Easy to get sidetracked whenever Reina drops in. Trying not to. Since Bob revealed something personal about her, she did the same, giving Konev his answer.

I’ve seen the “action sequence” coming up but am having trouble writing it without making things confusing or coming across like an idiot. I’m sure it’ll work out.

Reina has a family? Yep. Her daughter on a research trip? Yep.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

Walking east along the River Pathway in a dark illuminated by some electric lights, Konev paused when he spied the Rideau Canal just ahead.

The PM just laughed at me when I asked what she knew about Centurion Hardt.  For someone like her, not knowing about him is impossible, which means she did not want to tell me.

He looked north to where a small water taxi was moored to the quay.

Which makes my suspicions about his confession of his mixed blood likely correct.  I must on guard here.

With his service pistol under his suitcoat, Konev pretended to glance at his tablet.  On, but in sleep mode.  Why did Hardt ask me to bring this?  To talk to her?

The footsteps coming toward him from ahead were obviously those of a military man.  Konev waited.

“Sergeant,” Hardt said quietly.

“Centurion.”

Hardt indicated the direction Konev had come from.  They walked slowly and stilled their talk whenever anyone drew near.

“So,” Konev began, “you are going to rescue this mong… excuse me, the army leftenant and want my help?  I am only here in a diplomatic capacity, not at the head of my scout group.”

“It is in just that capacity I need your help,” Hardt admitted.  “The fact that you and your envoys are here indicates the Canadians recognize the facts on the ground.  I am not here in any official capacity and, if detained, could be used as a pretext for an act of war.”

“A pretext you people will win, surely,” Konev fished.

“Months ago, I told a Canadian refugee I was rescuing that he was taking valuable time away from me and my mission,” Hardt went on.  “I truthfully said I did not want the death of tens of millions on my conscience if I screw up.”

“Commendable,” the Russian allowed.

“We can discuss details later.  May I see your tablet?” the imperial asked.

Konev lifted it and was about to wake it up, but there was already a face looking out at them.

“Mrs. Tohsaka,” Hardt said with a malicious grin, not taking the device from Konev.  “How are you?  And your husband and children?”

What?  Konev was stunned.  Our PM is married?  Children?  But… she’s a Machine!  How…?

“I remain Reina Mendrovovitch, just as another kept her surname.  For reasons,” she snarled out at them.  She willed her face to a neutral look.  “However, the others are well.  I… appreciate you asking about them.  Robert.”

“In fact,” she continued, unusually chatty, “my step-daughter is on her way to Constantinople to do some research.”

“My uncle, who was there with you at her reawakening, has always thought very well of her,” he paused as a couple, laughing, walked past.  “Reina.”

Konev thought that seemed to bother her.

“I think I know the point of this conversation:  my NCO is to create a small maskirovka for your extraction of that woman?”

“Correct.”

“You and yours will own me.”

“We know.”

“Mars.” The sound from the screen was teeth grinding.

“Possibly.  Not my decision.”

“Agreed.  Sergei?  Please assist this human without compromising your main mission or me or the rodina.  Clear?”

“Very.”

The screen faded to black.  From his outer coat pockets, Konev watched Hardt – but that’s not his real name – take out two shot glasses, hold them in his left hand while pouring something from a flask.  Flask put away, he offered one of the glasses.

“Worlds without end,” the imperial said.

“Da.”  They drank then tossed their glasses against a rock well off the path.  “Now we talk business.”