Fires of Kiev Read online

  “I’m sorry,” State sneered. “Do we know who you are?”

  “Probably not, but you will.” Everyone around the table chuckled.

  “This is Dr. Josiah Nichols,” Will explained to the group. “He is a lead scientist at Los Alamos National Lab, and an expert in intelligence, among many other things.”

  “Hobbies, really,” Dr. Nichols said. “But, I do dabble in nuclear weaponry. Everything Mr. Dychenko has brought to us checks out.”

  The discussion quickly evolved into scientific explanations and legalese which Meredith could follow, but could do little in actual participation. She was glad that Will was there, as he seemed expert in every aspect—immigration law, nuclear technology, and national security.

  In the end, Kostya was released under the sponsorship of Meredith, and he was given a schedule of interviews to keep with each of the departments represented. Dr. Nichols was going to head up a team to address the nuclear threat. Kostya would have a busy few weeks. Meredith would need to be available to take him around until he figured out the metro. Will was becoming more and more possessive of Kostya’s case, and it looked like he would be serving as his counsel. The meeting ended with handshakes all around, Kostya as the darling, reliable intelligence that had just fallen into their laps.

  Meredith waited for Kostya to finish, and Will walked him over to her. “Mer,” he said, “One of the conditions of Kostya’s release is that he stays with one of us at all times until his questioning is complete. Both of us are expected at Dad’s fundraiser tonight, so Kostya will need to go as well.”

  “Oh, crap,” Meredith said. “I had forgotten about it. I have a hair appointment and a final fitting on my dress this afternoon—oh wait, in about an hour.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll take him to your place to get settled in the guest room, and then we’ll get him a tux and he can come with me.” He looked at her with great intent, emphasizing his question. “What is Scott up to today?”

  Meredith realized Will’s deeper meaning. He wanted to know if he needed to worry about Scott being home. “He said he’d meet me at home around six, and a limo is coming around six-thirty. He won’t be home before then.”

  Will let out a breath. “Good enough.” He leaned forward and hugged and kissed his sister on the cheek. “It will be okay,” he assured her.

  Meredith grabbed Kostya’s hand as he followed Will out. “I’ll see you tonight?”

  “Yes, of course,” he promised. “Tonight.”

  Chapter 9

  Petro Vlasenko wasn’t one to waste his time on the front lines. Delegation was the key in most instances. After all, why be the leader if you can’t lead? Fire of Dawn should look to him for inspiration. It was hard to be inspired by a man in the trenches with blood on his hands. But as Machiavelli wrote, the ends justify the means, and there were times when an expert hand was needed, bloody or not.

  His expert hand.

  Admittedly, hearing the name from his past shook him. Kostya Dychenko had challenged him then and was testing him now. Years ago, they had both been members of Spetnaz Alfa, on duty that day in November. Events were crazy in Kiev during the uprisings, especially for soldiers. As armed peacekeepers, even they disagreed about the continued allegiance to their Russian heritage by the Ukraine. How could the backward westerners believe that an alliance with the European Union would be a better choice than standing with the Mother Country?

  By mid-day at the November protests, Vlasenko’s ‘peacekeeping’ unit had taken several Cossacks prisoner who weren’t listening to reason. Defiantly, they chanted for Euromaiden, Independence Square. They condemned Novorossiya and yelled that it would bring oppression from the Kremlin.

  “Free Ukraine!” they called.

  Even now the echoes of their voices grated on his nerves and forced him to clench his jaw with the taste of hate on his tongue. His brother, Stas, couldn’t stomach the betrayal of these commoners either. He went through the crowds and forced them into the back animal stalls.

  The kohkohls were lucky Dychenko arrived and forced Stas to flee, escaping unseen, with only fifteen dead. Dychenko may have stopped the onslaught, but the Ukrainian prisoners, dead at Vlasenko hands, became a legendary story that inspired fear.

  Fear of him.

  Fear of his family.

  Fear was a powerful tool.

  To avoid punishment, Stas had been forced to flee the Ukraine, but today it was time for his homecoming. Now it was the Vlasenkos’ turn to show their strength again. The Satan missiles would inspire fear, just as their guns did in Kiev. But this would be a fear that would spread throughout the world, into the seven-thousand-mile range of the missiles, in particular. The name Fire of Dawn would be on everyone’s lips. Novorossiya’s power would be celebrated.

  The only thing standing in the way was Kostya Dychenko. Meddling into the Vlasenkos’ plans again would cost him his life this time.

  Once they took the encoder chip back, there would be no safety in Chicago or London. Not in Los Angeles or Paris or Miami, either. They all were possible targets, and each missile he activated could be programmed to hit ten different coordinates.

  Fear would drive world leaders to act.

  Vlasenko laughed to himself, thinking about the west scrambling when he announced Fire of Dawn’s capabilities. He could imagine a conference like Munich where the major powers carved up Czechoslovakia to satisfy Hitler. Only now they’d draw lines through the Ukraine and give him the state of Novorossiya. He thought Premiere Vlasenko was good, but Tsar was better, as long as he was dreaming.

  But the pieces had to fall into place.

  “Sir?”

  Vlasenko’s secretary, Alexei, had entered his office and saluted Vlasenko. Vlasenko nodded and waved his hand, anxious to hear his report. “What have you found out?” he prompted. “Where is Dychenko?”

  “I am afraid that we may have become too anxious to finish the project and may have taken steps that put Dychenko on edge.” Alexei stooped his blond head slightly as if hesitant to share the information he had learned.

  “What steps?”

  “Mik’s phone was connected to Kostya during the unfortunate events ending in his death.” Alexei cringed as he told Vlasenko.

  “Kostya was scared enough to take drastic measures, hmm?” Vlasenko tapped his steepled fingers together and pursed his lips, staring uncomfortably at Alexei. “This is why he ‘flew the coop’, so to speak, yes?”

  “Yes. Dychenko destroyed the other chips in the units left in the lab soon after the call.” Alexei pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his brow. “He broke open the boxes and once they were exposed to air, they disintegrated. The chip he was working on, the one in the nitrogen box, has disappeared as well.”

  “It didn’t disappear. Kostya took it.” Vlasenko frowned. “Where is he now?”

  “We sent comrades to Cherkasy immediately. His car was in front of his parents’ house, but they denied seeing him.” The man dabbed his brow again.

  “And—?” Vlasenko whispered through his teeth.

  “The men thought his parents were lying, so they threatened them. When they still refused to give up Dychenko, they nailed boards across the door and the windows and they used gasoline and construction torches to set fire to the thatched roof of the house.”

  “I assume they believed Dychenko was hiding in the house?” The corners of Vlasenko’s mouth turned up in a sneering smile.

  “But only two bodies were found. The old man and his wife.”

  “It looks like your men could use some help in their deductive reasoning skills.” Vlasenko rubbed his brow and went to look out the window. “Where is he now?”

  “We have planted evidence pointing to him for the murder of Mik, so the Ukrainian government has stopped Kostya’s ability to leave via plane, train, boat, or car. Any border crossing will detain him. No man named Kostya Dychenko has tried to pass through. Logically, he must still be in the Ukraine.”

  “P
erhaps.” Vlasenko ran his finger through some condensation on the window, a sign of cheap construction in a government building. “But Kostya has proven himself to be quite innovative when necessary. Are you monitoring his brothers?”

  Alexei cleared his throat. “It appears that a Bohdan Dychenko made a border crossing into Poland on the early morning following his parents’ death. This is of course impossible, since we were questioning Bohdan at the time he was supposedly traveling.”

  “Kostya used his brother’s papers.”

  “It’s not impossible. They look enough alike. With a new haircut…” Alexei paused and continued, “I can check for any ties that he has abroad, but there was nothing in his immediate family.”

  “Then check professors he’s taken class from, buddies in school, whores he’s slept with.” Vlasenko began yelling, taking his frustrations out on Alexei. “He has the chip. We cannot launch any of these missiles without it. Without Kostya Dychenko, we have lost. Find him and drag him here dead or alive so we can have this weapon.”

  Alexei saluted, ducked out of the room, and immediately started calling his team with orders. After he cleared the hallway and was out of hearing range, Vlasenko pulled out his cell phone and dialed one more number.

  “Stas,” he said. “We might have a problem, brother…”

  Chapter 10

  Kostya and Will were the last to leave the room, and they stopped by Hannigan’s office before they left. Kostya wanted to thank him for listening to his story and for making it possible for him to stay in the United States for now.

  When they entered, Hannigan was finishing a phone call, but he gestured for them to sit until he hung up. “Well, Kostya,” he said. “You certainly have the defense community riled up. That was the CIA. They’ve seen the pictures of the GPS locations you identified, and they are not happy with what they found. They don’t know how they missed it before, but those old silos are active.”

  “Active but not operational. At least not yet,” Kostya agreed. Although the news Hannigan shared was troublesome, it was a relief to know evidence backed up his story.

  “Do I need to worry about my client being detained?” Will asked. “As new details come to light, his knowledge is going to be extremely valuable.”

  “Technically, the only group who could detain him is INS, and right now I think he’ll be better served with the protection of the St. Claire family,” Hannigan said. He looked at Kostya. “As long as you are cooperating with everyone, I don’t see any reason why that has to change.” He turned to Will. “By the way, is the Senator aware of the situation?”

  “The Senator is aware of every situation it seems. I will be speaking to him tonight at the fundraiser.”

  “Good,” Hannigan said. “Do you have a tux for Kostya?”

  “I have someone working on it. I’d imagine someone will pop up and take his measurements any time now,” Will said with a grin.

  “Have you ever been to a formal Washington party or fundraiser, Kostya?” Hannigan asked.

  “Nothing like this.” Kostya shook his head. He imagined it would be much more glamourous than the military balls he attended in the army. “It should be a different experience.”

  “You can bet on it,” Will said.

  Leaving Hannigan, Kostya and Will walked out to the parking garage. Will led Kostya to his blue Toyota sedan. “I’d imagine you are hungry. We’ll eat and then I’ll take you to Meredith’s to drop off your things.” Kostya felt self-conscious as Will scanned over Kostya’s small backpack and military jacket, the only belongings he had left. “I can take you to get some clothes and a warm jacket, too.”

  Kostya straightened his shoulders, conscious that he could be seen as a charity case. “I have money, but it’s in cash—Ukrainian hryvnia—so I’ll need to go to a bank that does international money exchanges.”

  “Of course. But our schedule is tight today because of the fundraiser, and money exchanges always take time,” Will said. “Perhaps you will allow me to treat you today, and we can work out repayment later?”

  Kostya nodded, although he hated being in another person’s debt, even for a short time. He appreciated that Will tried to protect his pride, though.

  Will’s telephone rang. He answered it with his name, and grunted through the short conversation. Putting his phone back in the center console, he said, “The first stop just became the tailor, but there’s a café right there where we can grab some lunch.” He switched lanes and made a left-hand turn and parked in a small lot next to a converted Georgetown row house, now tailor shop. “This should be quick,” Will promised.

  The men were quickly served at the tailor’s and the suit would be delivered to Will’s later in the afternoon. When they left, both men were starving, and Will led them to D.C. Wisey’s on Wisconsin Avenue. Missing the typical large lunch crowd, they were able to order sandwiches at the counter and find a table quickly. Kostya was calm, but was obviously in awe of everything around him.

  “I guess this is a whole new world compared to the Ukraine,” Will said.

  “Yes and no,” Kostya said. “I live, lived, in Kiev so the crowds aren’t different.”

  “That’s true,” Will agreed. “What kind of computer work did you do in Kiev?”

  “I was a computer programmer, although my degree is in computer engineering. I worked with the English-speaking customers to negotiate contracts, too.”

  “It sounds like you had skills above your job description.”

  “I guess. I think they got me in trouble this time.” Kostya dipped the corner of his grilled sandwich in his vegetable soup and took a bite.

  “Not trouble,” Will said, “just opened new opportunities.”

  Kostya snorted. “Opportunities that have left my parents dead and forced me to run from my country.”

  “Yes, but put you in a position to make a real difference in the world. Sometimes one must sacrifice to achieve much.” Will punctuated his philosophical statement by picking a strand of purple onion off his bread and taking a bite.

  “I’m no hero,” Kostya said quietly. “I just don’t want any more people to die, in my country or anywhere else, seeking a life with true liberty.”

  “Who do you think is behind rebuilding the silos and hiring you to reverse engineer the components?”

  “The Ukraine is an uncertain place politically so there are many possibilities.” Kostya wiped his face with his napkin. “In the West, the people want capitalism and freedom, so they lean toward joining the European Union. Then there’s the East that culturally is very much like Russia. Over half their population speaks Russian as well as Ukrainian, and in some areas they only speak Russian. They feel that aligning with Russia is the only way to insure success and stability.

  “Taking this to an extreme, rebel groups who support, Novorossiya, or New Russia, have gained a lot of support in recent years. But there are many splinter groups who advocate more action and violence to force alignment with Russia. One of these splinter groups calls themselves ‘Vohon’ Svitanku’ or ‘Fire of Dawn’—I think they are behind the plans to reactivate the nuclear missiles.”

  “Why do you think it’s this particular splinter group?” Will asked.

  “Because I saw their symbol painted on the missile: three flames rising like a phoenix with a star above.”

  “And the missiles are their path to liberty?” Will asked.

  “Some liberty, eh? Freedom taken by force. Who cares about the others, as long as our side gets what we want.” Kostya picked up the cup of soup to sip the last of the broth. “It isn’t hard to determine good and bad in this situation.”

  “So, the computer chip you have…”

  “The chip stores the algorithm for the fail-safe on the missile,” Kostya explained. “During the Cold War, setting off a nuclear missile was scary enough, but can you imagine setting one off by accident?”

  “That could be a huge catastrophe. War over nothing but a mistake.” Will sipped his d
rink and leaned in, interested in Kostya’s insight.

  “So each missile had a fuel valve that was connected to an encoding device in the Control Center of the silo. The fuel valve remained closed unless the proper code was entered in to the device. The fuel valve was called a Butterfly Valve because its wings, so to speak, would only open when the right code was entered and sent to the missile via radio waves.” Kostya sipped from his water bottle. “To keep the code secret and secure, it was devised using an algorithm, which is programmed into the chip I have.” Kostya smiled. “And I destroyed the other chips in storage before I left.”

  “No wonder they came after you.” Will frowned. He paused. “I am sorry for the loss of your parents.”

  “I am, too,” Kostya said quietly. “I must stop Fire of Dawn before they succeed in launching a missile. What I took and what I destroyed will only slow them down. It won’t stop them.”

  Both men sat quietly for a moment before Will started collecting the paper plates and trash on their table. “It’s already four o’clock. I need to get you settled in at Meredith’s before Scott gets there, but you’ll have to shower and get ready at my place.”

  Kostya nodded and helped clean up the table as they walked out. “Can you tell me about Meri’s… Meredith’s Scott?”

  “Were you a little surprised to find she had a boyfriend?” Will raised his brow.

  “There was no understanding between us.” Kostya tried to stop it, but the tell-tale pulses of blood rushing to his face ended in a blush.

  “Yes, but she still wears that key around her neck, and I’ve noticed a leather cord around yours. I don’t suppose there is a key at the end of yours, too?” Will surmised.

  He stroked the leather band on his neck. “When we met, it was pretty intense.” Kostya’s mind flashed to the iron bridge where he had kissed her and they had left a golden lock, their lock. “She is remarkable.”

  “You don’t have to convince me,” Will said. “She is amazing even if she is my sister. Her work with Doctors Without Borders and refugee clinics is impressive.”