Meltdown

by Chuck Holton

  A horn beeped from the street. Sweeney turned to see a boxy, dark blue four-wheel drive stopped at the curb. It looked like a Russian version of a Land Rover. He could just make out Mary in the passenger seat.

  John motioned with his head. “Let’s go.”

  Sweeney walked back to the bench and picked up all three of their daypacks, then marched toward the waiting vehicle.

  Once they’d all piled in, Mary turned in the passenger seat to look at them. “What was that all about?”

  Sweeney and Rip, sitting on opposite sides of John, said nothing. John answered for them. “Nothing. Someone tried to steal Rip’s camera.”

  Mary looked as sympathetic as Sweeney had ever seen her. “Oh, I’m sorry. Petty theft is bad here. Are you okay?”

  Sweeney wiped a trickle of blood away from his mouth. “Fine.”

  Mary raised her eyebrows at him. “O…kay Then let me introduce you all to Olenka.” She motioned to the golden-haired woman sitting in the driver’s seat. “She’s our point of contact here in Kiev.”

  The girl looked at them with a shy smile. “Hello. Nice to meet you all. Phoenix has told me all about you.”

  Despite his lingering anger and the eye that was starting to swell, Sweeney couldn’t help but notice that the well-proportioned Ukrainian agent was, well, one description that came to mind was absolutely smoking hot. That meant there were now two beautiful women on this mission. If one of them wasn’t in charge, this wouldn’t be half bad. He stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Bobby.”

  Mary rolled her eyes. “Sergeant Sweeney is our weapons expert. And this is John Cooper, the team sergeant.”

  “Hi,” John said with a little wave.

  “And behind you is Sergeant Rip Rubio. He’ll be handling communications.”

  “Ma’am.” Rip gave her a solemn nod in the rearview mirror.

  Phoenix continued, “Olenka’s call sign will be Orange One.”

  “Like the Orange Revolution.” Sweeney nodded, hoping Olenka would be impressed with his grasp of Ukrainian history, even though it consisted of hastily reading Ukraine’s Wikipedia page the night before they’d flown out of Bragg.

  “Right.” Mary turned to Olenka. “Why don’t you fill the guys in on what you were telling me at the safe house.” Then to the team she added, “That’s where we’re headed now.”

  “Are we staying there tonight?” John asked.

  Mary laughed. “No way! Wait until you see it.”

  Sweeney wondered what that meant. He rubbed the sore spot under his eye.

  Olenka took a sip from a water bottle as she pulled away from the curb, then began to speak. Sweeney found her accent mesmerizing. “We’ve been targeting the scientist Grigor Lychenko with surveillance for a number of weeks, and we believe he is the source of the chemical that you have been seeking.”

  “Wait,” John said, “I thought we were trying to get to the lab where the stuff was made. Who’s this Grigor guy?”

  Olenka turned right, then looked at them in the rearview mirror. “Grigor Lychenko was once the top scientist in charge of a lab near Chernobyl that we know was experimenting with the substance.

  “One of our agents has befriended him,” Olenka continued. “It appears that Dr. Lychenko has been spending much time at the casino recently. He may be able to lead you to the remaining product and tell us if any more is being made.”

  “Great. Where do we find him?” Sweeney asked.

  “I have another agent working on that,” Olenka said. “Hopefully we will know sometime tonight where he is.”

  Ten minutes later, Olenka unlocked the door and led them into the safe house. To Sweeney, it looked more like a safe walk-in closet. He’d never seen such a small apartment.

  “So, Olenka, do you live here?” John asked.

  The pretty blonde shook her head. “No. I live on the other side of the river.”

  “Oh.”

  Sweeney had seen minivans larger than the living area they were crammed into. It was adorned with a small table and chair, a television, and a short tattered couch, which in the States would have barely qualified as a loveseat.

  Sweeney nudged John. “The folks at the agency must be real big spenders, huh?”

  Mary smiled. “You should see the bathroom. If you’re sitting on the toilet, you can touch all four walls with your head!”

  Olenka spoke up. “Actually, this is a fairly large apartment for Ukraine. Sometimes two families would share a flat this size.”

  Sweeney whistled and shook his head in amazement.

  Mary cleared her throat. “Okay. Down to business. Olenka’s contact has been getting to know our scientist for the past month. He’s going to try to set us up with Dr. Lychenko sometime in the next twenty-four—”

  A ringing coming from the direction of Olenka’s handbag interrupted her. Olenka fished her phone from it and looked at the caller ID. “That’s Dimitri now.” She flipped the phone open, squeezing past Sweeney into the tiny kitchen.

  Mary watched her go, then continued. “We may have a mission sooner than we expected. Our gear arrived this afternoon in a diplomatic pouch from our friends at the Irish embassy.” She pointed to a black duffel bag next to the couch. “That’ll have our commo and night vision and a few other things.”

  “How about weapons?” John asked.

  Mary nodded. “We’re good to go. Olenka has Russian SR-1 pistols here for all of us, and some bigger guns at another safe house if we need them. But remember, you aren’t here as soldiers. We’re just collecting information. If we get in a firefight, the only army you’ll see will be wearing the Ukrainian flag. So stay as low profile as possible.”

  Sweeney bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something like, Well, duh!

  Olenka returned with a serious look. “Okay. Dimitri has arranged a meeting with Lychenko tonight.” She appraised the team and frowned. “But you can’t go dressed like you are.”

  Rip looked down at his own khaki slacks and polo shirt. “What’s wrong with these clothes?”

  “The meeting is at a high-end nightclub on the river. Only do not worry, I can get outfits for you before the meeting.” Olenka produced a pen and notepad. “May I have your sizes, please?”

  6

  THE STREETLIGHTS FLICKERED on as Grigor coasted his rattletrap Lada to a stop across from the Dnieper River. The car’s engine died with a cough—a fitting commentary on the state of his life. He laid his head on the steering wheel and sighed. All of his worst nightmares had become a reality in the last twenty-four hours.

  Adela was gone. How did I not see it coming? He was a fool to ever believe that a woman so young and beautiful would want him for anything more than money. And now she had what she wanted. All of it. Seeing the proof in the zero balance when he checked his account had literally sucked the breath from his lungs. In the space of a day, he’d gone from astoundingly rich to penniless.

  And now I’m as good as dead.

  The mafia would be looking for him soon, if they weren’t already. That he’d ever taken a loan from them was a further monument to his stupidity. They would find him—he was sure of that—and when they did, his life would be over, most likely in a slow and agonizing fashion. The panic that had first gripped him when the realization had hit was gone, replaced by a sickening heavy dread, like a bag full of sand in his gut.

  The only thing he had been able to think to do was call Dimitri and ask for help. Though he hadn’t known him for more than a few weeks, the short Russian man was the only person he could call a friend.

  Rolling his head to one side, he could make out the blue and yellow neon lights of the floating-barge casino across the street. Dimitri had assured him it was a safe place for them to meet, and had given him a sliver of hope. He’d promised that he knew someone who could help.

  “Just make sure you aren’t followed,” Dimitri had instructed.

  But Grigor was a scientist, not a spy. He had no idea how to know if s
omeone were following him. Come to think of it, why would a janitor be concerned about such things? No matter, he was here now, desperately trying to stoke the fires of hope that somehow his friend would be able to help him.

  Out of the darkening sky, heavy drops of rain began pelting the car’s metal roof. Their pop-pop-popping made Grigor sit up. He turned off the headlights and yanked the keys out of the ignition, hurrying to get aboard the casino barge before the rain began in earnest.

  He dodged between two cars and dashed across the street, running down the sloping drive that led to the berth where the casino was permanently moored. In all the nights Grigor had spent gambling over the past year, this was one establishment he’d never visited, because if the huge boat’s shimmering exterior was any indication, the games within were far too expensive.

  An enormous bouncer stood inside a booth near the entrance to the pier. Panic gripped Grigor once again as he realized there might be a cover charge to enter the casino. He had but a few hryvni in his pocket, hardly enough for a drink, much less entrance. But the guard simply waved him inside with an expressionless nod. Grigor then saw the sign announcing that the cover charge went into effect after 9 p.m. His watch told him he’d gotten there with only thirty minutes to spare.

  He crossed the short gangway and entered the boat. Inside, he was at once bombarded by bad American rock music. Aside from plush gold carpeting and a hostess in a too-tight white suit coat, the brightly lit entry salon was empty. He nodded to her and asked, “De bar?” She gave him a coy smile and pointed the way.

  The music got louder as he entered a large room with a low ceiling, lit exclusively by the disco lights on the dance floor. As his eyes began to adjust, he saw about two dozen women whose appearance suggested that they were for sale. The ladies that weren’t standing at the bar were clustered around five or six well-dressed men seated on overstuffed couches around the room. The men sipped mixed drinks and looked up at Grigor as if he’d just stolen their wallets. The dance floor was empty. A blue neon light behind the bar cast a pallid hue on those standing nearby.

  The panic started to seep back into his brain. He was turning to flee when a voice sounded above the din, coming from the shadowy corner nearest to him. “Grigor!”

  He squinted in the direction of the voice and could just make out the squat form of Dimitri sitting at a table all alone. The Russian waved him over. “Come, sit down before you fall down.”

  Grigor hurried to the table and took his friend’s advice. “I got your message.”

  “Obviously. Vodka?”

  Grigor nodded. The thought of drinking himself under the table wasn’t unattractive at the moment. “Dimitri, Adela has left me.”

  His friend gave a sad nod. “You said as much on the phone. I’m very sorry to hear it.”

  “That’s not the worst of it. She took all my money. And I have debts, Dimitri…” He paused for a moment as the words choked him. “Big debts.”

  Dimitri nodded and stared into his drink. “I know someone who can help. They are foreigners…and they might be able to fix your problem. I took the liberty of contacting them so that you could meet them.”

  “Foreigners?” Grigor was suddenly suspicious. “What foreigners?”

  His friend stood, looking past him toward the door. “Here they come now.”

  Mary swallowed her discomfort and hooked her arm through Sweeney’s as they followed Olenka and John into the dim dance club of the floating casino. Rip was stationed outside. She took some comfort from the bulge of his bicep beneath the hastily purchased suit coat. She forced a smile and whispered to Sweeney, “Just act natural.”

  Sweeney’s grin in return was as fake as her own. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. This is insane.”

  It was hard to disagree. When they’d received the call at the safe house three hours ago, telling them where to find their scientist, Mary had been hoping to fall into a jetlag-induced nap. Instead, they’d rushed around in frantic preparation for this meeting. In the short time between then and now, Olenka had left and returned with a minidress for Mary that had made her gasp out loud, plus two black suits for Sweeney and John, to their great consternation.

  And here they were at a place called the River Palace, which, from the looks of tonight’s partygoers, was having a seminar for working girls. Mary suddenly felt even more uneasy in the minidress. And the high heels were killing her. In her CIA training at the Farm, she’d been to mock diplomatic parties where they dressed up and learned to mingle with foreign dignitaries to glean certain information. But they’d never done anything like this.

  Sweeney chuckled. “Hey, relax. With that dress on, at least you fit in.”

  “Shut up,” she said through her pasted-on smile.

  “Rip will be sad he got left to stand guard outside. He could probably have started a Bible study with some of these nice young ladies.”

  John overheard. “At ease, Bobby. Stay on your toes here; this place doesn’t look friendly.”

  Olenka nodded toward a short, stocky man with a comb-over and a shadow of a beard. He was sitting at a corner table with a gangly man whose coat was draped over his shoulders as if he were a wire hanger.

  That must be our scientist, Mary thought.

  The shorter man got up and approached them, smiling and speaking to Olenka in rapid-fire Russian, which Mary understood most of.

  Olenka began to translate for John and Sweeney. “This is Dimitri. He has spent several weeks getting to know the man at the table there. He’s Dr. Grigor Lychenko, the scientist you were briefed about earlier. Dimitri says Grigor is in trouble with some men who loaned him money. He was supposed to pay them back today but his fiancée stole all his money and disappeared.”

  “And now the mafia’s after him,” Sweeney quipped. “That’s wonderful.”

  Olenka didn’t catch his sarcasm and gave him a confused look. “No, that’s bad.”

  “Come, let us sit down,” Dimitri suggested.

  John and Sweeney secured some empty chairs, and the four of them crowded in around the table.

  The scientist regarded the four newcomers with a look just one step away from panic. “Who are you?” His high-pitched Russian was tinged with fear.

  Mary looked Lychenko in the eye and addressed him directly in Russian. “We’re friends of Dimitri’s. He told us about the trouble you are having, and I think we can help.”

  Lychenko swallowed hard. “You are Americans?”

  She shook her head. “That is not important right now. We need to get you someplace safe. But first, you must help me so that we can help you.”

  A hint of suspicion mixed with the desperation on Lychenko’s face. “What do you want from me?”

  Mary pinned him with her gaze. “Tell me what you know about Iso-Triethyl Borane.”

  The scientist’s eyes opened wider when she named the explosive. Then, with visible effort, he regained his composure.

  “Looks like you struck a nerve,” John whispered.

  Lychenko looked at Mary. “If you are looking for this chemical, I cannot help you.”

  A ball of ice formed in the pit of Mary’s stomach. He thinks we’re here to prosecute him for selling it. She racked her brain for a way to salvage this. Sweeney and John were shifting in their seats and exchanging glances with each other.

  Mary flashed a smile to put him at ease. “I think you misunderstand, Dr. Lychenko. We know that you once worked in a lab that was experimenting with ITEB. There must have been a substantial amount at the lab. All we want to know is where it is or who has it now.”

  Grigor shrugged and spread his hands. “I’m sorry, I really do not know.”

  Mary looked around and tried to think of a way to draw the scientist out. Olenka and Dimitri were holding a quiet conversation while John and Sweeney scanned the room. Mary hoped they had their minds on security, not on the busty bleached blondes who were casting glances at them as if she and Olenka were stealing their business.

  J
ohn put a hand to his ear, then looked up at Mary. “Rip says we may have company. Let’s hurry.”

  Mary turned back to Lychenko. “Do you remember the location of the lab in Chernobyl?”

  He hesitated a moment and then nodded.

  “Good. Take us to it, and in exchange we will ensure that your debt is repaid.”

  A flash of hope in Lychenko’s eyes quickly clouded over. “That would be impossible. The lab is inside the dead zone. There are guards on every road, and no one is allowed in without authorization. Besides, there is no—”

  “Look out,” Sweeney muttered. “We’ve got trouble.”

  Mary turned toward the door and saw what Sweeney was looking at. Three huge men had just entered. They looked like pro wrestlers. One wore a silver double-breasted suit and sported shoulder-length brown hair. The second wore a blond crew cut with diamond earrings, with his dress shirt open at the collar. The thug in the middle wore a black suit and a ponytail. All three were staring hard in their direction.

  “Stay calm,” John said.

  The three men walked over to them.

  Mary stole a glance at Lychenko and saw his face almost melt in terror when he saw them coming. Not good.

  One of the men, the one with his black hair greased back into a ponytail, addressed Lychenko. “Privyet, Grigor. Did you think you could run away from us without paying your debts?”

  Lychenko stammered a response, his eyes pleading as they darted from Mary to the men.

  The longhaired thug was rubbing his stubbly beard and paying more attention to Mary than he was to the scientist. He said something to her that needed no translation, then reached down and ran his fingertips up her arm.

  Before he reached her shoulder, Sweeney was on his feet, tipping his chair over backward. Somebody screamed. Mary grabbed the jerk’s thumb and twisted until he bellowed in pain. He pulled away and reached into his jacket. John jumped up and drove a fist into Mr. Ponytail’s Adam’s apple.