The Killfile

I dull pain exploded in my head where Boris hit me with his pistol. I felt like an electric shock radiating from my brain all the way into my arms and legs. My knees buckled under me as I hit the floor. The pain was excruciating and I could not move my arms or legs. I could see Boris standing over me in a haze as he bent down and removed the Glock from my pocket. It seemed that the whole world was spinning in slow motion. This had to be it. I had lost my weapon and felt paralyzed. Of all the places in this world, it was going to be the place I had escaped from so many times before and never figured to see again. “I guess it’s time to join you Charlie.” At that instance a flash and a simultaneous explosion erupted from the behind the office door. I saw Boris spin as he was hit somewhere in the side or shoulder and squeeze off two rounds himself. I heard Ivan shout a few obscenities and then some more gunfire erupted in the hallway behind him. A struggle must have ensued between Ivan and whoever had been holed up in one of the other offices. It must have been a momentous struggle. I could make out the sound of breaking furniture and what sounded like cabinets and files being overturned, glass breaking and cries of agony in concert with heavy blows. There were no more shots. What seemed like an eternity was probably only a couple of minutes before the fighting finally stopped. A voice shouted in Bulgarian, “I got the bastard, Boris. Are you all right?" Boris acknowledged him and told him to tie up Ivan and get him down into the car. He would take care of me. Then he turned me over and emptied out all my pockets. I could see drops of blood hitting the floorboards next to my head as he was moving his arms. He must have been hit, but not seriously enough to require immediate attention. I was lying on my stomach and could only make out his legs as he was looking through my wallet. But it gave me enough time to allow my body to recover a little. I started to contract the muscles in my arms and legs again, even though they felt like they had lead in them. My head was now throbbing with pain but my vision improved to where I could see much better, even though everything was blurred. This was the last and only chance I would have. One last try and that would be it. I coiled myself up mentally, concentrated all my inner strength and exploded in an instance with all the power I could muster. I hit Boris just below the knees with my legs and it sent him flying against the desk behind him. He let out a loud scream as he fell to floor. But I had underestimated him. Boris rolled over in an instance and brought up his pistol. His hand was shaking from the pain and blood was running down his sleeve, but he would still have the power to squeeze off a round and kill me. I had thought about this moment while I was lying on my stomach and I could feel the outline of the Braverman Stinger pressing against my chest. The Braverman was sticking out of my breast pocket like any pen would in its place. Boris recovered quickly and started to pull himself up by holding on to the desk. His eyes had a grotesque look and showed the revenge that was waiting in him. He was shaking with pain and anger as he slowly approached me. “You fucking bastard. Do you really think you can take on a Bulgarian Secret Service Agent? We are still the best and the rest of the world is still afraid of us. You fucking Americans never could match us one on one.” His voice had risen to high pitch and he was hissing his last few words. His eyes were barely a couple of inches from mine and I was looking straight into hell. I was holding on to my chest as if I was in deep pain, while I was positioning my hand to retrieve the Braverman. I would have to remove it from my pocket and pull back the lever, all in one smooth motion. It held only one, lone 22-caliber bullet, but it would do the job from that short distance. I knew that precise placement on the target was absolutely necessary to make that one shot effective. Boris’s grimace was now level with my face and I could feel his breath. Sweat was dripping from his nose and chin and I could see the saliva between his lips. He was ready to kill me. His right hand was coming up with his pistol at the same time I pulled out the Braverman form my breast pocket and pulled the lever. It made a sharp sound, like a Chinese firecracker and the bullet entered Boris Atanasov through the right eye. It was only a small amount of blood and facial matter that splattered on to my face as the bullet forced its way through the opening in the skull into his brain. A 22 is deadly in this case. It has just enough power to enter the head and ends up buzzing around the inside with deadly destruction. I watched death take hold of Boris while I was looking into his remaining eye from less than a couple of inches away. Boris collapsed as a lifeless body and fell forward on top of the folder marked “Bethesda Naval Hospital”. I pulled the folder out from underneath him, gathered up my Glock and flashlight and carefully exercised my limbs to get back my mobility. It was time to help Ivan out. I did not use my flashlight. I did not want to loose my night vision and stumbled down the hallway. I knew that it led out to the waiting room where the secretary had been seated. There was nobody there and I figured that whoever had taken Ivan to the car outside was waiting there with him. I quietly walked through the waiting room and approached the front door quietly and carefully. The door was open and a dark car was parked against the curb right in front of the entrance. The engine was running and I could make out a figure sitting behind the steering wheel. He was obviously assuming that Boris had no problem and was on his way with my body. He seemed nervous and kept bending over low so he could get a better view through the passenger’s window of the car. I stepped back as he started to roll down the passenger window and stuck his head out. He let out a quiet whistle and called out in Bulgarian, “Boris ...Boris, hurry up. Can you hear me?” I figured that this was a good time to switch to Bulgarian, as he would never suspect me to use his native language. I lowered my voice and mumbled between my teeth in Bulgarian, “Come up here and help me with this bastard.” The figure immediately opened the door on the driver’s side of the car. He ran around the back of the car and took two steps at a time up to the entrance door. He rounded the door and came to an abrupt stop a couple of feet in front of me. His eyes widened in disbelief and I could see him reach into his pocket as he realized immediately that I was not Boris. I fired one shot, but this time from the 9-mm Glock. It hit him in the middle of his left chest cavity and threw him up against the entrance wall. His body slid to the floor surrounded by a backdrop of blood and tissue splattered behind him on the wall in a semi circle that looked like a bulls-eye. There was no way out for either of us. I ran down the steps and around the car. The door was still open on the driver’s side and I jumped into the car and quickly looked around. Ivan was lying on the floorboard behind the seats. He was tied up and looked like an Egyptian mummy. The good news was that I could make out some of his famous obscenities he could barely squeeze out beneath the tape across his mouth. There was no time to free Ivan. Getting away as quickly as possible was now the main concern. These people obviously had direct connections to the Bulgarian political machine. The old underground of Secret Service veterans was still working as Ivan had warned me. The car was still running and all I had to do is release the brake and shift into gear. I turned on the lights and drove slowly, yet as fast as I thought was possible without directing any attention to us. I drove at least a coup