The Lyssa Kordenay Missions - Book 01 - Steel Butterfly

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Book 1 of The Lyssa Kordenay Missions!
 Lyssa Kordenay; ballerina, model, spy, assassin.
 a woman haunted by memory, possessed by the thirst for revenge.

WARNING: The Lyssa Kordenay Missions may be
hyper-violent for some readers.




Steel Butterfly



The door opened and the two men looked up as a maid came in bearing a coffee service. She smiled and quietly set the tray on the low table and poured two cups then set them down on each side with an adjustment to the tray, smiling again as the men thanked then dismissed her. Quietly backing out to close the double doors behind her she smiled to the imposing men stationed outside the doors and walked down the hall feeling their eyes locked to her backside as carried herself down the hallway.

Once around the corner she stepped closer to an alcove and out of the modest shoes, stepped into a pair of very high heels then pulled the maid's uniform away to reveal a strapless mini-dress. She concealed the disguise into the alcove then walked away to the main lobby letting her hair down.

As upon her entrance earlier, many heads turned at her exit slipping the designer sunglasses into place and taking a slip of paper from the top of her dress; a valet ticket passed to the the young man who had a very difficult time focusing on his task but managed to bring the low slung sports car around. A quick sweep of her fingers along the dress's neckline again liberated a bill slipped to the young man along with a dazzling smile as she deftly slipped down into the car, flawlessly easing away as if unknowing of two men choking and collapsing from poisoned coffee not to be discovered for another half hour while she was passing through security gates at the airport.

Collecting her purse and carry on then stepping back into her shoes then proceeding to the jet way when the cellphone toned. Stepping out of the way of others embarking the plane she answered to confirm departure and arrival times then disconnected and boarded the plane. After take-off she drank from a bottle of water and read from a novel, the latest romance from a popular writer until the plane landed 10 hours later.

A few minutes to clear customs then reclaiming her car from the long term parking. 45 minutes later she pulled into a parking space at non-descript office plaza. A nod from the receptionist carried her forward into a hallway and an outer office where a secretary pressed a buzzer as she reached for a door that opened to her touch and stepped inside.

"Welcome back Lyssa, we have confirmation; both eliminated and you're clean," the man seated behind the desk spoke as she took a chair facing him.

" Things usually go well when i do my own planning, Sir," Lyssa acknowledged.

"yeah well the powers that be still have their reservations," he reminded.

"Major they can doubt me as much as they like, it just shows how weak they are," she retorted," I can still do my job as I was trained to do, plus more now."

"yeah well, 50 successful missions know how it goes; one 'oh shit' wipes out one-hundred 'atta-girls' and we both know that just as well as they do," he cautioned.

"yes Major, I won't forget, just as I won't forget that those same powers that be can be blackmailed into burning me all over again," Lyssa admitted grimly.

"Yes, a sorry damn fact if there ever was one, and still no closer to who that was either," he seethed.

"That information will come. And when it does, action will be taken. When they are seeming to be on top, I'll take them down then out," Lyssa stated flatly.

"Sergeant, and I'm using that term loosely, cut that loose, there will be no gunning for politicos and that's final," the Major fumed at her.

"Bullshit, Sir, I find out who and they belong to me! The only thing keeping me from going full-time on that are these missions. Give me jobs or I find myself a hobby," Lyssa snarled in return,"now is there anything else or am I dismissed...Sir?"

"That is all. Don't forget to sign for your pay," the Major said.

He returned her salute when she stood, both of them from habit. The secretary gave Lyssa a sympathetic look as she signed a receipt and took possession of an attache case. A quick look inside satisfied her to which she turned and left. Once outside she opened the trunk of the car, transferred the money into another case and set the empty behind the retaining wall bordering the lot then got in and drove away.

At the corner she reviewed her security system confirming nobody had done anything to her car. Lyssa learned the very hardest of ways that no one could be trusted, not anymore and not by her. Lyssa learned her lessons well, especially when taught the hardest of ways.


Two hours later Lyssa studied the end of the driveway, no tracks disturbed the smooth sand she had smoothed over when she left. After a few more minutes she restarted her car and drove on to park in front of a small cottage. Taking deliberate steps she crossed the porch and tapped a spot on the doorjamb then unlocked the door and stepped inside. A glance at the small display on the alarm pad counted down from fifty-nine seconds but it was a ruse; actually she had twenty seconds to key in the ten digit code on the keypad under the staircase then the four digit code beside the entry door, once both were done she was safe from her own security. Returning to the car she retrieved her bags and set them all down in her bedroom where she removed her dress, heels and underwear then stepped into a steaming shower. The water streamed down followed soon by her tears as she sank down and wept in frustration of things beyond her grasp.


To say things were bad would be making an understatement, without putting a fine head on it things had gone beyond disastrous thought the soldier. Bad guys-4, good guys- nothing; the DEA agent lay dead across the room and he was tied to a chair in between sessions with a car battery and cables.

POW training had been extensive but this was no-holds barred, and the best that could be hoped for was a quick death. Death itself didn't frighten the sergeant, that was an acceptance, dying badly was the issue. An issue that had become a prominent reality. Still how things had gone so bad and by the numbers that was the real question, almost as if they had known the team was coming and when they would get there. those thoughts could wait, break time was over and here came 'sparky' and his pal. it was frying time again.

"Still you are silent," snickered the taller of the two.

"Not for long," laughed the other passing one end of a jumper cable.

A metal rod clamped in it then dowsed the soldier with a bucket of water and stepped back. The rod touched his leg and the current shot through locking his body then making pain wrack through breath bellowing out a howl of pain til the rod withdrew his breath caught he smiled inciting the shorter to let go with a vicious punch making blood spray away from impact.

He laughed and spat at his captors,"That all you two pansies got? I been slapped harder by waitresses than that!"

That wrought another punch to the face followed by one to the stomach. that was working, they were easily goaded. He gave them both a feral grin as the rod came down again and the current flashed through locking his body and expelling another scream of pain. hours of off and on sessions continued, during one of the lulls they were talking among themselves.

he heard one say " Our Washington friend made good perhaps we should fund a re-election? the information is certainly valuable."

another answered with a laugh," that would be too easy! Give the politicians things that make them fat and lazy, they will give us their country to slaughter, with their special military first."

another round of laughter echoed back to him but now all senses were red-lined. The team had been sold out, but by who? That was something to fight for, and fighting was all he knew how to do and now the cause was revenge for treachery


Six days of torture later neither party learned anything new from the other. The methods were primitive and brutal, nothing technical about it, just all out pain from electricity and beatings when the wall blew inward. Yells and gunfire drifted to him through the haze of semi-consciousness, then voices of confirmation and hands freed his own. The last things he heard was that he had been secured and the DEA agent along with the four other team members were toast, then the lights went out completely.


The lights came back on slowly and things were definitely different, the place was comfortable though he personally was far from it and the voices in discussion weren't male and foreign, they were american.

"Sergeant? can you hear me," asked a very familiar voice.

forcing open swollen eyes proven to be of little help so he tried to nod bringing a grunt of pain.

"Steady son, you're home and safe. Rest easy now and we'll deal with things as we get to them," the voice reassured him as sleep once again claimed him.

A week later a good deal of swelling had reduced though what vision he had was very blurry. From time to time someone stepped into the room but never said anything, late that night the footstep came again but not alone.

An orderly whispered,"Sir I can get a court-martial for this, the man is still uncleared to leave the bed much less the room."

"You let me deal with that specialist, now get him into that wheelchair so I can get him into a SCIF," demanded the voice.

This sounded very serious he though, a SCIF was a special room for high level briefings and debriefings; basically a box within a box and completely sound secure, but why drag him into one now? A half hour later he looked at the man in a civilian suit with a seriously hard expression.

"There will be no record of this conversation," the man said without introduction.

"One of those 'we ain't here and this didn't happen' type things," he asked rhetorically then winced.

"Correct," the man answered.

That answered that he thought, a spook. A high level spook being that this was happening at one in the morning in a SCIF with nobody else in the room. Also that this was a conversation not to be repeated. Ever.

A moment later the spook read from a notepad, "sometime during semi-consciousness you made the statement the team had been blown and the compromise came from a seat in Washington. Is that correct?"

"yes Sir, the op had been compromised all the way down the line by a political figure in Washington. my...hosts... were very amused by that," he answered.
The spook asked, "Did you get the name?"

"Negative Sir, I tried every reverse interrogation trick I know of and got nothing. My best guess is that they personally didn't know who," he gritted out then felt light headed.

"Stay with me soldier, just a couple more things," The Spook said firmly," first; the DEA agent was he already dead or killed during your confinement?"

"During my confinement Sir, he was murdered in front of me because he had no information about any contingency plans of the team's failure, Sir," he managed to grumble out, his throat still raw and he was thirsty.

"Second; did you hear any information pertaining to the whereabouts of Ramone Padosa," the Spook continued.

"No Sir, only that he was in contact with them," he stammered out.

He was starting to see double again and it seemed like the lights were dimmer than before.

"Something else....what did you mean by 'you don't have to worry about being pretty' Sergeant.....Sergeant?" the Spook asked but the lights had gone out for him again as he slumped forward and went face first to the tabletop.


The dawn had come and the sun rose fast and now at mid-morning, Lyssa stood on the back deck drinking cold juice. The five mile swim down the beach had been followed by a five mile run back up then a ten mile round trip bike ride. An hour of ballet positions then a shower of alternating hot and cold water after spending time with the heavy bag and speed-ball. Walking inside she passed pictures along the wall; soldiers, ballerinas, athletes and models. Breakfast was simple; mixed fruit, muffins and coffee. The sun flashed off the ribbons on the wall catching her eye; the silver star and purple heart among them.


People came and went from the room, Officers and Agents. All with unending questions but the mysterious Spook never returned. Pending medical review he was put on extended leave. Getting around was getting easier but a lot of things still hurt especially the muscle spasms, it seemed electro-interrogation had some residual effects. every alphabet agency had questions about that as well every moment remembered were relived over and over for the sake of future agents and operators.

Everybody and their subordinate had questions but nobody had any answers even though one question of his was yet to be asked; who was the politician that sold them out. To give peace and quiet a condo had been leased in the nearby town and now PT consisted of a slow walk around the cul-de-sac. One night the doorbell rang very late, dragging himself out of bed and limping down the hall seemed like a blessing considering the nightmares were about to begin. Opening the door he still debated on whether to thank or swear at the visitor when he realized it was the Spook.

"Oh excitement puts in an appearance," he grumbled and stepped back to let him in.

"Now that's an original moniker for me," the Spook commented.

"Well its too late for beer and too early for coffee so what do you want now," he asked.

"Nice place, you know your done in spec ops," Spook asked looking around the main room.

"No I didn't, my review is pending whoever the hell you are," he snapped back at him.

"Its all over but the shouting Sergeant, they'll tell you you're done in spec ops and you have your choice of permanent desk duty outta sight-outta mind til you R.O.A.D or you can medical out," Spook said flatly as if commenting about the weather.

"We both know your answer to that," Spook continued," you'll tell 'em to shove the desk up the collective sphincters in the pentagon."

A very long and colorful line using the word fuck took up the next three minutes. Spook waited calmly for the tirade to subside.

"Ok so I'm done. What's your damn pitch," he demanded.

"When you're officially done you have an option," Spook extended a card. just a number, no name.

"Yeah.....I'll think about it," He studied the card, "how long are they giving me."

"Two more weeks Sergeant and then they give you a dog and pony show," answered Spook," Think about it Sergeant. Good luck with the nightmares."

The spymaster turned and walked out closing the door behind him.


True to word, two weeks later the review came down. It was a dog and pony show alright, basically as the Spook as said it; a nothing desk job until retire on active duty- R.O.A.D. or medical out now. Medical it was. A week to process out later and he sat looking at the card. No name, just a number. the Spook. The phone rang twice and was picked up.

"yes, Sergeant," Spook answered.

"I'm ready to talk now,Excitement," he said flatly.

"Ok," Spook replied then disconnected.

He hung up and considered taking a nap being that Spook had a habit of interrupting so-called normal sleep patterns. yeah a good idea he decided. Sometime after one in the morning the doorbell rang and true to form the Spook stood in the doorway.

"So what do I call you besides Late Night Excitement," he asked allowing him inside.

" Dannigan will do....Major if it really matters," Spook answered.

' Major Dannigan', he thought.

More than likely it was an alias, a cover name with appropriate credentials if somebody bothered to poke around and would turn up a supply or recruiting officer at the most but the guy wreaked of high level black ops through and through. Serious tradecraft that only another Operator would recognize. Rangers, Special Forces, Delta; no academy ring meant Dannigan came up the hard way. a Mustang. Enlisted turned officer, translation this guy was all business and didn't take time for bull, the tiger had serious stripes.

"Ok Major, so what's the deal? Job offer," he asked point blank, he could play 'No shitter rules' too.

"Yeah, there's a job offer, but there's gonna be a catch," Dannigan answered.

"yeah yeah....I get sheep dipped, I know," He said unconcerned.

"More than that, Sergeant," Dannigan said idly," you gotta disappear in more than just adminstrative capacity."

Now that was new. Most agencies just white-washed the paperwork and poof, a new asset was brought to bear. This sounded more involved.

"How far does it have to go Major," he asked puzzled.

"New face, new prints, you get the idea," Dannigan answered casually.

"What about.......more than that," he continued.

"Define 'more' Sergeant," Dannigan said pointedly.

"Complete Sir.....whole body change," he said flatly," say...If I cover the cost you bury the paperwork, the process would take three years and during that time I could be retrained with additional skills."

"if I understand the implication correctly, not many would go for this," Spook stated, "to be blunt; nobody would sanction nor volunteer such a radical measure."

a few moments passed in silence then Dannigan looked back to him and said firmly,"Done."


Lyssa worked the speedball with a fury of quick strikes that lasted for 15 minutes then launched to the heavy bag for a series of kicks that rocked it, various forms were utilized with no definite style, the latest technique dubbed Evolution, it incorporated Karate, Kenpo, Tae Kwan do, Krav Maga, Sambo, Akido, Kickboxing, Boxing, Savate, Capoeria and Jui Jitsu. Even a street fighting style that employed using one's surroundings.

Most practicioners made it seem mostly brutal but with Lyssa's dance training it took on a grace that had never been seen before. Ballet and ballroom dance training gave her a refined sense of balance and position, commitment to the move until finished that then led into the next. Fluidity was a more accurate summary.

The hour ended with various Katas to put more emphasis on the techniques and to cool down and stretch the muscles. Finally stepping over to the wall mounted ballet bar she stretched more thoroughly then ended by raising up onto the ball of her left foot and pirouetting. Not traditional but fun she thought. Now for a shower and then the evening.....


More than one conversation stopped as the blonde in the midnight blue dress cleared the door followed by waves from familiar faces. Lyssa stepped to the bar and sat greeted by the bartender setting down the glass of zifandel in front of her.

"so how was Milan Lyssa," asked the chipper bartender.

"Rome, Becky, Milan was last month," Lyssa answered with a smile," and it was great. two pairs of shoes are on the way, but I doubt I'll be on a cover this time."

"oh well, at least you get the shoes,"lamented Becky,"I still say you should go for Victoria's Secret."

"No way, its the grand finale for a model. Le Perla would be a different story," Lyssa joked drawing more than one glance her way.

The soft piano music belied the patrons of the bar; cast of various productions, local gallery owners, basically the arts and entertainment crowd. Though local, they were all recognizable, a new face was odd and a reputation always accompanied it. Lyssa had danced in productions and modeled for a few magazines all overseas to keep things pretty quiet.

Most assumed she did so to keep herself desirable and maintained a lifestyle as someone's very discreet mistress. She encouraged that perception by turning down all local offers to pose or dance, yet took interests overseas that usually went unnoticed in the states. A useful illusion it also kept most of the dedicated skirt chasers at bay as well. Appearing to be super-high maintenance had its benefits. Lyssa dated occasionally and only when it suited her but never serious or lengthy, which was wise.

A few jokes from Becky and a charming producer kept Lyssa entertained for a while when out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a girl with a basket of roses. The girl made a round through the bar arriving at Lyssa and presenting her a single white rose.

"from the gentleman," she murmured but didn't indicate one.

Not surprising, no man inside the bar had purchased the rose for her. The girl wasn't there to actually sell the lovely roses but to signal Lyssa that she was expected at a pre-arranged place later that evening.

Three hours later Lyssa stood looking at the fountain lit with multi colored lights. Dannigan stepped beside her.

"Its time," Dannigan said without preamble," Padosa has been spotted."

"Where," Lyssa demanded.

"Rio," Dannigan replied and passed her an envelope," you're clean so you're a go."

"About damn time," snarled Lyssa as she turned to walk away.

"Kordenay," Dannigan called to her and said when she turned back, "This is more than just payback, its for all the marbles. Get everything. Do Not Fail."

Lyssa nodded grimly and faded into the shadows with only a tap of her heels and slight drift of perfume then was gone. To hunt down the man that destroyed a young man's life.

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