An Angel of Death

Nadya was content for the first time in her life. She had money,meaningful employment, youth, and health. She took lovers in every city she stayed in, but became close to no one. The fevered intimacies of sex satisfied all the personal attachment she desired.

The jobs grew more frequent after the first year, but she only worked harder. She began to notice anomalies. Nothing big at first. A bank account wouldn't match her information. An address wouldn't exist. It wasn't until she was given the name of someone completely innocent of trafficking that she realized she'd been a pawn. Her newest target was extremely well-connected and these connections gave Nadya all the information she needed to plan her revenge.

Sergeyev had been true to his word, at first. She was killing traffickers. What she learned now was that these were his competition. He was at the top of a vast criminal syndicate. Her most recent jobs had been other criminals, people who'd gotten in his way. She didn't feel much remorse over their deaths. Such sentimentality was futile and dangerous. But she was furious that he had used her as his personal assassin. Stalking him was easier than she'd imagined. He owned partial stakes in several nightclubs, through which he laundered money and in which he met with his associates. She tracked him to the club in Berlin, slipped behind him in the crowd, and delivered her poison.

***

Nadya stepped from the steam of her hotel shower into the artificial chill of the room and closed her eyes to savor the sensation on her skin. She put on a robe, turned on the television, and went to the bar to pour herself a drink. The icy vodka tasted clean and smooth. The television news was reporting the mysterious death of a Russian businessman in Berlin. Rumors were spreading online that he'd been a rather bad man. Nadya smiled, finished her vodka, and went to bed.