Kill Them Wherever You Find Them
Page 1
Kill Them Wherever You Find Them
by David Hunter
Text and book cover Copyright © 2014 by David H. Honaker
ISBN: 978-0-9914175-0-6 (EPUB)
ISBN: 978-0-9914175-1-3 (MOBI)
ISBN: 978-0-9914175-3-7 (PDF)
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Disclaimer
Time Travel Possibility
Prologue
Phase I: Time as a River
1. A Question of Time
2. Birth of Death
3. Her Grandmother's Legacy
4. Wherever You Find Them
5. Genesis of "The Project"
6. Escape into a Dream
7. First to Zion
8. Assess and Escape
9. Removed From Time
10. Stick in a River
11. Betrayal of Love
12. Betrayal of Country
13. HaTikva
14. Betrayal of Family
15. Heisenberg's Uncertainty
16. I Am Become Death
17. As a Dream
18. In the Multitude of Counselors
19. Life for Life
20. Who Forces Time
21. Time to Do It Right
22. A Life Spent
23. Who Pulls the Strings
24. Time Stands Still
Phase II: Currents of Time
25. Man Down
26. Once More to Prepare
27. Past, Future, Present
28. Vincit Omnia Veritas
29. Fomenting Schism
30. Past Revisited
31. Conspirator Betrayal
32. Nuclear Winter
33. Change of Plans
34. Witnesses to Desolation
35. Exits and Entrances
36. Time Again
Epilogue
Preview "Abducting the Time Master" - Second Book in Trilogy
Prologue
1. Fatal Disappointment
2. Threat Assessment
3. Red Code
4. Called to Serve
5. Loose Ends
6. Stranglehold
7. Crack in the Dam
8. Into the Lion's Den
Learn More: Mossad, Quantum Mechanics, Latter-day Saints ("Mormons"), Bahá’í faith, Islam
About the Author
Dedication
For Lynn, an example of grace and courage in dark times; also a lover of faeries, unicorns, dragons, and that prone-to-combustion bird: the phoenix. Though her birthday request of a five-page story about these beings was hijacked by the author's imagination, mention of them is placed throughout the story as a compromise.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Cover: The beautiful cover was created by Rachael A. Lewis.
Editing: My sister, Denise Honaker, went above-and-beyond in countless hours of editorial and proofreading.
Ms. Angela Gibbs, a professional editor who the author highly recommends.
Valuable character and plot development insights came from my wife Diane, during the months of writing.
Mr. Ridion Feldman, an Israeli, helped me with a more clear idea of how people on both sides of the Israeli-Arab/Iranian conflict view each other. His input, sent directly to me via e-mail, helped me to refine the thought processes and views of some of the characters in this book - especially that of "Mona."
Fearing I may overlook someone, I would like to express heartfelt gratitude to all whose contributions made this book better than it could ever have been as a solo act.
Readers: I acknowledge and thank you, the reader. Your time is valuable, I know. I'm honored that you have allotted many hours of your time to read enjoy this story. Once finished, I invite you to also enjoy the final two books in this "Pendulum of Time" thrillogy: "Abducting the Time Master" and "Fluid Future."
Readers' Feedback: I appreciate it greatly when my readers provide me with their own thoughts and comments via e-mail to HonakerDavid@Hotmail.com. Feedback from my readers, where appropriate and adding value to the story, will incorporated into the book's future editions. Alas, I don't have the luxury of having a publishing company behind me with their own team of expert editors!
Table of Contents
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Characters, other than those of known world history such as Jefferson Davis of the American Confederacy and Gamal Abdel Nasser Hussein personal hero and past leader of Egypt, are strictly creations of the author. Any resemblance to individuals, past or present, is nothing more than coincidence.
This story is not intended to be an insight into the enormous complexities of Jewish Zionism, both religious and secular, in the modern State of Israel as they relate to the complex religious and secular blends of neighboring nations or the larger global community.
The plot interweaves with de facto world history, such as the poorly named "Arab Spring" sweeping the Middle East during most of 2011 and beyond, ISIS and more. While such events provide a measure of context for the story, nothing more should be inferred thereby.
Muslims, Arabs, and Iranians have a rich history of valuable contributions to the world over many centuries. The majority of faithful Muslims would be wonderful neighbors. (See the "Learn More" section at the end of this book for more authentic Islam versus politicized Islam.)
Table of Contents
Time Travel Possibility
"Time travel used to be thought of as just science fiction, but Einstein's General Theory of Relativity allows for the possibility of that we could warp space-time so much that you could go off in a rocket and return before you set out." - Stephen Hawking
Table of Contents
Prologue
Near Moscow, Russian Federation – Eleven Years Ago
Turning up the collar of his jacket, Yuri Ivanov ascended the subway steps two at a time to street level, then turned right for the short walk of a few blocks to his office building. Despite the forest of bland industrial and office buildings surrounding him, he enjoyed the view, allowing his mind to wander.
Multi-colored leaves swirled, pirouetting as they fell to the ground. Occasional gusts of wind swept the sidewalk clean, only to deposit dirt and city litter in their wake.
The cool, crisp air invigorated him as the distance to his office closed. An urban dweller, Yuri didn't take much notice of traffic noises or the presence of fellow pedestrians, directing his attention instead to a noisy little flock of birds making their way to warmer climes. The morning could not have been more tranquil.
As his hand reached for the stainless steel door handle of his office building, windows shattered from the immense energy expelled from nearby explosions. The collapsing of buildings fashioned a grisly backdrop as vehicles, people, and other objects were ejected into the air, slamming into one another before finally falling back to the ground. Yuri's body, less his legs and an arm, would be but one of many casualties identified in the carnage.
Emergency lines for the city were flooded with calls from the injured and panicked, as well as the curious. A stream of police and ambulances arrived on the scene. In triage fashion, those destined to die from their wounds were passed over in favor
of treating the injured with a possibility of survival.
Within minutes of the arrival of the first responders several SUVs, black with tinted windows, parked a discreet distance behind. License plates identified them as government vehicles though such wasn't necessary as both passengers and drivers wore plain dark suits with matching dark glasses.
riot police would follow under the auspices of controlling the gathering crowd in this sensitive industrial area where a secret military laboratory for biological weapons research and development had been in operation. In reality the riot police were there to prevent the media from getting too close to the area, and the truth.
Teams from the bomb squad carefully approached the chaotic area, identifying a wide, deeply carved crater as the epicenter of the blasts.
Cries and hauntingly low moans rising from surrounding buildings, reduced to piles of collapsed concrete and twisted iron beams, were barely audible as life slipped unceremoniously from torn and broken bodies.
search and rescue teams initiated their gruesome duty with scent dogs straining against their leashes as they identified bodies, not differentiating the living from the dead.
It didn't take long for the onlookers to realize that the government men continued to maintain their distance from the carnage.
Two larger vehicles pulled into the area, one the length of a small bus, the other resembling a semi truck. Small satellite dishes, along with a cluster of other antennae, dotted their respective roofs. Sliding doors expelled people dressed in full hazardous materials suits, each carrying curious-looking scientific instruments and cases of varying sizes.
Specialists in hazmat suits opened their cases revealing additional instruments to gauge the level of contaminants in the atmosphere, structure surfaces, and soil. The crowd of observers grew deathly silent as they started to move away from the disaster scene. The pace was casual at first, as if nobody wanted to be perceived as cowardly. Bravado cast aside, the group broke into a run, frequently glancing back at the unfolding scene. In the rush for safety some were knocked to the ground, trampled by those too fearful for their own lives to care.
To the relief of all, one-by-one the hazmat team signaled the area safe, removing their head-covering masks to breathe air that didn't originate from tanks on their backs.
Following their gesture of approval various sections around the crater were cleared for inspection as the bomb squad, in tandem with a team of structural engineers, indicating areas sufficiently safe for ongoing search and rescue efforts.
Weeks after the incident, bits and pieces of the wreckage were slowly pieced together to identify hardware components, detonation triggers, explosives and more. The components, more especially how they were assembled, would serve as a type of fingerprint to identify the bombs' creator.
A specific chemical signature was eventually traced to a factory located in Ukraine. This manufacturer was known to export to wealthy countries in the Middle East and two volatile countries in South America. The bombs could have been made anywhere.
Equally vital to bomb identification was the need to find something never revealed to the public. The decommissioned laboratory housed canisters containing deadly biological pathogens that were scheduled for transport to a new bio weapons research facility.
The contents of just one canister held the potential to kill tens or even hundreds of thousands of people under ideal conditions.
Months of carefully piecing together the surviving non-building or body related fragments confirmed that some of the canisters in the research lab were missing at the time it was destroyed. Whoever possessed them wielded the ability to bring down powerful people, perhaps even governments.
The Kremlin braced itself for the worst as the elite of the FSB, the grandchild of the former KGB, fanned out in search of answers. The search would focus on the Ukraine, where Russian Separatists were splitting a large chunk of the country with the assistance of the Russian military on the border and Russian soldiers fighting with, and arming, the separatists. It appeared to be but the beginning of a new Cold War with the emergence of a new Soviet Union. Everything thus far pointed to Ukrainian reprisal.
Russian intelligence had no actionable details as to the hostiles' identity or how much time remained before they would reveal their demands and intended target.
A Zero Day clock was counting down.
Table of Contents
1. A Question of Time
"The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once." - Albert Einstein
Phase One: Time as a River
Somewhere in the Negev Desert, State of Israel
"Ladies, Gentlemen, I'm appreciative of your time and efforts to attend this final meeting of the initial stage. The Project has to this point largely been a collaboration of the University of the Negev, the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, and Technion as well as the government and military."
"Each of you has been thoroughly appraised of the extent of your individual responsibilities here. The Project is to be conducted under the auspices of the Knesset. We, however, are specifically accountable to the Prime Minister and Lt. General Dan Ashkelon of the Tzahal. That’s better known as the IDF to you Dr. Stauffenberg. Let me be a little more clear; I am accountable to these two while you report directly to me. Questions anyone?"
"Yes, Moshe, yes. This was all covered in the initial briefings. Can we please move things along?" Dr. Rachael Siwel fidgeted with some papers on the table. "I haven't seen my family in days and the Sabbath is due to begin in just a few hours. I need to be home before sunset or I'll be stuck here until Saturday night."
"Of course, Rachael, of course. Be patient. I'll conclude our business here as soon as is reasonably possible." Dr. Levin, Chair of the Theoretical Physics department for the Hebrew University of Jerusalem responded curtly. A stern glare to Dr. Siwel, coupled with an unspoken censure, accompanied his response. She met his eyes, matching his glare equally with her own until he broke off.
"Remember, absolutely no material in any form: text, electronic, or otherwise, is to ever leave any of the facilities. Your clothing and personal items will be exchanged for lab clothes with each entrance to your facility. Every entrance and exit will also include a complete body scan. If the scan detects anything suspicious a cavity search may be conducted. I am sorry we have to do this, but we must operate under these extremes given the extraordinary nature of what we are about to do. I'm sure you understand."
"Additionally, keep in mind that there is to be absolutely no communication, in any form or manner, between you when outside the facilities. To do so would be a breach of your confidentiality agreement, resulting in . . . well, it won’t come to that I'm sure."
"Should you need to contact me while away from your facility, you each have a unique white code that will be channeled to me within seconds, anywhere in the world. Use that signal only once . . . it will be scrubbed after use and a new signal provided."
"In the event of an emergency, or if you feel your life to be in any kind of danger whatsoever, use the red code as soon as you are able. Should you fall into the hands of hostiles remember the speed alteration of your normal speech patterns so that, should you be forced to relay a verbal message while being held against your will, we will instantly recognize the situation for what it is."
"I would encourage you, before you leave, to also read the instructions for body posture and physical signals to be used in the event of capture where you are allowed to only read from a pre-written script while being video taped or in a live broadcast feed. These nuanced, nearly imperceptible signals may very well be the only means of you communicating critical details such as the number of hostiles, possible location and so forth."
"Likewise, remember the rotating code that will be used should we need to communicate to you the need to go to ground. Each of you has five predetermined safe houses throughout the country. Obviously, in such moments time is of the essence requiring you to go to the nearest one
. When the situation is considered safe and any danger has been neutralized we will find you. Even when a friendly face shows up, the sign and counter-sign must be properly given. Remember, these are also rotating and they will correlate to the unique math and linguistics-based code each of you has memorized."
"Don't forget the tried-and-true fall-back plan. You may not be able to communicate any of the codes through the proper channel. In the event of imminent danger to do so would waste time and compromise your life. Each of you is required to carry an already-open pack of cigarettes on your person at all times when outside the facility itself. Putting the cigarette to your mouth and moving to light it will instantly prompt your Israel Security Agency, or ISA; formerly known as Shin Bet. For the sake of simplicity and as it is still called Shin Bet in movies and books, we will continue to refer to your security detail as Shin Bet operatives. As your Shin Bet operative approaches you do as they say without question or hesitation if you want to live."
"Doctor Stauffenberg, when you put the cigarette in your mouth we promise not to snap a picture and send it to your church leaders!" Nobody laughed, including Jeff, though Moshe was at least rewarded by him with a knowing grin.
"Okay, that joke fell flat. Seriously, a couple of you do smoke. Stop – you can’t smoke in any facility anyway. If you habitually light up on the outside, you may be tackled to the ground before you realize your error. Such a blunder may very well disqualify anybody from returning to The Project."
"Finally, a neurological poison capsule has been implanted into each of our backs, between our shoulder blades. You needn't worry about sitting in a hard-backed chair or even accelerating in a car. It would take a sharp blow to the specific area to break the capsule, with death following shortly thereafter. This is a measure when all other options have been exhausted should you find yourself in an impossible situation such as torture. Just remember to keep your shoulder blades safe from the possibility of any significant impact. It would require leaning back with intentional force against something solid such as a wall to break them, not a simple pat on the back. Best to avoid contact sports until after the completion of The Project!"
"We had considered a specific-signature radio isotope implant to track your movements in the event of an abduction scenario. But if we can trace you, others can detect the signal as well, using it as evidence of your value to the nation. Ultimately it was decided this would pose an even greater hazard. Are there any questions before we break for a few days?"
"Just one here Moshe." A man with thick glasses and thinning hair held his hand up slightly; more of a gesture than sign of formality.
"Yes Dr. Frankel. What is it?"
"How will we know that a person tailing us is with Shin Bet, rather than a much less desirable agency such as the Quds Force?"
"That is an excellent question, and one that bears answering before you leave. Dr. Stauffenberg, forgive me if you already know this: Doctor Frankel made reference to the Quds Force. It is one of the intelligence agencies of Iran. They are exceptionally well trained. We don't underestimate them and neither should you."
"Everybody here, including myself, will be shadowed for our own protection – as well as to insure nobody is breaking protocol. Simply put, if you think somebody is following you it isn’t the Shin Bet. They are too well trained to be spotted. You could actively look for them and never be able to make an identification. That said, contact me as quickly as is possible if you have any reason at all to suspect you're being followed, feel even slightly threatened, or have any indication of a threat made against any member of your family or even a neighbor."
Moshe continued, "Except for Dr. Stauffenberg you have all served in Tzahal. Two of you in the Sayeret Matkal Special Forces unit of the military. Jeff served in an elite unit in the United States military, so he has had similar training. Each of you is also fluent in at least two languages, as well as universal 'TechnoGeek.'"
The TechnoGeek comment briefly elicited the desired laughter from the group. After a slight pause Moshe continued. "We have confidence that you will be able to extricate yourselves from most situations, or at least stay calm and alert should capture be unavoidable. Just as we are targeting Iranian nuclear scientists and taking them out with small magnetic bombs attached to cars with their scientists in them, we have intelligence – obvious deduction really – that Iran seeks to do similarly with our own scientists."
"Then again that would require their drivers being able to negotiate our streets on their own motorcycles to attach the magnet bombs to our cars. Anybody who drives our highways knows that they are more dangerous than any bomb. The would-be-assassin is more likely to be killed than his target!"
"Seriously folks, in the event of capture chemical torture will most likely be employed after other means bribery and emotional and physical persuasion including your life and the lives of loved ones - have been exhausted. Such foreplay will take less than a day. Hold out as long as you are able but don't feel any misguided compulsion to be a hero. Nobody in this room but I knows the full details of what we are doing, or the part each person plays in it. When you eventually spill your guts about what you do, and I assure you that you will, no lasting damage will be done to The Project. Other than some basic techniques taught during your time in Tzahal nobody here has been trained to withstand torture or the subtle art of misdirection when information is eventually surrendered to the enemy. Anticipating the possibility of just such a breach we have planned to minimize as much damage as is reasonably possible."
"Indeed you have no idea where we are precisely. Your drivers who picked you up at your pick-up points see to that. When you submit in-house updates and other reports you are using a pre-assigned code which then is altered electronically. This protects your identity should somebody, who ought not to, somehow access the report."
"Ideally we would have preferred that you not even know one another’s real names. Given your backgrounds enough of you have already met at scientific conferences, lectures, and at times even engaged in collaborative research that such anonymity would be at once impractical and impossible."
"Remember to alter your habits, never drive to or from home the same way twice in a row. While we are all happy with the convenience of the light rail between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, using public transport is highly discouraged while a member of this team except under the most unusual of circumstances."
"Don't shop or do other chores on a schedule with discernible patterns, and try to alter the places where you shop. Avoid patterns in times and routes as well as daily routines. Avoid fast food, far too easy to slip drugs. Also avoid easy abduction zones: crowded venues such as malls, sports events, and theaters. Ask family members to also avoid such venues. Good luck with that for those with teenagers."
More laughter – though not from those who actually had teen offspring.
"Finally during one of your psychological profile written exams you were asked if you had known Adolf Hitler as a child, and you had absolute foreknowledge of what he would do as an adult, could you kill him? Everybody here answered in the affirmative."
"I want you, while away from this environment, to consider not only the consequences of such an action for yourself emotionally and mentally but also what such an action would have on the course of history - past and present - for individuals, families, groups, societies, and entire nations."
"Consider also the oft-cited theoretical time conundrum: I go back in time to see my grandparents when they were young. By sad accident I kill my grandfather before he sires my father. Now, if I do so, my father is never born and I; therefore, am never born. Were I never born I couldn't have gone back in time to accidentally kill my grandfather! What is the outcome? What might be the specific and general implications of such an event?"
"If that is everything, Shabbat shalom."
"Shabbat shalom" the group spoke in near unison as they stood to begin their exodus from the conference room.
"Dr. Stauffenberg, I kn
ow you have taken Ulpan studies. If your Hebrew isn’t fluent just yet, I wished all a peaceful Sabbath. Being a Mormon you also observe a Saturday Sabbath while you are in the State of Israel – so my Sabbath blessing applies to you as well! Just remember to not meet with the small Mormon community here. I'm afraid you must observe Shabbat by yourself for the duration; we can't run the risk of somebody recognizing you."
"Toda rabba Moshe, v'Shabbat shalom alecha yedeed shellee. I'll see you next week. I look forward to getting to work." Dr. Levin was surprised and pleased with Jeff's brief Hebrew response, spoken with a near perfect Ashkenazi accent. Though he knew Dr. Stauffenberg had been studying Hebrew, he didn't realize how much he'd learned in such a short period of time.
After everybody departed for their various destinations Moshe went back to work. Though the Sabbath was to begin after the first three stars could be seen in the evening sky, he still had much to do in far too little time. The stars would just have to wait.
Moshe conference-called the General and the Prime Minister to update them on the progress made over the last several days.
His next call went to his wife, Rivka, letting her know he'd be home late yet again. So many long hours as he established his career; she patient with missed meals, broken dates, forgotten birthdays and anniversaries. A good and understanding woman, Moshe knew he was one of the luckiest men in the world. He recalled that one of Stauffenberg's beliefs included that if couples marry in a Mormon Temple and then keep their covenants to God the rest of their lives, such marriages have the potential to last beyond the grave.
As with most, but not all, of the Jewish people Moshe did not believe in any kind of life-after-death. Lack of such a belief notwithstanding, he found that he just couldn't keep himself from hoping that this belief of the Mormon people could be true. It was, after all, one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard. Then again his brother, married to a really nasty shrew of a woman, would vehemently disagree.
After a few hours Moshe finally completed his work for the day and relaxed in the car as he was driven home to his one love in life, even if it could be for no more a duration than this life. Both of their heads of hair now gray for almost as many years as they had been dark, and each of them a little shorter than when they first stood under the chuppah to marry.
Without the woman he loved since his adolescence and to whom he had been married for just over fifty years, he knew he would lose his will to carry on. He secretly hoped his final sleep would come before Rivka's. He felt guilty, even somewhat cowardly, about that.
Table of Contents
2. Birth of Death
". . . touch not the evil gift, nor the unclean thing." - Book of Mormon, Moroni 10:15
Near Moscow, Russian Federation – Eleven Years Ago
The manager of the secret biological weapons laboratory that had recently been decommissioned was tasked with securing the shipment of the last of the pathogens to a much newer lab that had retained its funding in the still struggling Russia of the post-Soviet Union era.
Sasha realized that his job, his very livelihood for which he had studied and worked for so long was coming to a rapid end, once these remaining canisters were transported by way of armored military convoy.
To complicate an already stressful situation further, his wife was close to giving birth to their third child in a country economically and politically collapsing under its own mismanaged weight.
In his mid-thirties, with unemployment at record highs in Moscow, he knew it would likely be years before he could find comparable employment again. There would be no government subsidies, no bank loans to help his family get through the tough times that loomed ahead.
Making matters even more bleak were the long lines snaking out the doors and down the sidewalks of free soup kitchens which grew noticeably with each passing month. Among those awaiting their turn for sustenance were a handful of the intellectual elite of Russian science, education, literature, and industry.
Those few highly-educated people in the lines, previously well-employed and handsomely paid who were able to find any jobs at all, were nonetheless unable to gain work in their areas of expertise, finding themselves grossly under-employed. They were the lucky ones, however; with at least a little money coming in on a regular basis. The majority simply could find no work at all, being over-qualified for the rare jobs that sometimes became available, while employment they once had was either redacted by the government or outsourced to other countries.
Gorbachev's brave, necessary really, attempt to reorganize the Soviet economy decades prior ended, ultimately, in a near-total implosion - bringing down what little remained of an already eroded Soviet Union.
Mother Russia thrashed about convulsively, as she had several times in her long history. The ghosts of so many tsars and dictators haunting her past, the KGB alive and well under the new title of the FSB, he wondered what the next incarnation of his country would bring. Whatever it was, corruption would no doubt continue to thrive as a way of life for many of his countrymen even as his country again started to gobble up bits of the old Soviet empire, starting with a large chunk of the Ukraine.
Sasha was one of the truly honest bureaucrats who only wanted to do right by his employer and family. Honest and morally centered, he had never cheated or taken a bribe, though such opportunities abounded at the government run lab. His wife hinted that they might be better off if he would just play along and relax his sense of morality a little bit. He knew that had he lined his pockets with bribes and kickbacks, as so many others had done, he would not have placed his family in such a difficult financial predicament.
The imminent loss of his job caused financial stress in his home and emotional fractures in his marriage. Things had been increasingly worse since the announcement of the decommissioning of the lab earlier in the year. Now everything seemed to be coming to a head. Months of looking for a new job yielded a few false hopes but, ultimately, no results.
The previous week he was visited by two men whose conversation in his office revealed that they knew far too much about the secret lab than they should have. Somebody talked, probably a disgruntled past employee; this came as no surprise. They also knew the schedule and precise route of the military convoy due to remove the remaining hazardous materials. Maybe the source of information was someone in the military being paid-off.
Continuing their one-sided conversation they offered Sasha a considerable sum of money for samples of two of the deadliest bio agents before their scheduled transfer. The men exuded something malicious, not unlike the subtle yet undeniable presence of emergent evil lurking, waiting, calmly observing its prey.
Tattoos unique to those who had served years of hard prison time littered the neck and arms of one of the men. Bald and thick-muscled with a pronounced eyebrow ridge, he was the diametric opposite of the smaller, bespectacled, soft-spoken man making the offer. The mountain of tattooed muscle, the Enforcer as Sasha thought of him, never spoke so much as a single word.
The temptation to agree to their lucrative deal nearly overwhelmed him. He realized that they could see an intense inner struggle, given the enticing amount of money in American dollars.
Considering the financial straits under which his family already struggled, he wanted to take the money but knew that the two deadly biologicals, in the hands of the men before him, would be intended to kill on a large scale rather than used for scientific research. How much money is a single innocent life worth? What about thousands or tens of thousands of innocent lives?
Sasha declined as politely as he could, hoping they didn't take note of the fear in his voice or hear his heart thudding against the ribs of his chest. Then he asked them to leave with as much feigned courage as he could muster.
They complied without contesting his response, exiting with the smug smiles of those who had carefully planted seeds they knew would surely bear fruit. As they left the large brute of a human casually dropped a calling card on his desk.
He realized they would almost certainly return. When they did, their next visit would, without the slightest shadow of a doubt, be accompanied with physical pain to replace the generous financial incentive. He also knew that he was the only person capable of filling their request, now that the last of the scientists and lab assistants had been let go.
Just seven were currently employed, Sasha along with three guards for the day and three for the night shifts. The guards didn't have access to the heavily secured materials that he had. His two visitors would either have to get the pathogens they wanted from him or risk attempting a dangerous heist with the armored military trucks as they were en route. The destination lab was far too secure and heavily guarded to chance a break-in. The security corridor that would be in place to protect the armored transport along the designated travel route would also be all but impenetrable.
It would be a good idea to report the incident and request additional security until the final materials, the stuff of which nightmares were made, were safely removed and this labs' doors locked for the final time.
The following Tuesday shaped up to be a hectic day at work, topped off with a mountain of bureaucratic paperwork that still had to be completed. Plunging into the pile of job justification Sasha was so focused that it took a few rings of the phone before the call penetrated his thoughts. Glancing at the Caller ID he was pleased to see his wife, Ekaterina, on the other end.
Ekaterina, or Katia as he fondly called her, audibly choked back tears between labored breaths of air. Instant concern kicked in knowing the fragile nature of her pregnancy.
Before she could get three words out Sasha told her he would come home immediately. He had rushed his wife to the hospital midway through the second trimester when she began to heavily spot blood. Following a three day stay she was discharged with strict instructions that she had to maintain complete and total bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy, or the placenta might completely separate from the uterine wall. Already a busy day before her call, he thought to himself that when it rains it sometimes seems to come down in torrents.
"No, Sasha, I am fine. Stay there. Our bank called. Your paycheck could not be deposited. They tried to put it through again, even contacting issuing institution to see if there might be some kind of error on their end. Our bank was informed that account on which your paycheck had been drawn has been emptied and closed. Sasha, what are we going to do? I am due in less than two months and we have no money in reserve. You will receive no pay for this work period as well. If you do receive check it obviously won't be worth paper it's written on. I'm worried."
"Don't be concerned Katia, I have plan in the works. We are going to have plenty of money with some to spare for rainy day. Just try to get some rest now, I will be home shortly."
"Plan? What plan?" The worry already firmly established in her voice joined with a growing fear that Sasha, with his back pushed against the proverbial wall, would do something desperate and make an already strained situation worse.
"Don't you worry about it for another minute. Go back to bed and rest, let me handle this."
"But Sasha . . ."
"Not another word! It really is all under control. We are going to be fine. Now off to bed with you!"
"Okay, but hurry home as soon as you can. Please Sasha, don't do anything crazy. We will figure out something. I'm sure we could ask my parents for little help if we need to."
Sasha wasn't one to crumble into a state of panic at the first sign of trouble, a good trait for the manager of a biohazard materials lab. A thinker, a planner, the ultimate organizer, he realized that he already had no employment, absolutely no income, and a family for which to provide food, shelter, and warmth.
While deeply inhaling the warm and calming smoke of a cigarette, he shuddered under the chill of a frigid and dreary day. The coming Muscovite winter already hung in the late afternoon autumn air. The thought of asking his father-in-law for money sent a second shudder down his spine.
Sasha reached the only decision he felt that he could, concluding that the next morning he would call the number on the business card. Never having thrown away the card or reporting the incident as he ought to have, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that he had, in reality, reached this decision before they departed.
"Dobre ootra, this is Sasha Chesnokov. With whom am I speaking?"
"Dobre. Let's leave our names out of it, for everybody's sake. It's good to hear from you Sasha. You have changed your mind then, da?"
"Da, I have. Come to my office with money, in American dollars cash you offered. I will have your samples ready."
"We can be there within hour. This works for you?"
"Nyet. I will need more time. Give me two hours. Make that three. There is just one guard stationed at door to cryogenic storage room. I will have to wait until he goes on his lunch break. I routinely take over his station hour or so that he is away. Nothing will look suspect. I have canisters ready to fill moment he leaves. It will take me nearly hour to follow containment safety procedures. Before doing that, though, I have to first disable cameras and alarm system then re-enable them once I have completed transfer of samples. This is delicate, nothing can be rushed."
"Very good, we will be there in three hours with your money in American dollars, as agreed."
A little more than three hours, and two nervously smoked cigarettes later, Sasha had the containers filled, then secured in the locker of a past employee. He had disabled the security cameras and cryogenic room alarm earlier. This would raise concerns at Central, but nothing could be directly linked to him. He would have to be careful to not flaunt his newly found monetary windfall.
He would insist on counting the cash before handing the canisters over. One would be wise to not take any chances with so much money involved. Additionally, these two were obviously not men to be trusted.
"Sasha, you are looking well! You have our samples ready for us, da?"
"I do, but I am sure you will understand that I want to count money before completing our transaction. Your samples are safe, stored nearby."
"Of course, of course we understand. You are important business man after all! Your money is in briefcase. Please take your time my friend, no hurries here."
Flipping through the bundled stacks of bills, holding several up to the flickering fluorescent lighting, Sasha was satisfied that the money was genuine. Most likely the full amount was in the briefcase based on the weight and number of bundled one hundred dollar bills. It would take far too long to count the money properly and he did not want these two lingering in his office any longer than absolutely necessary.
He realized that he would have to come up with a plausible story before he told his wife about all of this American currency in his possession. Given this much cash it would be doubtful that any story, other than the truth, would be even close to believable. Hopefully she would have the grace to just accept their good fortune without probing the source too closely. She was, after all, the person who had suggested he relax his moral values a little and accept whatever opportunities for financial gain that might come their way.
"Everything appears to be in proper order. I'll just get your canisters now." He was delighted that his children would not go to bed hungry as he searched for gainful employment, even if it took a few years. Accompanied by the scarier of the two men, with a light heart he went to the locker, quickly spun the dial to the correct number code for the combination lock, and removed the canisters.
"Be extremely careful with these. They are hermetically sealed and pose no threat to you as long as you take proper precautions. Dropping them will not break seal, but that's manufacturer guarantee that you wouldn't
want to test. You now have just under one hour to get them into your cryogenic storage unit."
"Spaceeba, it was pleasure doing business with you."
As with their first visit to his office he again noticed that the slender man with cold, steel gray eyes seemed to irresistibly hold one's gaze as he spoke, his voice deceptively calming and peaceful. Sasha felt very much like a mouse being lulled into the hypnotic, false security of a cobra ready to strike its prey. Without doubt this was merely his nerves getting the better of him. It was after all his partner, not this man, who posed any significant threat.
"You as well." Replied Sasha. "Look, we have two more days before everything has been transferred. Perhaps there might be additional samples that would be of interest to you?" Not a greedy man, Sasha did, however; understand full well that the foreseeable future might be lean for his family. He realized that if he were to add more money to this small treasure of cash, now would be the time to act. Having already made a deal with the devil there was nothing more to lose, self-respect already evaporated.
"Thank you for your kind offer, but we now have everything we need. It's time for us to take our leave."
He felt some relief that their business transaction had been completed to everyone's mutual satisfaction and that they were soon to be gone. More money would have been nice, to be sure, but having these two out of his life was undoubtedly for the best. It would not be a good idea, he knew, to get in too deep with this shady sort - especially the Enforcer, who looked like he could have snapped Sasha's neck with just two fingers.
"Allow me to extend our warm wishes to you, and Ekaterina, what with your new baby soon to arrive. Little boy, if I remember correctly. Name you discussed yesterday, Pyetrov, is fine name for man. This much money should help to smooth your financial path for long while."
The fact that they knew his wife's name caught him by surprise, and that they were expecting a child. Not only that but that they were aware of the quiet discussion they had after dinner when they finally agreed on a name for their son. Then he was surprised that he should have been at all surprised by any of this. They knew so much about this laboratory, the employees and the cryogenic frozen strains of death contained therein, it went without saying that they would know about his family too. That they would have electronically listened-in on his private conversations while at home made perfect sense.
They certainly would have researched the lives, backgrounds, and financial situation of each of the seven remaining lab employees to ascertain their various options. They would have speedily reached the conclusion that they could only gain samples from him, the only person remaining to have easy access to the cryogenic storage chamber.
He briefly shivered, hoping that they didn't notice of the fear creeping into his countenance.
Sasha's initial surprise and realizations were substituted with a mind-shattering shock when the slender, soft-spoken of the two men, deftly pulled out a Glock aiming it directly at his head.
A romantic sort, Sasha had long hoped that his last thought in this life, and first thought in the next, would be of Katia. She always believed in him, gave him encouragement without pushing or nagging too terribly much, and was a good mother to their children. Instead of thinking of his wife and what would become of his family without him, he simply wondered, "How did I not see this coming and prepare for it?"