Vengeance (The Kurgan War Book 4) (6 page)

Bodrov waved for them to follow him deeper into his warehouse. He stopped by a sealed vault and entered his security code into a panel on the wall. With a click, the door popped open. Bodrov hauled back on the steel door and reached inside. When he turned about, he had two small metal cases in his hands. “Open them.”

“It’s camera gear,” Cole said, sounding far from impressed. “What gives?”

“Let me show you,” responded Bodrov. He took the case from Cole’s hands and set it down on a workbench. He brought out the camera, a battery pack, and a slender-looking light. “It may look like your average camera, but pay attention.” With that, he flipped the camera over and jammed the battery pack into a slot at the back of the device. Next, he snapped the light underneath the camera, and with a flick of his thumb, he turned it on. A red dot appeared on the wall.

Sheridan smiled when he recognized the snub-gun in Bodrov’s hands.

“Gentlemen, the GR-99 is the latest in undercover weapons technology. Designed to be used by intelligence agencies, the GR-99 is capable of firing caseless ammunition in semi and fully automatic modes. The targeting laser is sighted out to one hundred meters. There are fifty rounds in the pistol grip and another five hundred hidden inside your traveling cases.”

“Won’t the ammo set off the sniffers at the security stations?” asked Cole.

“Not at all. Your ammunition has been treated with an odorless film. It will never be detected by even the most sophisticated scanning devices out there.”

Cole poked Bodrov in the chest with his index finger. “This crap had all better work!”

“I wouldn’t stay in business if all of my clients kept getting arrested, now would I?”

“Where are our new IDs?” queried Sheridan.

“They’re being made. I had your faces scanned into my computer when you arrived. By the time your clothes arrive, your new identities will be ready.”

Cole leaned over and whispered into Sheridan’s ear. “I hope you’re rich. I have no idea how much all of this is going to cost, but I doubt my five gold bars will pay for a tenth of this.”

“I hope he takes an IOU as I don’t have access to my parents’ credits.”

“I’ll gladly accept an IOU from you, Mister Sheridan,” Bodrov said with a smile. “After all, I doubt a four-star admiral would like the press to learn that his son was buying black market weapons for some nefarious purpose.”

“My, what big ears you have, Vlad,” remarked Cole.

Bodrov shrugged and led them back to the front of the basement where a gorgeous young woman in a form-fitting black leather outfit waited for them. At her feet were a couple of bags.

“Thank you, Natalya,” Bodrov said as he slipped her one of the gold bars. The woman smiled, turned, and left the room.

“Oy, who was that?” Cole asked. “She was quite the looker. What’s she doing with you?”

“She’s one of my more efficient people,” explained Bodrov. He picked up the bags and handed them over. “Your clothes, gents.”

Inside each bag were civilian clothes that looked as if they had been removed from someone’s closet and dumped in the bags. Sheridan’s clothes included a black leather jacket, a green fleece top, and khaki pants. Cole’s clothes included a dark gray jacket, a blue flannel shirt, and jeans. Both men weren’t taken aback when their clothes fit. What they did not know was that when Bodrov had scanned their faces, he had also recorded their biometric readings in anticipation of obtaining a change of clothes for the Marines.

At the bottom of his bag, Sheridan saw an identity card, a small plastic container for his contact lenses, and three credit cards from different international banks. He chuckled when he read his new name—Mark Scott. An easy name to memorize as it used the first letters of his real name.

“Albert Coffin,” bitched Cole.

Bodrov slyly grinned. “It was the computer that picked your names. I had nothing to do with it.”
 

“In a pig’s eye.”

“Your contacts are the same color as your eyes are now. However, when they are scanned the name that will come up is the same one on your new IDs. Also, if the police decide to do a quick background check on you, your profession will come up on their computers as war correspondents. I thought it best that two men who will still look and act like professional soldiers in civilian clothes have a job that is befitting a pair of ‘former’ Marines.”

“Good thinking,” observed Sheridan.

Ten minutes later, with all of their gear packed away and changed into their new clothes, Sheridan and Cole took turns shaking Bodrov’s hand.

“I will expect my money the moment whatever you are up to is over, Mister Sheridan,” stressed Bodrov. “I’d hate to see your family name dragged through the mud.”

Sheridan moved closer and looked into Bodrov’s eyes. He disliked being threatened by anyone, especially a thug. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you’re owed.”

Cole placed a hand on Sheridan’s shoulder and pulled him back. “Time for us to go.”

“Good night, gentlemen. My associate, Natalya, is outside waiting to give you a lift into town where you can catch a train to Moscow. From there you can go anywhere you want to.”

“Well, that will be a pleasant change from your ugly face, Vlad,” Cole said with a smile.

Together, the two Marines walked upstairs and out into the cold, gray light of dawn. Natalya was sitting in her car, waiting for them.

“Well, Captain, I’ve done my bit,” said Cole. “Where to now?”

“Rome. Harry allowed himself to be seen there, so that is where we must begin our search.”

“True. Have you stopped to think that we’re walking into a trap?”

“Perhaps. But I don’t think so. Harry used to like to play mind games with people at the Academy. His performance as a weak platoon leader during our operation to steal the Kurgan codes was meant to fool us. And I, foolishly, fell for it hook, line, and sinker. What I’m more curious about now is why did he even bother to try to assassinate the president. It’s apparent that he didn’t have enough men for the job. The attack was doomed from the start.”

“If he’s as cunning as you make him out to be, then I believe he wanted his people to die on camera. His aim wasn’t to kill the president so much as to increase the level of fear and tension already gripping the people back home on Earth.”

“Well, whatever is going on, I doubt it will end in Rome.”

Chapter 6

The quarters on the transport ship
,
Brunswick
, were cramped but not so bad that a person had to go outside to change their mind, thought Tarina Pheto as she placed her sandals on her tender feet. Her aching body told her to take it easy. After being rescued from the prison planet, she had been looked after by the medical staff on board the vessel. Her feet had been cleaned and her wounds treated, as had the scars on her back from the time she had been whipped by a Chosen guard. There were numerous smaller medical patches on the rest of her body. Still, she considered herself lucky. She at least was still alive and on her way home to Earth.

“Where are you going?” asked her friend, Wendy Sullivan. Her voice was tired and groggy.

“I can’t sleep anymore. I thought I’d go for a walk and stretch out my muscles. All this sitting around is starting to drive me crazy.”

“Can I join you?” asked Angela, the third person in their tight-knit group. Unlike the two other women, she was a Chosen citizen who had hidden among the human prisoners. Desperate to get home to her children, Angela had latched onto Tarina and Wendy as her only hope of ever seeing them again. She was in a precarious situation and knew it.

Tarina glanced over at Wendy. “Feel like joining us?”

Her friend shook her head, pulled her blanket up over her shoulders, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Tarina and Angela tiptoed out of the room. The lights outside were dim. To make room for all of the freed prisoners of war, dozens of crewmembers had voluntarily given up their quarters and now slept on cots in the hangar bay. The sound of people snoring filled the air. The two women walked side by side in silence. They waved as they passed a couple of other people who also had been unable to sleep.

After a couple of minutes, Tarina sat down to rest her sore feet.

“Tarina, I’m scared,” whispered Angela as she sat down beside her friend. “I don’t know how long I can keep up this charade. When we get to Earth, your people are going to run medical and psychological tests on me and find out that I’m not who I say I am. You and Wendy are going to get in a lot of trouble for helping me conceal my true identity.”
 

Tarina patted one of Angela’s hands. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Before we left Illum Prime, I told my boyfriend, Michael, all about you. He’ll speak with his father and the admiral will undoubtedly take it higher.”

Fear filled Angela’s eyes.

“Angela, there is no reason to be scared. These are good men who will do the right thing. Of that, I have no doubt. We’re going to be docking at Tranquility Station later today and transferring to a shuttlecraft to take us down to Earth. I expect we’ll know what is going on with you before day’s end.”

“What if they decide to interrogate and hold me until the war ends? What then? Who will look after my children? Tarina, I have to get home.”

Tarina’s heart ached for her, but she couldn’t answer a single one of her questions. They would all have to wait until someone made a decision one way or the other concerning Angela’s status. “I wish I could say something to ease your pain, but I can’t. At least not now. I trust Admiral Sheridan and so should you.”

“You have never lied to me. If my fate is in the hands of this admiral, then so be it. I’d pray to the Lord for guidance and support, but that might arouse more suspicion.”

“Please don’t! I’m not telling you what you can or can’t believe, just for now, please continue to keep it to yourself until you’re home safe and sound with your children. Remember your name is First Lieutenant Angela Dorset. You’re a logistics officer in the Marine Corps who originally comes from Des Moines, Iowa. If you’re asked for your service number, tell them you can’t recall it and hope for the best.”

Angela nodded and stood up. “How are your feet?”

“They’re still a little tender, but a hell of a lot better than they used to be. Come on, let’s do another lap of the hangar and then go wake up old sleepy head for some breakfast.”

Chapter 7

As far as Michael Sheridan was concerned, the only drawback to riding the train was, for the most part, that the journey was underground. He and Cole had reserved a private room to themselves for the eight-hour trip to Moscow. Security at the terminal at Irkutsk had been lax. He was surprised when their bags were neither searched nor scanned by the security personnel. He knew that things would be tighter in the Russian capital.

“How do you turn that bloody thing off?” Cole asked, pointing to a small screen on the wall that was showing a recruiting commercial for the army. On it a young man and woman were enrolling together in the ADF. They were smiling and looked proud to be going off to war. As expected, the harsh realities of interstellar combat weren’t shown on the thirty-second advertisement.

“I don’t think we can,” replied Sheridan. “It’s controlled by a computer in the engineer’s compartment.”

“I’ve been counting and that’s the tenth recruiting advert in the past hour. The ADF must really be down on its quotas this month.”

Sheridan chuckled. He’d nodded off for a couple of hours and had missed the irritating commercials. “If this war drags on much longer, don’t be surprised if the government brings in conscription. They did in the last war and it was far from a popular decision.”

“Yeah, I think I remember reading about the riots that occurred in several major cities. They had to call in the military to help put them down, didn’t they?

“They sure did. The conscription crisis cost the president his job.”

Cole sat up and leaned forward in his seat. “Captain, I’ve been thinking about Mister Williams.”

Sheridan groaned. “I warned you about thinking too much, Master Sergeant.”

“It’s gotten us this far. Let’s see how you do when we get to Rome.”

“I deserved that. What’s bothering you?”

“I think he’s the real thing. I don’t think the Kurgs cloned Mister Williams after they found his dead body. We restrict cloning to certain kinds of livestock, endangered animals, and spare organs for transplant patients. Cloning of people on Earth was abandoned last century for ethical reasons. Although, I don’t doubt the rich and elite still have their ways of obtaining a new and healthy body.”

Sheridan shook his head. “Always the conspiracy theorist.”

“I’ve heard things that would turn your blood cold. Regardless, I doubt the Kurgans with their strict religious doctrine would allow for any of their citizens, even Chosen ones, to be cloned. Therefore, the man we are looking for has to be the original Harry Williams.”

Sheridan nodded. “I can’t fault your logic. The Kurgans encourage large families to keep the population up, and as far as I have read, they have never dabbled with cloning. Harry was dead when I left him, of that I am positive.” The image of a knife sticking out of Williams’ chest sent a shudder down Sheridan’s back. “There can only be one answer. After we had been rescued, a Kurgan vessel must have arrived, found Harry’s frozen body, and somehow revived him.”