Objekt 825 (Tracie Tanner Thrillers Book 9) by Allan Leverone (year 7 reading list txt) 📗

you letting me know whom you work for. I was not certain whether you were an American or a Brit.”

“Does it really matter?”

“Not to me, not really. I was simply curious. And now it matters even less, because once General Gregorovich has finished extracting his vengeance, I will be transporting you to Lubyanka, where you will soon wish you were back inside this building, no matter how much pain Gregorovich inflicts on you while you are here.”

“Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint you, but I won’t be sticking around this place much longer. It’s been fun and all, but you’re not interesting enough to make me want to stay.”

“Is that so? And how do you propose to make your escape?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet, but once I do I guarantee you’ll the first to know.” The creeping terror she’d felt since The Weasel had first pressed his gun to her skull continued to grow, but she’d be damned if she was going to let Andrei Lukashenko see it.

She tried to do a little mental math, to figure out how much time she had before Gregorovich’s arrival in Sevastopol. If Lukashenko had told the truth about Gregorovich flying in—and why would he lie?—then she guessed maybe…three hours? Less?

She wasn’t exactly sure, but one thing she knew for certain was that a man like Ivan Gregorovich fancied himself far too important to come alone. He would bring multiple bodyguards, and once two or three more people joined this particular party, she would be well and truly screwed.

Any chance for escape would be gone forever.

Whatever action she was going to take, she had to do it soon.

She just had no earthly idea what that action might be.

40

 

June 25, 1988

3:05 p.m.

Sevastopol Airport, Sevastopol, Russia, USSR

 

The Yak-48 touched down at Sevastopol Airport, rolled to a near stop, and then turned onto the taxiway in what felt to Ivan Gregorovich like an absurdly short distance. The wheels hit the runway, the reverse thrusters screamed, and then they were taxiing toward the terminal building.

Sevastopol was a military airfield, meaning Ivan would not be forced to walk through crowds of civilians as he made his way through the airport. His executive assistant, Mikhail, had assured him that transportation would be parked immediately outside the main terminal entrance, fully fueled and engines running.

The aircraft had barely rolled to a stop when Ivan was out of his seat and moving toward the exit. His security team waited for him to pass in the narrow aisle and then rose as one and fell in behind him. Standard procedure on any flight, military or civilian, was to remain seated until given permission by the captain to move around the cabin, but as a high-ranking general, Ivan had long-ago stopped worrying about pointless rules.

The first officer glanced back and saw the three men waiting to disembark. He leaned over and spoke softly into the captain’s ear and then the captain turned around with a smile and lifted one finger in the universal “Just one moment” gesture.

That wasn’t good enough for Ivan, who glowered at the pilot and lifted his right hand, twirling it in a circle in the universal “Move it along” gesture. His headache had eased on the flight, and now all he cared about was getting started with his planned interrogation of the CIA agent who had so humiliated him a few weeks ago.

The pilot killed the engines and the high-pitched whine eased off. Before it finished fading away, the first officer hurriedly unbuckled his safety harness and climbed to his feet. He squeezed past Ivan and his security detail and then opened the Yak-48’s exit door before lowering the stairs for his passengers.

“Tell the captain I said thank you,” Ivan said. “Please have the aircraft fueled and ready to depart in two hours.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Ivan paused for a moment, thinking. Then he said, “On second thought, make it three hours.” Exacting vengeance on the young woman who’d assaulted him was practically all he could think about from the moment he’d left his office, and he couldn’t come up with a single good reason why he should limit himself to two hours.

In fact, he thought, perhaps Mikhail was right after all. Perhaps spending the night would be wisest.

“Three hours. Yes Sir, we will be ready,” came the response.

Ivan was already moving, clambering down the stairs as he decided to worry about the length of his stay later. He was pleased to see a pair of vehicles idling no more than twenty meters away at the edge of the tarmac.

A Red Army private stood at attention in front of each car, both men ramrod stiff. Even from this distance, Ivan could see they were terrified. It was to be expected; he represented probably the highest-ranking officer they would ever come in contact with. He smiled to himself and hurried across the ramp, leaving the airplane behind, not bothering to check on the progress of his two security men.

If they knew what was good for them they would be right behind him.

They did and they were.

Ivan snapped off a salute to each of the privates and dismissed both. Presumably they had been dispatched from Objekt 825 with the two vehicles; it was the closest military base to the airport and thus the most likely possibility. How the soldiers would get back to their base he had no idea and did not care. If return transportation had not been provided, they could walk as far as he was concerned.

He stood silently until the two men had returned his salute and marched off across the tarmac toward the terminal building. Then he turned to his security detail and said, “I requested two vehicles because you men will not be accompanying me to the KGB facility. You are to wait here at