The Jump Over Kaluga.
Hi there, this is Kungfukitten here. Dom is on vacation and asked me to update while he was gone along with a couple other people. I thought I would tell you how Dom and I first met. I think you may find the story rather interesting. The cold war is over and this information has just been declassified so I am free to tell the tale:
It was my first mission and the CIA was sending me to Kaluga, a large city just outside Moscow. I studied the dossier on the plane, because I had to memorize as much of it as I could. They wouldn�t allow me take anything to the ground with me other than my utility knife and 100,000 rubles. I must have dozed off somewhere over the Atlantic because Major Bradford ripped the dossier from my slack hands and set it on fire as I watched.
�You ready Kitten?� he asked as I watched the dossier turn to ash. The answer had better be yes.
�Ready, Major.� I said rapidly blinking the sleep from my eyes and stifling a yawn.
He pulled me to a standing position by my harness and pulled me over to the side door. �It�s two fifteen a.m. local time.� He waited long enough for me to adjust my watch and then slid open the bay door. The wind whipped around me, ripping my hair from its sleek blonde ponytail. The cold was biting and before I had a chance to say something to my mentor he pulled me close and yelled in my ear �Good luck, Kitten!� and threw me off the plane.
I�d done this jump a hundred times before but never over enemy territory. I hit the light on my watch and monitored the altimeter, while trying to keep my body from rolling out of control. When I reached five thousand feet I pulled the cord and felt the familiar spine crackling jolt of my parachute deploying. It was dark in the Soviet Union; it reminded me of jumping over Area 51. I thought I saw a glimmer of light. It disappeared and I strained my eyes in the darkness trying to locate it. I saw it again. I pulled the cords on my chute and aimed for the field where the glimmering light kept appearing. I felt branches snag my feet and swore to myself. Damn trees. I pulled a hard right and found myself stuck, hanging in the branches of an old oak tree. I pulled my field knife from my boot and gauged the distance to the ground. About a story and a half. I�d fallen from worse heights. I sliced my way out of my parachute and hit the ground inelegantly on my back. I gasped hard, trying to draw the air back into my lungs when I felt a boot step across the wrist which was still clutching my field knife and the barrel of a Kalashnikov was pressed between my breasts.
�� sempre freddo in Siberia.� I said timidly.
�Ottenete usati al freddo, giusto come voi fate la vodka,� he answered.
We stared at each other for a moment before he smiled and moved the rifle aside. He stepped off me and leaned down to offer me his hand. I reached out to him and he easily pulled me to my feet. I stumbled against him and in the dark could see that he was as handsome as he had been described, although the picture of him in the dossier was outdated. He now had a scar on the right side of his cheek down into his neck.
�You are the Kitten?� he asked. His voice had the lilting accent of a Frenchman.
I nodded, still trying to catch my breath.
�They call me Dom. I have a car less than a mile away. We must go in case they spotted your descent.�
Posted by kungfukitten
2007-02-19
go back | random brainstorm | go forth
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