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For those who are following the MAX / LIAR stories, this is the next chapter in the saga. If you are reading this without reading the other stories, you’ll be able to follow along. Just remember that there are references to people, places, and relationships from the earlier stories. But that won’t hinder you greatly. Hopefully you’ll go back and read the past episodes of Max and Billie.
Max is an undercover FBI officer who was recently recruited by the CIA for a case. Billie is his former partner. Now reunited, they go in search of data from the cold war era that his father (also a CIA agent) had in his possession at the time of his death.
This was written in honor of a friend who I’ve lost touch with. So “Billie” I hope you’ll call again sometime! 🙂
Thanks to my friends who model for me (my other hobby) who are the inspiration for several characters. And thanks to those who read. Special thanks to Andrew who gave me his thoughts on post-cold war Berlin. I’ve used some of those thoughts in the story line.
Berlin December 12, 1986
John leaned back in the dark leather chair next to the window, taking a long drag on his cigarette. The tip glowed in the dim light of the room as a waft of smoke drifted upward. His shirt had been thrown across the edge of the bed where his feet were now propped. In his hand he slowly swirled a glass of ice with amber liquid.
A gurgling sound came from the radiator next to the slightly opened window. The broken thermostat made the room warmer than needed for this time of year. An occasional breeze caused the curtains to sway.
Thoughts of his family back in the states passed through his mind as he looked vacantly out the window at the city. He momentarily thought how sad it was that this section of the city was so completely dark in comparison to the distant lights just beyond the wall.
Gradually he smiled to himself at the thought of how Reagan was playing old Gorby. ‘“Tear down this wall” indeed’ John thought to himself. He pulled a fresh drag on the cigarette and blew a stream of gray smoke toward the window that dissipated into the darkness.
Warm hands slid down his chest. The woman who had stepped up behind the chair lowered her face to his and kissed him in a playful upside down manner as her hands crept lower, reaching his belt line. “Medvezhonok, I just couldn’t wait to see you.” She whispered in her ear.
She nibbled at his ear as she plunged her hands down the front of his torso and then down his pants, gripping his balls with one hand and wrapping her fingers around his cock with the other. John ran his fingers through her short brunette hair, enjoying the feeling of her warmth over top of him.
He leaned his head back against the rear of the chair, causing her breasts to be close to his face. He could feel her bare flesh pressing against his forehead as she massaged his manhood. He put the cigarette out by grinding it against the side of the chair, letting the butt fall to the floor. Unbuckling his pants he tugged at the zipper to help her in her efforts.
She released her grip long enough to help him shove his pants down his thighs. His hips rose to release his pants and boxers to fall down his legs.
As he sat back in place, the leather felt cold against his ass but quickly her hands gripped his cock again and warmed him.
She shifted her long, thin torso and John’s head rested against the edge of the chair again. Leaning over him, her breasts hung heavy and fell against his face, closer to his lips this time. John quickly licked and sucked at her right nipple, causing a soft moan to come from her lips. She playfully swayed side to side, rubbing her nipples against his lips until he caught one with his mouth and sucked firmly. He cupped her other breast with his fingers, feeling the satisfying warmth of her young body. She couldn’t be more than 25, he thought as he gently squeezed her breast.
Her fingernails slid across John’s stomach as he pleasured himself with her breasts. The firm, erect nipples felt hard against his tongue. Abandoned to the pleasure of her, his glass fell to the floor spilling its last drops of liquor. One of the ice cubes slid across the hardwood floor and under the bed.
She raised her knee to the edge of the chair behind and to the right John’s head. Climbing up on her knees onto the back of the chair she slid her body over his and placed her elbows on the armrests.
In one motion she took his cock again in her hands and held it in place as she lowered her mouth over it, taking him in. She spread her stance, lowering her wet, warm labia to his face.
John knew what she wanted. Dominika was insatiable. She could never get enough of a man’s face between her legs. He slid his hands around her hips and gripped her ass as he pressed his tongue into her.
Within moments Dominika was grinding her hips into ataşehir escort his face, pleasuring herself with his tongue as she rhythmically shuffled her position. Her desire only heightened as John explored her ass and discovered her anus. He fingered her and pressed the flesh around her anus downward.
The warmth of her mouth continued to pleasure him, saliva dripping around his cock and down to his balls. He occasionally raised his hips as she engulfed his cock completely.
She suddenly gripped his cock with her hands so firmly that it surprised him. She groaned loudly and recklessly rammed her crotch into his face, nearly smothering him as she climaxed. Her ass cheeks clenched and gripped at his fingers as she enjoyed a wave of orgasm.
Just as her pleasure began to pass by, he plunged his finger deep inside her anus drawing out yet another wave. She riled and wiggled her ass begging for every last ounce of pleasure.
The flourish of clitoral orgasm passed but she wasn’t satisfied. She continued climbing over him and slid her legs to the outside of the chair like a gymnast on parallel bars, spreading herself open before hovering above his cock.
Her gorgeous ass cheeks lowered into his lap as his cock impaled her spread body. She leaned forward and gripped his knees as she raised and lowered herself on him. Her legs over the armrest of the chair became a springboard for the flowing up and down motion of her thrusts onto him.
John reached upward and gripped her shoulders, forcing her down on his cock with each stroke. Each time she landed, an exhaled moan left her lips. A light breeze pushed it’s way through the window, still open just a crack, causing the curtains to flutter. As the cold evening air struck their bodies Dominika momentarily shivered.
She leaned backward, her bare body falling against his chest. John slid his hands along her torso and gripped her breasts. They were perfect; round, young and tight. His hands slid down her sides as he felt the solid, toned torso of an amazing and athletic woman. Sliding his hand across her tight abdomen his touch found what he wanted most. Down between her legs in front of her.
His fingers pleasured her clit as his cock slid in and out of her. She reached behind her and gripped his head, pulling him closer. Her fingers grabbed a handful of hair as if to be grasping for something to steady her as she gladly took each thrust. Her back arched thrusting her breasts upward into the darkness of the room.
He felt the warm, full sensation of an impending orgasm. Using one arm around her waist, his other hand continuing to pleasure her clit, he rammed his hips upward into her and released. With each shuttering jerk of his cock she spread herself wider taking every drop. His clenched arm around her waist was almost more than she could take as he pulsated into her his love.
As his orgasm subsided she melted over him. They remained there in a pool of their own sweat, drenched by the result of their passion.
Two hours later Dominika and John lay naked on the bed with just a sheet draped across them. She was laying face down, the mounds of her naked, round ass peeking out along the edge of the sheet. John was face up, his legs agape letting his spent cock enjoy a moment of rest.
“Why are you doing this?” John asked, toying with a small disk of microfiche film between the tips of two fingers. He turned it and looked through it but without being able to comprehend any of what he could make out.
Dominika exhaled. “This cold war will be ending without either of us killing us all.” Her slightly broken English was a bit adorable. She often used it to her advantage to sway men’s affections. She lifted her head and rested on her elbows, shifting slightly to press her warm body against his. “Just when there’s a chance we can all survive, I don’t want to risk letting my superior know about this.”
In the distance a siren sounded, causing them both to sit upright. Dominika got up and moved quickly to the window, peeking out from the side of the curtains. She tugged at the two sides of the curtains and tugged them together.
“It’s fine. It’s something many blocks away.” She said still breathing heavily.
“How well do you trust the building manager?” John asked.
“It’s one of the most secure safe houses in Berlin.” She said beginning to calm. “The owner’s loyalty to mother Russia is beyond question.”
“You’re risking your life on this one.” John said, his forehead wrinkling at the thought.
“You take that thing out of East Berlin tonight. Only Lester Hunt knows I have it. He thrives on the chaos of this war. He may be a sitting senator of your country, but for some insane reason he wants this war to continue.” She explained.
“And you?” John inquired.
“Me? YA vyzhivshiy, love.” She mockingly replied. John didn’t seem to grasp a translation to her comment. kadıköy escort “I’m a survivor my love.” She whispered to translate for him. “My superiors don’t know it exists. Hunt can’t tell anyone it exists. And now it’s in your possession. So it doesn’t exist in my world. I’ll just tell my superiors that the operation failed. We are so close to the end that it will not matter to anyone. ”
John took a deep breath. “You realize you may have saved us all from the brink of world war 3.”
She grinned as a child who knew a secret. “And the world will never know.”
He pulled her back into bed and kissed her forehead. Then reaching over to the nightstand, he took a small jewelry box. Opening it he pulled out a brooch. Twisting at the fine detailed metal on the back, it opened. He slid the small disk of film into the opening and capped it again.
“The perfect gift for my wife from my business trip in Berlin.” He held the brooch up for her view. It was in the shape of a dove with an olive branch in its mouth. “A symbol of peace that contains the very thing needed to maintain peace.”
Dominika climbed up on him and kissed him deeply. As the kiss subsided, she looked intensely into his eyes. “You’re a good man John Wright.”
Through the crowd of passengers heading down the gangway into the terminal, I could see four men in black suits waiting. Just as I was about to walk toward them thinking they were our escort team, they surrounded a petite blond woman. From the reaction of the crowd it must have been a celebrity of some kind.
“Thought they were for us.” I said to Billie.
She gave me that ‘rolled eye – over the top – exaggerated – exasperated’ look before replying, “We’re CIA shithead. We don’t want to be recognized. She’s a two bit celeb who thrives on being recognized.”
Billie glanced around and seemed to catch sight of something. She headed out following a guy wearing a Steelers jersey marked ’75’. He darted into a service stairwell and Billie followed.
At the bottom of the steps, the guy was waiting for us. “Joe.” He said extending a hand to Billie. “Welcome to Toronto.”
“Billie” She replied as she shook his hand. “This is Max.”
I reached over to shake Joe’s hand and asked, “Joe as in Joe Greene?”
“What?” He asked with confusion.
“You’re jersey. Mean Joe Greene.” I replied.
“Oh, the shirt. That was just a marker for you to find me. I’m actually a Cleveland Browns fan.” He remarked.
“I like the Browns too,” I replied. “Everyone needs a favorite minor league team.”
I could tell that Joe wasn’t please with me mocking his team by the grimace on his face, but he did his job anyway. “This way, ‘squealers fan’.” Even in the CIA there was time for sports rivalries.
The steps echoed as we descended an unusual number of flights below the tarmac for a typical airport terminal. Reaching the bottom there was an unmarked steel door that looked rusted and unused. To the right of the door there was a small button the size of a doorbell. He placed his right index finger on the button and a soft buzzer sounded.
We entered into a small room the size of an interrogation room. There was a two-way mirror on one wall. As the door closed behind us, Joe flashed his ID at the window. “IDs out.” He said to the two of us.
Following his example we pulled our badges and ID packs. Within seconds the buzzer sounded again and another door on the other side of the room opened.
Light and sound flooded the small anteroom as we stepped into what was probably the main facility. The space was about 60’ by 100’, filled with stations, video screens, and agents all busy clacking away at computer keyboards. It seemed cluttered with wires strewn out, sometimes hanging from the ceiling support beams and leading to terminal stations.
“Welcome to Command North Four”, a grizzled older man greeted as he used a handful of files to point. “This way.”
A small cubical sized room to the side was clearly his office. It also was filled with stacks of electronics and documents. But his desk was clear and as the door closed I noticed it was also sound proofed.
“Pardon our chaos. Command North Four was established with our Canadian allies not long after the Great War. It’s been home to CIA, Secret Service, Canadian Security Intelligence Service, and the Royal Mounted Police for decades now. The CIA with the help of the Canadians has guided this joint operation center. I’m operations chief right now, Chief Marco Graves.” He barked with a gruff tone of a man usually in charge.
“Why have we been sent to this field office?” Billie asked cutting to the chase.
“No tom foolery. I like it.” He responded, throwing a file out on the desk at us. “We have been tasked by Senator Dustin Hunt to investigate a rumor. He’s in a re-election bostancı escort bayan bid and his opponent has threatened to release information concerning his father that would put him in a tailspin.”
“Background here? Why is a Senator’s election able to bring in the CIA to investigate anything?” I chimed in.
“Background is simple. His father was a senator during the cold war days. The accusation is that his father released sensitive documents and information to a Russian female spy. Seems ol’ dad may have had a tryst with a spy who was at the time an enemy of the United States. The senior Senator Hunt was on the House Appropriations committee at that time, then later as a Senator was on the DOD oversight committee.” Chief Graves explained.
“Any substantial support or denial?” I continued, thumbing through the documents and folders on the desk.
“Denial is kinda easy. It seems the senior Senator Hunt was gay. Reports we have say that his wife and son were a smoke screen he used to get elected in the early 70s when being gay wasn’t flaunted. Support on the other hand is found in the form of one Dominika Sokolov.” Graves said rubbing his forehead. He threw out an eight by ten black and white photo.
“Beautiful bird of prey?” I commented before whistling at the picture.
“Your Russian is pretty good.” Graves commented.
“My family spoke Russian regularly when I was a child.” I replied.
Graves continued. “But remember, that picture is over 30 years old. She’s still very attractive, but she’s around 60 now. She lives in West Berlin now and states to investigators that the event did take place. She claims to have passed it off to a CIA agent in the final days before the INF Treaty was signed.”
“Okay, so why are we here?” Billie chimed in.
“Sokolov will only speak to you.” Graves said in frustration.
“Me?” Billie asked.
“No, not you. YOU!” Graves said pointing to me with a final file folder in hand.
I was a bit stunned by the comment, not knowing why I would be involved in this. “Chief, I’ve only been a CIA agent for, “ I glanced down looking at my watch, “… 10 hours – give or take. How would she even know to ask for me?”
“First of all, why the hell do you think you were recruited to the CIA for the last 10 hours or so?” Graves shot me a stare that seemed to put me in my place. “Then there’s the real issue why we called you two. Sokolov tells us that the agent she gave the information to, “ Graves opened the folder to show us another black and white, “was a CIA agent, Mr. John Wright.”
Billie looked at the photo in utter confusion before looking up at me. ‘Max?”
I took the picture in my hand and studied it. “My father.” I said calmly.
“Your mission, should you choose to accept it…. I’ve always wanted to say that… “ Graves grinned wildly at us, “… is to confirm or deny the story Sokolov tells and retrieve the documents should they still be in existence. Return them to Langley if they do. A sitting Senator wants this cleared up.”
“What is the current military value of the information and the asset?” Billie asked.
“At this point, all the documents are outdated. So there’s no military value to the information. We’d just like to clear up a few things and sending a couple of newbie agents to follow up on it seemed appropriate. It’s more of a political issue now. This could be a major embarrassment for Senator Hunt. If the world found out that his father may have been a Communist sympathizer it might stain the reputation of a sitting Senator.” Graves concluded.
“So all you want us to do is get this data if it still exists and verify this woman’s story.” I summarized.
“Return anything, no matter how small or insignificant, to Langley.” Graves barked to clarify our job.
We sat quietly in the hotel room, spending the night before our flight to Germany. There was heaviness in the air. Billie wanted to ask questions but knew it was an unwritten rule of our relationship that my childhood was off limits. It was killing her and I could see it. How much did she need to know in order to achieve our missional goal? How much did I really want to share?
I wasn’t really feeling generous. Sharing about my childhood was often a struggle for me. The man who made me the liar and undercover operative I am somehow frustrated me beyond measure. Through the years I’ve isolated my internal anger at my father for never being around. He was always off saving the world on some grand mission that he couldn’t talk about. While saving the world, he failed at being a father. ‘Your dad’s off making the world safe for democracy’ they’d tell me. Yeah, that works for a thirteen year old who’s running in the state cross-country finals!
Maybe that’s why it was so easy to tell lies. I found myself telling other kids in school all kinds of stories to account for the lack of a father at home. It was the late 70s and early 80s so the thought of no father being around was still a bit of a foreign concept. Which worked out all right because he was always off in some foreign country.
“Okay.” I said flatly to the distant nothingness of the room.
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