Fires of Kiev Page 14

  “Did you sleep okay, hon?” Meredith asked Scott, shaking off his crassness.

  “Like a baby.” Scott smirked at Kostya as he answered. Kostya dropped a plate of food in front of Scott, and he promptly turned up his nose. “Oh, too bad you only did the eggs scrambled,” he said to Kostya while leering at Meredith. “Baby, you know I like it over hard.”

  “Scott!” Meredith exclaimed, the double intent of his words irritating her. “Kostya has cooked a beautiful breakfast for us. He’s not a short-order cook.” She glared at him, prompting him to apologize.

  “Of course, you are right,” Scott sneered. “Kostya can’t work anywhere in this country until his fugitive status is cleared up in the Ukraine.”

  Meredith’s face colored, clearly embarrassed at Scott’s childish comments. Carefully avoiding conflict, Meredith’s gaze followed Kostya in from the kitchen. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such fluffy eggs. Is it a secret of your mom’s?” Kostya recognized the attempt to refocus the conversation, and he set his own plate next to Meredith’s.

  “She was an excellent cook, as you remember from your visit there.” Kostya smiled at Meredith, continuing the “safe” conversation. “Family time always meant delicious food, even when times were tight.”

  “So what, you all like borscht?” Scott laughed obnoxiously and playfully hit Kostya in the arm. Kostya glared down at him.

  Meredith lowered her head, frowning at Scott’s ridiculous behavior. Under the table Kostya put his hand on the side of her leg and touched it softly, calming her. She continued eating, but with her other hand she squeezed his hand with hers. Energy emanated from the connection between them, and Kostya met her eyes in understanding.

  Scott was the first to finish, putting his plate in the sink and returning to Meredith. He made a show of pulling her in for a passionate kiss. Kostya concentrated on his eggs and tried not to growl audibly. “Bye, baby,” Scott said. “Are you still on nights tonight?” Kostya eyed Scott as he spoke, aware of his true reason for asking.

  “Yes, I’ll be home around the same time tomorrow morning.”

  “Sounds good. See you later, Mer.” He grinned as he bit into a strawberry from her plate, lifted his satchel, and left.

  The tension in the air dissipated with Scott’s departure, but there was still a tangible awkwardness between Kostya and Meredith. The silence between them swirled uncomfortably as Kostya rose to start clearing and cleaning up after breakfast. Meredith sat quietly, sipping her coffee and watching Kostya as he washed the dishes.

  “Do you ever think about Kiev?” she asked after several minutes, her voice hesitant.

  He turned off the water and faced her, drying a dish with a white towel. He breathed in slowly as he fell into her searching eyes.

  “Do you mean the capital of my country? The uprisings? My apartment…” He stacked the plate he had in his hands and leaned against the counter studying her. “Or do you mean our Kiev? The Kiev we shared?”

  She blushed and lowered her gaze. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Meredith bit her bottom lip. God, she is beautiful. The bottom fell out of Kostya’s gut as he watched her.

  “It’s silly. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She spoke uncertainly, looking up from under her dark, lowered lashes. Brushing the thought away with her hands, she mumbled, “Forget I asked.”

  But Kostya couldn’t forget it. Meredith’s question—this moment—was the chance he had hoped for, and he’d be damned if he didn’t tell her how he felt. Kostya set the dish towel on the counter and strode to her, his pulse pounding. Gripping her hands, he guided them along the leather strap at his neck. He led her fingertips to the key threaded through the thick cord resting on his chest. Meredith stroked the key, holding it between trembling fingers.

  “If you mean our Kiev, then yes, I think of it all the time. That night never leaves my mind.” Kostya ran a finger along her jaw and brushed her lips with his thumb. She raised her eyes to him, his penetrating stare erasing the barriers of time and distance that had separated them. Kostya lowered himself toward her and Meredith tilted her head and lowered her eyelids.

  “Hey, everyone. How’s the morning going?” Will let himself into the house, and Kostya and Meredith jumped apart awkwardly, causing Meredith to fall off the barstool. Will’s eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “Oh, crap. Sorry guys.”

  Meredith scrambled back on the barstool, waving off Kostya’s help.

  “No problem, Will. It’s fine, fine.” She rose again, distancing herself even more from Kostya. “Anyway, we’re not meeting until this evening, right? Because I am beat. I need sleep.” She practically fled up the stairs. “See you tonight, Will. Kostya.”

  Will chuckled. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

  Kostya looked puzzled. “Doth protest?”

  “Shakespeare. It means she denied that anything was going on a little too much.”

  “Ah.” Kostya smiled. “You should know that it is my intention that something will happen between Meredith and me.”

  Will shrugged. “Was there any doubt?”

  Chapter 17

  It was nearly nine-thirty when Will and Kostya made it to TRUST headquarters. By then, Ben and Ethan were in the conference room hard at work, and Dr. Nichols was in his office with two visitors, George Hannigan and Achal Singh. Will and Kostya joined Ben and Ethan in the conference room.

  “Looks like you have been busy,” Will said, taking in the information Ben and Ethan had collected and displayed on the walls of the office.

  “Just putting our plan together,” Ben said.

  “We accessed some satellite pictures of the sites, thanks to Dr. Nichols’ contacts at the CIA, and I think we might also have some names of people to keep an eye on,” Ethan added.

  Kostya was at the wall, studying the satellite images. In addition to the four sites Kostya had found coordinates to, two additional sites were flagged. He traced his hand over the map, trying to visualize the area around each of the flagged locations.

  “What are these other locations up here?”

  Ethan came over to the display. “You know the first four are sites you pinpointed with the GPS coordinates from the components you rebuilt. These other two are a sort of control for us. They are locations identified as missile silos from the Cold War. At some point, it might be helpful to compare what is happening on the rearmed sites to what an abandoned site looks like.”

  “The CIA is uploading pictures of the six sites every two hours for us,” Ben explained. “So far, the sites have been quiet, but we’ll keep track of any changes that occur.”

  “Can you tell if there are actual missiles in each of the sites?” Kostya asked.

  “We have been able to see inside the old silos at the two sites we chose, and there are no missiles in either silo. In fact, the silos were backfilled with concrete, probably in 1994 when everything was removed,” Ben said.

  “But the four I had coordinates for?” Kostya asked.

  “Based on the photos, we’re not sure. Each silo door is firmly shut, but at each of these locations there is evidence of recent activity like the doors being cleared of dirt and concrete pads being re-poured.” Ben pointed to the evidence on the pictures.

  “And we’ve seen supply trucks at two of the locations,” Ethan jumped in. “At the silo you explored, Kostya, and the silo location closest to that one, also in Cherkasy.”

  “What have you found out on Fire of Dawn, Will?” Ben asked.

  “I spent yesterday afternoon and last night setting up a monitoring system of emails sent from Central Ukraine, scanning for key words: Fire of Dawn, missile, silo, code, and so on using my CIA connections. My results have been quiet so far, but the scan is still running today.” Will walked over to the board for identifying people of interest. “I did, however, work with a couple buddies at the CIA to get some more information about the main players in Fire of Dawn.” He opened a folder he had been carrying, and slid out an
eight-by-ten picture of a gaunt man wearing shaded glasses.

  “Petro Vlasenko,” Kostya said, unsurprised. “At least we know we’re all after the same man. Are they monitoring Fire of Dawn, too?”

  “Looks like it,” Will said. “But their methods tend to be a little clumsier than ours at times.”

  Kostya tensed his jaw and nodded. “Fire of Dawn has realized their plan is no longer a secret, then?”

  “Very likely, yes.” Will turned to Kostya. “He’s anxious to find you, apparently, putting word out all over the Ukraine. You’re probably going to be hearing more from Petro.”

  “Does he know I’m in the States yet?” Kostya scanned the other information posted on the wall. He knew he’d have to act quickly to keep danger away from Meredith and TRUST.

  “If he doesn’t, it will be just a matter of time before he’ll figure it out,” Ethan said, sharing a concerned look with Will. “Hopefully we’ll have you back in the Ukraine by the time he’s looking here.”

  Down the hall, voices from Dr. Nichols’ office emerged. “Sounds like Josiah’s done with the recruits,” Ben said.

  Dr. Nichols entered the conference room followed by Hannigan and Achal Singh, Meredith’s supervisor at George Washington Hospital. Casual introductions were given to anyone who hadn’t met, and Ben went to the refrigerator and pulled out several bottles of soda and passed them around.

  “We’ve got a tradition around here,” Dr. Nichols addressed the new faces around the table. “Before each mission, we toast to the mission’s success, but also to our role as the quiet protectors of liberty.”

  “Um…sometimes not so quiet, boss,” Ethan adlibbed, and the others laughed in agreement.

  “We have a rare opportunity to make a huge difference in a way that few people will ever recognize,” Dr. Nichols continued. “The work that we do may never make the news, but thousands of lives are at stake if we don’t take action.

  “Gentlemen, this is exactly the type of project TRUST was founded to tackle. These missiles are very real and damn scary to tell the truth.” Dr. Nichols raised his bottle. “For strength against corruption, courage on the journey, and the brains to return home intact. Godspeed agents of TRUST.” He toasted with his soda, followed by clinking with the other bottles.

  “To the agents of TRUST.”

  Chapter 18

  “Damn smoking laws.” Tanya Davis pushed her way out the mechanical access door in the Immigration building in downtown Washington D.C. The slab of concrete where she took her forbidden smoke breaks was noisy from the blowers that regulated the temperature inside, but it was hidden from view and accessible during her day without having to go back through security.

  Stepping out onto the concrete, she realized she wasn’t alone.

  “Oh, hey,” she said in the way of greeting. She quickly stole a look at the man: tall, handsome, taking a drag off his cigarette. “I didn’t know anyone else knew about this place. I won’t interrupt…”

  “No, please.” The man gestured a welcome. “My hidden concrete slab is your hidden concrete slab.” He smiled. “Besides, I need to meet some people. I’ve just been transferred from New York City. I’m John.” He offered her a light as she retrieved a cigarette from her purse.

  She puffed to start the burning. “I’m Tanya. If you need anything, I’ll be glad to help. I’ve been here a long time.” She took a long drag, stomped her feet, and said, “It’s really cold out here.”

  “Yes, it is.” He laughed. “But sometimes you just need a break, right?”

  “Tell me about it.” Tanya sighed. “It has been a crazy couple of weeks around here.”

  “I bet. We even heard about it in New York.”

  “No way. Are we that infamous?”

  He drew in a long puff and then crushed out his cigarette. “The story I heard was about a guy from the Ukraine wanting asylum.”

  “Oh, yeah. What a nutcase. He said he had information about nuclear missiles being reactivated. I actually typed up the report for Hannigan.” Tanya nodded.

  “Did he get asylum with that B.S.?”

  “Conditional. He had to get a sponsor, and he had all sorts of appointments with people who know about nuclear weapons and crap.”

  “Who’d sponsor that? Did they hit up a Ukrainian church to take him in or something?” The man casually leaned on one of the blowers.

  “That was the really interesting part,” she explained. “He claimed he knew Meredith St. Claire, you know, the daughter of Senator William St. Claire.”

  “No way…”

  “But, here’s the strange part. He didn’t seem to know what a prominent family she was from. He had met her on one of her humanitarian missions to the Ukraine like five years ago. He totally asked for America’s darling daughter St. Claire to sponsor him.”

  The man shook his head. “That’s messed up. So what, did her publicist let him know she was unavailable? She didn’t do it, did she?”

  Tanya grinned. “Not only did she do it, when she heard he was here, she raced down from work to see him and help any way she could.”

  “So, Kostya got asylum into our country and is being sponsored by the daughter of William St. Claire,” the man summarized. “I bet her address is unlisted. Where are they hiding them?”

  “In Georgetown, I think.” Tanya answered, but then looked puzzled. “I never told you his name.”

  The man moved swiftly, grabbing her with his gloved hands. She didn’t even have time to scream before his fingers pressed in and broke the hyoid bone in her throat. He pressed her against the vibrating blower, the loud motor pushing warmed air into the building, and lifting her as she struggled to capture air into her lungs. Finally, with a last involuntary twitch, her body sagged against his hands. Quickly checking for a pulse or breathing, he assessed his work, and ran toward the back fence.

  He just found the key to getting Kostya: finding Meredith St. Claire.

  Chapter 19

  Meredith was still getting ready for work, so Kostya and Will turned on the re-run of Sunday’s game between the Redskins and Packers downstairs. While she was out of earshot, Kostya leaned over to Will.

  “Who has Vlasenko sent after me?”

  “That’s a fair question, but one I don’t have a precise answer to,” Will said. “The closest I have to an answer is ‘the Assassin’, which is what the CIA called the guy. He’s known as a go-to-hire for hard to find kills.”

  “I guess I should be flattered he had to hire someone good,” Kostya said cynically. “Are his kills clean or messy?”

  “Are you asking if he tortures his targets?” Kostya nodded hesitantly. “It depends. How high is the value is on the information the target has?”

  Kostya leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and watched the next few plays quietly, letting the unspoken answer sink in. “Does Meredith know about the Assassin?”

  Will weighed his answer carefully before responding. “No, she doesn’t. I believe in being honest with my little sis, but maybe this information would be best between us.” Will leaned forward toward Kostya. “Besides, you’re planning on protecting her from any danger, right?”

  Kostya looked past Will to the top of the stairs where Meredith emerged. He rose to receive her. “I’ll certainly try.”

  “You’ll try what?” Meredith descended the stairs.

  “Kostya just said that he’ll try to keep you safe on your trip. We’re starting to get the specifics squared away.”

  “What specifics have gotten clarified?” Meredith asked, taking a seat next to Kostya.

  “Dr. Singh is helping us to get supplies and he’s in contact with some people to help us with the ‘medical aid worker’ role.”

  “That’s positive, I guess.” Meredith’s brow wrinkled.” Has he thought up a story to tell my co-workers to explain why I’m getting so much time off when they’re stuck with all midnight shifts?

  “He’s telling them that you had a death in the family,” Will
explained.

  “I guess you’ll be going underground during the time we’re gone too. It wouldn’t be good for me to be off mourning while you’re partying at DuPont Circle,” Meredith said, being a little snarky with her brother. Will just rolled his eyes and turned to the game.

  “We’ll leave at the beginning of the week,” Kostya said. “I assume you usually pack to work when you go to a clinic, but make sure your shoes are comfortable enough to run in and don’t bring anything you wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving behind.”

  “Are you guys sure this is necessary?” Meredith slumped into her overstuffed chair. “I’m still not totally convinced about this plan. Isn’t this a little dishonest? I mean, I’m lying to my co-workers, my boyfriend, and the Ukrainian government so that we can do some operation that will probably never be necessary.”

  Kostya blew out a breath, ran his hand through his hair, and turned away.

  “Fire of Dawn is a terrorist group, Mer.” Will scooted to the edge of the couch next to her, keeping Kostya in sight. “They would be willing to do anything to get what they want, and a nuclear missile is a big piece of leverage for them.”

  “That’s just it, Will. They’ll use it as leverage. They’ll never use it for real.”

  Kostya paced until he stood behind her chair. He placed his hand on her shoulder as he moved around her and knelt by her.” Meri, their leader, Petro Vlasenko, burned my parents alive. The group he led admitted they shot their captured enemies during the demonstrations in Kiev for no reason. To them leverage is a demonstration of power, deadly power. I know they are close to having the ability to launch these missiles, and they will if they think it will help establish Novorossiya.”

  Meredith’s face had become ashen as Kostya spoke of his parents. She reached out to Kostya and took his hand.

  “I am sorry about your parents. Their murder was unforgivable.” She ran her hand along his face. “I fell in love with the Ukraine during those days we had in Cherkasy. Your parents inspired me to learn Ukrainian, to help everyday people in the villages of the Ukraine.”