Destiny of Coins Read Online Free PDF Page A

my heart to leave her in tears…but to state anything else of that particular mission beyond the newly formed Iron Curtain was far too dangerous. My status as a protected American spy living in Scotland was already on shaky ground, after a security compromise within our ranks revealed the identities of nearly a thousand agents to the MGB. All of us were spread across the globe at the time, and one of the few political assassinations I was called on to complete involved an early leader of what eventually became the KGB. Ivan Patrisky was his name.
    The CIA was less than a year old in September of 1948, and getting everyone organized across several continents didn’t always work as well as it would later on. My mission entailed traveling to Moscow on a Wednesday, locate Patrisky by Friday, and take him out at the first opportunity that weekend with a return to the UK late Sunday night.
    I was there for almost two weeks, and two of the contacts assigned to assist me were killed. However, Ivan Patrisky escaped. I never got close enough to pose a legitimate threat to his life.
    “I thought you were dead,” said Beatrice, sadly, as she reminisced. I shifted my body closer, feeling the warmth from her aura as I invaded her personal space. I gently massaged her back and shoulders. “No one would tell me anything when you didn’t return as promised that Sunday night…no one knew anything about William Barrow.”
    She said this with enough cynicism for me to expect her somber disposition to suddenly lift to a more volatile state of anger…although it would’ve surprised me. But, her voice cracked and tears formed in her soft emerald eyes. It tore at my soul to realize this was one of the experiences that had pierced her heart—despite the elation I recalled from her when I burst in through the front door of our tiny cottage at the time. Back then, seeing her rapturous joy upon my return erased my concerns for what she had endured for that additional week. I never considered our reunion had failed to erase the emotional turmoil she endured while waiting for me to come home.
    “It won’t be like that this time,” I assured her. “Viktor will likely be in for a surprise if he makes it to the Essene castle. Roderick told me that during the past thirty years they have become as militant and dangerous as any of the Bolivian cartels. And, since this group has often felt despised by most of humanity for hundreds of years, they won’t be the doormats he surely expects to find. Not to mention, their leaders have gone willingly to their deaths in ages past when pillagers demanded the location of their most sacred treasures.”
    “So, that’s supposed to make me feel better about your survival?” She shot me a wry look while reaching for her glass of Zinfandel from a small wooden tray in front of the marble fireplace in our room. A bowl of fresh strawberries drizzled in chocolate separated our glasses from each other. “Besides, you now have our beloved son and Amy to keep you distracted, as well.”
    Ah, yes. That did complicate things…substantially.
    “Beatrice, my darling…you should know I will survive, if for no other reason than my life’s purpose is far from fulfilled,” I said, reaching for my glass.
    I wanted to take a subtle sip, but ended up with a bigger gulp that gave away my irritation with how things had progressed from the moment we stepped inside our home until Roderick told me on the phone he fully expected my kid and his girlfriend to be coming along. Whether based on his intuitive gifts or just years of astute observation, I was left without the barrier I needed to force an end to the ongoing debate between Alistair and me, that his and Amy’s presence would help, rather than hinder, our journey to the Bolivian Andes.
    “Perhaps it’s true, William,” she said, raising up to where I could see the swell of her breasts. Youth had certainly returned to that portion of her body, and I tried not to think