Chapter 24: Qizilkhanum

Alma-Ata TV Tower, 12/13 March 1990, after midnight 

Sofya Vedenina's grip tightened on her Makarov's frigid handle, the muzzle pressed firmly against Maxine Remington's temple. It marked a suspended moment, a lethal decision hanging on the brink of execution. Her index finger tightened on the trigger, ready to deliver the deadly shot that would bring an end to Maxine's life once and for all. 

But destiny, it seemed, had different designs. 

As Sofya pulled the trigger, there was only a dry click—a hollow, mocking sound that reverberated through the enclosed observation deck. Her weapon had run out of bullets, its ammunition depleted in the intense firefight that had raged moments before. Panic surged within Sofya as the realization of her empty gun washed over her. 

Sofya herself was not untouched by the ferocity of their confrontation. Her body bore the painful evidence of her injuries—three gunshot wounds. Bullets had grazed her shoulder, pierced her waist, and passed through her thigh. Blood oozed from her wounds, staining her dark attire. 

Maxine, already unconscious, did not realize that her life had been spared for now. But the imminent threat remained. 

In her desperation, Sofya briefly considered ending Maxine's life with her bare hands. Yet, at that moment, her vision blurred, and her grip on consciousness wavered. Her body, battered and drained from the battle and blood loss, betrayed her. With her final attempt to eliminate the CIA agent who had haunted her mission thwarted, she slumped forward, her pistol slipping from her grasp. Her body, no longer able to endure the pain and blood loss, gave way, and she collapsed onto the unconscious Maxine, their fates intertwined in this precarious instant. 

Amidst the aftermath of the violent clash, the enigmatic Crimson Lady stood stoically. Two fallen agents lay before her—one from the CIA, the other from the KGB. Her face remained an unreadable mask of composure as she observed the scene, the fire's embers casting a macabre glow over the tableau of conflict. She picked up the charred fragments of the blackmail photographs, no longer a threat to their intended target. 

Her subordinates, agents of the KGB's Kazakhstan branch, whom she had summoned earlier, eventually arrived at the observation deck. They moved with the precision and discipline of seasoned operatives. "Secure them," she commanded, her tone carrying the weight of authority. They quickly disarmed and secured Maxine and Sofya, ensuring that neither agent posed an immediate danger. 

The CIA and KGB agents, once engaged in a deadly battle, now lay unconscious and at the mercy of the mysterious Crimson Lady. Neither of them knew what had transpired, nor could they foresee what fate awaited them. 

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As Maxine gradually emerged from the depths of unconsciousness, her first sensations were a mixture of disorientation and fear. Blinking against the harsh, artificial glare, she found herself in an entirely unfamiliar, sterile environment. The Alma-Ata TV Tower's observation deck had vanished from her surroundings, replaced by the antiseptic confines of a room that could only belong to a hospital or a clinical facility. 

The sterile, unfamiliar surroundings of the hospital room, coupled with the awareness of being restrained by cold metal handcuffs, sent shivers down her spine. Her heart raced as she realized the gravity of her situation. 

In the dimly lit room, Maxine's eyes darted around, taking in her compromised state. Her disguise coveralls and Kevlar armor vest had been replaced by a thin hospital gown, barely concealing the bruises and internal wounds from the four gunshot wounds she had sustained. Pain pulsed through her body, each throb a reminder of the intense firefight at the TV Tower. But she was grateful to find herself otherwise intact. 

Maxine's mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Fear mingled with determination as she assessed the situation. She knew she had to stay composed, to find a way out of this predicament, but the uncertainty of her fate weighed heavily on her. 

The room had windows with drawn curtains, allowing only a faint glimmer of morning light to filter through. This meant that several hours had passed since the firefight in the TV Tower, but the exact amount of time was unknown. 

A cursory glance around revealed another hospital bed nearby. On it lay Sofya Vedenina, her wounds carefully bandaged. Sofya appeared conscious but too weak to get up. The effects of the gunshot wounds had taken their toll on the KGB agent, rendering her temporarily incapacitated. Maxine's gaze shifted to Sofya, and despite the animosity that had defined their past encounters, she couldn't help but sense a shared vulnerability in this moment of captivity. 

Between the two beds, an imposing figure occupied a chair. It was the same person who had met Sofya earlier, the woman who was about to receive the blackmail photographs from her before Maxine had interrupted the meeting with a Molotov cocktail. Her piercing eyes met Maxine's, silently asserting their authority. 

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The Crimson Lady observed Maxine's awakening with an air of cool composure. Sensing Maxine's regained consciousness, she spoke, her voice carrying a note of unwavering authority. "Now that you two are awake, it seems that introductions are in order." She paused momentarily, her gaze shifting between the two agents before her. 

She continued, "I believe that two agents of your caliber—one from the CIA and the other from the KGB—should be quite capable of deducing my true identity. After all, I hold a public office as the chairwoman of the KGB's Kazakhstan branch." 

"But I'll save you the trouble. My name is Hasima Qaiyrbek," she said as she directed her eyes at Sofya, "you, Sofya, already know my code name, 'Qizilkhanum' or Crimson Lady." 

As Maxine observed the Crimson Lady more closely, she saw a woman who embodied a quiet, unassuming confidence. Dark hair framed her composed face, and her thoughtful eyes betrayed a sharp intellect that lay behind her enigmatic exterior. She dressed modestly yet elegantly, an unobtrusive figure who blended seamlessly into her surroundings. There was a sense of typical Kazakh woman features about her, but it was the intellect and resolve in her demeanor that truly defined her. 

The Crimson Lady's cool composure was unshaken as she turned her attention to Sofya Vedenina, the KGB agent who lay wounded but conscious in the adjacent hospital bed. She began, her voice carrying a blend of authority and an underlying sense of history. 

"Sofya Vedenina," she began, her tone measured, "you and I have had a rather unfortunate interruption in our previous meeting, one that I had not anticipated. I must admit, your fiery determination in defending our interests was impressive." 

Her words took on a reflective tone as she continued, "You may recall our earlier conversation about the Alma-Ata TV Tower. You told me you know that it was built from the idea of Dinmukhammed Konaev, the former First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Kazakh Republic. Konaev is a man who led Kazakhstan for 22 years." 

Hasima Qaiyrbek's voice took on a reflective quality as she continued, "But history often takes unexpected turns, doesn't it? In 1986, four years before this moment, Mikhail Gorbachev accused Konaev of corruption and dismissed him from his position. I can say that Secretary Konaev had done much for the Soviet Union. He oversaw the construction of the Baikonur Cosmodrome, secured the Semipalatinsk nuclear test site, and played a pivotal role in the Virgin Lands Campaign of the '50s, which saw the successful resettlement of Russians into Kazakhstan." 

"Comrade Konaev also worked to help us Kazakhs reach prominent positions within the Soviet government. I owe my position to him," Hasima said. "His dismissal and replacement with Kolbin, a Russian who had never set foot in Kazakhstan, did not sit well with the people. They saw it as Moscow trying to take control of Kazakhstan, and they protested. The protests turned into riots in Alma-Ata. I was responsible for internal security, so I had to help stop the riots. But I understand why the people were protesting. I know that KGB agents from Russia were also sent here to crush the uprising, and I know that they killed my fellow Kazakhs." 

Sofya's condition made it difficult for her to respond, but her eyes held a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, unsure of where Hasima was leading with this historical account. 

With a sense of gravity, Hasima continued, "After the riot, I began to realize that Kazakhstan might chart a different destiny from the Soviet Union, one with greater autonomy. The years after 1986 brought further hints of change—the Soviet failure in Afghanistan, the fall of the Berlin Wall, as well as Gorbachev's glasnost and perestroika which divided the Soviet elite. Even the KGB was not immune to these changes. Do you realize, Sofya Vedenina, that the KGB is being weakened by the central government? It is losing some of its authority and is being reorganized into smaller, less powerful units." 

Maxine, while still in a state of discomfort, couldn't help but contemplate the implications of Hasima's words. The geopolitical landscape was shifting, and it seemed that the Crimson Lady had positioned herself at the nexus of these changes, with her own agenda and ambitions driving her actions. She looked at Sofya, who was also silent but clearly disturbed. 

Hasima Qaiyrbek's voice remained composed as she pressed on, her focus fixed on the injured Sofya, who lay immobile. "Miss Vedenina, I predict that the Soviet Union is on the brink of experiencing a major change, although I don't know what kind. There are voices within the Kazakh elite, eager for greater sovereignty over our land. As the chief of Kazakh intelligence, I must ensure we have detailed information about what transpires in Moscow, and in the event of that major change, I must ensure that I have assets in the capital who can safeguard the interests of our nation." 

Despite her injuries, Sofya found her voice. "Chairwoman, you speak of sensitive matters," she cautioned, her gaze shifting towards Maxine, who was still handcuffed and clearly listening intently. "You of all people should know better. We are not alone in this room, and some topics are better discussed in a more secure environment." 

The Crimson Lady acknowledged Sofya's caution with a subtle nod. "I appreciate your concern, Sofya," she replied calmly. "But let me assure you, I have means of ensuring that overheard secrets remain safe." Her words carried a chilling implication, a reminder that she wouldn't hesitate to take drastic measures to protect her interests. 

Shifting her attention to Maxine, Hasima couldn't help but notice the tension in the room. She observed, "It appeared, Miss Vedenina, that you and our CIA guest here have a history. You know her name and her affiliation." She paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle in the room. "I must say, the history between intelligence operatives can be quite interesting. Sofya, perhaps you could enlighten us all with some details." 

Sofya, despite her injuries and discomfort, began to recount her history with Maxine, her voice steady and resolute. 

"It began in East Germany," she started, her words measured. "I was assigned to stop a traitor, Julian Woitke, from crossing the border with sensitive national secrets. But Woitke had help—from a CIA agent named Maxine Remington." 

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she recalled the tense moments of that operation. "I had received orders to neutralize Woitke if capture proved impossible. To achieve this, I enlisted the help of allies from the Rote Armee Fraktion. Together, we set a trap for Woitke. It resulted in a deadly explosion that killed him." 

Her gaze shifted towards Maxine as she admitted, "I thought I had eliminated the threat, including the CIA agent who had been helping him. But," Sofya paused, "I was wrong. Maxine Remington reappeared at the Alma-Ata TV Tower, quite alive." 

The Crimson Lady redirected her attention to Maxine Remington, who remained handcuffed to the hospital bed. Her demeanor remained calm and composed as she greeted Maxine with a hint of mockery in her voice. "Well, Miss Remington, I hope you've been enjoying your time in Alma-Ata. It certainly has been eventful, hasn't it?" 

Hasima's voice took on a more serious tone as she continued, "I assume you're well-versed in the history of intelligence agencies and their methods, Miss Remington. But I wonder, do you know about J. Edgar Hoover?" 

Maxine couldn't help but acknowledge her knowledge of Hoover. "Yes," she replied, her voice steady. "J. Edgar Hoover, longtime director of the FBI." 

The Crimson Lady leaned in slightly, her eyes locking onto Maxine's with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. " You see, Hoover had a rather interesting hobby—blackmail." She emphasized the word, fully aware of its significance in the world of espionage. "He liked collecting information, especially sensitive information about powerful people. And he occasionally used that information to exert pressure when needed." 

Maxine's brow furrowed slightly as she listened, realizing the direction of this conversation. She knew that Hoover's extensive files on influential figures were kept secret in the United States, but the next revelation was unexpected. 

"What you may find interesting, Miss Remington, is that Soviet intelligence was aware of Hoover's penchant for blackmail long before it became widely known in your country." Hasima Qaiyrbek leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed onto Maxine's. "You see, a Soviet spy operating in the United States had sent valuable information about Hoover's methods to Moscow after World War II." 

"I must say, Miss Remington," she continued, "I find Hoover's methods quite inspiring. The art of gathering information, especially sensitive information, can be a potent tool in our line of work." She leaned back slightly, her fingers gently tapping the armrest of her chair. 

Hasima's eyes locked onto Maxine's as she revealed her next move. "Now, let me share a little secret with you. I have had the pleasure of meeting Pyotr Rozagin on several occasions during his visits here as an official of the Ministry of Culture. Progressive-minded, getting quite close to Gorbachev, but he does have a particular weakness." She paused for emphasis, her tone laced with intrigue. "Quite easy to spot during cultural shows performed for official visits. He always pays too much attention to beautiful female dancers, and looks captivated around them during ceremonies afterwards." 

The Crimson Lady concluded, her voice carrying a hint of resolve, "You have heard, Miss Remington, that I want to ensure that I have someone in the heart of Moscow who can assist in safeguarding the interests of my nation, should the need arise. And Mr. Rozagin seems like a prime candidate for such a role." 

"Miss Remington," she began, "I want you to understand that I have been closely monitoring the attempt to get Mr. Rozagin's cooperation. The operation was running smoothly, progressing towards its intended goal, until your unexpected intervention here in Alma-Ata." She paused, allowing her words to hang in the air. 

Hasima leaned forward slightly, her fingers still tapping the armrest of her chair. "I am aware that you have apprehended the other participants of the plot in Istanbul—Canan, Isabelle, Koray," she stated, her knowledge of the situation evident. "You have proven to be quite resourceful, Miss Remington. Perhaps you are as dangerous as Miss Vedenina said." 

The Crimson Lady's words hung in the air, and Maxine Remington felt the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Hasima Qaiyrbek had revealed a great deal about her knowledge and intentions, and Maxine had to tread carefully in this perilous conversation. 

"Miss Remington," Hasima Qaiyrbek began, her tone measured, "your actions in attempting to thwart the blackmail plot made it clear that the CIA has a vested interest in Mr. Rozagin." She paused, her eyes probing Maxine's for any reaction.

Maxine, aware of the sensitive nature of the information and the implications of her answer, chose her words carefully. "I have no comment on that matter," she replied, her voice steady. 

The Crimson Lady, undeterred by Maxine's refusal to answer, continued, "You don't need to confirm it, Miss Remington. I have been in this business long enough to know what your involvement means. Mr. Rozagin's alignment with the reformist faction in the Soviet government is no secret, and it would not be surprising if he were already a CIA asset. His influence and connections in Moscow make him an attractive candidate. No wonder the CIA sent someone to help him." 

The tension in the room intensified as Hasima contemplated her next move. Maxine's actions in destroying the blackmail photographs had disrupted her carefully laid plans, and she needed to reassess her strategy. 

"As for you, Miss Remington," the Crimson Lady said, her voice firm, "I want you to understand the gravity of your situation. Espionage and sabotage are serious crimes, punishable by the most severe penalties. In our country, that can include the death penalty." Her words were a stark reminder of the peril Maxine faced. 

In the oppressive silence that followed the Crimson Lady's chilling reminder of the consequences of espionage, Sofya Vedenina, despite her weakened condition, felt compelled to interject. Her voice was strained but resolute as she spoke. 

"I, too, want to see her dead," Sofya declared, her eyes locked onto Maxine with an intensity that matched her words. "She's a threat to our interests, to the stability of the Soviet Union. She disrupted our operation and destroyed valuable assets. She cannot be allowed to continue her meddling." 

Hasima's attention shifted from Maxine to Sofya, her expression betraying a blend of disappointment and frustration. Her voice remained calm but laced with an undertone of rebuke. "Sofya Vedenina, have you not learned anything from our conversation about the changing landscape of the Soviet Union?" She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto Sofya's with intensity. "Your loyalty to a fading regime blinds you to the opportunities that lie ahead."

Her gaze shifted briefly towards the window, where the faint morning light hinted at a world undergoing transformation. "The Soviet Union may be a lost cause," Hasima continued, her words heavy with significance. "The winds of change are blowing, and even within our intelligence circles, there are those who seek to adapt to the new realities. We must be prepared for different scenarios." 

Sofya, still determined but now facing a reality that was more complex than her steadfast loyalty to the Soviet Union, struggled to find a response. Her injuries had weakened her, and she knew she was in no position to challenge the Crimson Lady's authority. 

On the other hand, despite the dire circumstances she found herself in, Maxine grasped the importance of finding common ground in this high-stakes confrontation. With a measured tone, she addressed Hasima Qaiyrbek, her words aimed at bridging the gap between their conflicting interests. 

"Chairwoman Qaiyrbek, I understand the gravity of the situation, and I accept responsibility for disrupting your operation. But I want you to consider the big picture." She met the Crimson Lady's eyes with a steady gaze. "The world is changing, and the Soviet Union is on the brink of transformation. We don't have to be enemies in this new world." 

Maxine paused, allowing her words to sink in, and continued, "The United States is eager for favorable relations with former adversaries in the new era. Just like what the US did with Germany and Japan. There are opportunities for cooperation and mutual benefit that extend beyond the old hostilities." 

Hasima Qaiyrbek listened to Maxine's proposal with a measured expression. However, as Maxine finished speaking, the chairwoman's demeanor shifted from disappointment to a more assertive tone. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly as she responded to Maxine. 

"Miss Remington," Hasima began, her voice carrying a note of admonishment, "you may think that your proposal is the way towards a brighter future, but it rings hollow to me." She leaned back in her chair, her gaze fixed on Maxine, her composure unshaken. "Your words sound patronizing, as if you believe you are offering a lifeline to the less fortunate." 

Her gaze shifted back and forth between the two agents. "In the grand scheme of global politics, you and Miss Vedenina are pawns, just like the rest of us. You both serve your respective governments' interests without question, and you are willing to intervene in the affairs of other nations to further those interests. Neither the United States nor the Soviet Union has the best interests of Kazakhstan or its people at heart. You are here because your governments seek to use the world for their own strategic advantages." 

Hasima's tone assumed the role of a senior admonishing two foolish juniors, her words carrying the weight of experience and conviction. "Do not deceive yourselves into believing that you can influence the world as you please. The world is a complex chessboard, and the players are far more powerful than you can imagine." 

With that, she reclined in her chair, her gaze once again fixed on the faint glimmer of morning light outside the window. The room descended into a heavy silence, the message clear—geopolitical realities were more intricate and unforgiving than the aspirations of individuals. 

Having conveyed her admonishment to Maxine and Sofya, Hasima then spoke with unwavering finality. 

"Miss Remington," she began, her voice firm, "espionage is a deadly business, and you should not expect mercy if you are captured after disrupting a covert operation. You have been exposed to sensitive information, and you should know the consequences of that." Her words held a grim truth that hung in the air. 

"In the world of espionage," Hasima continued, "successes often go unacknowledged, failures can be fatal, and those who fall are often disavowed. Lives are fleeting, and one must come to terms with the choices they make." 

With a subtle gesture, Hasima called her men into the room. They approached Maxine, and without a word, they placed a hood over her head, effectively obscuring her vision. Maxine was released from the hospital bed but remained restrained. The last image she saw before the hood was placed over her head was Sofya's icy glare, accompanied by a muttered curse aimed at the CIA agent. 

Amidst the pain and fear, Maxine's mind raced. She thought of her team, the mission, and her twin brother. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Hasima's motivations than met the eye. What was the Crimson Lady's endgame? And how could she navigate this treacherous terrain to ensure her own survival? Or would this be her last mission, the one where she would end up dead and disavowed by the agency? 

The room fell into silence once more, broken only by the sound of footsteps as Maxine was led away by Hasima's men, leaving Sofya Vedenina alone with her contemplations, injuries, and the complex web of geopolitics that had ensnared them all. 

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