Nandita To Nandini
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The Accidental SpyChapter 4: Old Friends And New Enemies free porn video
Olga and I stood in the bus stop about two kilometers inside the Italian border. We weren't the only odd looking passengers waiting for the dusty bus to show up. I was really relieved the see a small herd of about twenty souls waiting huddled in the early morning mist that threatened to turn into a meaningful sprinkling of rain. I would have paid a king's ransom for a cup of hot coffee and I could felt Olga shivering under the protection of my sheltering trench-coat. I knew the trench-coat was a cliché but it served so many purposes in the field that I was a servant to its presence. My little .22 was hiding way down by my ankle and I was a bit afraid of being subject to some type of Italian police checkpoint directed at screening the immigrants from the south even further.
The shivering girl was beginning to awaken my dormant manhood into the prospect of easy pickings in close proximity and I was happy to see the bus approach from the mist-shrouded direction of the mountains. A little bustle of activity confirmed that all of the other silent passengers were getting their fare money out and securing their little parcels and backpacks of belongings. Olga and I were traveling extra light and our tiny backpacks held just some toilet articles and a change of clothing. I knew I had to either lose the little pistol before reaching the Air Force Base or turn it over to Olga waiting outside. I was not all that happy about that for several reasons including the fact I was not entirely secure in trusting the pretty girl was indeed an ally and not a potential threat.
We were safely onboard the bus and pulling out when I saw a Carabineri van pull up to the bus stop and watch us pull away. I wasn't sure that was a good sign or something to be worried about. Olga and I sat in the back of the bus and I told her to speak in Russian so that we would not stand out so much talking in English on a bus where the language was mostly Italian and Turkish or Greek. The bus driver looked to be old enough to be my father and that made me smile because my father had worked a full eight hour day in his government job right up to the day he died feeding the pigeons outside city hall at 88 years old. Right now, I didn't think I would be able to emulate his staying power.
Olga's Russian was pure and grammatically correct in every respect. I had gotten really sloppy over the years and I knew my Ukrainian accent and Serbian slang made me sound like a refugee Jew but maybe that was better in this current situation.
Nobody took notice of us and we discussed our plans for the Aviano transfer. I told Olga that it was imperative that she stay out of sight in the immediate area of the base because it would be hard for me to explain why I had a Russian national tagging along with me as I transited out of Croatia into Italy. There were so many new countries now in what used to constitute the old Eastern Bloc that I sometimes got them confused and insulted newly liberated regions. Of course, the glue that held old Yugoslavia together was the iron hand of Tito, the ultimate chessmaster, perched up high in Belgrade protecting his far-flung territories from both East and West.
When we arrived on the outskirts of Aviano, I took Olga to a sort of cafeteria style internet café that offered private on-line connections and a fairly decent menu. I told her the bathrooms there were quite clean and she would be able to do a wash-up with no interference. I did the same myself and even did a quick shave before heading to the main gate.
Just like all Air Force Bases all over the world, the security was pretty good, especially now with the terrorist threat from the Islamic Jihad. I was surprised that there was a mixture of both American and Italian security but I figured it was necessary because of the large number of Italian speaking workers on the base. I knew the base pretty well; it had not changed much for the last few decades with the exception that there were more buildings and the runways were extended.
I slipped Olga the gun under the table and gave her the extra magazines hidden in the palm of my hand. They all disappeared under her clothing so quickly that I wondered if she had been a magician in her younger days. I counted out half of my available cash and told her if I didn't come back before noontime she was to continue by herself to the address of a "safe" house in Venice. I assured her that regardless of what transpired on the base, I would be joining her there within twenty-four hours.
Olga gave me a worried look and I could tell she was not happy about the situation. I tended to agree with her. It was kind of a shitty deal but I had to deliver the USB file to my contact and I needed to get reassurance from my employer that my original standing orders were still in effect. The main thing I was worried about was that one of the "old-time" spooks would recognize me for who I actually was and report me to the wrong department. It was worth the risk and I was confident in my belief that everybody considered me long dead and of no concern to anyone. It was so relaxing to be dead like that as long as I didn't have stay in a coffin.
My papers were pretty good.
I was certain I would be able to get through the gate without any problem. My worry was that in order to get access to the buildings I needed to get inside of, I would have to break cover a bit and use some "walk-in" code words to come to the attention of the right people. It was a cakewalk at the gate with the exception of a couple of the Italian old-timers who looked at me with absolute skepticism but thankfully kept their mouths shut not certain of the correct protocol in the situation.
I walked briskly to the main Base Exchange and sat down under an outside umbrella to swig down a cup of coffee. It was the American variety not the Italian thick type and I was thankful for the smoothly bland taste. There was a smattering of dependent traffic and some uniformed types with time on their hands. Not a single person so much as glanced in my direction. I was relieved because if I could blend into the background, my job was so much easier.
An older woman came up to swipe the table clean and looked at me with some curiosity for some unknown reason.
"Mister Harry, is that you?"
Startled, I looked at the attractive black-haired female with the wide full hips and heart-shaped mouth. I recognized her eyes. Once you have seen green flecks swimming in hazel, you never forget them. My brain sorted it all out and her name popped onto my tongue.
"Fernandina, it has been at least twenty years since we have met. What are you doing at the Air Force Base?"
She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. I remembered the last time we were together; we had made love under an olive tree in her family's orchard not far from Trieste itself.
"My husband, Giuseppe has a job working as a contractor for the base housing office and I am working for the Exchange. It is only part-time, because I have two bambinos still at home. My grown-up daughter, Sophia is at the university in Venice. She will be twenty this summer. I waited for you, Harry, but they told me you were dead. I see they were mistaken."
I was forced to laugh at her total honesty. She had never tried to fool me with any subterfuge or deviousness of any sort and always told me the straight truth no matter how much it was unpleasant or uncomfortable.
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