
    "Ours too. In fact, we thought she'd left the Red Army Faction
    altogether, which makes her involvement in this affair all the more
    puzzling." Graham pressed the remote, and the image came alive again.
    "Here's the good part. I won't spoil the ending." Astrid Vogel's
    striptease grew more intense. Her hands were between her legs, her head
    rolled back, feigning ecstasy. "She's good," Graham said. "Damned good."
    Helen walked in bearing a tray of coffee and apple tart. "Oh, isn't this
    lovely. I leave you boys alone for ten minutes and you run out and rent
    a porno flick."
    She set the tray on the coffee table, gaze fixed on the screen. "Who is
    that creature?"
    "A former RAF assassin named Astrid Vogel."
    A look of terror flashed across Yardley's face. Graham stopped the
    video. "This part's a little gruesome, my dear. Perhaps you should go
    downstairs."
    Helen sat down on the couch. "Suit yourself," Graham said, and started
    the video again. A dark figure strode into the room, appearance shrouded
    by a billed hat and sunglasses. He reached behind his back, drew a
    silenced gun, and shot Colin Yardley rapidly three times in the face.
    Yardley's body tumbled from the bed. The woman stepped forward, kicked
    the corpse in the head, and spit on him. Graham stopped the tape.
    "Christ almighty," Helen said. "It's him," Michael said. "How can you
    tell? His face was covered the entire time."
    "I don't need to see his face. I've seen him handle a gun. It's him,
    Graham. I'd stake my life on it. It's him."
    "I KNOW I NEEDN'T say this, but the usual rules apply, Michael. The
    information I gave you is for your background purposes only. You may not
    share it with any member of your service or any other service."
    "I'll sign a copy of the Official Secrets Act if that would make you
    sleep easier."
    Michael turned up the collar of his coat and shoved his hands into his
    pockets. The rain had ended, and he wanted to walk. Graham had agreed to
    accompany him halfway. They drifted through the quiet Georgian canyons
    of Belgravia, the distant rush of evening traffic on the King's Road the
    only sound. Michael said, "I want to talk to Drozdov."
    "You can't talk to Drozdov. He's off limits to you. Besides, he says
    he's finished talking and wants to live out his days in peace. "I have a
    theory about the assassin who killed Yardley, and I want to run it by
    him."
    "Drozdov is our defector. We've shared the harvest with you. If you try
    to talk to him, you're going to find yourself in serious trouble with
    both our