Paris, France

Leslie Pov:

Leslie walked over to the safe in her den in her office. She entered the code. The sensor turned green as the door opened.She placed her Colt 1911 inside it and closed it. She could finally rest knowing that Kenton was dead and that her mother was safe now. She strides out of her den, walking over to the patio doors.

She grabbed the door handle as she opened the door. Stepping outside onto the massive deck. As the cool breeze ramaged through her hair that caused a light chill to run down her body, however, the warmth of the sun made her relaxed. 

She had brought this sprawling two-story brownish gold mansion estate. With all the money, she had made  from cleaning up after the assassins that had her as cleaner  over the years.

Leaves crackled in the distance. Gusts of wind blew through the trees. A shuffling of footstep grew closer,crashing through the rampant thudding in her heart. 

She scanned the surroundings as her eyes darted and back searching for any flicker of moment.

She fidgeted as she squeezed her hands into fist" is there anyone out there?"

No one answered.

A man looking like some sort of assassin inched forward. Loaded with an arsenal of weapons on his person. His fixed blade, the reliable KA-BAR hidden within his steath. A pair of IMI Desert  Eagle 50 caliber semi-automatic pistols chamered with 300. blackout strapped on each hip. And pair of Smith& Wesson M&P pistols in his shoulder holster . Carrying a pelican case in of his hands.

His eyes bored into her as his expression hardened. He lifted an eyebrow " I'm not here to hurt you or kill you Miss Alexis."

Leslie folded her arms as she sized him up, observing his arsenal of weapons on his person and the pelican case in his hand.

"Who are you and what do you want... Mr.?"

"My name is Michael Holiday. I guess you call me a janitor. I take care of all the dirty work for people  up in echelons of power. I want you to hire for a job if you're up for it?"

She shakes her head as she raises her eyebrow. Her lips tighten. "Listen, Holiday... I know what janitor means.  It's slang for  an assassin used in the intelligence community.  After all, I'm a cleaner and did for the Russian mafia and the Raptor."

Holiday tilted head, raised his eyebrow with a tight-lipped smile "Yes I know the Raptor hired you as cleaner and that you worked for the Russian mafia."

Wait, how he could know that, she thought to herself.

Years of being a cleaner for assassins. Had taught her to be cautious and careful. Still, she wondered who this Michael Holiday supposedly an assassin had been working for? She had been assured by Director Hamilton that no one could see her operational file. Every gut and instinct she had warned her not  to trust this mystery man, Holiday who appeared out of nowhere?

Leslie rubbed her chin as her eyes narrowed on the pelican case. "I like to know who I'm working for. And what the details of the job are before I get involved?"

Holiday gave her a once-over, studying her. "That is a need to know Miss Alexis. All I can tell is that you after the job is finished Forty million dollars will be hired into one of your offshore bank accounts you chose."

Leslie slammed her fist on the table. "Don't give me this need to know crap Holiday. Either you tell me now or you don't have yourself a cleaner."

Holiday reached into his pocket, pulling out his burner. He entered an encrypted secure number that he and his handler only knew. Placing his pelican case on the ground, he walked over to her handling her the burner.

She held the phone up to hear and froze when a voice in a Russian accent came on.

"Hello Miss Alexis, My name is Azalea Elizabeth Grey, and like my associate said before. We want you to work for us as cleaners. I heard you are the best business."

"Tell me, Miss Grey, why would I want to come and work for you and Holiday?"

"I'll let Michael explain everything to you."

The line crackled as it went dead. She handed the phone back to Holiday. Still, she wondered how he had found her. She had made sure when; she had brought this estate  she had made sure that no one knew about the address, only the CIA and Alpha group. And she was sure they never leaked her address.

Holiday cocked his head as he looked away, not meeting eye contact with her . He chose his words very carefully before he began.

"What do you know about Operation Thunderstorm?"

Leslie shrugged. " Nothing why?"

It finally dawned on her. She remembered seeing Nicky looking at surveillance photographs of her parents. Still, she needed to know more about Holiday and Azalea Elizabeth Grey. What was Operation Thunderstorm?   One thing for sure, she was that this Azalea Elizabeth was Russian. Which had got her thinking and wondering what was really going on?

"All you need to know is that Thunderstorm is a sanction op that was authorized by the highest levels of power." Holiday asserted.

As she pondered the peculiar nature of this supposed op? She paced   back and forth going over the options in her mind. She could play it smart and see  where this leads? Something kept nagging at her? She didn't know what it was.  Maybe it was the fact that this mysterious man Holiday who had found her might even have Connections in the intelligence community? But who was he really for that question?

Leslie turned away, walking back over to the door. " I have to check with my contact inside the CIA first. To see if she can look into your 201 file. Just a caution you understand."

Grabbing the door handle her eyes darted, paused then shifted again. He didn't reach for any of his weapons on him. That was odd. Maybe a backup shooter some place waiting. She flung up the door open and headed for her Parisian stylish den, heart racing.

Strolling into the den, with all her favorite paintings hung on the wall. Leslie snatched up her burner from the Oakwood desk. Behind it hung a picture of her parents on the wall. She strides over to the picture, gently removing it from the wall. She placed the picture on the desk.

Leslie entered the code as the sensor turned. The door on the vault immediately opens. She put the burner in her pocket. Grabbing her pistol and spare magazines. Sliding in a fresh magazine. 

Tucking her Colt 1911 behind her jacket. It always paid to be repaired if things got sticky. Next she grabbed her duffle bag with her cleaning supplies in it. Putting in the spare mags into the bag. Reaching into her pocket, pulls out the burner and punches in an encrypted number while she holds the phone up to her ear.

Director Hamilton reaches into her button drawer. Grabbing her secure satellite phone. Seeing that it was an encrypted number. She knows that two only people have this number: Leslie and The Alpha group. She clicks the accept button.

"Leslie, I didn't expect to hear from you for a while after our last op?"

"Director Hamilton, I need some information on Michael Holiday and Azalea Elizabeth Grey."

There was a pause before Director Hamilton spoke again.

"Did you say Holiday?"

"Yes, why ?"

"Leslie, I know who he is. He's a CIA contract agent he did for us until he went black."

"He approached me at my estate and wants to hire me as a cleaner. But I need to know if he is solid and can he be trusted?"

"Ok, I'll see what I can find out for you on Michael Holiday," Director Hamilton told her as she typed in his name on her computer screen.

Within seconds, the operational file of Michael Holiday flashes onto the screen.

Ok, I got something for you." Director Hamilton informed, glancing at the screen. His operational file shows that his status is active and that he is operating. But not for us."

"Who's he working for now?" Leslie inquired.

"Looks like he's working for Russtech Ammunition. Leslie, be careful he's a loose cannon. What's really going on?"

"I think it has something to with some op code-name Thunderstorm."

Leslie, what about I'm tell you is classified. But since you work with Lex and the team, I can read you in on it." Director Hamilton asserted. She pressed on, "As for Azalea Elizabeth Grey she is a free-lance assassin who was dispatched to kill Lex's brother.

"Yes, I heard about his brother's death from Summer."

This couldn't be good if Holiday was working with Grey, Director Hamilton thought.

"Operation Thunderstorm has to do with Nicky's parents and CIA black ops program to create deniable unstoppable assassins. And whatever happening is Venezuela? "

Leslie ended the conservation on her burner. Putting it back into her pocket. She wondered what made Holiday go black and work for this Russtech Ammunition? There had to be more to it than that. She closed the vault door and placed the picture of her parents on the wall.

Heading out of the den in the office, she took one last glance at the paintings on the wall. She wished she could find time to paint. Strolling over to the door she grabbed and exited, closing the door behind her.

She shifted from foot one to another. A muscle in her jaw twitched as she went poker-face "My contact inside the CIA told me you used to work for them until you went black?"

Holiday Sighed, and the corner of his eyes crinkled. "Listen, Miss Alexis, I don't need to explain myself to you. Now are you or out. "

Leslie rubbed her chin as she raised one eyebrow with a tight-lipped smile. "Of course I'm in. Do you have a ride or vehicle to get where we're going, Holiday?"

Leslie nodded as she strides down the steps of the deck, not knowing where this will lead. Her eyes dart back and forth, searching any back up shooters. But there are none. They head through the trees as they emerge out on otherside.