by Ted Halstead
A private Xu had never seen before now walked into the room carrying a clipboard, and Chang nodded towards him.
"Of course, a hospital is no place for such weapons. This private will have you sign acknowledging receipt of these rifles and then store them in the armory. There you will find the ammunition for them, also captured by the Lieutenant and his men," Chang said.
"Thank you, sir," was all Xu could think of to say as well.
Chang smiled. "I'm also pleased to inform you both that the doctor tells me you will be discharged later today. Sergeant, you are free to begin familiarizing yourself with this rifle immediately. I understand it will be a significant adjustment from your present weapon. Of course, it will be your call whether or not to use it on patrol."
"Yes, sir," Xu said. "I appreciate the opportunity."
Chang nodded, pleased with the sincerity he could hear in Xu's voice.
"Sergeant, be aware that thanks to the work of the Lieutenant and his men, the enemy will probably change location once they return. I'm told that they left gifts behind in case the enemy is foolish enough to reoccupy their old position. Some, easy to find. Others buried more deeply and designed to remain inert for several days after they're planted," Chang said.
Then Chang turned to Guan. "Don't worry, Corporal. I'm not expecting you to trade in your spotter's gear and become a sniper yourself. But I understand every spotter must become familiar with his sniper's weapon and its capabilities. And since you run the same risks and are also in a hospital bed, I would say you've earned it."
"I appreciate that, sir," Guan said.
Xu and everyone else present could hear that he meant it.
Now Xu realized giving them the rifles had been done only partly to level the playing field with the Indian snipers who had so far been out of his reach. Word of these "gifts" would travel around camp within minutes. Xu was sure morale was about to skyrocket.
He certainly felt better.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Russian Consulate General
San Francisco, California
Mikhail Vasilyev looked at the McMillan TAC-50 that had been placed on the cloth covering the conference room table and let out a long, low whistle.
Anatoly Grishkov nodded and said, "It appears no expense is being spared to support our mission. Unless I'm mistaken, this is the famous rifle that made the shot for the world's longest confirmed kill. An ISIS terrorist in Syria several years ago, I think."
Vasilyev frowned. "Yes. A Canadian sniper made the shot. I just wish I had a target as worthy of his fate."
Grishkov nodded again. "True. ISIS with their black flags and videotaped beheadings are just as over the top evil as the SS were with their skull and crossbones insignia and mass killings."
Vasilyev ran his hands over the stock and shook his head. "But on one point, I must disagree. I've been informed this rifle was purchased for not much more than the price recommended by the manufacturer. Twelve thousand American dollars. And another two thousand dollars for the Leupold Mark 4 LR/T 16x40mm scope."
Grishkov stared at Vasilyev in disbelief. "That wouldn't even buy you a decent used car in Russia, let alone a beauty like this! Next, you're going to tell me it was easy to get!"
Vasilyev shrugged. "It was difficult only in the sense that it is a gun in high demand. Oh, and California happens to be the only state where possession of this particular gun is illegal. So our agent had to drive out of state, in this case to Wyoming, to make his purchase."
"I'm impressed that we were able to produce the documents required for such a purchase in time for this mission. But then, I suppose America is the primary target for FSB operations," Grishkov said.
"I was impressed too, at first," Vasilyev replied. "But after speaking to the agent who made the purchase, I see it wasn't so difficult after all."
"Really?" Grishkov asked. "What about those documents? Or was he dealing with a criminal?"
Vasilyev shook his head. "No, purchase from a criminal would have been too risky, especially for a valuable weapon such as this. It was easy because no documents were required for the sale."
"I'm confused," Grishkov said. "This is a .50 caliber sniper rifle, capable of punching through light armor. Surely documents and permits are required for its purchase."
"No," Vasilyev replied simply.
Seeing Grishkov's exasperated reaction, he quickly added, "First, I should point out that laws on firearms purchase vary from one American state to another. I mentioned that possession of this rifle is not legal in California. But in Wyoming, there is no state license or permit required to buy a rifle of any type."
Grishkov frowned. "But what about the Federal government? Don't its requirements apply in every state?"
Vasilyev nodded. "Yes. And every licensed gun dealer is required to conduct a background check of a Federal database. However, no check is required if a purchase is made from a private individual."
Grishkov's frown deepened. "That makes no sense. Why wouldn't any criminal simply purchase from an individual?"
Vasilyev shrugged. "A reasonable question. However, first, note the word 'required.' Some private sellers carry out Federal background checks, though the law doesn't force them to do so."
"I presume, though, that a private seller could be asked in advance what he requires to make a sale. A criminal could just avoid a seller who required anything more than payment," Grishkov observed.
"True, except for cases like ours where choice is limited because we are looking for a weapon in high demand. The seller we used had a fairly common requirement of his own. Our agent was required to bring a valid government-issued ID," Vasilyev said.
"So he could carry out a background check," Grishkov said, nodding.
"No. The seller said specifically that our agent would not be required to wait for a background check," Vasilyev said with a smile.
"So, this entire conversation is intended to …wait, there is an American expression I was taught…'push my buttons,' isn't it? Because you know I was a police officer before joining the FSB?" Grishkov said, scowling.
"An excellent use of an American idiom," Vasilyev said solemnly. "Though I would have preferred 'yank your chain' instead."
Seeing from Grishkov's expression that his patience was now truly at an end, Vasilyev hurriedly added, "The ID request had a serious purpose. Many criminals would prefer not to provide an ID, even a false one, because it would include a photo that would have to match the buyer's real face. Police can sometimes trace copies of fake IDs back to their producers, who know their clients' real identities. And if the weapon they've sold is used in a crime and is subsequently traced back to them, then they have evidence to provide the police."
Grishkov shook his head. "If they're so eager to help the police, why not do a background check as well?"
"One practical reason is that it would affect sales. Also, many private sellers object in principle to interfering with what they believe is the right of all Americans to own guns," Vasilyev said.
"Well, at least our agent was able to get this beauty quickly," Grishkov said, patting the rifle's stock.
"You'd think so. But it took over an hour to complete the transaction, much to the agent's annoyance. After a fifteen-hour drive to reach the seller," Vasilyev said.
"So, the seller ran a background check after all?" Grishkov said hopefully.
Vasilyev shook his head. "No. He examined each of the hundred dollar bills provided in payment thoroughly with two different pieces of equipment. While two unsmiling, well-armed men stood by the seller in case of problems. It seems the seller had been paid in counterfeit currency in a past transaction and was determined not to repeat the experience."
Grishkov nodded and then frowned. "When you say our agent had to provide a government-issued ID, I presume it was not a national ID card issued by the Federal government. America does remain one of the few countries without one, yes?"
"Correct. The closest substitute is a dri
ver's license issued by each American state, but of course, not everyone drives. States also issue IDs that aren't tied to driving. Requirements vary from state to state, and in many are easy to meet. Wyoming, for instance, only requires a birth certificate, two pieces of mail with a current address, and proof of a Social Security number. Proof which can include a bank statement bearing the person's SSN," Vasilyev said with a grin.
Grishkov groaned. "A bank statement? A piece of paper that even a teenager with a computer could generate or alter, with no security features of any kind?"
Vasilyev simply nodded.
"Well, but hang on. Surely there is a requirement that the person requesting the birth certificate provide a valid ID that can be checked against a database," Grishkov said triumphantly.
"No," Vasilyev said simply. Then he held up his hand as Grishkov began to reply. "The requestor may provide a copy of such an ID. Or may, instead, choose to have their signature notarized."
Grishkov shook his head. "That means the only challenge is reproducing rubber seal images and a signature scrawl. Even I could manage that, and I'm no master forger."
"Yes, but once you have obtained it, you do have to ensure that the birth certificate has not already been used to obtain another government ID by the real person. There's only one way to be sure of that," Vasilyev said.
"Making sure the real person has already died. But the authorities must tie databases for birth and death together…" Grishkov's voice faltered as he saw Vasilyev's smile widen.
"In some states, yes, in others no. But there's a way around that. Find persons who died in states other than where they were born. Preferably as children, before they ever obtained a government ID," Vasilyev said.
"Ah, but our agent must still be running a risk with such purchases," Grishkov said. "Surely the Federal government ties all these local databases together somehow, particularly birth and death."
Vasilyev shook his head. "No. Only one agency, the State Department, does a significant number of searches against multiple state databases of birth and death. And that is only for cases of suspected passport fraud."
Grishkov sighed. "Over two decades have passed since the Americans suffered attacks in New York and their capital killing over three thousand citizens. You mean to tell me nothing has been done since then?"
"No, that's not right. There is now something called a 'Real ID' with more stringent requirements. But obtaining one is voluntary. Practically speaking, it's only essential to fly. Even then, many other IDs are still accepted to board a flight," Vasilyev said.
"Incredible. How do you explain this failure?" Grishkov asked.
Vasilyev shrugged. "Many Americans don't consider it a failure and would say privacy is more important than security."
Grishkov shook his head. "Who believes that their government doesn't already know anything they would provide for a national ID card application?"
Vasilyev shrugged again, but this time said nothing.
Grishkov shook his head. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder how we lost the Cold War to these people."
Vasilyev just cocked his head and smiled.
"Yes, yes, I know," Grishkov said with a sigh. "Our problems were even worse."
Five Kilometers Outside Columbus, Nevada
Anatoly Grishkov shook his head. "So many things surprise me here. I have seen many abandoned towns and bases in Russia but somehow never expected to see them in America."
Mikhail Vasilyev nodded. "The Western region has many, most from now terminated mining operations. Some towns supported mining precious metals such as gold and the one most commonly mined in Nevada, silver. Columbus, though, was a center for mining borax. It's been deserted for well over a century, making the area ideal for our purpose."
"Borax. Primarily a cleaning agent, yes?" Grishkov asked.
"Correct. Still used in America, Russia, and most other countries. Banned in the European Union, though. Some studies have shown it is dangerous for reproductive health," Vasilyev replied.
Grishkov grunted. "Well, I think it ranks low on the list of hazards we've faced. So, you don't think it will take long to zero your new rifle?"
Vasilyev shook his head. "No. Or anyway, less time than it took you to ensure our security. Are you sure the step was really necessary? From all appearances, there is no one anywhere near for many kilometers in every direction."
"Right now, I think that's true. But you plan to use the rifle without a suppressor to ensure maximum accuracy. That means its sound will carry a considerable distance," Grishkov replied.
"Well, that's true. I suppose it might draw the curious," Vasilyev said.
"I'm more concerned about attracting the greedy," Grishkov said. "We're completely exposed out here and could be quickly overwhelmed by a superior force."
Vasilyev cocked one eyebrow as he looked around the desolate landscape. Nothing moved.
"I see the habits you picked up in Chechnya have stayed with you," Vasilyev said, finally.
Grishkov shrugged. "Better safe than sorry. Let's get this over with, so you can spend our long drive back telling me I worry too much."
Then Grishkov gestured towards the McMillan TAC-50 rifle Vasilyev was readying to fire. "One question. I looked up this rifle online, and it looks a bit different than the picture I found. Has anything about it changed recently?"
Vasilyev nodded. "Observant as always. This is the updated 'C' model, which features a new folding chassis system. It has an adjustable cheekpiece with vertical adjustment and an adjustable buttstock. The stock includes a smaller pistol grip to fit a wider range of hand shapes, with and without gloves."
"Very nice," Grishkov said. "Now, let's see if you still remember how to shoot," he added, pointing at the distant target.
Vasilyev wasted no time answering, instead sending a round to the target. Grishkov looked through his locally purchased Japanese 20х50 binoculars and called out the result. He then heard the "clicks" that followed as Vasilyev made the necessary adjustments.
After multiple corrections led to repeated bullseyes, Vasilyev finally said, "I think that will do it," just as Grishkov shook his head.
"We have company," he said flatly.
"What do you mean…" Vasilyev said and then fell silent as he also heard the sound of the engines.
"That's the problem with an exercise like this," Grishkov said calmly. "We've been making so much noise that it's hard to detect an approaching enemy until it's too late."
Vasilyev sighed. "You mean too late for us to flee."
Grishkov nodded. "Yes. You might try getting in some real practice with that rifle, but they could be police. If they are and we eliminate them, it's unlikely we could avoid a subsequent search."
"Very well. So, we hope these men are simply curious, or if not that your preparations are effective," Vasilyev said.
Grishkov shrugged. "I see no better option."
Grishkov and Vasilyev both stood and watched as the sound's source turned out to be two pickup trucks, each carrying two armed men.
Grishkov noted with professional approval that both pickups stopped well out of comfortable pistol range. But within range of the rifles each man who first dismounted was carrying. At this distance, he couldn't be sure, but both men appeared to be holding AR-15s.
Another man left one of the pickups, but his AR-15 was slung over his shoulder. The last man remained in his vehicle.
The man with the AR-15 slung over his shoulder walked towards them but still out of easy pistol range.
Then he stopped and said in a loud voice, "Howdy folks! My name's Gary. We came to see what was making all the noise. I'm guessing it was that beauty there behind you?"
Vasilyev nodded and said, "Yes."
Gary smiled. "Mind if me and my friends take a closer look?"
"Yes, I do," Vasilyev said evenly. "We were just leaving."
Now both of the men behind Gary lifted their rifles and pointed them directly at Grishkov and Vasilyev.
&nb
sp; "Sorry, but that doesn't work for me," Gary said. "I need you both to put your hands up and walk back ten paces and then stand very still while I go and pick up that rifle. Then stay right where you are while we leave. As long as you do exactly what I say, we'll leave you unharmed. Of course, if you try to follow us, all bets are off. Clear?"
"Clear," Vasilyev replied.
Then both Vasilyev and Grishkov walked slowly backward with hands up as instructed.
Grishkov knew the real reason they weren't both dead already was that "Gary" didn't want any chance of the rifle they were stealing being damaged by a stray round.
It made him feel better about what would happen next.
Once Gary had walked far enough forward, Grishkov said, "Drop."
Grishkov had calculated well.
The men with Gary didn't have time to react to Grishkov and Vasilyev's movement downwards.
Because the Claymore mine Grishkov had planted earlier and covered with just enough dirt to conceal it exploded as Gary's right foot made contact with its tripwire.
Neither Gary nor the two men standing behind him had a chance. All were well within the Claymore's effective kill radius of fifty meters.
The seven hundred steel balls ejected by the mine were each about three millimeters in diameter. Propelled by the explosion of seven hundred grams of C-4 explosive to twelve hundred meters per second, the steel balls were joined by hundreds of fragments from the mine itself.
Prospects were better for the lone man who had remained inside one of the pickups, since it was just over fifty meters away from the explosion.
However, he had made the mistake of parking his vehicle sideways with the window rolled down so that he could cover his three companions with his rifle from a distance. Two of the seven hundred steel balls struck him in the head, killing him instantly.
By contrast, Grishkov and Vasilyev were quite fortunate. Though the Claymore was designed to eject all of its steel balls forward, the laws of physics said that some of its case fragments would be propelled backward.
