Lahat ng Kabanata ng PERKS OF THE POSITION : Kabanata 211 - Kabanata 215

VERONICA The art of execution lies in absolute humiliation.When a four-star general of the Russian Federation dies in a state funeral, he is wrapped in a flag, eulogized by corrupt politicians, and buried with military honors. When he dies in a back-room VIP lounge of an illicit Rublevka nightclub, his legacy dissolves into a punchline before his body even turns cold.I stood before the cracked, dimly lit mirror inside the club’s rear service restroom, adjusting my disguise with clinical detachment.The silver-rimmed spectacles were gone, replaced by dramatic, overly dark contact lenses and heavy, smudged eyeliner. My long hair was hidden beneath a cheap, peroxide-blonde synthetic wig that tumbled in frizzy waves down my back. I wore a tight, garish leopard-print halter top that showed entirely too much skin, paired with a tiny black faux-leather skirt, sheer fishnet stockings with a visible run down the left thigh, and cheap seven-inch synthetic stilettos that forced an exaggerated

VERONICAThere are two ways to remove a tyrant.You can tear down his fortress.Or you can make him realize, all at once, that the fortress was never his.I preferred the second.It was quieter and far more satisfying.I sat alone in the back of the armored vehicle as it moved through the sleeping streets of Zurich, watching the first hint of dawn stain the horizon.Moscow was still hours ahead of us psychologically, even if the clocks insisted otherwise.The Kremlin was awake.Dmitry Voronin was awake.And, if my calculations were correct, he was about to have the worst morning of his life.I lifted my phone.A single message waited.NIGHT MIRROR: POSITION CONFIRMED.I smiled.“Julian.”My son's voice came through the encrypted earpiece.“Yes, Mother?”“Status.”“The compound has been introduced into the presidential office.”I glanced toward the dark window.“Any casualties?”“No.”“Good.”I leaned back.The substance wasn't lethal.That had never been the point.It was a fictional

VERONICA I had ordered men to war.I had watched governments collapse.I had negotiated with people who could erase cities with a signature.I had stared down death so many times that, eventually, death had stopped frightening me.But standing at the entrance of the Grand Cathedral Hall in a white gown, I discovered something far more terrifying.Walking toward the man I loved.My fingers tightened around the bouquet of white roses."Stop looking like you're about to execute someone," Carolina whispered beside me.I turned my head.She was dressed in an elegant champagne-colored gown, her dark hair swept into a loose, sophisticated bun. She held her bouquet against her waist and wore the expression of a woman trying desperately not to laugh at the Grandmaster of Eagles Intelligence."I am not nervous," I whispered.Carolina's eyebrow rose."You've interrogated presidents with steadier hands.""I am perfectly steady.""You've been squeezing those flowers for thirty seconds."I glanced