Fires of Kiev Page 24

  “Let her go. She’s not going anywhere,” the second man said, roused by their conversation.

  The first guard shrugged, and stood up to let Meredith out of her seat.

  “Leave your purse here,” he commanded.

  “Um…but I need it,” she said. “You know?”

  The guard ducked his head and turned bright red. “Well, I guess so.” Meredith grabbed her purse and headed to the lavatory.

  She shut and locked the door and opened her purse. The cell phone was an old-style flip phone, but it had SMS and that’s all that mattered. Switching the characters shown from Cyrillic to the Latin alphabet she punched in Will’s number and texted, “On the train to Kiev with Vlasenko. K. to silo.” She paused for a moment then added, “I’m okay.”

  After sending, she made sure the phone was on silent mode but left it on. She stuck it in the back zippered pocket of her purse—which seemed to be invisible to male searchers, she reasoned.

  Flushing the toilet and washing her hands, she emerged from the lavatory and stumbled back to her seat. She leaned her head against the window and pretended to sleep. She hoped Kostya had made it safely to the silo in all the snow.

  ****

  The last part of the journey to the silo was dirt roads, but with a significant snowfall, they became treacherous to navigate. Kostya grabbed onto the roll bar of the Jeep more than once as they found their way to the silo. Finally, the road opened into the clearing Kostya recognized from just a few weeks ago when he and Bohdan had explored the silo.

  Not the same as before, however, was the activity around the silo. There were several large trucks parked on the cement pads that were being kept clear of snow. With a launch expected in the next twenty-four hours, Kostya assumed some were delivering the rocket fuel that could be unstable if stored in the missile for too long. There were guards posted at the main entrance, and it looked like there was a tent set up across the clearing where the sliding silo doors were as well.

  Kostya’s escorts took him to the main entrance, where the militia soldiers standing as sentry were wrapped up in thick military coats, gloves, and fur hats. The guards seemed to recognize each other, so Kostya was pushed through quickly.

  “I guess you know where to go, don’t you?” one of his escorts chuckled. “Stupid rat, let’s get going.”

  He pushed Kostya toward the rickety elevator lift. Barely enough room for two people, Kostya descended with the first guard, down twelve stories to the bottom of the test tube-shaped silo where the Control Center was located.

  “You’re not escaping from here, eh?” The chaperone sent the elevator back up for his partner and unlocked Kostya’s hands. “Well, get on with it, Cossack. Fix the computers.”

  Kostya found the encoder component, already pulled out of the rack and sitting on a bench behind the main control panel. Kostya pulled up a folding metal chair next to it.

  “I’m going to need my tools,” he called out to the guard.

  The custodian looked around impatiently. “They were supposed to be here for you.” He walked around. “Maybe they’re in the living quarters?”

  “They won’t do me much good up there,” Kostya said. “Should I go up?” He started toward the narrow ladder in the corner of the room.

  “No, I better be the one to go. Like I said, you’re not going anywhere.” He disappeared up the ladder. Kostya returned to the component and checked its connections to electricity and communications. Once he put the chip in, he’d be able to send a message on the radio waves. He went to his backpack and tore the seam, opening the pocket where he had hidden the chip.

  God, forgive me for what I’m about to do, and help me to rig this right.

  The consequences for enabling this component, if he didn’t figure out a way to stop the launch, were catastrophic. He would be to blame for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people. Keeping his breath steady, he set the encoder letters to the neutral position, and found the right casing for the chip.

  The guard returned down the ladder with a toolbox on his shoulder. “The tools were there,” he said as he reached the floor. Kostya went over and took a hold of the box so he could more easily step off the ladder. “How long will this take? Vlasenko is going to call in later tonight and I’d like to be able to give him good news.”

  “Yeah, join the club,” Kostya said. He set up the soldering iron and plugged it into the wall behind the bench. He was setting out the tools when he turned around. “Are you going to stare at me the whole time? It will be done when it gets done. What do you think I’m going to do down here?”

  The guard backed off and found a seat behind the control panel. He swung back and forth in the wheeled office chair, and studied the lights and buttons on the panel.

  “Hey Kostya, look at me push the button,” he said after a few minutes. Kostya glanced up and gave him a reproachful look. Deflated, he pulled a newspaper out of his jacket pocket and started to read.

  Perfect. Kostya turned back to the component. Working without someone over his shoulder, he could start mapping out the code for a message packet for TRUST. Once the chip was installed, radio waves would carry his message, repeated over and over, in hopes that TRUST would eventually monitor the station.

  There were still a lot of ifs. He would have to carefully code letter by letter. Then, anyone listening would have to scan the individual radio channels until they stumbled upon the looped code. But, the machine was ready for his input. All he had to do was get the message ready and hope that TRUST would think to communicate using Cold War methods.

  ****

  Not far away from the silo, Serhiy Melnyk shuffled around the hidden room beneath the barn. Around him were all the components for a shortwave radio he had purchased as part of his survival gear. Excited by Dr. Nichols’s call, he was going to set the radio up and already be scanning when the two agents arrived. Imagine, him, Serhiy Melnyk, helping American spies.

  He plugged in the parts expertly then scrambled to ground level to place the Yagi Wi-Fi antenna. Exiting out the sliding door, he scaled a wooden ladder propped on the side of the barn, seeking a place high enough to get the best reception. Brushing the new snow off the rungs of the ladder, he awkwardly climbed, barely balancing the long antenna while he stretched to hook it up. Almost there, he crumpled as a burst of red suddenly blossomed on his shirt. Groaning, he grasped for the rung to keep him upright, but missed. His body fell limply to the ground, staining the white snow with his crimson life.

  A hundred yards away, the Assassin packed his rifle into his case and retreated, sweeping his tracks away until he reached the road.

  ****

  Ben and Will landed in Kiev just before noon the day before the Day of Dignity and Freedom. They made it through Ukrainian customs in record time, thanks to the documentation that Hannigan provided. In the airport, cell coverage was spotty, so they stepped outside to wait for the driver who was picking them up. As soon as he found a cell signal, Will checked his phone for messages. Opening a text from an unknown number, he called Ben excitedly.

  “Meredith got through! She has a cell phone.”

  He looked over Will’s shoulder at her message. “I bet she’s being watched every minute,” Ben warned. “She’s probably really limited with how much she can use it. I wonder how she got a phone.”

  “She can be resourceful,” Will said. “It looks like Vlasenko really is keeping her as leverage against Kostya.”

  “See, I told you to bet on it.” Ben’s phone rang, so he stepped out of foot traffic to take the call.

  While Ben talked, Will texted Meredith’s number to Ethan to start a location search, and then scripted a response back to Meredith: “Me & B in Kiev going to Cherkasy. E trying to find you. Keep phone on.” He pressed send, and turned back to Ben who was pacing while talking on his phone.

  Hanging up, Ben looked at Will and gave a frustrated sigh. “That was Olena, Serhiy’s wife. Someone just shot him outside their barn. He was setting u
p the antenna for a shortwave radio.”

  “Oh my God,” Will said. “Did they find anyone? Any clues?”

  “Not yet, but it’s still early.” Ben turned toward the curb, watching for their ride. “Olena said we can still use their equipment if we need it.”

  “Oh, wow. I hate to impose at a time like this, but we need it, don’t we?” Will shook his head. “He wasn’t even part of this. He was just helping a friend.”

  A black SUV pulled up to the curb and the driver hurried out. After introductions and verifications, the driver loaded their bags and everyone got in the car.

  “I know Meredith is here in Kiev, but I feel like we need to get to Cherkasy as soon as possible,” Ben said. “Meredith said she was okay. She’ll be all right for now.”

  “She says she’s okay, but things can change in an instant.” Will glanced out the window at the city and stiffened his jaw. “Dammit! Why did Kostya let my sister out of his sight?”

  “He may not have had much of a choice.” Ben spoke calmly. “He wouldn’t have let her go unless there was no other way.”

  “I agree Vlasenko won’t do anything to her until tomorrow’s celebration, but Meredith hasn’t been trained for this. Anything can happen,” Will argued, mentally working out their best plan. “I know she’s capable, but she’s my little sister.”

  “Meredith can handle herself,” Ben assured him. “The ten cities targeted by the missile may need some help.”

  Will shook his head, knowing what their next steps should be. Riding the three hours to Cherkasy, he prayed they had chosen wisely.

  Chapter 34

  The train pulled into Kiev a few minutes past twelve, and Meredith’s attendants picked up her bag and ushered her from the train and led her to a waiting black Town Car. This time when the guards put her in the car, they did not get in as well. Instead they stood to the side of the car with the driver and waited.

  Something wasn’t right. Meredith watched from the side mirrors, unsure what they were waiting for. If Kostya had failed his task, would they be bringing in the death squad already? Or was she going to be tasked with some other forced role?

  A few uncomfortably quiet minutes passed, then Vlasenko, leading his entourage, arrived in front of the car. His bags were loaded into the Town Car, and the door was opened for him to take his place on the backseat next to Meredith. Then, one of his entourage sat in the front passenger seat and the driver got in and pulled the car into the airport traffic.

  “You seem surprised to see me, my dear. Did you think I would ignore my guest?” Vlasenko practically purred to her.

  “Ignore your guest, no. But your hostage…” Meredith shrugged.

  “I’m surprised at you, Doctor St. Claire. I am much more polite than you give me credit.” He feigned shock.

  “What do you want, Petro?” She tilted her head and blinked at him, unaffected by his chatter.

  “Tomorrow we celebrate a great day in Kiev, and the date will soon be known throughout the world. You are very fortunate to be here to witness the change in leadership that will occur.”

  “I am deeply honored,” she said sarcastically.

  He clicked his tongue and shook his head as if to scold her. “Don’t you know the only thing keeping you alive is others’ actions on your behalf?”

  “And here I thought we were starting to get along.” Meredith faced the window, breathing mist onto the glass.

  “Meredith, you overestimate your worth—to me, to Kostya, to your father—you are not as valuable as you might think.” He straightened his jacket and tie. “Your death would be of slight notice to me.”

  “We are all food for worms, Vlasenko,” Meredith challenged. “If I die, let me do it protecting something I love.”

  “Love?” He laughed out loud. “Now there’s something that will disintegrate quickly.” He brushed his hands over the sleeves of his jacket and straightened his slacks. “Do try to compose yourself. We are arriving at the hotel, and I would hate for your emotional outburst to embarrass you.” Vlasenko looked at her coldly as they pulled into the drive. “There will be a dress for you in your room. Please wear it for dinner tonight.”

  As soon as the car stopped, his door was opened and he strode into the hotel. Meredith followed, guards close behind, but she lagged back to put distance between herself and Vlasenko. She needed to keep her cool, or she could risk Kostya’s life.

  The Hotel Ukraine was situated right across from the Independence Square, Maidan, the site of the Kiev riots and the planned commemoration the next day. From her room on the sixteenth floor, she could see the preparations the city was taking to handle all the activities. She stared out the window for a long time, lost in a game of ‘what if’s. Could Vlasenko succeed in his attempt to launch a missile? If he did, what would happen to the Ukraine? Where would the missiles target? What was Kostya doing to stop it?

  She read her text from Will again. She had told them she was okay, so she shouldn’t be surprised that they weren’t coming straight for her. Stopping the needless nuclear attack on thousands and thousands of people would trump her safety anyway. She shouldn’t feel selfish, but a part of her did. She’d make a really poor superhero.

  Then she was inspired by the risks that Kostya was making to ensure the missile didn’t deploy. Here he was a fugitive, although wrongly accused, yet he put his own well-being aside to stop Fire of Dawn. And she was complaining about being held in a hotel.

  She came back and sat down on the bed, studying the dress that Vlasenko had left for her. It was as close to a replica of the dress she wore to the fundraiser as he could have gotten without consulting the original designer. He must have had an army of seamstresses studying paparazzi pictures to fashion so close a likeness. He even had gotten a pair of the Louboutin pumps like the ones her brother had bought her. It was creepy.

  Then, inside the closet, there was a red business suit for her to wear, she assumed for the ceremony tomorrow. Hanging with the suit were two packets of lingerie—one set dressy and lacy with silk stockings for tonight, and one set sheer and black with pantyhose for tomorrow. Even if she allowed him to pick her clothes, Petro picking her underthings made her shudder.

  She would wear the dress, she decided, although the whole idea made her skin crawl. She would go to dinner and play nice to keep Kostya safe. If it went beyond creepy and into terrifying, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

  Knowing that she still had a few hours before dinner, Meredith laid down on the bed. She let the sounds of the hotel wash over her—footsteps of people in the hall, squeaking pipes from an upstairs neighbor’s shower, the machinery setting up in the square—and she fell into a light sleep.

  ****

  Kostya had been given a break—four hours to sleep, shower, and eat before he had to get back to work on the encoder. Quarters were one level up, so he climbed the narrow ladder into the living space meant for the control center crew. There was a small kitchen, sleeping area, and a lavatory. Passing on everything else, he fell onto one of the cots. Up for nearly twenty-four hours, his focus was struggling and he needed sleep.

  The encoder was ready. He had been stalling for a while, actually having finished the work hours ago. All that was left was plugging in the code, a code using the algorithm he had deciphered back in the storage space in Kiev. Better to let them think he was busy. Who knew what would happen to him when he was no longer needed.

  The vent in the wall by his cot blew in air from above ground, but cycled off making Kostya suddenly aware of other noises around him. He heard the crank and hum of the small elevator that gave access to the control center slowly sink the twelve levels below ground. The elevator’s door ratcheted up and voices drifted up through the vents. He recognized those voices. His guard’s voice was easy to pick out, even though he spoke Russian.

  “By tomorrow the encoder will be installed and the missile will be ready to go,” his guard said.

  “You need to watch Kostya. He’s a dirty pi
g and he’ll lie,” a second voice said.

  Where have I heard his voice?

  “We have a guard watching him every second while he’s working. He won’t do anything we don’t know about,” the guard said.

  “Did you hear what happened in Cherkasy? We had to kill the kohkohl Melnyk because he was setting up a radio,” the familiar voice sneered. “Why else would he set up a shortwave radio now if not to communicate with Kostya?”

  “Lots of things use radio waves to communicate. Maybe he’s just a hobbyist.”

  “And maybe he was shot by mistake,” the voice jeered. “Are we monitoring the UHF band for possible outgoing messages or not?”

  “We’ve had trouble collecting the equipment, but it should be up tonight.”

  “Not before time.” The voice paused. “About tonight, are my plans ready?”

  “Everything is in place. You’ll be in Kiev before nightfall,” the guard reported. “It should be a beautiful pre-celebration to Novorossiya’s new order.”

  Kostya heard a phone ring, and the guard answer. “Sir, I have Vlasenko on the line.”

  “Put him on speaker,” he called. “Brother? Are you there?”

  “Stas, you made it!” the loud, pompous voice of Petro Vlasenko said. “Did you have any trouble with your travel?”

  “No. Our American benefactor has influence in many places, including obtaining authentic travel documents. As far as Customs is concerned, I’m a U.S. citizen sightseeing in Kiev.”

  “Ha! With as long as you’ve been in Washington, you might as well be Yankee trash,” Petro joked. “Lennox set you up so well I didn’t think you’d ever return.”

  Stanislav Vlasenko. Hail, the prodigal son returns. Kostya shuddered, realizing Stas had been hiding in the United States under the protection of Arthur Lennox, the American businessman who bragged about his prospects in Novorossiya. Since he fled justice, Stas was still conspiring with his brother and planning a glorious return to the Ukraine.

  “Thanks to me, we have entrepreneurs anxious to invest in Novorossiya, willing to pay a hefty commission for the privilege. Better to lay the foundation for our wealth than to slum with Cossacks.”