by Brian Drake
Arkady raised an eyebrow.
“When we colonize the moon, we may need trains,” Trent said with a grin.
Arkady examined the mountain set that had the small town. Homes, filling stations, even a drive-in movie theater, the miniature screen playing a recent DVD release. Trent had staged an accident at one intersection. The miniature model cars and people were painted in bright colors.
Trent fiddled with switches, and the set sparked to life. The model town lit up; the train rumbled along the tracks, passing through tunnels and along the mountains and through the town.
Arkady beamed. “This is terrific.”
The third table showed a train circling an international airport, which Trent explained was a work in progress. He wanted to duplicate the Corpus Christi airport, and Arkady pointed out landmarks he had seen firsthand upon landing—more exquisite attention to detail.
Trent let Arkady examine the trains for a while. His normally stoic face had melted. He looked like a kid at Christmas. Trent took out the business card the dark-haired reporter had given him. He’d placed it in his shirt pocket before the guests had arrived. He returned the card to his pocket. Now was not the time.
ONCE COLLEEN and Chef Higgins had left and Trent was alone with Arkady and Ivanovitch, they sat in the living room with a fresh round of drinks. Trent said, “I’ve been approached by somebody else.”
Arkady froze with his coffee mug an inch from his mouth. “Another buyer?”
“No, a reporter.” Trent explained the lunch encounter and passed Arkady the woman’s business card.
Arkady put the mug down to examine the card. His stoic expression had returned.
“What did you tell her?”
“I refused the offer. After Monaco, I couldn’t be sure she wasn’t another thief.”
Arkady updated Ivanovitch, who only nodded. Arkady put the card in his pocket.
“We’ll check her out,” the Russian said. “She could be exactly what she claims.”
“Or not.”
“Yes, quite possible.”
“Where’s the other fellow who was with you at the hotel?”
“Oh, he’s back home,” Arkady said. “That’s why I had to bring Yuri. Theo, if your government wanted to stop our deal, they certainly have more direct ways. Especially on your home soil.”
“So I’m overreacting?”
“Just don’t jump to conclusions. It could be nothing. What did she look like?”
“Very striking,” Trent said, and added to the description. “She won’t be hard to spot. Or you could visit her hotel room; she wrote it on the back.”
“I noticed. When do we get to see this weapon of yours in action?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Trent smiled.
ARKADY HANDED the business card to Ivanovitch before he started the Lincoln. Driving away, he said: “Our first troublemaker.”
“Second.”
“Right.”
Arkady steered down the hill, following the twisting road.
“Watch out for deer.”
Arkady slowed the car. “Go to the hotel first thing tomorrow,” he said. “I want an ID on the woman before lunch.”
“Okay.”
The Russians left the gated community without incident.
9
Smash Him Like a Bug
NINA AWOKE, showered and dressed, and went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. Dane had telephoned the previous night to report all was well. Nina had been pleased to speak with him while totally sober. If he’d noticed, he kept the observation to himself.
After breakfast she threw on a jacket, tucked her Smith & Wesson M&P Shield 9-millimeter behind her back and went out through the lobby to the garage. She wanted to watch Trent’s campus for when Colleen left for lunch. From their first encounter she’d learned that Trent’s daughter drove a red Volkswagen. Nina planned to intercept her at lunch once again or, failing that, follow her home.
Nina did not notice the big Cossack who fell in step behind her.
VERY STRIKING, Trent had said.
But he had no idea of whom he was talking about.
Ivanovitch sat in the lobby, near a television showing the morning news. Other guests clustered around him paid no mind as he divided his attention between the TV and USA Today. He scanned the lobby periodically with the woman’s description in mind.
When he saw a tall, dark-haired woman in jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt exit the restaurant, his stomach lurched. Not because she looked good, but because she had a face he’d never forget.
He followed her out to the garage, where she climbed into a Jaguar F-Type. The throaty start of the engine filled the space. Ivanovitch ran to his car and turned over the motor, speeding after her. He remained a discreet distance behind as he trailed her through town.
He wanted to call Arkady right away, but the Hawk had reminded him that the local cops could pull him over if they saw him on a cell, so he kept the Jag in sight. Ivanovitch had to pull over for extended periods as the Jag climbed into the hills, but soon recognized the area. Leaving the rental under a tree just off the road, he set out through the grass, taking the incline slowly, with eyes alert for the woman’s convertible.
Presently he spotted the car parked on the side of the road, but the woman wasn’t nearby.
He stayed low in the grass and scanned the distance. Still nothing. He hiked down the slope, across the road, and knelt down in the grass on that side. Thorns poked through his socks, digging irritably into his skin. Only the breeze made its presence known. Then he saw her, lying on her stomach, peering at the Trent campus through binoculars.
Strapped under Ivanovitch’s arms were throwing knives, each perfectly balanced and razor sharp. They rode in solid polymer sheaths. He couldn’t use leather holders, because the blades risked cutting through. Four knives, two under each arm, and he drew one from under his right. Holding the weapon close, he started forward… and stepped on a twig.
The snap might as well have been a cannon shot. The woman swung a look over her shoulder and spat a curse. Ivanovitch threw the blade anyway. It whispered through the air, closing the space between, as the woman rolled away. The knife buried itself in the ground where she had lain.
Ivanovitch dropped and rolled as the woman fired a pistol, a blind shot that went wide. She ran. Ivanovitch aimed ahead of her and threw another knife that thwacked into a tree. The woman ducked behind the trunk, exposing herself just enough to fire again, but now Ivanovitch wasn’t where he’d been. He crawled up the slope, the grass swishing as he plowed through, circling around her position. He pulled a knife from under his left arm and peeked through the grass. The woman hid behind the tree, most of her body exposed. He rose, bringing his arm back, and was halfway through the throw when the woman turned and fired. As the knife left his hand, Ivanovitch felt the bullet tear a gash in his wrist. He yelped, dropping to cover. The woman pounded up the slope.
Clutching his wrist, Ivanovitch followed, the two figures cutting through the grass at a frantic pace. She stayed focused and did not turn to shoot. She angled toward the road. Using his other hand, Ivanovitch drew his last knife. He stopped. Raised the blade. The woman broke clear of the grass. She fired twice in his general direction, both shots missing. He picked out a spot ahead of her and threw. Sun glinted off the blade as it closed in, but she executed a quick somersault underneath and the knife sailed above her. When she regained her feet, she flashed him a smile.
“That’s four, Yuri!” She raised her gun. He hit the ground. She laughed instead of firing. When Ivanovitch looked up, she was running for her car.
He stayed low and took out his phone. An ID by lunch. Mission accomplished. He dialed Arkady.
“What is it?”
“That woman,” the Cossack said. “Not just a troublemaker. It’s Nina the Bitch.”
“Oh, no,” Arkady said.
NINA LAUGHED as she powered the Jag down the road.
Yuri Antonov Ivanovit
ch. Good with a knife, but not good against a target who knew him. And she knew him well.
She steered for town, slowing to the speed limit as she crossed the boundary. She needed to tell Steve, but first needed a new hotel. Ivanovitch had certainly picked up her trail there, and sloppiness had almost cost her big-time. She couldn’t return for her stuff, and that meant an excuse to go shopping.
The day wasn’t a total waste after all.
ARKADY HUNG up after Ivanovitch’s call and began pacing his room. He mashed his teeth angrily. He might have convinced Trent that the U.S. government was behind his trouble, but the truth was far worse. Nina Talikova. Nina the Bitch. The woman who had frustrated him time and time again.
If she was here, so was Steve Dane.
Were they connected with the attempted theft? And where was Steve Dane? If he wasn’t in Texas, it could only mean…
Arkady quickly dialed another number.
Cavallos answered.
“Yes, Alexander?”
“We have a new problem. I need you to look for a man. I’ll send you details. Shoot him on sight.”
“We’re spread thin already,” Cavallos said.
“Do not let him get in your way. Do not let him stop you. He will try.”
“Who is this man?”
Arkady told him.
“Oh, him,” Cavallos said. “Will his woman be with him?”
“She’s here.”
“Thank you for the tip. We’ll be watching.”
“We are almost done, Marco. Smash him like a bug and get back here.”
10
Firefight
DANE’S PLANE landed in Miami and it was sunny and hot. But that wasn’t his final destination. Right after arriving he boarded a smaller passenger plane with ten other people for another trip 135 miles north to Vera Beach. That smaller Florida community had only a municipal airport that couldn’t handle the jumbo jets landing at Miami International. The cramped plane had vents that piped in warm air, and Dane kept one of those vents aimed at his neck. The second leg did not last long, and soon he was reunited with both Todd McConn and his luggage.
They shook hands and McConn took Dane to his rental car. With the luggage stowed in the trunk, McConn took over driving detail. The air conditioner filled the cabin with cool air.
“What have you learned so far?” Dane said.
“The Hess plant is a few miles outside of town, and a major employer in this place,” McConn said. “I rented a chopper for tomorrow. We can fly over and take some pictures.”
“Google Earth is no good this time?”
“I’m sure it is, but I also know you’d want the latest pictures. The Earth map is already outdated. They added a new wing recently.”
McConn pulled into a Red Roof Inn and told Dane they had adjoining rooms. The inn was two stories, shaped like a V, with white outer walls and a slanted red roof.
“King bed and high-def television,” McConn said as they exited the car.
Dane hefted his bags from the trunk. “You plan on watching TV?”
“We can keep it on in the background. The Jets will look great in HD.”
The hotel was indeed clean and comfortable, and they spent an hour in McConn’s room going over his bag of tricks.
“Got a good digital camera for tomorrow,” McConn said as he showed Dane the items in a case.
Dane opened the leather case and examined the Canon PowerShot SX170 in black. He’d used similar cameras in the past and felt confident that the pictures would show the detail he wanted. He nodded his approval.
“Some weapons, HK UMPs, just in case. You brought your .45?”
“Yup,” Dane said.
“Okay. I have ammo for it. This you’ll like. Genuine Homeland Security identification. All we gotta do is put your picture on this blank one.”
Dane examined the whole card with its red border, the DHS logo emblazoned in the upper-left corner.
“Got a camera for that?” Dane said.
“We can use one of those little photo booths at the mall. You know, the ones the teenage girls like.”
“Make sure we kick them out first.”
“Suit yourself.” McConn laughed. “That’s all except the standard com unit.”
“Let’s get my picture squared away. These IDs give me ideas.”
At the mall, they found the photo kiosk near the food court, empty, so there was no need to shoo away giggling teenage girls. Dane sat in the booth with the curtain closed and faced the camera in the wall before him. The flash went off three times. The machine spit out three small pictures of Dane’s dour mug, the expression designed to make him look like a typical federal time-card puncher. Back at the inn, McConn placed the best of the three pictures in the box on the blank ID, then wrapped a laminate shield around the card by hand. The card fit snugly in the accompanying leather wallet with the gold badge.
“There, you’re officially back in Uncle Sam’s employ,” McConn said.
“When do I get to start complaining about stuff?”
“What time is it now?”
Dane feigned a punch and McConn laughed.
They went to the restaurant across the street, Mimi’s Café, for dinner. A back booth was available near a partially curtained window.
“I like this gig,” McConn said, stirring sugar into his iced tea. “Much better than Colombia.”
“Any word from Dev?”
“He was up and around when I left, no long-term effects, thankfully.”
Dinner was standard fare, a pork chop and potato for Dane while McConn ordered a burger. They skipped dessert and went back to the hotel.
Dane telephoned Nina and they updated each other. Dane noted that she wasn’t drunk, which surprised him. Maybe she’d finally noticed the same thing he had.
THE NEXT day, McConn flew the rented helicopter at 1,000 feet above the city, on a heading for the green countryside east. He kept the 60 highway off to the right side, Dane’s side, the whole way.
As they came abreast of Hess Laboratories just beyond the 95 freeway, Dane poked the Canon out through a small side window and snapped pictures in quick succession. McConn continued east for another hour and then turned back, following the same course. Dane shot more photos. Presently they landed, checked in the helicopter with the flight company and returned to the hotel.
They examined the images over lunch in Dane’s room.
Hess Laboratories sat a few miles off the 95 and 60, surrounded by open country. Cell towers and a small electrical substation were nearby, the complex itself a series of buildings on a campus that stretched about three miles east to west.
“Where might the DEW work be happening?” McConn said.
“See that building with the armed guards?”
Dane zoomed in on the spot.
“There they are,” McConn said. “Probably won’t see that on Google.”
“Odd that they don’t test outdoors like Trent does.”
“Probably environmental reasons. Regulations here are pretty tight.” McConn retrieved a notebook from the tote bag. “I did some prelim research on the people involved, too.”
He flipped a few pages.
“Mike Watt is the lead engineer; head of security is Tom Vu.”
“Got any pics?”
“No, but I figured we’d meet them when we make our visit. DHS will want to see their setup since they won that contract.”
After lunch they drove to a nearby park so Dane could smoke a cigar, as the motel had a no-smoking policy. They sat on top of a picnic table. Nearby, a woman tossed a Frisbee to her dog, who caught it each time and brought it back to her.
“Any idea where Cavallos might be?” McConn said.
“Oh, he’s around. I don’t think he or his wife will do the recon themselves.”
“He’s brought in more people?”
“It’s too much to try with only two people. Cavallos will be holed up sorting information and planning.”
“And w
e have no idea when they’ll strike?”
“Could be tonight.”
“Could be right now.”
“We should just forget it then and watch football tonight.”
“That’s not why I got the TVs,” McConn said.
“Hell it isn’t. My gut tells me we still have some time, just not much. Our best bet, after we get a look at the layout, is to set up our own recon and wait.”
“I can get some night-vision gear.”
“You mean you forgot that?”
“Can’t think of everything.”
“Not when you’re too busy thinking about sitting on your ass and watching big TVs.”
Dane smoked quietly. After a while, they returned to the hotel and Dane called Nina.
“We have a serious problem,” Nina said.
“Run out of vodka?”
“No, Arkady brought in more help,” she said. “Fellow named Ivanovitch.” She described the knife attack.
“If I’d known you’d end up at a reunion,” Dane said, “I’d have stuck around.”
“Just watch your back. Arkady will know about you and if he thinks we’re operating apart, he’ll guess where you are.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t leave the hotel. I got a huge TV here.”
MCCONN STOPPED at the gate in front of Hess Laboratories. He extended his DHS ID as a young guard with a squawking radio on his belt came over to the window. He silenced the radio and took McConn’s and Dane’s IDs. A second guard, who remained in the shack near the gate, watched the car.
The young guard examined the ID cards with a frown.
“We’re not expecting you, sir.”
“Right. If you knew, this wouldn’t be a surprise.”
The guard brought both IDs to the other guard, who also examined them. The second guard approached the car.
“You caught us with nobody available to meet you,” he told McConn. “Big meeting inside today. Go check in at the reception desk, but you’ll have to wait a bit.”
