Author: James R. Hannibal
Category: Thriller
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The door slammed shut.
TYLER WATCHED, hands in the pockets of his overcoat, from the railing of a parking structure two streets over. The overhang of the level above kept him dry and kept the G-Wagon well hidden. He didn’t speak for a long time after Eddie and Talia disappeared into their rooms.
The driver stuck his head out the window and removed his sunglasses. “Shall we go, then?” he asked in perfect English.
Tyler held up a finger. “Wait for it.”
“Wait for wh—?”
Before Davian could finish the question, Talia emerged from her room and opened her umbrella against the rain. She hurried down the stairs.
“She’s headed back to the rental place.” Tyler returned to the SUV and got in. “I could have taken her myself, but she’s not ready to ask for my help—nor anyone else’s.”
Down below, Talia hailed a cab, shaking out the umbrella as she ducked inside.
The driver cranked up the Mercedes. “You want me to follow?”
“No. Miss Inger can take care of herself.” He settled back and drew a smartphone from his inside pocket, unlocking the screen. “Head back to the Mandarin. I have other business.”
Chapter
nineteen
ROUTE R26
TRANSNISTRIA UNRECOGNIZED TERRITORY
TALIA AND EDDIE DROVE EAST of Tiraspol in a mid-nineties Opel Astra with a tree-shaped air freshener dangling from the mirror. Its weak pine scent wasn’t fooling anyone. Talia had picked up the rental from Da! Autos the night before, getting soaked to the bone and fleeced by her cabdriver in the process. But she had done it her way, not Tyler’s.
“This is nice.” Eddie poked at a water-stained dip in the fabric above his head. “Way better than the Mercedes.”
“This is a victory.”
“If you say so. Are you okay? You’ve got some . . .” Eddie’s voice faded and he pointed to the region beneath his eyes.
“Bags?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.” Talia cranked the wheel hard, turning south between a pair of tobacco fields guarded by the region’s ever-present barbed-wire fences.
After drying her hair, Talia had curled up on her musty sheets with a Dr. Seuss book, a tradition she observed every time she found herself in a strange bed. That happened a lot for foster kids. Usually it helped her sleep—not the story, but the feel of that well-worn copy of The Cat in the Hat. The book hadn’t helped this time. All night, Talia had suffered through cold sweats and nightmare images. She kept those details to herself. “My bed was like a slab of concrete.”
“Mine too. We’ll be out of the motel soon, though, right? We’re making quick progress.”
“Right.” Talia’s answer did not mirror his optimistic tone.
Their quick progress didn’t sit well with her. It should have taken days to set up a meeting with Ivanov’s people. But that morning, when Talia had made her first attempt to establish contact, it seemed as if the receptionist at Avantec had been expecting her call.
“Yes, Ms. Wright of Wright Way Security,” the woman had said in crisp, almost British, English. “Dr. Ivanov will see you at nine thirty. Do you know where to find us?”
All the lines Talia had rehearsed before dialing were suddenly useless. “Uh . . . Yes. I do.”
“Excellent. Please arrive promptly at nine fifteen and present identification at the gate.”
Talia let out an involuntary growl at the memory.
The Avantec research compound stood on a grassy plateau near the Ukrainian border. Eddie glanced over at her as the gatehouse came into view, three-quarters of the way up the hill. “You still think Tyler set up this meeting?”
“Who else.”
“And that makes you angry.”
“Yes.”
“Because . . . he got us exactly what we wanted?”
She glared at him, bringing the Opel to a halt an inch from the wrought-iron gate. “Just make sure you have your Glock. You’re going to need it.”
The guard checked their IDs against a list and waved them onward, and when they crested the hill, Eddie caught his breath. “Whoa. That’s a horse of a different color.”
By their surroundings, Talia and Eddie might have been driving onto the campus of a Silicon Valley tech giant, despite having left one of the poorest cities in Eastern Europe less than an hour before. She steered the Opel along a smooth asphalt lane that curved its way between S-shaped buildings of black-tinted glass.
Eddie admired the manicured lawns and brick paths surrounding the guest lot. “I could work here.” He nodded at a man-made lake between their parking spot and the main building. Water poured from a shining aluminum sculpture at the center—three stylized rockets in flight. “I wonder if Dr. Ivanov is hiring.”
“Don’t count on a big paycheck.” Talia locked the car and the two started up the path. “Labor and materials here cost a tenth of what they do in the States. Ivanov can undercut US companies by half and still—” The next word caught in her throat. A G-Wagon was parked near the entrance, in one of the executive spaces. Talia shook her head. “It can’t be.”
“It is.” Eddie nudged her with an elbow. “He’s heeeerrre.”
“MISS NATALIA!” Tyler leaped up from his place at the sixth-floor conference table. Two men stood with him, one whom Talia recognized as Pavel Ivanov, though he looked younger—and perhaps handsomer—than the man from her file photos. Ivanov and the other remained in place, but Tyler walked the length of the onyx table, arms spread wide as if greeting a favorite niece. He squeezed her arm, propelling her toward the CEO. “Come. Meet Pavel. Pavel, this is Natalia Wright, security expert extraordinaire. Your secrets are safer simply by having her in the room.”
“Ms. Wright.” Ivanov’s low-key, even cold tone was a welcome relief after Tyler’s greeting. He took her hand. “I am afraid my friend has been overselling you all morning. I suspect he is trying to run up your consulting fee.”
Tyler clapped him on the shoulder. “From which I would take only a tiny percentage.”
“Your friend?” Talia asked as Ivanov moved on and greeted Eddie.
Tyler pulled two additional chairs back from the table. “Pavel and I have known each other for more than a year now. He allows me to use Avantec’s private runway, along with some hangar space for my Gulfstream.”
“And Mr. Tyler . . . facilitates . . . my American business dealings.” Ivanov gestured at the leather chairs, indicating they should all sit down. “But I am afraid you’ve wasted a trip, Miss Wright. I already have excellent security, overseen by Mr. Bazin.” His steel-gray eyes shifted to his comrade, a bulky man with the bulge of a sizable weapon beneath his suit jacket.
Talia took the seat Tyler had pulled out for her, swatting his hand as he tried to help her into it. She had to follow his script, but she didn’t have to let him paw at her. “I admire your confidence, Dr. Ivanov. But my associate and I have a track record that speaks for itself.” A false track record created by the Agency boffins, she thought, holding an equally false smile. “If it helps, we’re willing to make an initial assessment free of charge.”
“How kind of you.” Ivanov matched her plastic smile with one of his own. “But your services are not necessary.”
“Oh”—Talia laid her Glock on the table—“I think they are.”
Bazin came out of his chair, body half covering Ivanov’s. At the same time, he leveled a .50-caliber hand cannon at Talia. “Do not move!”
She didn’t flinch. Talia held his gaze for a count of two and then eased her hand away from her weapon. It had been a calculated risk, but with it, Talia had purchased valuable insight. Bazin’s quickness told her he had training, and the rigid position of his rear thumb, straight up on the side of his nickel-plated Desert Eagle, screamed Spetsnaz. Ivanov had the wisdom and resources to hire security from outside the local thuggery—a good sign.
However, working with a former Spetsnaz meant contending with a serious ego. Talia began by t
ossing out a backhanded compliment. “You have excellent reflexes, Mr. Bazin, but I should never have gotten a gun this close to your boss—not to mention two guns.”
Eddie held up a cautioning hand and laid his own Glock next to Talia’s. He pushed them both to the center of the table. “We slipped these past your gate, your metal detectors, and your lobby guards.” He raised an eyebrow at Ivanov. “How many other holes might we find in Mr. Bazin’s security?”
The Russian held the Desert Eagle steady, seething. “I am within right to shoot.” Apparently his Spetsnaz training did not include English grammar.
“Sit down, Alexi.” Ivanov laid a gentle hand on the bear’s shoulder. “Our new friends were merely making a point.”
“Scoring a point would be more accurate,” Tyler interjected.
“Quite.” Ivanov pushed back from the table. “I think they have earned a tour of the facility, at the very least.” He stood, beckoning for Talia to follow, and together they walked to a window that looked out over a three-story clean room. Men and women in white coveralls tinkered with metal cylinders and pored over machines with flickering digital displays.
Talia understood none of it. “To be honest, Dr. Ivanov, Mr. Tyler mentioned your Defense Department connections, but he never told me precisely what you do here.”
“Rocketry.” Ivanov folded his arms and watched his workers with pride, the way a coach watches a champion Little League team. “Avantec supplies your government with parts for missiles.”
Chapter
twenty
AVANTEC COMPOUND
TRANSNISTRIA UNRECOGNIZED TERRITORY
“SO, MISS WRIGHT,” IVANOV SAID as the four strolled through a hallway of aluminum and glass. He had dismissed Bazin to other duties, despite the Russian’s strenuous objections, another point for Talia against the big guy’s ego.
“Please, call me Talia.”
“Miss Talia.” The Moldovan nodded, not quite letting go of his formality. “You give credence to Mr. Tyler’s worries of an impending theft?”
“You don’t?”
Ivanov shrugged, and then broke from the conversation to greet a lab tech hurrying past in the direction they were headed. On the wall behind the two, a sixty-inch OLED screen showed a digital animation of a black, angular airship hovering in a constantly flowing aurora. The caption at the bottom read GRYPHON: THE FUTURE OF ATMOSPHERIC SATELLITES.
After a brief exchange in Romanian, the woman rushed ahead and Ivanov returned his attention to his guests. Before he could speak, Eddie interrupted, pointing past him to the display. “What is that?”
“Ah.” Ivanov smiled. “That is Gryphon, our newest initiative—a mesospheric airship. I will personally introduce the concept next week at EAE, the European Aerospace Expo. An airship is far more cost effective than a communications satellite, with many other uses as well.”
“What sort of uses?” Eddie held his glasses in place and craned his neck toward the image. “This material reminds me of a stealth bomber. It’s—”
Talia kicked the back of his heel to shut him up. Geeking out on airships was not part of the mission. “Is Gryphon’s technology the type Lukon might come after?”
Ivanov chuckled, continuing their walk down the hallway. “I think Mr. Lukon is more myth than man. To be honest, I am afraid you and I have been drawn in by Adam’s propensity for melodrama.” He glanced over his shoulder at Tyler. “No offense.”
“None taken.” Tyler clapped him on the back—a gesture Ivanov did not seem to appreciate. “I like melodrama. Keeps things interesting. But Lukon is real enough. My sources tell me he started as an MI-6 assassin, now in business for himself—mostly high-level heists, some of them violent. Over the last decade and a half, a lot of weapons and drugs have gone missing, along with a few CEOs and crime bosses.”
“He’s eliminating competition,” Ivanov said with a grim smile. “And absorbing their operations. Now this legend has found his way into Eastern Europe, is that it?”
Tyler shrugged. “So I hear. Two months ago, someone hit the biggest weapons operation in the Czech Republic—a semi-legitimate manufacturer. A team moved in like ghosts and took every gun, bullet, and grenade in a single night. The boss vanished as well, but—”
“Lukon hit an arms dealer?” Talia stopped, bringing the whole group to a halt.
Tyler touched his nose. “And what do you call a legal arms dealer, Miss Wright?”
“A defense contractor.” Talia’s rent-a-cop assignment was rapidly turning into something more serious. She glanced at Ivanov. “If these rumors are true, then Mr. Tyler’s fears for Avantec are well-founded. Mr. Lukon may see you as competition in the regional arms trade.”
Tyler pushed his head between them. “Lukon.”
Talia gave him a What are you talking about? squint.
“It’s not Mr. Lukon. It’s just Lukon.”
Eddie nodded his agreement.
Armed guards met them at a pair of heavy vault doors. Ivanov lifted one of several garment bags from a hook on the wall. “As you can see, we keep our main laboratory well protected”—he unzipped the bag and showed Talia a set of white coveralls—“from dust as well as thieves.”
As the four entered the clean room, dressed in their coveralls, Talia noticed a second set of doors closing at the back. The woman Ivanov had spoken to in the hallway—a strawberry blonde in her late thirties or early forties—met them at the door and ushered the group to a white, powder-coated workbench.
“May I present Dr. Ella Visser.” Ivanov thrust a gloved hand toward the woman as she placed what amounted to a faceted titanium egg on a miniature tripod. “Our top researcher in guidance systems.”
Dr. Visser fixed a cable to a connector at the bottom of the egg, more intent on the delicate task than bothering with introductions.
“Visser,” Eddie offered. “Is that Dutch?”
This earned him a nervous smile. “Yes. Very good. Dr. Ivanov and I met while I was a visiting professor at Cambridge.” Her eyes flitted to Ivanov, as if seeking approval. He remained placid, and she plugged the cable into a laptop. A window opened depicting a three-dimensional gyro. “Ah. We are ready.”
Ivanov positioned the laptop for them all to see. “This is Dr. Visser’s pride and joy,” he said. “And mine. What may look to you like an egg sculpture is actually a GPS-integrated inertial guidance system—one I hope will one day steer America’s long-range cruise missiles.”
Talia did not see anything incredibly special about the egg, but the phrases cruise missile and guidance system were both red flags. Something at Avantec was worth stealing, and thus worth protecting.
The group bid farewell to Dr. Visser and her wondrous egg, and after viewing a couple of miniaturized rocket engines, Talia finally convinced Ivanov to discuss his security measures. She handed her coveralls to an attendant outside the lab as she gave the CEO a serious look. “We can’t rule out the possibility of a kidnapping, with your technology as the ransom. Talk to me about transportation. How do you get to and from the compound?”
“On most days, I walk.” Ivanov chuckled at her confused expression and explained. “I live here, on the compound”—he gestured at a gaggle of technicians in the hallway—“as do many of my scientists. There are dormitories on the grounds.”
Eddie looked up, still fighting to remove one of his booties. “You keep your employees on the property?”
“We do not keep anyone. We offer our top employees a higher standard of living than most ever dreamed possible.”
Eddie finished his battle with the bootie, and Ivanov led them back toward the lobby. “To answer your original question, Miss Talia, I do not leave the compound often, but when I do, I am accompanied by Mr. Bazin, and we are both well protected in an armored vehicle.”
Talia slipped behind the lobby counter, motioning for a confused guard to stay seated as she inspected his video monitors. “I’ll need to see that vehicle. And my associate will need to see your server ro
oms.”
“Fine. I will hire Wright Way and allow you to continue this assessment on two conditions.”
Talia didn’t like conditions. She came out from behind the counter. “Which are?”
“A 20 percent reduction on your standard fee and dinner—tomorrow night, my treat—so you can assess my transportation arrangements.”
“Done,” Eddie said without so much as glancing at Talia for confirmation. “But we don’t come cheap. We’re talking six courses minimum, with steak and lobster.”
She slapped his arm with the back of her hand. “Dr. Ivanov means me, Eddie.” She had read the look in the CEO’s eyes. “Just me.”
“Oh.” Eddie dropped his gaze to his sneakers. “Well, that’s disappointing.”
Chapter
twenty-
one
TIRASPOL BEST CHOICE MOTEL
TRANSNISTRIA UNRECOGNIZED TERRITORY
“THIS IS SOOO A DATE.” Eddie stood in the doorway between their adjoining motel rooms, arms crossed.
“Business meeting.” Talia bent close to the bathroom mirror, trying to even out her eye shadow.
“Nope. It’s a date.”
They had been jabbing at each other like that since the previous afternoon. Their second day at Avantec had been more productive than Talia could have hoped, with Ivanov allowing her access to Bazin’s security staff and the compound’s utility grid. The day had also given her a reprieve from Tyler, who had chosen to follow Eddie when he split off with Bazin to get a look at the server farm and the perimeter surveillance system.
If all went well that evening, Talia could wrap things up the following day. Ivanov had blocked off his afternoon to let her make a few final assessments and present her findings. She had a growing list, but nothing Ivanov couldn’t handle with his resources. Avantec’s US interests were safe. With any luck, she and Eddie would catch the first flight out of there on Monday.