CHAPTER ONE - Note from Author: This is the entire book.
Amber Fire
It was cold. It was always cold in Russia.
Working to keep my breathing easy after having starved my lungs by running I approached the back en-trance to the underworld brothel. It wasn't the average brothel that Russia was home to many of.
No, this was the choice of high ranking officials, diplomats, and heck probably even kings and presidents. The service entrance access door clanged shut behind me and I was challenged aggressively instantly.
Facing down two raised pistols pointed at my head I responded to the challenge in my best Russian as gutturally natured as I had been challenged, "I am security detail for chairman Sergei Lavrov. The building must be secured. Has anyone else come through here?"
Both men hesitated and glanced at each other and that was all I needed. I underhanded both knives I had been holding poised up the back of my wrists.
Both men gasped sharply and fell to their knees choking on their own blood as they clutched at the knives buried in their throats. Unmercifully I stepped forward and yanked both knives free in passing even as the men fell over onto their faces.
I hesitated only long enough to stoop down and wipe the blades off. Going down the darkened corridor before me, I spun around the corner at the end of it and encountered a third guard.
Looking up he had only time for a widening of the eyes before my fist crushed his Adam's apple. Choking and turning purple he fell over out of his chair.
Striding forward down the hall I acknowledged that the intel had been good, but now was the point where all bets were off. I paused for a moment with my hand on the door at the end of the hall.
Slowly I released my breath and squaring my broad shoulders encased in a finely tailored dress jacket that spelled out high-priced bodyguard I pushed down on the handle and entered into a realm seldom enjoyed by many other than perhaps the old sheiks of Arabian times gone by.
Coldly I moved forward seeking to fill the role of looking like just another aloof bodyguard on the prowl to protect his master, only I didn't have a master. All I had was a fellow gathering of agents united under a common cause. Seek out evil and destroy it wherever you found it.
The more successful I became though I wondered at the cost we were enacting to ourselves in the undertaking. No matter, we were all expendable anyway.
It was innocence and those who still had it that bore protecting. Innocence in the form of people such as Francesca Vertoli, the daughter of a good man, a man who wouldn't sell his daughter to a procurer of other men's fantasies.
He was now dead. He had been my friend and Francesca had been like a little sister to me.
She was only 15. Why was it that those who were beautiful both within and without always fell prey to those who knew only darkness?
It should not be that way and this time darkness had chosen poorly. With disdain I passed by a US diplomat I recognized who was in the process of being sucked off by a naked girl probably not much older than Francesca.
How many state secrets had been sucked away in this place I idly wondered? It didn't matter really.
Diplomacy and the borders of nations were all a shell game anyway. At the top they were all in bed with each other and chose to feed on their own countrymen as much as those of any other nation.
A fellow security guard hard-pressed to withhold him-self from taking part in the hedonistic goings-on of this place noticed me and came to attention. I smiled briefly and gave him a head nod as if to say we were of the same kindred and tortured by the same fact of being hired lackeys for wealthy men who had the privilege of besotting themselves however they pleased with women of beauty that could have graced the cover of any magazine.
In fact the women of this place were better looking for the most part. That said, their beauty halted at their eyes.
Their eyes said what they were, whores. Either by choice or by force they all now served the will of their overlord and for all intents and purposes had given up on a life of any other kind.
Leaning in close to the bodyguard who no doubt expected me to say something salacious about the goings on around us all I said instead in Russian was, "Goodbye".
The small dagger shielded by our bodies plunged deeply and I twisted it at just the right spot even as my other hand tapped a pressure point on the man's neck that froze him in place even as he died. Taking a grasp of him I eased him down into a chair where he woodenly gazed out at the gilded birdcage of a room filled with canaries that took no notice of the worm that had died in their midst.
Leaving him I made for the main stairway and started up it completely unchallenged by anyone. I had one goal, reach the uppermost floor.
From there I would have to play it by ear as all I knew was that girls of innocence and beauty such as Francesca were reserved for only the most elite of the elite. The flip-side of that was that such men or women for that matter were absolute devils incarnate.
Few girls survived their first time in their hands. It was regarded as a blood sacrifice of sorts.
Sometimes I wondered as to how dark my soul had be-come, but it only took entering a place such as this to realize that no matter how dark I had become there was some-thing always worse. Something I would never become like.
The day I did I would kill myself. It was as simple and as complex as that.
I did dark things in order to protect good people and in return I knew that didn't make me a good person, but if more good people survived then perhaps I had at least done a good thing. Maybe, anyway, the lines were murky whichever way you looked at them.
Pausing at the last stairway to the top floor I stopped as sudden laughter behind a closed-door drew my attention. It was the laughter of men, which might explain why I hadn't encountered any guards in my ascent through three floors of the mansion.
The urge was in me to complete my mission and climb the stairs before me, but an even more powerful urge struck me with the need to investigate the laughter behind the closed door. To do so made no sense to me and yet my body was turning to the door.
No, Francesca was above me. I needed to go up!
I took a step and it felt like I had lifted an anvil in order to move my foot. What was going on?
Then in the quiet of my soul spoke the voice that was the only thing that kept my sanity in check, "Go to the door. Do what needs done. The Father has brought judgment upon this place."
My insides rippled with the awareness of the Most High God's Holy Spirit and softly I whispered, "Judgment?"
"Yes, He sent you."
What kind of ministering angel could I be that the Most High would use one as bloodstained as I? I questioned in the spirit the voice that spoke ever fearing of being deceived by a devil in disguise, but the response I received was true to the test of 1st John Chapter 4.
Sweat pouring off of me all of a sudden as I felt a heavenly purposed pressure settle down upon my shoulders, I approached the door with the feeling that the un-known outcome from what occurred within the room would forever be impactful in my life. Turning the handle I quickly opened the door and stepped inside.
Eight pairs of eyes followed by a ninth pair swiveled around to take me in suspiciously. They to a man were all hired guns for the brothel.
Surely God had just delivered me to the wolves or was it the other way around in that he had brought the wolves to me. Bypassing the stairs of suspicion I took in the tenth occupant of the room.
It was a woman, but it wasn't Francesca. Forcing my-self to sound affable I said, "It seems I have not found the bathroom. My apologies for interrupting. Excuse me, but what is it you do? I thought the girls off-limits to working bastards such as us?"
The men in the room laughed, but the girl who was tied standing spread-eagled between two poles lifted her head. I tried not to show it, but her eyes, they truly shocked me to the core of my soul.
Amber pools of intensity bore into me as if all the windows of my soul were open to her gaze. She was tied up, but nothing about this woman said she was defeated. In fact everything, but her eyes reflected the stoicness some Russians were famous for.
Her eyes told me volumes about her in a way that words never would have. Her eyes told me that she didn't belong here and never would.
"This whore has angered a customer. She's out of the lineup. Gave him a black eye and kicked him in the nuts. Bad for business so they give her to us. Come, join us." Said the only man standing other than me, who was also standing closest to the woman who he now turned back to.
He took a deep drawl on a cigarette. I watched as the end of the cigarette burned cherry red.
He grasped a hold of the girl's upswept hair and held her head steady as taking the cigarette with his other hand he started to bring it up toward one of her eyes. He was going to burn out one of her exquisite amber colored eyes that seemed to glow with a fire all of their own.
The girl didn't look at her torturer or even the approaching cigarette, but instead her gaze remained fixed on me. She was naked except for a bra that didn't conceal much and a gstring that concealed even less.
In a word she was beautiful and would have been a fantasy for any man regardless of culture. Her breasts were markedly larger than one would expect for a woman of slimmer build.
Slim or not her hips still arched out from her waist beckoningly in a clear statement of fertility. In a way she was both classically beautiful and yet earthly feminine in form, but in this room of stripped out souls and morality devoided individuals the only act of enjoyment they could procure with a living vision of beauty such as her was to cause obscene pain. Not even sex remained as a pleasure these men could appreciate.
The cigarette, but inches from her eye I called out, "Tell me what was it he do that she not like?"
The man with the cigarette turned his head to me and snickering as he spoke, he said, "She not want him to ram his shaft up her ass. He had a small dick anyway."
The man turned his head to the girl once more and said in a vicious tone, "Always in trouble our girl Sonia is. You should've let him have what he wanted. Always please the customers!"
The cigarette drew closer.
I stepped forward through the seated men, who looked like they were on the point of orgasm at the sight of some-one about to experience extreme pain, and calling out affably I said, "Comrade you're doing it all wrong."
The approach of the cigarette stopped.
I held out my hand for the cigarette and plastering a smile on my face I said, "It's not her eye that needs branded my friend. It's her ass hole."
Nothing happened for a moment and then all nine men burst out laughing. The one holding the cigarette, handed it to me, "There, now show us how it's done Comrade."
He then proceeded to sit down and taking the cigarette I puffed on it till it was cherry red again and all the while that striking amber gaze never stopped its stare upon me. I found it hard to meet her eyes, but I did, only to feel once more that this girl saw everything.
Her gaze had no fear of me in it. How did she know?
I stepped beneath her bound arm and was behind her. Squatting down I drug her G string down so my access to her ass was unhindered.
Gazing at her rear that was right before me I had to ad-mit that it was as perfect as the rest of her. What man in his right mind would ever harm one flawless inch of such beauty?
In a way that was just it, they were no longer men, but monsters and being such they deserved to be dealt with as such. As I began to straighten up I let the cigarette fall as if clumsily from my grasp.
It fell to land with a shower of ash upon the floor. The men gave a collective moan of anti-climax and the one who had given me the cigarette started to rise up, "You fumble fingered son of......"
A staccato beat of highly compressed air tic-tacked for several seconds in the smoky room as the silenced pistol I held in each hand dealt out judgment with each blast. Men fell and soon the room was silent except for the heavy breathing of the girl in front of me.
I pulled the pistols back from where I'd shot with them to either side of her silken skinned torso. Holstering them, I pulled a knife free.
