Cold War Stories:- Betrayal on the Sands Pt1( Based on an Original Idea by Arc)
Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2023 9:43 pm
This next story in the Cold War series, takes us to Afghanistan. It's 1985 and the Soviet-Afghan War is in its sixth year. Western intelligence agencies have been supplying the Mujahedin, the Afghan resistance, with American weapons and equipment as part of Operation Cyclone. Here, young CIA agent Harper Rasinski as been ordered to ostensibly deliver weapons to one tribe in Helmand province, but her true mission is to discover the whereabouts of CIA operative Samantha Bruckner, who disappeared while on deployment to Afghanistan a year ago. And to either secure her extraction if alive or retrieve sensitive information if she is dead. But as Harper is about to discover, this assignment will become a desperate battle of survival as she discovers the cost of betrayal.
CIA Station House, Islamabad Pakistan. 22nd June 1985 16:00pm
Bang! Bang! Came the shots from her 9mm Beretta 92FS , as Harper Rasinski practiced her aim on the firing range in the CIA Station House in Islamabad. She had come here to get some practice in before her briefing for her assignment, a way to clear her head. Bang! Came the last shot from her handgun, as she emptied the magazine and ejected it, then removed her ear mufflers. Putting down her Beretta, Harper pressed the button to draw the paper target towards her. At 24, Harper was a third generation Russo-American her family having fled from their native Ukraine to escape persecution, on account of being Cossacks who fought against the Soviet Union during World War Two. Having grew up in Montana on their exploits, Harper joined the US Army in 1982 but faced intimidation and bullying by the soldiers who called her "Commie bitch." Or "Red Rasinski." It didn't matter that she was better than all of them in marksmanship, and survival. Spoke four languages including Russian fluently . Hell, she could even ride a horse just like her ancestors on the steppe. But none of that mattered, it seemed she was bound for another rear echelon role just all the other women who enlisted to serve their country, to fight the scourge of communism. That was until CIA senior agent Samantha Bruckner, had arrived at Fort Benning looking for recruits for the Special Operations Group, for Operation Cyclone. Harper had fought for her place, and had impressed the woman who handpicked her from a dozen other potentials, all male. Samantha had trained her, honed Harper into a lethal weapon she owed Samantha so much for seeing her potential and giving her the opportunity to serve her country, to take the fight to the red bastards. And now three years later, Harper prepared for her second mission. She caught her reflection in the glass divider that separated the shooting lanes. Harper was a beautiful athletic woman, with the high cheekbones and angular features that where hallmarks of her Cossack heritage. Her piercing blue almond shaped eyes, shoulder length auburn hair braided into two short pigtails, and farm girl accent had drew the attention of men, even other women alike. Despite this, Harper had mixed business with pleasure only once, and never with men. Shaking her thoughts back to the present, Harper took the paper target from its rack. "That's some impressive grouping there, Rasinski. Then again you are the best marksman in the SOG." Harper looked up to see her handler, Carter Burke walk towards her. An heavyset man of 45 years, Burke was once a Green Beret who had fought in Vietnam, who had always treated Harper like an equal a soldier. "Thanks sir, I always aim to please. I wouldn't want to get all rusty. Since I'am heading in country." Burke clamped a meaty hand on her shoulder. "Walk with me, Harp. I have your assignment."
Harper put down her paper target, falling into step besides her handler. "You know that I'am sending you in to sell our hardware to the locals, since they need all the help they can get against the commies. They are being hit hard by Hind gunships. But that's not the real reason I'am sending you in, Rasinski. You may not like this next part because it concerns you." Harper's brow furrowed as she noted the grave look on Burke's face, as they stopped in the middle of the bustling Operations Centre. "What do you mean, sir? Why the ominous look?" She asked as Burke placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it's about Samantha Bruckner. Your old training officer." Harper blinked moving her hand to her mouth in shock. "Samantha? No the Reds.. She isn't..they haven't killed her have they?" Burke removed his hand from her shoulder. "That's just it, Harp. We don't know for sure. She hasn't checked in for over a year and Langley is getting worried." Shock turned to anger as Harper placed her hands on her hips. "A year?!" And you wait until now to mount a rescue mission! Why?!" Burke placed two hands onto her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Because, Langley wanted an agent that knew her best on this. With your unique skillset in disguise and infiltration. And I believe you deserve to know what's what." Harper had a peculiar feeling that something was off about Burke but shook the thoughts aside, instead she focused on the mission. "So I go in to sell weapons to the locals, but then I try and locate Samantha. Are we looking at standard extraction protocols, chief?" Burke nodded in reply. "Correct, if she's alive bring her home. If she's dead...destroy any sensitive information. We cannot have the Reds cutting off our support of the local resistance. You are authorised to use deadly force, on any Red that gets in your way." Harper smiled widely. "It will be my pleasure, chief. What's my cover into getting across the border?" Burke handed her a file, Harper opened it to find a picture of a beautiful woman. "Stephanie Villeneuve, 22, with the Red Crescent. Says here she is a lesbian. An aid worker? She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" Burke folded his large arms. "I thought she would be up your alley. Luckily, she's your size. Stephanie is staying at the Islamabad Hilton. Take these fake journalist credentials..." Burke handed her some fake CNN ID, before continuing. "Get her in her room alone. Take her out and steal her clothes. Her ID and truck should get you across the border, along with the guns and your translator." Harper put the file down, pocketing the false ID. "Do you want me to take her out gently? I would rather not have to kill her, sir." Burke gestured for her to follow. "Just a choke out will do, Harp. We don't want a dead French citizen, imagine the paperwork. Your back up team, will dose her up after you strip her. She won't remember a thing. Bring her truck back here and we will load the weapons. After that you are on your own." They stood near the exit to the Operations Centre, Burke held out his hand. "Well good luck, Harp. Come back alive." Harper took his hand, shaking it but she couldn't help to notice the dark look in his eyes as she grasped his hand. "Thank you, sir. I will be back before you know it." Harper saluted him, before turning away. As she walked towards her motorcycle, her mind was awash with thoughts. Was Samantha alive? What was Burke not telling her? Harper shook these thoughts to the back of her mind. It was time to get her head in the game, she straddled her Harley Davidson switched on the inigtion. After strapping on her helmet, Harper drove out of the CIA station towards the Hilton Hotel.
Islamabad Hilton, 30 minutes later
As Harper entered the lobby of the Islamabad Hilton, her leather jacket and uncovered head drawing many disapproving tuts from local woman all wearing their hijabs, she scanned the large bustling lobby looking for Stephanie Villeneuve. After about five minutes, finding no sign of a red crescent jacket, she walked into the adjoining bar, which unsurprisingly was full of westerners with not a local in sight. A quick scan revealed a pretty young woman, wearing a sleeveless beige jacket with the Red Crescent on her back. As Harper approached the aid worker, she appraised her. Stephanie was perhaps even more beautiful then her dossier picture, with shallow cheekbones heart shaped features and pale green eyes. Her long silky chestnut brown hair, tied into an elegant ponytail. Burke was right, the aid worker was exactly her size. Under her Red Crescent jacket, she wore a tight buttoned white short sleeve shirt, with a hint of a white lace trimmed low cut camisole that emphasised her buoyant B-cup breasts and tight belted blue denim shorts that did wonders for her hips. White laced sneakers with lace trim ankle socks, on her small feet and brown leather handbag looped over her left shoulder. Smiling, Harper placed herself on the stool next to her.
Stephanie Villeneuve turned as she saw the attractive red head place herself next to her, she had noticed the looks the woman had been giving her. "Excuse me, bartender. Jack on the rocks, please." The red head said in a beautiful American accent, that simply melted the young aid worker. The red head turned and looking at her. "Hello, I'am Harper Pattinson. Middle East correspondent with CNN." She said taking out her press ID, before replacing it into her jacket holding out her hand, which Stephanie shook eagerly giving it a gentle squeeze. "Stephanie Villeneuve, aid worker with the Red Crescent." A little superfluous considering it was their in red and white on her back. " I must admit you look much prettier, then all the other reporters who have hit on me. You're made up so well." Stephanie blushed as she weighted the flirt, hoping she hadn't misread the signals one never knew with reporters. Harper smiled, a lovely smile as she took up her whiskey taking one seductive sip. " Well, I'am not like most reporters honey." Stephanie tittered, completely taken with the reporter as she took a sip of her tonic water. "Well what can I do for the CNN, today. Harper? May I call you Harper? Such a pretty name." Her flirting drew a scandalous look from the bartender, who disappeared quickly further down the bar. Harper took another sip of her amber liquid. "Well, my editor wants me to do an exposé on the conditions in the refugee camps on the border. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions..." She leant in gently caressing Stephanie's forearm, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure. "...in private. Say in your room, an in depth interview?" Harper whispered in Stephanie's ear, making the aid worker blush bright red. "I'am supposed to be heading out to the Chaman Refugee camp, but how can I resist that accent or those pretty blue eyes?" Harper finished off her Jack Daniels, payed her tab as Stephanie slid off her bar stool beckoning her to follow up to her room. Smiling at the girls naivety, Harper fell into step besides the too eager aid worker. They chatted flirtatiously as they got into the lift.
The two women giggled as Stephanie unlocked her hotel room, anticipating a wild night with the beautiful reporter she only just met. Harper kept herself behind the unsuspecting aid worker, and as soon as she closed the door Harper locked it. As soon as Stephanie put her handbag on the side dresser, she suddenly felt an arm snake around her slender neck and a hand clamp around her mouth, muffling her cry of surprise. "Shh! Don't worry little Stephanie, I'am not going to kill you. Under usual circumstances I would love to spend the night with you. But I'am on the clock, and I need your clothes, your ID and your truck." Stephanie let out her muffled cry of fear, as she heard Harper's beautiful accent whisper softly in her ear. She tried desperately to struggle against Harper's grip, but she was too strong. Harper's arm snaked tighter around Stephanie's throat, cutting off the blood flow to her brain. "Don't fight it, honey. It will hurt more if you fight it. Just go to sleep, sweet Stephanie." Stephanie felt her struggles began to weaken, as Harper tightened her grip, then after 30 seconds she let out a muffled cry as she slumped unconscious in Harper's arms. Arms hanging limply by her sides. "That's it Stephanie, good girl. Now lets get you out of those clothes. You won't be needing them." Harper dragged the unconscious aid worker to her bed, gently draping her on her back.
Harper stripped off her leather jacket and jeans, down to her matching solid white bra and scanty panties then began to strip the beautiful unconscious aid worker. She unlaced Stephanie's sneakers, removing them along with the lace ankle socks. "It seems we are the same shoe size, Stephanie. That's a blessed relief." She said as she tested the shoes against her feet, then slipped them on along with the socks. Satisfied that they fit, Harper pulled up the unconscious aid worker slipped off the Red Crescent jacket from Stephanie's shoulders, then unbuttoned the tight white shirt removed the garment from the woman's petite attractive body one arm at a time. After letting the girl's body flop back gracefully on the bed, her B-cup breasts straining against the tight fabric of her camisole nipples peaking through, Harper felt her own nipples peak her loins afire as she unbelted the unconscious aid workers denim shorts. Harper worked them off Stephanie's shapely hips, peeling them down her long divine legs revealing pastel blue slim cut panties that protected her modesty. "You have a beautiful body, Stephanie. I would have liked to have explored it but I have a job to do. You wouldn't understand." Harper glanced over her scantily clad victim, draped over the bed on her back as she got dressed in Stephanie's clothes. " Je m'appelle Stephanie Villeneuve , with the red crescent. Pleased to meet you." Harper mimicked Stephanie's accent in her best French, as she looked herself in the mirror buttoning up Stephanie's shirt. After slipping on the Red Crescent jacket, Harper got to work binding and gagging the underwear clad aid worker. Retrieving some towels from the bathroom, along with the cord from a bathrobe Harper tied Stephanie's wrists and ankles with the towels then gagged her with the bathrobe cord. When the unconscious beauty secured, Harper picked her body up tucking her into the bed. "Thank you, sweet Stephanie. Have a nice nap." She kissed the young aid worker on her forehead, smiling Harper looped Stephanie's handbag, which contained her ID and truck keys, over her left shoulder. She closed and locked the door to Stephanie's room behind her, leaving the rest to her back up team. Harper was now ready to start her mission in earnest.
1 hour and 40 minutes later. Helmand Province, Afghanistan
Using the clothing, truck and ID generously donated by the real Stephanie Villeneuve, Harper along with her translator Muhammad Omar had gotten past the border checkpoint. Their weapons shipment, M16A2 assault rifles and Stinger missiles, disguised in medical crates and Stephanie's ID, now sporting Harper's photo along with some simple flashing of her white skin had served them well. As they drove towards their rendezvous with the Bashir tribe of Mujahedin, Harper's thoughts turned to her mission, to Samantha. She feared greatly for her mentor, during her training the two women had become close. The agency had no idea of the nature of their relationship, it was expressly forbidden for agents to fraternise but they couldn't hide their feelings for each other. Samantha was the experienced field agent, she her trainee and Harper was in awe of her. Samantha had taught her everything she knew about being an agent, particularly the art of disguise. Despite their 10 year age gap, Harper had loved her and Samantha had returned that affection. They drifted apart however, when Harper was deployed briefly to Central America on completion of her training instead of Operation Cyclone, and Samantha back to Afghanistan. She hadn't seen her mentor, her old flame, for over a year. The thought of Samantha being tortured by the Soviets or worse, caused a swelling of rage to well into her breasts. Then the sudden appearance of headlights coming towards them from the horizon snapped Harper's attention to the present, her brow furrowed. "That's strange, they are early and we are nowhere near the rendezvous." Harper remarked to her translator as she brought the truck to a halt. "I don't like this, something seems off. I would advise caution, Miss Harper." Muhammed replied as Harper retrieved her Beretta, pulling back the slide chambering a round before tucking it into her stolen denim shorts, just above her ass. Along with her translator, Harper exited the truck as the Bashir tribe got out of their vehicles, some dismounting from horses. Harper noted with alarm that they were Soviet made transports. "I'am here on behalf of the CIA, the United States of America to supply you with these weapons. May I speak with your leader?" Harper said in a commanding voice, as Muhammad quickly translated into Pashtu. Harper had a bad feeling about this.
" Your interpreter won't be needed, we speak perfect English. American." A man dressed in black approached her, wearing loose black clothes and olive coloured Soviet webbing, pulling down his face covering. Then without warning he pulled out a Makarov pistol, then shot Muhammed through the head. Harper cried in outrage but before she could draw her Beretta, she heard the cocking of a dozen AK rif!es being pointed in her direction. " What the fuck is going on?! You are the resistance, why are you doing this?!" Harper said as she put her hands up, before she was quickly restrained and stripped of her weapons by two of Bashir's fighters. Bashir and his men laughed before he answered her. " My stupid little American bitch. There is so much you don't understand about Afghanistan. You think every Afghan wants the Soviets out? The Soviets are the best thing that have ever happened to my country. Omar..." Bashir turned to one of his men, a tall tribal warrior with a tan coloured outfit armed with an AKM. "...call our Soviet allies. Tell them that they we have secured the American agent. She's alive, just as the KGB woman wanted." Curiousity overcame the fear that Harper felt in her breast, as Omar nodded disappearing behind on of the trucks. "Wait?! Who's this KGB woman? Did you do this to Samantha Bruckner? Tell me you communist pig-ugh!" Harper was struck in the mouth by one of Bashir's men, who then binded her hands with rope. The men guffawed again, before Bashir gestured to his men to haul her to her feet. "I don't need to tell you anything, capitalist whore! But I will say this you have quite the surprise coming." He and his men laughed as Harper spat out a wad of blood. "What the fuck are you talking about?" Bashir shook his head as he got into her face, Harper recoiled from the tobacco breath. "What and spoil the surprise? Don't worry, she will answer all your questions soon enough. Better get cosy, little girl." He retreated from her laughing as his men inspected the truck.
Within 10 minutes, there were two sets of headlamps on the horizon. As they neared their position, Harper's mind was awash with questions. Was this what had happened to Samantha? Had she been captured by these Soviet lackeys, in the same trap? Was she dead, or hopefully still alive? And who was this KGB woman they were talking about? Bashir and his men spoke of a surprise, that certainly didn't bode well. Despite all her training, Harper had never felt so afraid and alone in her life. The sudden and brutal murder of Muhammad shook her, but Harper was amazed that she had recovered so quickly from the shock. It was the desire to learn of her ex-lovers fate, to complete her mission that suppressed the desperate nature if her situation. As the Soviet vehicles stopped, Harper knew that she would get the answers she sought but a part of her didn't want to know. She tensed as a female figure, cloaked by the darkness emerged from the lead jeep accompanied by three Soviet troopers, two men and one woman, dressed in summer Afghanka uniforms with ushankas. All armed with AK-74 rifles. As the woman walked around her jeep towards Bashir and his men, a dawning realisation hit Harper as she recognised the woman. "No! No! No! It can't be?! Samantha? What the fuck are you doing in a Red Uniform? You can't be a traitor?" Tears welled up in her eyes, as concern turned to disbelief, disbelief to anger. As Bashir and his men laughed at her pain. "Hey, Harp. I'am sorry we had to meet like this. We have so much to talk about." Samantha Bruckner was a beautiful woman. At 35, her face still returned the youthful beauty and vigour Harper had fallen in love with. Those sculptured cheekbones, rounded features and big brown eyes were fixed with concern that only angered Harper. Samantha's jet black hair was tied in a short ponytail, under the Soviet boonie hat she wore. Her eyes fixed on the blood trickling from the corner of Harper's mouth. "Which one of you bastards, did this?" She said fixing Bashir with a cold stare, her voice even. "That would be Salim, comrade. The bitch ran her mouth off so my men corrected her." Samantha fixed her glance on the man to Harper's left, who was still laughing, then she calmly drew her pistol and shot the man through the head. The laughing abruptly ceased, as Harper felt the man's warm blood splash on her face his corpse hitting the sand with a dull thud. "What part of don't harm a hair on her head, was unclear to you." Samantha holstered her pistol, as Bashir's men backed away in fear. "How dare you shoot him, bitch! He was a lo-" the cocking of Soviet AKs soon silenced him, as Samantha got in his face. "Call me or Harper a bitch again and I will order my men to wet the sands with the blood of you and your savages. Are we clear?" Bashir retreated back in fear, ordered his men to stand down he nodded once. "Very good. Comrade-Corporal. Please escort the American agent to my jeep. We are taking her to the old fort. There is so much we need to discuss." The young pretty corporal, glared at Harper's remaining guard as she roughly manhandled Harper towards the jeep. "Samantha, you fucking traitor! You tell me now why you are do-mmph!" Harper's rage was cut short by a black gag tied around her mouth, then a bag placed over her head. As she was lead towards the jeep into total darkness. "Comrade, take the weapons to Kandahar Airbase." She heard Samantha say. "What about our deal, comrade-lieutenant?! You said we could have the American's weapons!" That was Bashir protesting. "These weapons are now property of state security, I have plans for these weapons. Besides, we already give your people arms as it is. Now if you excuse me, I have pressing matters to attend to." As she was manhandled in to the jeep, Harper heard footsteps crunching off the sand, the sound of two engines turning over. Then the sensation of movement as she was driven into the desert, in total darkness.
Old British Fort, Soviet Forward Operating Base, Helmand Province. 22:00 hrs
Harper sat with her hands tied behind her back, dressed only in her solid white bra and scanty panties. The Soviets having stripped her of the clothes she had stolen from Stephanie, thoroughly searching her for any concealed article. After hosing her down, Harper's captors gave her back her underwear, tying her down in this chair. Her only company in this dark confining space, the pretty corporal who had brought her in. Harper looked the woman up and down, sizing her up. Her uniform was a summer afghanka, a matching beige coloured shirt, trousers cinched at the waist with soviet ammo webbing. Red epaulettes on her shoulders with CA embroidered in gold. With a matching side cap, complete with the redstar pin, perched over her short shoulder length hair, that was tied into a short ponytail. With black ankle boots. "That's a nice uniform, corporal. But it would look better on me." She pitched in perfect Russian. The pretty guard shifted uncomfortably, surprised by the sudden use of Russian but remained impassive. Harper leaned back into her chair, as the door to the interview room opened. "My god! Harper! I'am so sorry, I didn't know they had treated you so badly!" Said Samantha as she walked into the room, Harper couldn't tell if she that pity in her voice was genuine. "Fuck off, Samantha! You traitor! And save me your false pity! I have nothing to say to you." Shaking her head, her former lover turned to the corporal. "Leave us." The corporal shot Harper what she supposed was a fearless glance, before leaving a little to quickly. As Samantha, sat down opposite Harper taking out her stolen ID. "Stephanie Villeneuve? I suppose she's dead in a ditch in Pakistan, in nothing but her underwear?" Harper shook her head. "She was an innocent, I don't kill civilians or have you forgotten?" Samantha smirked as she put down the doctored papers. "You were always the sentimentalist, it's one of the things I loved about you, Harp. For what it's worth, I'am sorry that our reunion couldn't be more...intimate." Harper felt the rage inside her swell, tears welled up in her eyes. " Then if you truly love me, if what we shared meant anything to you. Then help me escape! Call in that guard, I will snap her neck and take her uniform. We can escape, together. The agency will take you back." Samantha leant across the table, her hands clasped together. "I'am afraid that's not going to happen, Harper. You see I'am KGB now and I have an offer for you."
"Screw your offer! I want nothing from you, Sam! I don't even know you anymore. Damn it! I slept with the enemy!" Samantha got up, walking around the table perching on the end. "Harper, there is no shame in it. I love you, ever since Fort Benning. You were so beautiful and capable, more then those ignorant useless men. And you will hear me out, because I know you still love me deep down." She gently caressed Harper's cheek, as Harper half recoiled away from her touch but the other half wanted it. "Join me, Harp. Turn your back on the decadent west, and accept the truth of communism." Harper couldn't hide her rage any longer, it spilled out. "What the fuck?! Never! You're crazy! I will never turn on the CIA or the US! These savages butchered my ancestors, drove them from their homes. It was the US that took them in, gave them a home! Or didn't you read my personal file?" Samantha sighed deeply, fixing her with a look of disappointment, she tried a different tact. "The Agency sent you here to kill me, didn't they? I knew they would. Selling weapons is a waste of your talents, Harper." The sudden question, caught Harper off guard. "No, they wanted me to find you. They.." her voice failed her as she realised the truth. Sensing an opportunity, Samantha seized upon it. "Yes, they never told you did they. About me. They lie Harper, it's what they do. They sent a woman to kill another woman. At the end of the day our lives don't matter, because it's a man's world." Harper shook her head, her arms getting sore from the restraint. "No! Your lying! The CIA wouldn't send me into danger, based on a lie!" Samantha shook her head. "Believe what you like, Harper. I'am only trying to help you." She slid off the table, walking towards the door. "Bullshit! Your just trying to help yourself! Just like any traitor! Why turn on our country? Uh? Why betray me!" Samantha whipped around slamming her hands on the table. "I'am not doing this myself, dammit! I'am doing this for us! Do you think Langley is going to give you a medal for killing me!? You are a woman, to them you are worth nothing. They have only just begun to let us into the SOG. At least with the KGB, with the Soviets we have me opportunity to outrank the men to prove our worth." Harper spat on the ground, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You're deluded Sam! Who the hell do you think runs the Soviet Union? Last I checked Chernenko is a man." Samantha retreated turning her back on her one time lover. "It seems I won't be able to sway you with a single conservation. No matter, I will just have to work on my pitch. Besides, I have other means at my disposal. You will come to see things my way, even if I have to make you. I have an appointment in Kabul, but when I get back we will have this discussion again." She said over her shoulder, as she knocked on the metal door then turned to face Harper. "Sam! Mark my words, the next time we will meet you better be ready, I will kill you." Samantha smiled shaking her head as the door behind her opened. "Look at your situation, Harper. I highly doubt that. Goodbye, Harper. See you soon." She then turned to the blonde Corporal who had opened the door. "Take Rasinski back to her cell, if she says anything then teach her some manners. Just don't marr her face, if you do then you will answer to me. Are we clear, Comrade-Corporal?" The young pretty corporal nodded as she walked into the room, and manhandled Harper from her chair. Harper didn't say a word to her old-flame, as she was dragged from the room. She just fixed Samantha, with an icy stare her mind on one thing. Escape.
30 minutes later, Harper was pacing her cell which was nothing more than a small sandstone covered room with a door and a single cot with a blanket draped over it. A simple metal door, was the only way in or out but that suited Harper just fine. She was still processing the fact that the woman who trained her, who may have even loved her was nothing but a traitor! Who had the nerve to ask her to join her in her deluded madness! What if her sleeping with me, was just to groom me. To use me Harper quickly shook the thoughts from her mind, she cannot give in to despair. She had a new mission, to escape and kill Samantha Bruckner. Not just for the treason but also for the betrayal, for having the gall to ask her to sell her soul, for love. First things first she needed some clothes, a disguise to not only escape this shithole but to find out were Samantha was heading next. Harper's thoughts turned back to the pretty blonde corporal who was her jailer. She had already psyched the Soviet bitch out, all that was needed was a way to get her into this cell. Smiling, she had an idea. "Hey, Corporal Bitch! I know you can hear me! Are you going to teach me some manners or what?" Harper yelled as she stood to the side of the door, arm raised back like a blade.
Corporal Tatiana Simonova, grew more impatient as she heard the American suka call out for her goading her. For a split second she wondered what the double agent saw in the redhead, sure she was beautiful, attractive even but pigheaded and foolish like all capitalists. And she just wouldn't shut up. She finally lost her patience "Alright, Yankee suka!. You were warned! Now I'am really going to have some fun!" Anticipating the beating she would give the redheaded American, she unlocked the door flinging it wide. "Prepare yourse- argh!!" Tatiana didn't see Harper's arm as it chopped her across the windpipe, cutting off her ability to scream. As she began to choke, clutching her crushed throat Harper pulled the corporal inside tossing her to the floor of the cell, before closing the door. Then she knelt by the stricken Tatiana who was gasping for air. "Didn't I tell you wouldn't see me coming, bitch? Now let's get you out of that uniform. You won't be needing it anymore." The last sensation Corporal Tatiana Simonova felt, as the light left her eyes was Harper pulling off her boots and unbuttoning her tunic.
Having removed the Corporals hat, boots webbing and weapons Harper got to work unbuttoning the dead woman's tunic revealing an olive green undervest that covered a well developed pair of C-cup breasts, the nipples stiff peaking under the thin fabric. Harper knew that she would need to relieve the Corporal of that, it was part of the uniform. Harper rolled the woman's body onto its side, slipping the tunic off one arm at a time. Rolling the corporal back onto her front, Harper unbuttoned the trousers working them loose from the soldiers hips then peeled them down her long toned legs, exposing a pair of solid black standard issue scanty panties. Not much different from what she had now, but Harper felt she needed a change in underwear she was practically swimming in sweat. Flicking the dead woman's arms up, Harper pulled off the soldiers undervest pulling it over her head, pausing only to admire the full buoyant breasts of the dead corporal, with full light pink areolas. Not particularly caring about the dead woman's modesty, Harper whipped off the dead Corporals panties pulling them up between her legs, getting a glimpse of a full pink clit crowned with a small trimmed tuft of blonde pubic hair and pert ass. As she got dressed in the rest of the dead woman's uniform, Harper admired the athletic toned body of the dead soldier. Just like Harper herself, military had agreed with the dead blonde. She carefully placed the side cap on her head, before she picked up the naked body of the corporal under the shoulders. Harper laid the dead woman into her cot cocooning her with the blanket then kicked her discarded underwear under the bed. Harper checked the Corporals 9mm Makarov pulling back the slide before replacing it in its holster. Grabbing the fallen cell keys, Harper exited the cell locking it behind her then tossed them back into the cell. Ignoring the calls of the Afghan prisoners, she walked over to the Corporals desk retrieving a small flashlight which she pocketed then picked up the AKM rifle that was leaning against the wall. As she slung the rifle over her shoulder, Harper knew her next move was to find out were Samantha was going. And that meant to the commanders office. Her course set, Harper walked up the stairs out of the detention area, putting the desperate cries of the prisoners behind her.
Using her stolen uniform, Harper walked across the well lit central courtyard of the old British fort, once a bastion of the British who like the Soviets believed they could tame this sandbox and it's people, how history proved them wrong. Hopefully, thought Harper, the reds will have similar bad luck. She walked past patrolling Red Army troopers, some yawning widely making their way to the barracks, while others walked the ramparts their eyes straining against the dark, eyes peeled for signs of the Mujahedin. Harper passed an idling Russian BTR-70 Armoured Personal Carrier, returning the salutes of two soldiers, both privates as she followed the signs towards the CO's office. Once inside, she found the corridors strangely quiet. Most of the soldiers either on night patrol or asleep in the barracks, which suited Harper just fine. Taking the stairs up ahead of her, Harper found the Commanding Officers quarters, she knocked once upon the door, breathing a sigh of relief when she heard silence in reply. She placed a hand on the door handle, and pushed surprised that the door opened. "Obviously, they aren't big on security. Lucky me." Harper chuckled despite her situation. Entering the small room, Harper found two desks; one with a map of Afghanistan behind it was the CO's. While the other with it's unmistakable clutter and a single picture frame on the desk, could only be Samantha's. Closing the door behind her, Harper walked around Samantha's desk unnerved as she saw a picture of herself and Samantha in happier times during Harper's training in Fort Bragg. "How long Sam? Just how long have you been selling out our country?" She asked the picture. Shaking the thought from her head, Harper slammed the picture on the desk before she started to rummage through the desk. After five minutes of searching, Harper found a communique hidden amongst Sam's papers, picking it up she read it aloud. "Agent Bruckner, the KGB doesn't care if you manage to turn your former pupil or not, she is too much of a risk. You are ordered to kill her and use the American weapons, to turn the local tribes against each other. This will in turn damage the rebels trust in the west, and allow us to finally tame this wild country. Report to Kandahar airbase, with the munitions. At 09:30am, a Mil Mi-24 will fly you to Kabul to receive these orders in an official capacity." Harper placed the letter back onto the desk. So that's you little scheme, Samantha. Well not on my watch she thought as she finally realised what she had to do. She not only had to kill Samantha but she also had to prevent the weapons from falling into the wrong hands, Operation Cyclone depended on it. She needed to get to Kandahar. But before she could formulate a plan, she heard the sound of loud bang! Then another! Followed by the sound of a siren flaring up, then all hell broke loose.
.
CIA Station House, Islamabad Pakistan. 22nd June 1985 16:00pm
Bang! Bang! Came the shots from her 9mm Beretta 92FS , as Harper Rasinski practiced her aim on the firing range in the CIA Station House in Islamabad. She had come here to get some practice in before her briefing for her assignment, a way to clear her head. Bang! Came the last shot from her handgun, as she emptied the magazine and ejected it, then removed her ear mufflers. Putting down her Beretta, Harper pressed the button to draw the paper target towards her. At 24, Harper was a third generation Russo-American her family having fled from their native Ukraine to escape persecution, on account of being Cossacks who fought against the Soviet Union during World War Two. Having grew up in Montana on their exploits, Harper joined the US Army in 1982 but faced intimidation and bullying by the soldiers who called her "Commie bitch." Or "Red Rasinski." It didn't matter that she was better than all of them in marksmanship, and survival. Spoke four languages including Russian fluently . Hell, she could even ride a horse just like her ancestors on the steppe. But none of that mattered, it seemed she was bound for another rear echelon role just all the other women who enlisted to serve their country, to fight the scourge of communism. That was until CIA senior agent Samantha Bruckner, had arrived at Fort Benning looking for recruits for the Special Operations Group, for Operation Cyclone. Harper had fought for her place, and had impressed the woman who handpicked her from a dozen other potentials, all male. Samantha had trained her, honed Harper into a lethal weapon she owed Samantha so much for seeing her potential and giving her the opportunity to serve her country, to take the fight to the red bastards. And now three years later, Harper prepared for her second mission. She caught her reflection in the glass divider that separated the shooting lanes. Harper was a beautiful athletic woman, with the high cheekbones and angular features that where hallmarks of her Cossack heritage. Her piercing blue almond shaped eyes, shoulder length auburn hair braided into two short pigtails, and farm girl accent had drew the attention of men, even other women alike. Despite this, Harper had mixed business with pleasure only once, and never with men. Shaking her thoughts back to the present, Harper took the paper target from its rack. "That's some impressive grouping there, Rasinski. Then again you are the best marksman in the SOG." Harper looked up to see her handler, Carter Burke walk towards her. An heavyset man of 45 years, Burke was once a Green Beret who had fought in Vietnam, who had always treated Harper like an equal a soldier. "Thanks sir, I always aim to please. I wouldn't want to get all rusty. Since I'am heading in country." Burke clamped a meaty hand on her shoulder. "Walk with me, Harp. I have your assignment."
Harper put down her paper target, falling into step besides her handler. "You know that I'am sending you in to sell our hardware to the locals, since they need all the help they can get against the commies. They are being hit hard by Hind gunships. But that's not the real reason I'am sending you in, Rasinski. You may not like this next part because it concerns you." Harper's brow furrowed as she noted the grave look on Burke's face, as they stopped in the middle of the bustling Operations Centre. "What do you mean, sir? Why the ominous look?" She asked as Burke placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it's about Samantha Bruckner. Your old training officer." Harper blinked moving her hand to her mouth in shock. "Samantha? No the Reds.. She isn't..they haven't killed her have they?" Burke removed his hand from her shoulder. "That's just it, Harp. We don't know for sure. She hasn't checked in for over a year and Langley is getting worried." Shock turned to anger as Harper placed her hands on her hips. "A year?!" And you wait until now to mount a rescue mission! Why?!" Burke placed two hands onto her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Because, Langley wanted an agent that knew her best on this. With your unique skillset in disguise and infiltration. And I believe you deserve to know what's what." Harper had a peculiar feeling that something was off about Burke but shook the thoughts aside, instead she focused on the mission. "So I go in to sell weapons to the locals, but then I try and locate Samantha. Are we looking at standard extraction protocols, chief?" Burke nodded in reply. "Correct, if she's alive bring her home. If she's dead...destroy any sensitive information. We cannot have the Reds cutting off our support of the local resistance. You are authorised to use deadly force, on any Red that gets in your way." Harper smiled widely. "It will be my pleasure, chief. What's my cover into getting across the border?" Burke handed her a file, Harper opened it to find a picture of a beautiful woman. "Stephanie Villeneuve, 22, with the Red Crescent. Says here she is a lesbian. An aid worker? She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" Burke folded his large arms. "I thought she would be up your alley. Luckily, she's your size. Stephanie is staying at the Islamabad Hilton. Take these fake journalist credentials..." Burke handed her some fake CNN ID, before continuing. "Get her in her room alone. Take her out and steal her clothes. Her ID and truck should get you across the border, along with the guns and your translator." Harper put the file down, pocketing the false ID. "Do you want me to take her out gently? I would rather not have to kill her, sir." Burke gestured for her to follow. "Just a choke out will do, Harp. We don't want a dead French citizen, imagine the paperwork. Your back up team, will dose her up after you strip her. She won't remember a thing. Bring her truck back here and we will load the weapons. After that you are on your own." They stood near the exit to the Operations Centre, Burke held out his hand. "Well good luck, Harp. Come back alive." Harper took his hand, shaking it but she couldn't help to notice the dark look in his eyes as she grasped his hand. "Thank you, sir. I will be back before you know it." Harper saluted him, before turning away. As she walked towards her motorcycle, her mind was awash with thoughts. Was Samantha alive? What was Burke not telling her? Harper shook these thoughts to the back of her mind. It was time to get her head in the game, she straddled her Harley Davidson switched on the inigtion. After strapping on her helmet, Harper drove out of the CIA station towards the Hilton Hotel.
Islamabad Hilton, 30 minutes later
As Harper entered the lobby of the Islamabad Hilton, her leather jacket and uncovered head drawing many disapproving tuts from local woman all wearing their hijabs, she scanned the large bustling lobby looking for Stephanie Villeneuve. After about five minutes, finding no sign of a red crescent jacket, she walked into the adjoining bar, which unsurprisingly was full of westerners with not a local in sight. A quick scan revealed a pretty young woman, wearing a sleeveless beige jacket with the Red Crescent on her back. As Harper approached the aid worker, she appraised her. Stephanie was perhaps even more beautiful then her dossier picture, with shallow cheekbones heart shaped features and pale green eyes. Her long silky chestnut brown hair, tied into an elegant ponytail. Burke was right, the aid worker was exactly her size. Under her Red Crescent jacket, she wore a tight buttoned white short sleeve shirt, with a hint of a white lace trimmed low cut camisole that emphasised her buoyant B-cup breasts and tight belted blue denim shorts that did wonders for her hips. White laced sneakers with lace trim ankle socks, on her small feet and brown leather handbag looped over her left shoulder. Smiling, Harper placed herself on the stool next to her.
Stephanie Villeneuve turned as she saw the attractive red head place herself next to her, she had noticed the looks the woman had been giving her. "Excuse me, bartender. Jack on the rocks, please." The red head said in a beautiful American accent, that simply melted the young aid worker. The red head turned and looking at her. "Hello, I'am Harper Pattinson. Middle East correspondent with CNN." She said taking out her press ID, before replacing it into her jacket holding out her hand, which Stephanie shook eagerly giving it a gentle squeeze. "Stephanie Villeneuve, aid worker with the Red Crescent." A little superfluous considering it was their in red and white on her back. " I must admit you look much prettier, then all the other reporters who have hit on me. You're made up so well." Stephanie blushed as she weighted the flirt, hoping she hadn't misread the signals one never knew with reporters. Harper smiled, a lovely smile as she took up her whiskey taking one seductive sip. " Well, I'am not like most reporters honey." Stephanie tittered, completely taken with the reporter as she took a sip of her tonic water. "Well what can I do for the CNN, today. Harper? May I call you Harper? Such a pretty name." Her flirting drew a scandalous look from the bartender, who disappeared quickly further down the bar. Harper took another sip of her amber liquid. "Well, my editor wants me to do an exposé on the conditions in the refugee camps on the border. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions..." She leant in gently caressing Stephanie's forearm, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure. "...in private. Say in your room, an in depth interview?" Harper whispered in Stephanie's ear, making the aid worker blush bright red. "I'am supposed to be heading out to the Chaman Refugee camp, but how can I resist that accent or those pretty blue eyes?" Harper finished off her Jack Daniels, payed her tab as Stephanie slid off her bar stool beckoning her to follow up to her room. Smiling at the girls naivety, Harper fell into step besides the too eager aid worker. They chatted flirtatiously as they got into the lift.
The two women giggled as Stephanie unlocked her hotel room, anticipating a wild night with the beautiful reporter she only just met. Harper kept herself behind the unsuspecting aid worker, and as soon as she closed the door Harper locked it. As soon as Stephanie put her handbag on the side dresser, she suddenly felt an arm snake around her slender neck and a hand clamp around her mouth, muffling her cry of surprise. "Shh! Don't worry little Stephanie, I'am not going to kill you. Under usual circumstances I would love to spend the night with you. But I'am on the clock, and I need your clothes, your ID and your truck." Stephanie let out her muffled cry of fear, as she heard Harper's beautiful accent whisper softly in her ear. She tried desperately to struggle against Harper's grip, but she was too strong. Harper's arm snaked tighter around Stephanie's throat, cutting off the blood flow to her brain. "Don't fight it, honey. It will hurt more if you fight it. Just go to sleep, sweet Stephanie." Stephanie felt her struggles began to weaken, as Harper tightened her grip, then after 30 seconds she let out a muffled cry as she slumped unconscious in Harper's arms. Arms hanging limply by her sides. "That's it Stephanie, good girl. Now lets get you out of those clothes. You won't be needing them." Harper dragged the unconscious aid worker to her bed, gently draping her on her back.
Harper stripped off her leather jacket and jeans, down to her matching solid white bra and scanty panties then began to strip the beautiful unconscious aid worker. She unlaced Stephanie's sneakers, removing them along with the lace ankle socks. "It seems we are the same shoe size, Stephanie. That's a blessed relief." She said as she tested the shoes against her feet, then slipped them on along with the socks. Satisfied that they fit, Harper pulled up the unconscious aid worker slipped off the Red Crescent jacket from Stephanie's shoulders, then unbuttoned the tight white shirt removed the garment from the woman's petite attractive body one arm at a time. After letting the girl's body flop back gracefully on the bed, her B-cup breasts straining against the tight fabric of her camisole nipples peaking through, Harper felt her own nipples peak her loins afire as she unbelted the unconscious aid workers denim shorts. Harper worked them off Stephanie's shapely hips, peeling them down her long divine legs revealing pastel blue slim cut panties that protected her modesty. "You have a beautiful body, Stephanie. I would have liked to have explored it but I have a job to do. You wouldn't understand." Harper glanced over her scantily clad victim, draped over the bed on her back as she got dressed in Stephanie's clothes. " Je m'appelle Stephanie Villeneuve , with the red crescent. Pleased to meet you." Harper mimicked Stephanie's accent in her best French, as she looked herself in the mirror buttoning up Stephanie's shirt. After slipping on the Red Crescent jacket, Harper got to work binding and gagging the underwear clad aid worker. Retrieving some towels from the bathroom, along with the cord from a bathrobe Harper tied Stephanie's wrists and ankles with the towels then gagged her with the bathrobe cord. When the unconscious beauty secured, Harper picked her body up tucking her into the bed. "Thank you, sweet Stephanie. Have a nice nap." She kissed the young aid worker on her forehead, smiling Harper looped Stephanie's handbag, which contained her ID and truck keys, over her left shoulder. She closed and locked the door to Stephanie's room behind her, leaving the rest to her back up team. Harper was now ready to start her mission in earnest.
1 hour and 40 minutes later. Helmand Province, Afghanistan
Using the clothing, truck and ID generously donated by the real Stephanie Villeneuve, Harper along with her translator Muhammad Omar had gotten past the border checkpoint. Their weapons shipment, M16A2 assault rifles and Stinger missiles, disguised in medical crates and Stephanie's ID, now sporting Harper's photo along with some simple flashing of her white skin had served them well. As they drove towards their rendezvous with the Bashir tribe of Mujahedin, Harper's thoughts turned to her mission, to Samantha. She feared greatly for her mentor, during her training the two women had become close. The agency had no idea of the nature of their relationship, it was expressly forbidden for agents to fraternise but they couldn't hide their feelings for each other. Samantha was the experienced field agent, she her trainee and Harper was in awe of her. Samantha had taught her everything she knew about being an agent, particularly the art of disguise. Despite their 10 year age gap, Harper had loved her and Samantha had returned that affection. They drifted apart however, when Harper was deployed briefly to Central America on completion of her training instead of Operation Cyclone, and Samantha back to Afghanistan. She hadn't seen her mentor, her old flame, for over a year. The thought of Samantha being tortured by the Soviets or worse, caused a swelling of rage to well into her breasts. Then the sudden appearance of headlights coming towards them from the horizon snapped Harper's attention to the present, her brow furrowed. "That's strange, they are early and we are nowhere near the rendezvous." Harper remarked to her translator as she brought the truck to a halt. "I don't like this, something seems off. I would advise caution, Miss Harper." Muhammed replied as Harper retrieved her Beretta, pulling back the slide chambering a round before tucking it into her stolen denim shorts, just above her ass. Along with her translator, Harper exited the truck as the Bashir tribe got out of their vehicles, some dismounting from horses. Harper noted with alarm that they were Soviet made transports. "I'am here on behalf of the CIA, the United States of America to supply you with these weapons. May I speak with your leader?" Harper said in a commanding voice, as Muhammad quickly translated into Pashtu. Harper had a bad feeling about this.
" Your interpreter won't be needed, we speak perfect English. American." A man dressed in black approached her, wearing loose black clothes and olive coloured Soviet webbing, pulling down his face covering. Then without warning he pulled out a Makarov pistol, then shot Muhammed through the head. Harper cried in outrage but before she could draw her Beretta, she heard the cocking of a dozen AK rif!es being pointed in her direction. " What the fuck is going on?! You are the resistance, why are you doing this?!" Harper said as she put her hands up, before she was quickly restrained and stripped of her weapons by two of Bashir's fighters. Bashir and his men laughed before he answered her. " My stupid little American bitch. There is so much you don't understand about Afghanistan. You think every Afghan wants the Soviets out? The Soviets are the best thing that have ever happened to my country. Omar..." Bashir turned to one of his men, a tall tribal warrior with a tan coloured outfit armed with an AKM. "...call our Soviet allies. Tell them that they we have secured the American agent. She's alive, just as the KGB woman wanted." Curiousity overcame the fear that Harper felt in her breast, as Omar nodded disappearing behind on of the trucks. "Wait?! Who's this KGB woman? Did you do this to Samantha Bruckner? Tell me you communist pig-ugh!" Harper was struck in the mouth by one of Bashir's men, who then binded her hands with rope. The men guffawed again, before Bashir gestured to his men to haul her to her feet. "I don't need to tell you anything, capitalist whore! But I will say this you have quite the surprise coming." He and his men laughed as Harper spat out a wad of blood. "What the fuck are you talking about?" Bashir shook his head as he got into her face, Harper recoiled from the tobacco breath. "What and spoil the surprise? Don't worry, she will answer all your questions soon enough. Better get cosy, little girl." He retreated from her laughing as his men inspected the truck.
Within 10 minutes, there were two sets of headlamps on the horizon. As they neared their position, Harper's mind was awash with questions. Was this what had happened to Samantha? Had she been captured by these Soviet lackeys, in the same trap? Was she dead, or hopefully still alive? And who was this KGB woman they were talking about? Bashir and his men spoke of a surprise, that certainly didn't bode well. Despite all her training, Harper had never felt so afraid and alone in her life. The sudden and brutal murder of Muhammad shook her, but Harper was amazed that she had recovered so quickly from the shock. It was the desire to learn of her ex-lovers fate, to complete her mission that suppressed the desperate nature if her situation. As the Soviet vehicles stopped, Harper knew that she would get the answers she sought but a part of her didn't want to know. She tensed as a female figure, cloaked by the darkness emerged from the lead jeep accompanied by three Soviet troopers, two men and one woman, dressed in summer Afghanka uniforms with ushankas. All armed with AK-74 rifles. As the woman walked around her jeep towards Bashir and his men, a dawning realisation hit Harper as she recognised the woman. "No! No! No! It can't be?! Samantha? What the fuck are you doing in a Red Uniform? You can't be a traitor?" Tears welled up in her eyes, as concern turned to disbelief, disbelief to anger. As Bashir and his men laughed at her pain. "Hey, Harp. I'am sorry we had to meet like this. We have so much to talk about." Samantha Bruckner was a beautiful woman. At 35, her face still returned the youthful beauty and vigour Harper had fallen in love with. Those sculptured cheekbones, rounded features and big brown eyes were fixed with concern that only angered Harper. Samantha's jet black hair was tied in a short ponytail, under the Soviet boonie hat she wore. Her eyes fixed on the blood trickling from the corner of Harper's mouth. "Which one of you bastards, did this?" She said fixing Bashir with a cold stare, her voice even. "That would be Salim, comrade. The bitch ran her mouth off so my men corrected her." Samantha fixed her glance on the man to Harper's left, who was still laughing, then she calmly drew her pistol and shot the man through the head. The laughing abruptly ceased, as Harper felt the man's warm blood splash on her face his corpse hitting the sand with a dull thud. "What part of don't harm a hair on her head, was unclear to you." Samantha holstered her pistol, as Bashir's men backed away in fear. "How dare you shoot him, bitch! He was a lo-" the cocking of Soviet AKs soon silenced him, as Samantha got in his face. "Call me or Harper a bitch again and I will order my men to wet the sands with the blood of you and your savages. Are we clear?" Bashir retreated back in fear, ordered his men to stand down he nodded once. "Very good. Comrade-Corporal. Please escort the American agent to my jeep. We are taking her to the old fort. There is so much we need to discuss." The young pretty corporal, glared at Harper's remaining guard as she roughly manhandled Harper towards the jeep. "Samantha, you fucking traitor! You tell me now why you are do-mmph!" Harper's rage was cut short by a black gag tied around her mouth, then a bag placed over her head. As she was lead towards the jeep into total darkness. "Comrade, take the weapons to Kandahar Airbase." She heard Samantha say. "What about our deal, comrade-lieutenant?! You said we could have the American's weapons!" That was Bashir protesting. "These weapons are now property of state security, I have plans for these weapons. Besides, we already give your people arms as it is. Now if you excuse me, I have pressing matters to attend to." As she was manhandled in to the jeep, Harper heard footsteps crunching off the sand, the sound of two engines turning over. Then the sensation of movement as she was driven into the desert, in total darkness.
Old British Fort, Soviet Forward Operating Base, Helmand Province. 22:00 hrs
Harper sat with her hands tied behind her back, dressed only in her solid white bra and scanty panties. The Soviets having stripped her of the clothes she had stolen from Stephanie, thoroughly searching her for any concealed article. After hosing her down, Harper's captors gave her back her underwear, tying her down in this chair. Her only company in this dark confining space, the pretty corporal who had brought her in. Harper looked the woman up and down, sizing her up. Her uniform was a summer afghanka, a matching beige coloured shirt, trousers cinched at the waist with soviet ammo webbing. Red epaulettes on her shoulders with CA embroidered in gold. With a matching side cap, complete with the redstar pin, perched over her short shoulder length hair, that was tied into a short ponytail. With black ankle boots. "That's a nice uniform, corporal. But it would look better on me." She pitched in perfect Russian. The pretty guard shifted uncomfortably, surprised by the sudden use of Russian but remained impassive. Harper leaned back into her chair, as the door to the interview room opened. "My god! Harper! I'am so sorry, I didn't know they had treated you so badly!" Said Samantha as she walked into the room, Harper couldn't tell if she that pity in her voice was genuine. "Fuck off, Samantha! You traitor! And save me your false pity! I have nothing to say to you." Shaking her head, her former lover turned to the corporal. "Leave us." The corporal shot Harper what she supposed was a fearless glance, before leaving a little to quickly. As Samantha, sat down opposite Harper taking out her stolen ID. "Stephanie Villeneuve? I suppose she's dead in a ditch in Pakistan, in nothing but her underwear?" Harper shook her head. "She was an innocent, I don't kill civilians or have you forgotten?" Samantha smirked as she put down the doctored papers. "You were always the sentimentalist, it's one of the things I loved about you, Harp. For what it's worth, I'am sorry that our reunion couldn't be more...intimate." Harper felt the rage inside her swell, tears welled up in her eyes. " Then if you truly love me, if what we shared meant anything to you. Then help me escape! Call in that guard, I will snap her neck and take her uniform. We can escape, together. The agency will take you back." Samantha leant across the table, her hands clasped together. "I'am afraid that's not going to happen, Harper. You see I'am KGB now and I have an offer for you."
"Screw your offer! I want nothing from you, Sam! I don't even know you anymore. Damn it! I slept with the enemy!" Samantha got up, walking around the table perching on the end. "Harper, there is no shame in it. I love you, ever since Fort Benning. You were so beautiful and capable, more then those ignorant useless men. And you will hear me out, because I know you still love me deep down." She gently caressed Harper's cheek, as Harper half recoiled away from her touch but the other half wanted it. "Join me, Harp. Turn your back on the decadent west, and accept the truth of communism." Harper couldn't hide her rage any longer, it spilled out. "What the fuck?! Never! You're crazy! I will never turn on the CIA or the US! These savages butchered my ancestors, drove them from their homes. It was the US that took them in, gave them a home! Or didn't you read my personal file?" Samantha sighed deeply, fixing her with a look of disappointment, she tried a different tact. "The Agency sent you here to kill me, didn't they? I knew they would. Selling weapons is a waste of your talents, Harper." The sudden question, caught Harper off guard. "No, they wanted me to find you. They.." her voice failed her as she realised the truth. Sensing an opportunity, Samantha seized upon it. "Yes, they never told you did they. About me. They lie Harper, it's what they do. They sent a woman to kill another woman. At the end of the day our lives don't matter, because it's a man's world." Harper shook her head, her arms getting sore from the restraint. "No! Your lying! The CIA wouldn't send me into danger, based on a lie!" Samantha shook her head. "Believe what you like, Harper. I'am only trying to help you." She slid off the table, walking towards the door. "Bullshit! Your just trying to help yourself! Just like any traitor! Why turn on our country? Uh? Why betray me!" Samantha whipped around slamming her hands on the table. "I'am not doing this myself, dammit! I'am doing this for us! Do you think Langley is going to give you a medal for killing me!? You are a woman, to them you are worth nothing. They have only just begun to let us into the SOG. At least with the KGB, with the Soviets we have me opportunity to outrank the men to prove our worth." Harper spat on the ground, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You're deluded Sam! Who the hell do you think runs the Soviet Union? Last I checked Chernenko is a man." Samantha retreated turning her back on her one time lover. "It seems I won't be able to sway you with a single conservation. No matter, I will just have to work on my pitch. Besides, I have other means at my disposal. You will come to see things my way, even if I have to make you. I have an appointment in Kabul, but when I get back we will have this discussion again." She said over her shoulder, as she knocked on the metal door then turned to face Harper. "Sam! Mark my words, the next time we will meet you better be ready, I will kill you." Samantha smiled shaking her head as the door behind her opened. "Look at your situation, Harper. I highly doubt that. Goodbye, Harper. See you soon." She then turned to the blonde Corporal who had opened the door. "Take Rasinski back to her cell, if she says anything then teach her some manners. Just don't marr her face, if you do then you will answer to me. Are we clear, Comrade-Corporal?" The young pretty corporal nodded as she walked into the room, and manhandled Harper from her chair. Harper didn't say a word to her old-flame, as she was dragged from the room. She just fixed Samantha, with an icy stare her mind on one thing. Escape.
30 minutes later, Harper was pacing her cell which was nothing more than a small sandstone covered room with a door and a single cot with a blanket draped over it. A simple metal door, was the only way in or out but that suited Harper just fine. She was still processing the fact that the woman who trained her, who may have even loved her was nothing but a traitor! Who had the nerve to ask her to join her in her deluded madness! What if her sleeping with me, was just to groom me. To use me Harper quickly shook the thoughts from her mind, she cannot give in to despair. She had a new mission, to escape and kill Samantha Bruckner. Not just for the treason but also for the betrayal, for having the gall to ask her to sell her soul, for love. First things first she needed some clothes, a disguise to not only escape this shithole but to find out were Samantha was heading next. Harper's thoughts turned back to the pretty blonde corporal who was her jailer. She had already psyched the Soviet bitch out, all that was needed was a way to get her into this cell. Smiling, she had an idea. "Hey, Corporal Bitch! I know you can hear me! Are you going to teach me some manners or what?" Harper yelled as she stood to the side of the door, arm raised back like a blade.
Corporal Tatiana Simonova, grew more impatient as she heard the American suka call out for her goading her. For a split second she wondered what the double agent saw in the redhead, sure she was beautiful, attractive even but pigheaded and foolish like all capitalists. And she just wouldn't shut up. She finally lost her patience "Alright, Yankee suka!. You were warned! Now I'am really going to have some fun!" Anticipating the beating she would give the redheaded American, she unlocked the door flinging it wide. "Prepare yourse- argh!!" Tatiana didn't see Harper's arm as it chopped her across the windpipe, cutting off her ability to scream. As she began to choke, clutching her crushed throat Harper pulled the corporal inside tossing her to the floor of the cell, before closing the door. Then she knelt by the stricken Tatiana who was gasping for air. "Didn't I tell you wouldn't see me coming, bitch? Now let's get you out of that uniform. You won't be needing it anymore." The last sensation Corporal Tatiana Simonova felt, as the light left her eyes was Harper pulling off her boots and unbuttoning her tunic.
Having removed the Corporals hat, boots webbing and weapons Harper got to work unbuttoning the dead woman's tunic revealing an olive green undervest that covered a well developed pair of C-cup breasts, the nipples stiff peaking under the thin fabric. Harper knew that she would need to relieve the Corporal of that, it was part of the uniform. Harper rolled the woman's body onto its side, slipping the tunic off one arm at a time. Rolling the corporal back onto her front, Harper unbuttoned the trousers working them loose from the soldiers hips then peeled them down her long toned legs, exposing a pair of solid black standard issue scanty panties. Not much different from what she had now, but Harper felt she needed a change in underwear she was practically swimming in sweat. Flicking the dead woman's arms up, Harper pulled off the soldiers undervest pulling it over her head, pausing only to admire the full buoyant breasts of the dead corporal, with full light pink areolas. Not particularly caring about the dead woman's modesty, Harper whipped off the dead Corporals panties pulling them up between her legs, getting a glimpse of a full pink clit crowned with a small trimmed tuft of blonde pubic hair and pert ass. As she got dressed in the rest of the dead woman's uniform, Harper admired the athletic toned body of the dead soldier. Just like Harper herself, military had agreed with the dead blonde. She carefully placed the side cap on her head, before she picked up the naked body of the corporal under the shoulders. Harper laid the dead woman into her cot cocooning her with the blanket then kicked her discarded underwear under the bed. Harper checked the Corporals 9mm Makarov pulling back the slide before replacing it in its holster. Grabbing the fallen cell keys, Harper exited the cell locking it behind her then tossed them back into the cell. Ignoring the calls of the Afghan prisoners, she walked over to the Corporals desk retrieving a small flashlight which she pocketed then picked up the AKM rifle that was leaning against the wall. As she slung the rifle over her shoulder, Harper knew her next move was to find out were Samantha was going. And that meant to the commanders office. Her course set, Harper walked up the stairs out of the detention area, putting the desperate cries of the prisoners behind her.
Using her stolen uniform, Harper walked across the well lit central courtyard of the old British fort, once a bastion of the British who like the Soviets believed they could tame this sandbox and it's people, how history proved them wrong. Hopefully, thought Harper, the reds will have similar bad luck. She walked past patrolling Red Army troopers, some yawning widely making their way to the barracks, while others walked the ramparts their eyes straining against the dark, eyes peeled for signs of the Mujahedin. Harper passed an idling Russian BTR-70 Armoured Personal Carrier, returning the salutes of two soldiers, both privates as she followed the signs towards the CO's office. Once inside, she found the corridors strangely quiet. Most of the soldiers either on night patrol or asleep in the barracks, which suited Harper just fine. Taking the stairs up ahead of her, Harper found the Commanding Officers quarters, she knocked once upon the door, breathing a sigh of relief when she heard silence in reply. She placed a hand on the door handle, and pushed surprised that the door opened. "Obviously, they aren't big on security. Lucky me." Harper chuckled despite her situation. Entering the small room, Harper found two desks; one with a map of Afghanistan behind it was the CO's. While the other with it's unmistakable clutter and a single picture frame on the desk, could only be Samantha's. Closing the door behind her, Harper walked around Samantha's desk unnerved as she saw a picture of herself and Samantha in happier times during Harper's training in Fort Bragg. "How long Sam? Just how long have you been selling out our country?" She asked the picture. Shaking the thought from her head, Harper slammed the picture on the desk before she started to rummage through the desk. After five minutes of searching, Harper found a communique hidden amongst Sam's papers, picking it up she read it aloud. "Agent Bruckner, the KGB doesn't care if you manage to turn your former pupil or not, she is too much of a risk. You are ordered to kill her and use the American weapons, to turn the local tribes against each other. This will in turn damage the rebels trust in the west, and allow us to finally tame this wild country. Report to Kandahar airbase, with the munitions. At 09:30am, a Mil Mi-24 will fly you to Kabul to receive these orders in an official capacity." Harper placed the letter back onto the desk. So that's you little scheme, Samantha. Well not on my watch she thought as she finally realised what she had to do. She not only had to kill Samantha but she also had to prevent the weapons from falling into the wrong hands, Operation Cyclone depended on it. She needed to get to Kandahar. But before she could formulate a plan, she heard the sound of loud bang! Then another! Followed by the sound of a siren flaring up, then all hell broke loose.
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