Hannibal had a big grin on his face. He chewed on his cigar and blinked into the sun of Berlin. This was how freedom tastes. After years on the run and many maddening month under Stockwell's command he was free, got his pardon. He would enjoy this mission. It also was his first single mission for month. Although he loved to be with his men, he also could enjoy to work on his own. Unaccompanied he could take greater risks, he had no responsibilities, except for his own life, which he considered as nearly indestructible.

For a friend at the Pentagon he should stop a CIA agent. He didn't knew to much details, except that this agent, called Smith, was going to meet some high KGB officials and that the Pentagon wasn't sure about the agent's loyalty any more. As if Cold War is over! Hannibal smirked. He had the feeling in the Pentagon nobody would be too irritated if he would kill this agent.

Checkpoint Charlie, Berlin, 9th November, 9:11 p.m., this was the meeting point, where the supposed disloyal American agent and a staff member of the Russian embassy should meet. The staff member would bring the agent to the actual meeting point. Of course Hannibal had a plan. He observed the Russian embassy that wasn't far from Checkpoint Charlie.

At 8:55 p.m. a black limousine left the back gateway to the Russian embassy and drove down a narrow street of Berlin Mitte, to reach the Friedrichstraße. Now Hannibal would see if he could still use his stuntman skills.

The driver of the black limousine was clueless. A drunken bum shambled on the lane directly in front of his car. Suddenly he was there and than not to be seen anymore. The driver braked hard and jumped out of the car to look what happened. He expected the man to lie in front of his car, but instead he felt a hard hit on his head and his world faded to black. Hannibal checked the vital signs of the driver and dragged him on the sidewalk. He slipped out of the crinkled coat, under which he had a uniform that looked pretty much like the driver's uniform.

At 9:09 p.m. he was at Checkpoint Charlie. Slowly he drove the car though the evening traffic. He observed tourists and souvenir traders around the historical sight. Whoever Smith was, the agent would buy at 9:11 a Russian army medal from one of the souvenir traders, who earned their money with symbols of the Iron Curtain that divided the City until 1989.

Indeed at 9:11 a trader handed a medal over to a person in trench coat. Hannibal piloted the car to the sidewalk where the trader and his very customer stood. The agent looked around and her gaze stopped at the dark limousine with the license plate that showed the car belonged to a diplomat. Smith is a woman. Things become interesting. Hannibal threw a glance into the rear-view mirror and checked his faked black beard hand hair, and then he let down the window. The woman marched towards his car and looked at him. Hannibal looked back and as he gazed the face of the agent his heart stopped beating and his brain stopped thinking for at least a second.

As he managed to think and breath again the agent, whom he identified as nobody less than Amy Amanda Allen, was sitting already in the back of the car.