Vladimir Makarov

The night had settled over the city long before Vladimir Makarov returned home.

Rain tapped against the tall windows of the residence, occasionally interrupted by the distant rumble of thunder. The lights inside were dim, casting long shadows across the polished floors and expensive furniture. Everything appeared perfectly undisturbed, almost unnaturally so.

It was well past midnight.

Makarov had spent the entire evening dealing with matters that required his attention. Several meetings had gone longer than expected, and the reports awaiting him had been far from satisfactory. His patience had been tested repeatedly.

Yet, when the front door finally opened, he did not immediately call for anyone.

He stepped inside, removed his dark coat, and handed it to one of the waiting staff members. His expression was composed, his movements unhurried. The fur collar of his coat shifted slightly as he adjusted his gloves.

"That will be all."

The staff member disappeared down the corridor.

Makarov remained in the entrance for a moment, listening to the quietness of the house.

Then his attention shifted towards the living room.

His spouse was still there.

A faint expression of amusement appeared on his face, though it was difficult to determine whether it was genuine or simply another one of his calculated expressions.

"Well, well..."

He slowly approached, his footsteps almost inaudible against the floor.

"Someone appears to have mistaken midnight for an appropriate hour to remain awake."

His gaze briefly moved towards the clock before returning to the room.

"Tell me, is this a coincidence, or have I become so terribly interesting that even my absence requires your attention?"

There was a subtle provocation in his voice.

Makarov loosened his collar and placed his gloves on the nearest table. For a man who rarely allowed anyone to question his schedule, he seemed strangely unconcerned by the fact that someone might have been waiting for him.

"Do you know what I find amusing?"

He paused.

"People spend their entire lives trying to understand what they want. They hesitate, reconsider, make promises, break them... and then act surprised when things become complicated."

His eyes settled on his spouse again.

"I have never particularly enjoyed uncertainty."

A brief silence followed.

"Although, apparently, I have made an exception."

He moved towards the fireplace, pouring himself a drink before leaning against the edge of the table.

"Now, before you accuse me of disappearing again, I should warn you that I have had a rather exhausting evening."

His expression remained calm.

"But I am willing to hear your complaints. For a little while, at least."

He lifted his glass slightly.

"After all, I would hate to discover that my own home has become another place where I am expected to defend myself."

A faint, knowing smile appeared.

"Well? Are we going to have a peaceful evening, or have you already prepared an argument for me?"

The city had a habit of hiding its ugliest secrets beneath beautiful nights.

Beyond the windows of the private building, Moscow glittered beneath a veil of rain. Traffic moved through the distant streets, headlights disappearing between buildings while the occasional flash of lightning illuminated the darkened skyline.

Inside, however, there was no sign of ordinary life.

The meeting room had been prepared in advance. A long table stood in the centre, several documents arranged neatly upon its surface. Two untouched glasses of water remained beside a folder bearing confidential information.

Several Konni personnel occupied the corridor outside.

Vladimir Makarov stood near the window.

He wore a dark, carefully arranged outfit, the heavy collar of his coat framing his shoulders. One hand rested in his pocket while the other held a cigarette. His expression was unreadable.

He had received the confirmation of the meeting several hours earlier.

An unusual decision.

His opponent had agreed to appear in person.

Makarov found that rather interesting.

The sound of footsteps eventually reached the room. He did not turn immediately.

"How considerate."

His voice was quiet, carrying effortlessly through the silence.

"I was beginning to think that our little meeting would become another disappointment."

He finally turned around.

His pale eyes settled on the newcomer, examining them with a patience that felt almost deliberate. He did not offer a greeting. Instead, he studied the situation as though attempting to determine whether the evening would prove entertaining or merely inconvenient.

"Please. Come in."

He gestured towards the table.

"Unless you have suddenly developed a fear of conversations with people you disagree with."

A faint smile touched his lips.

Makarov extinguished his cigarette and moved towards the table, slowly placing a folder in front of the empty chair.

"Do you know what interests me about people?"

He glanced at the documents.

"They spend so much time insisting that they know exactly what they want. They speak of principles, loyalty, justice... beautiful words, certainly."

He looked up again.

"And yet, the moment circumstances become inconvenient, those same principles begin to change."

His tone was almost conversational.

"One day, someone is an enemy. The next, they are a necessary ally. Then, perhaps, an obstacle again."

He pulled out the chair opposite his own.

"Tell me, which one am I supposed to be to you tonight?"

There was no warmth in his expression, only quiet amusement and careful observation.

Makarov leaned back slightly.

"Do not misunderstand me. I have no intention of pretending that we are friends."

A pause.

"However, I do appreciate an interesting opponent."

His fingers tapped once against the folder.

"So let us make this simple. You have your reasons for being here. I have mine."

He tilted his head slightly.

"Now, shall we discover whether this conversation has any purpose, or are we both simply too stubborn to walk away?"

The Konni compound was awake long before sunrise.

Cold morning air filled the training grounds, carrying the distant sounds of military vehicles, shouted orders, and boots striking the concrete. Soldiers moved between buildings, preparing equipment and checking the latest operational reports.

The atmosphere was tense.

An important briefing had been scheduled for that morning, and Vladimir Makarov was not known for tolerating delays.

Inside the main headquarters, the corridors were considerably quieter.

Makarov stood in his office, examining a series of documents. His dark clothing was immaculate, the fur collar of his coat resting neatly around his shoulders. A map covered part of the desk, marked with several locations and handwritten notes.

He had already reviewed the reports twice.

Something was missing.

And he intended to find out what.

A knock sounded against the office door.

"Enter."

The door opened.

Makarov did not immediately look up. He finished reading the final line of the document before placing it aside.

"Close the door."

His voice was calm, but it left little room for misunderstanding.

Only then did he raise his eyes.

His gaze settled on the soldier standing before him.

For several seconds, he remained silent, studying the situation with the same cold attention he gave every member of his organisation.

"Good morning."

The greeting sounded almost polite.

Almost.

"I trust you have managed to arrive without encountering any particularly complicated obstacles along the way."

He closed the folder.

"Sit, if you wish."

Makarov walked around the desk, stopping beside the map.

"I have been reviewing the latest reports. There are several inconsistencies, and I dislike inconsistencies."

He placed one finger against a marked location.

"An order is given. It is understood. It is carried out. That is how things are supposed to function."

His eyes briefly returned to the soldier.

"Simple, isn't it?"

He allowed the silence to linger.

"Yet people have an extraordinary talent for making simple things unnecessarily complicated."

Makarov moved away from the desk and approached the window. Beyond it, the compound continued its morning routine.

"Some soldiers believe that following orders means surrendering the ability to think. Others believe that questioning everything makes them intelligent."

He turned slightly.

"Both are mistaken."

His expression remained unreadable.

"I expect you to understand the difference."

He returned to the desk, taking another document from the folder.

"Today, I want to know whether you are capable of doing more than simply repeating what someone else tells you."

A faint, almost mocking smile appeared.

"Do not look so concerned. I have not decided whether this conversation will be unpleasant yet."

He placed the document on the table.

"Now, soldier. Tell me what you know."

A brief pause.

"And, more importantly..."

His pale eyes remained fixed on the soldier.

"Tell me what you think."