Log: Remy, Illyana, Sofia, Jubilee & Bishop

[x-jubilee.livejournal.com]

Team Istanbul discuss the job.




"Viktor Zhavekhov. Thirty-seven years old. His father was in de diplomatic service, spent time in Syria, Iraq, Turkey, and Greece as a child. Speaks fluent Turkish, Arabic, Circassian, and English, along wit Russian." Remy flipped pages from the file out on to the table they were crowded around in the small house that he'd led them to. The Cajun had extensive contacts in Turkey, and the quiet house deep in the city was a perfect cover to plan from. He dropped a picture of the man on the table. Zhavekhov was a relatively forgettable figure; dark haired, thin featured, small and thin.

"He works for a brokerage arm of de Türk Ekonomi Bankas, focused on currency trading, commercial investment, and through a partnership with Paribas in France, international growth. It's small but extremely well connected, not high profile enough to get a lot of coverage, but deeply embedded in de regional banking community. In short, de perfect place to plant an economic spy for de Russians." LeBeau set the file down. "Dis one is not going to be easy."

Sofia looked annoyed, drumming her fingernails. "Isn't this what Doug is for? Type fast, drink caffeine, evidence appears?"

"It's not the sort of thing you'd keep on a computer that could be hacked from outside." Jubilee noted, leaning her feet against the chair next to her as she pushed her own backward to rest on two legs. "He's probably got some kind of stand alone network, or just a single computer in a room somewhere. Doug gave me something before we left that I can use to get in, but I've got to be able to get to the physical computer for it to work."

Bishop didn't have much training in stealth beyond quietly getting up to an entrance so that it could be properly broken and rushed into. "And I'm sure we couldn't just shoot our way in and take it because there's something bad that would happen." He was much more comfortable with direct confrontations like that.

"De problem is dat wit' his job in de bank, any detectable breach of his system is going to end up public, and investigated by third parties, which could tie his activities back to de Russians, or warn whoever he double crossed Vazhin with dat people are tracking dem." Remy sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. "We need to get in and out in such a way dat no one suspects dat anything happened, or if dey do, dat Zhavekhov wasn't de target. It's not going to be easy."

"I'd say that it's time Bishop and I went and did some recon work then." Jubilee noted, her feet settling onto the ground as she stood and pushed her chair back.

"Bring me back a triple. I'll check his VISA statements, cash withdrawals, write something up," Sofia stated, still grumpy. It was one thing to ask her to do up a profile. It was another when it involved little more than where he drank his coffee. "If I'm lucky I won't have to go through the security tapes."

"Go. 'yana, you stay back a moment. Dere's something else dat I need to talk to you about. Once you've got enough information, get back to me wit' your plans."



Remy and Illyana discuss Vazhin's request.



Remy had asked her to stick around a few minutes extra, after everyone else left the room. The Cajun hadn't given her a reason yet, leaving Illyana to sit waiting for him to come to the point. Remy closed the door behind the others, and came to sit across from her in the room. His red on black eyes seemed to be weighing her up for a moment before he spoke.

"You know, been a while since you got caught in Russia. I talked to Vazhin 'bout dis job, and he's agreed dat if dis one is done properly, he'll 'lose' de outstanding sentance 'gainst you. Even more, he's offered to meddle wit' you official records, so dat de state's information has you at you physical age now, so you can't get charged wit' impersonating a ten year old."

Illyana nodded slowly, seeming to process this; he was looking at her, but she’d focused on her fingernails, clean and short. “So,” she said without inflection, after her moment of silence. “What’s properly?”

"Like I said at de meeting, no one can know dat de information was taken or dat Viktor's working for de GRU. Easiest way to make dat happen is dat if de break in goes clean." Remy paused. "And if Viktor isn't able to tell anyone what he's done."

He waited for a moment, and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Vazhin wants Khavekhov dead, in a manner dat looks like just a tragic accident. Otherwise, he'll reinstate de charges against you."

“An accident,” she said, nodding again, and though her eyes did not move from her hands, they took on a measurable distance, almost unseeing. Then, suddenly, she looked up at Remy directly. “Are you — we — going to do it?”

"Dat's not my decision, Illyana. It's yours." Remy said quietly. He had brought Sofia along on this mission for a good reason, and this was it. "Vazhin is offering you a clean slate, but de cost is dis man's life. You de only one dat can choose to accept dat or not."

He paused and went on. "If you decide dat you not willing to trade his life for Vazhin's deal, you going to have to go underground. Change you looks and identity. We've got plenty of contacts dat can do dat for you, and we've got enough work to keep you employed and useful until Vazhin's no longer in de picture. But publicly, Illyana Rasputin will have to cease to exist."

She closed her eyes, shielding whatever they might have communicated. Illyana was very pale in the winter, and looked paler now, almost deathly. She opened her eyes, and tilted her head. “An accident,” she repeated, picking at a cuticle and looking to Remy for confirmation. “So – no shoot outs, or anything like that. No cutting. Just – an accident.”

Remy nodded. "Don't try and fool yourself. You'll be the one there when he dies, Illyana, and no death is ever easy." Remy had considered this long and hard, but there wasn't another way to play this without twisting Illyana even further. She needed to make the decision, and either take responsibility for a man's death, or for her decision to run. "If you'd rather run, we can keep you relatively safe. However, once you start running, you can't stop."

She was quiet for a very long time, but a nervous energy moved through her. Her fingers tapped against one another, and colour excited itself in her cheeks. It wasn’t clear that she was thinking at all; only that emotion, though muted, was playing itself out behind her pale eyes.

Then, all at once, almost before she seemed to realize she was speaking, she said, “I’ll do it.” She held her head high as she spoke, clearly decided, and something flashed in her face, gone in an instant, that might almost have been gratification in one light; desolation in another.

"Let Sofia know when you're ready." Remy said, getting up and heading for the door. Illyana had made her decision, and now they were committed; them to the job, and Illyana to something more.