EPILOGUE
Seven Months Later
I sat on the veranda, silently watching the waves of the Pacific break on the sandy beach, the late morning's cool ocean breeze wafting over my exposed chest as I waited for my guests to arrive.
The house was perched on the edge of the cliff that rose steeply from the sandy beach below, and was only accessible by boat, or a single, disturbingly steep and torturously twisted gravel and dirt road, that was best traversed in a capable four-wheel drive, such as my Range Rover. With the jungle closely surrounding the home on three sides, I often heard the high-pitched, squeaking screech of the spider monkeys, or the call of a quetzal bird.
Located only a few miles north of Coco, on Poor Calzón Beach in Costa Rica, the house was large, completely private, lavishly appointed, and lacking for nothing as befitting a rich arms merchant. The home was owned by some British ga-zillionaire who's name I didn't know, and I'd been enjoying the terrific weather, the amazing views, and the home's many amenities for the past five months, all courtesy of the United States taxpayers.
"Mr. Harding," Valencia said as she stepped out of the house behind me. "Your guests have arrived."
"Thank you," I said as I rose. "Please inform Beth."
"Yes, sir."
I followed Val into the expansive living room where Krugan and Shashenka Kornienko waited. I smiled as I approached the couple, Val angling off to fetch Beth from the home's gym. Beth had been training hard with me for the past four months as I taught her how to fight, and hitting the weights even harder for the past six, all in preparation for today. Last week she'd even changed her hair color from a vibrant red, to a chartreuse yellow that she claimed symbolized she was ready to fight. I'd known Beth for years, and had long since stopped trying to understand why she dyed her hair the colors she did, and just accepted whatever she said.
This was my first meeting with the Kornienkos. Both Krugan and Shashenka were as hugely muscled as they appeared in their photos, but they weren't as tall as I'd expected, and appeared to be in their fifties, just as Voice had said. Beth and I were at least twenty years younger than Krugan and Shashenka, I was a minimum of five inches taller than Krugan, and though I couldn't be sure until Beth arrived, I was certain Beth at least matched Shashenka in height, if not bulk. With the fabrics stretched taut over their massive bodies, the Kornienkos were dressed in the bright colors favored by much of the local population.
I extended my hand. "Lance Harding."
I didn't think much of my cover name. I'd argued the play on words could make Krugan suspicious, but Mother feigned innocence, insisted she knew a Lance Harding in college, that there were thousands of Lance Hardings in the United States, and that it was a perfectly viable name. She also pointed out that Krugan, being Russian, likely wouldn't pick up on the pun, that the background was already completed for the name and that we didn't have time to change it, so Lance Harding I was.
Krugan gripped my hand firmly. "Krugan Kornienko. This is my partner, Shashenka."
"Nice to meet you," I said as I released his hand and extended it to Shashenka.
She accepted it. "Same," she said.
Krugan's English was understandable, if heavily accented, but Shashenka's single word response was almost unintelligible, and I suspected she didn't speak English, or at the very least, didn't speak it well. As I drew my hand back, Val and Beth entered the room.
"You're excused," I said with a nod.
With a nod in return, Valencia turned and exited the room through the door she'd just entered. I knew she wouldn't go far, and would be monitoring everything that happened so she could signal Mother when it was time to close the net.
Glowing with sweat, her sports bra well soaked and clinging to generous breasts, Beth sauntered up beside me, clearly evaluating our guests with a critical eye. She'd bulked up in the past six months, and while she wasn't nearly as hulking as Shashenka, what she lacked in size, she made up for in strength, speed, stamina, and a badger-like attitude.
"And this is my partner, Beth Seeley," I said as she stopped beside me to face Shashenka.
Krugan extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."
Beth took it. "You're a big bastard, aren't you?"
When putting together the team conducting the sting, it was quickly agreed by all, that trying to control Beth was an exercise in futility. After a rather heated discussion, we decided so long as she didn't blow our cover, we'd let her be our Harley Quinn, the person who would say anything to anyone at any time, and not give a shit about the consequences. Mother hadn't liked Beth being the loose cannon, but it'd worked out surprisingly well for the operation.
