Vektor (35 page)

“So, what do we need to do?”

“It works like this. The lab is a negatively pressurized steel container designed to keep airborne viruses and bacteria from escaping. The lab is separated from the first floor of the building by enough concrete and metal to isolate the effects of a truck bomb detonated inside,” Reznikov said.

“How is that possible?”

“The lab is vented by twelve immense heat- and pressure-activated shafts that can channel enough of the explosion’s expanding force out of the building to prevent a critical failure of the reinforced concrete and steel sheeting structure. The concept has been tested, and it works. The building would still suffer from the seismic effects, but aside from a severe rumble, all would be well throughout the building.”

“That’s the failsafe? They have a massive bomb built into one of the lab tables or something?”

“No. That would make a mess of things in the lab, but it might not destroy all of the evidence. Only a massive fire could ensure that. The lab is equipped with eight pressurized propane burners, each fed by a 500-pound tank buried outside of the building. When the system is activated, the burners will shoot fire throughout the sealed lab, raising the temperature to fifteen hundred degrees centigrade within five to seven seconds, instantly incinerating everything in the lab. The vents are designed to open at five hundred degrees centigrade, alleviating the pressure caused by the sudden rise in temperature. The system burns for a total of ten seconds. Activating this system will permanently erase the program from the face of the planet.”

“How do we activate the system?”

“It’s a little tricky, since they obviously don’t want a rogue agent or disgruntled scientist destroying the program,” Reznikov said, pausing for a laugh that never came. “No sense of humor, huh?”

“I’m a little pressed for time here,” Berg said.

“Very well. You’ll need two codes, which I will provide. One is entered into a terminal within the lab, the other at a secure terminal within the main security station. I assume your plan involves taking down that station?”

“It does.”

“Excellent. You’ll find the secure terminal inside a vault within the station. I recommend taking care of the laboratory first, so your team can put as much distance between that building and themselves as possible. I have no idea where the laboratory vents exit the ground, but I know for a fact that you don’t want to be anywhere near one of them when the propane system activates.”

“Covering your bases?”

“I’m not familiar with that saying,” Reznikov said.

“Covering your ass?”

“Ah, yes. I don’t want you to deny my retirement to this beautiful resort because of something I omitted.”

“Please continue.”

“All right. Your team will find the lab terminal in the southeast corner. It’s a standalone computer system built into the wall. The screen will remain blank until the code is typed correctly and you press enter. The screen will then activate and prompt you for the code again. Once the code has been entered for the second time, your team can leave the laboratory. This side of the activation process was designed so anyone working in the lab could be used to trigger the system.

“The second terminal is a bit trickier. It is fingerprint coded and can only be accessed by one of the scientists assigned to the bioweapons program or the P4 Containment Lab’s director. There is a key slot, so I assume members of certain special response teams could override the system, but for your purposes, you’ll need to grab one these people.”

“Luckily for you, we haven’t killed them yet,” Berg said.

“It wouldn’t matter. The biometric sensor on this terminal does not read temperatures. You could chop off one of their hands and use it,” Reznikov said.

“As it happens, we’ll have one of the scientists with us. You neglected to mention that a fingerprint scanner protected the lab. Heat sensitive,” Berg said.

“Biometric security is standard procedure for sensitive areas of an infectious disease laboratory. I just assumed that would be understood,” Reznikov said.

“Be careful what you assume,” Berg said. “It could mean the difference between lobster Benedict for breakfast and moldy bread.”

“Do I need to remind you that there might be armed security patrolling the grounds?” Reznikov spat.

“Which finger do we need for the secure terminal?”

“Right index finger. You’ll have to enter the code twice and confirm that you want to activate the system. Once confirmed, it cannot be stopped. Thirty seconds later, mission accomplished. Here are the codes,” he said.

Once the codes were transferred and confirmed, Berg abruptly hung up, which suited Reznikov just fine. He despised the man, despite the fact that the unsuspecting CIA agent had helped realize one of his longstanding dreams. He might pay Karl Berg a visit in the future, accompanied by some of his new friends.

Reznikov reviewed the deciphered code in his mind and smiled, staring off into the clear blue skies. He’d have to enjoy his last sunset on the hill with drink service from the lodge. A nice dry martini would cap off the evening perfectly, especially when it was paid for by the U.S. government.

Chapter 45

9:15 PM

Oktyabrsky City District

Novosibirsk, Russian Federation

Tatyana Belyakov gently kissed her two children goodnight and tiptoed out of their shared room, closing the door behind her. The kids were tired from a long Sunday running through Sovetsky Park, near the State University, where her husband taught molecular biology. Days spent at the park reminded her of meeting Arkady in Moscow during her undergraduate university studies. Fifteen years later, memories of those carefree years with her future husband were buried, brought briefly to the surface by the sight of students lounging around her husband’s campus.

He didn’t take them to the university very often, and he’d never brought them to his office, which he claimed was crammed into an unsafe industrial basement area of the Biology and Chemistry building. They lived outside of university-supplied housing and rarely socialized with other members of the faculty; a necessity he stated was necessary to maintain some semblance of work-life balance.

She couldn’t complain too much about their situation. His salary and housing allowance gave them the luxury of a small home, which was twice the size of the university-supplied apartments and included a tidy yard and garden. The neighborhood left a little to be desired, but the area was generally safe, something that couldn’t be said about many of Novosibirsk’s suburbs. They had been here for eight years, never once experiencing a break-in, which was why Tatyana couldn’t immediately process the scene that unfolded in front of her as she entered their family room.

Four men with black ski masks and guns blocked all of the exits to the room. One of them held his index finger to his lips and shook his head slowly, aiming a suppressed pistol at her head.

“Sssshhhhh. We wouldn’t want to wake up the children,” he whispered.

Her legs nearly buckled at the mention of her kids. She held it together and looked at her husband, who looked confused and frightened.

“Andrei and Milena will be fine as long as you don’t wake them. They must be tired from a long day playing in the park,” he said, a little louder this time.

She felt her world spinning. They knew the children’s names and had been following them all day. This wasn’t happening to them. Why was her husband just standing there, doing nothing? Saying nothing?

“You can have anything you want here. Please, leave our children alone. We won’t say a word of this to anyone,” she said.

“The only thing I came to take is your husband. We need to borrow him for a few hours. I’m going to leave a few of my friends to watch over you. Their orders are to kill your children if you try anything stupid, like try to call the police. In about an hour and twenty minutes, my friends will leave and you are free to do whatever you please. Can you manage to behave for eighty minutes?”

“Yes. I promise. Please don’t hurt them. Please don’t hurt my husband.”

“The safety of your children lies solely with you,” he said, pointing at her. Don’t fuck with me on this. I specifically didn’t give them instructions for what to do with you. I’ll leave that to their imagination. Dr. Belyakov, it’s time to go. You’ll need your security card.”

Her husband froze in place. “Where are we going?”

“Where’s the card?” the man barked, shifting his pistol back to Tatyana.

“Just give him your badge,” she said, putting her hands up in a useless gesture.

The man glanced at her husband and started walking toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

“Maybe it’s in the children’s room,” the man said.

She reacted instinctively and moved to block him, but one of the other men stepped in and pinned her against the wall, placing the cold barrel of a sawed-off shotgun under her chin.

“No. It’s in my car. Don’t hurt her,” Arkady whispered.

“Arkady, don’t mess around with them! Your university badge is in the kitchen,” she said.

“You have no idea, do you?” the man said to her, turning to Arkady.

“Start walking, or I’ll just fucking kill them and save my men the hassle. I’m sure they have better things to do right now than guard your wife.”

“All right, all right. I’m going. I love you, honey. This will all be fine. Y-you’ll see,” Arkady stuttered, moving toward the man.

“What did we do to deserve this?” she whimpered, as they put a dark canvas bag over her husband’s head.

“Trust me. I’m doing you a favor,” he said, walking over and putting his face right in front of hers. “Your husband is a very dangerous man. Very bad for the mother Russia,” he hissed and walked away.

His breath had reeked of tobacco and rotten meat, almost making her gag. She barely registered what he said about her husband. Whatever he had done, she just wanted all of this to go away. When the men finished handcuffing her husband, they pushed him through the kitchen and out the side door. Several seconds later, she heard car doors shut, and her husband was driven away to whatever fate awaited him. She wondered if this had something to do with his job at the university or the faint suspicion she always harbored that he didn’t really work there.

“Take a seat,” one of the remaining men said, gesturing toward the couch with a sawed-off shotgun.

She carefully walked to the couch and sat down, trying desperately to make as little sound as possible.

“How about some television?” the other man asked. “You have satellite?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Can we just sit here quietly, please?” she offered meekly.

“Turn the television on. Don’t you watch shows after the kids go to bed?” he said, pointing a mean-looking pistol at her.

“We usually read books. We have a whole bookcase of them.”

“Fuck that. Turn the television on.”

She gripped the remote and pointed it at the flat-screen television with shaky hands. Her kids listened to shows at high volume, and the television defaulted to one of the all-day children’s channels. Turning the television on could jar them out of their sleep, killing them all. She hesitated.

“Press the button,” he insisted.

She hit the red button, and the television came to life. Her fingers furiously pressed the volume button in an attempt to cut off the sound. The volume started high, but died immediately, emitting a single burst of children’s mayhem.

“Not this shit. How about some pay-per-view? Do you have the porno channels?”

“No. Just the basic lineup,” she said, grateful that they hadn’t upgraded their satellite subscription.

She couldn’t imagine pornography leading to a good outcome. These guys looked and sounded like ruffians. Probably mafiya. She’d try to find something on network television or some of the Western channels. Anything to keep their minds off killing her children for the next eighty minutes.

Chapter 46

9:35 PM

FARP “Blacktop”

Southeastern Kazakhstan

Major Daniel “Boogie” Borelli steadied the helicopter thirty feet above his assigned refueling position, aligning Black Magic “Zero One” with ground-based infrared markers visible to night vision equipment. His flight helmet had been fitted with a Heads Up Display (HUD) integrated L-3 GPNVG-18 (Ground Panoramic Night Vision Goggle) system, giving him a ninety-seven degree field of vision, compared to the traditional forty-degree field offered by dual-tube sets. The HUD integrated L-3 represented a breakthrough in helicopter night-flying technology, merging four separate image intensifier tubes into a wider image and superimposing vital flight information directly into the pilot’s field of vision. The system vastly increased his situational awareness outside of the cockpit, which was critical to the dicey approach he currently faced.

FARP “Blacktop” had been situated on a small plateau, concealing the equipment from prying eyes, but exposing them to the violent sweeping winds common across the Kazakhstan steppes. The FARP had been arranged according to the prevailing winds and weather predictions to accommodate landing into the wind. Unfortunately, the winds had not cooperated since they arrived, gusting from the northwest, buffeting them with a nasty crosswind. The three helicopters had plenty of lateral space between them to avoid a collision during one of the wind gusts, but setting this clunky bird down in any crosswind posed a considerable risk.

The designers had traded some of the original airframe’s aerodynamic stability for stealth, which gave these helicopters a certain level of unpredictability during the relatively unorthodox flight maneuvers common to Special Operations missions. They had hovered over the site for five minutes, timing the gusts and gauging their comfort level. There was no room for error here. A disaster at this FARP would leave operators stranded. Even the loss of a single helicopter would seriously jeopardize the team’s chances of exfiltration. He had no idea what the team’s mission might be, but judging from the fact that Washington was willing to send these helicopters anywhere near Russia emphasized the importance of retrieving Blackjack.