“There’s the kicker: a few months after deuterium was discovered, in 1932, heavy water was first produced. In 1938, when nuclear fission was discovered, heavy water was used as a moderator in reactors, to capture neutrons. Nowadays, though, people would use enriched uranium and not deuterium—unless someone is either trying to produce isotopes for nuclear weapons or…” David paused.
“Or…?” urge him Tony.
“Or trying to use natural uranium in reactors, because that way they can spare the graphite moderators and minimize both radiological risk and explosion hazard due to the dust, when they are decommissioned. These would be…say, older Soviet submarines, like those floating near Vladivostok or Murmansk…leaking…” shrugged David.
“Dimona…?” asked Tony.
“Maybe,” answered David. “In any event, this is not uranium in the bedrock, as they tried to explain Catatumbo lightning in the sixties. This would be hydrogen from a nuclear reactor with a very serious leak; or someone using vast amounts of hydrogen, or venting hydrogen…catalytic hydrogen from deuterium-enriched water for no reason. I realize this decaying oil field is like a candy shop for meth manufacturers: solvents, free hydrogen, lawlessness, coke shipment fields close by who can also recycle the solvents, the works. About all of that, I really don’t give a flying fuck now. But I wonder if we could talk to the chemist here, because he might know the amounts of hydrogen they use, and how many other labs there might be in the area, and, more specifically, what water they use,” blurted David.
“Lake water, distilled. That’s a given. And you think they would tell you…for science’s sake? Or are you going to exchange your ass for some information with the ‘Emperatriz’? And since this is not the only lab, do you plan to go ask all of their ‘chemists’? Are you high on something?” asked Tony.
“Guess the vapors here,” joked David.
“However,” Tony pressed on, “the radiation part…what is it you found out?”
“Well, what I know about reactors…is a bit…limited…” David munched his words.
“Dimona…?” asked Tony.
“I can’t say a word. But this samples strongly suggest there is both anomalous heavy water and plutonium leaking from torpedoes perhaps…here…in this lake,” admitted David.
“That’s why we got our resident Russian speaking people. But if Natalia Vassilissa—a.k.a. ‘Vavoom’—is in the area, we simply have to recce, map, report, pack up, and go home…” whispered Tony, suddenly turning his head around to scan the surroundings. Even distracted by the conversation, he had a vivid impression he had just heard sounds suggestive of a struggle where the other members of the group should be.
“You will do no such thing!” said a deep, familiar voice, coming from behind them. It was the ‘uncertain’ member of the group without any ‘passport imperfection’. “You shall live, don’t worry: I need you two alive to get the submarines to come pick you up.”
“We won’t cooperate, you motherf…” started Tony, starting to turn his whole body around. But before he could get to him, the man hit him in the head with the butt of his rifle, knocking Tony unconscious.
“Now, David, if you want to see your wife and your children ever again, you will do what I say, as I say, when I say, how I say it,” demanded the man.
“How about the others…? Are the others into this too…?” said David.
“No. The others just got a very bad indigestion, a deadly indigestion. Except for one that hasn’t. We have to wait for him. The last sample for tonight…He’s getting late and hasn’t reported back in yet. Maybe he’s dead. But just in case he’s not, you will sit, calmly, wrists tied to the armrests, as if chitchatting with Tony, until I get rid of this last one. And if you piss me off, your wife might get you in a tarp, bagged—like your contraption, in sections. Do we have a deal…?” asked the man.
“You need us both to get to the submarine,” spat David defiantly.
“Yes, I do,” admitted the man. “But after the submarine has visual contact, you could either try your luck with the meth people and your ‘Empress’, and maybe go back to L.A.; or, alternatively, end up bleeding, naked, tied to the pole right under our lovely little toilet, and end up feeding fish and caimans after an impromptu sex change. I’m sure they’d love some fresh organic, grain fed, kosher ‘gringo’ meat…”
“What makes you think Tony would cooperate, anyway?” asked David.
“Ah, poor old, sentimental Tony. He has a soft spot for you. You seemingly did something great, unselfish, ‘to help save the world’, he said. He brought you here…to thank you for what you did. He’s become your guardian angel. If you were to die, tied to the pole, covered in shit, eaten alive by the local fauna, he could never forgive himself…He still has that…moral impediment…He’s a man of honor…So I bet he’ll cooperate to help you go back to your family. Poor man: he’s spent his entire life trying to be unattached to stay a good operative, and now, he has ‘adopted’ you. Ironies of life! Now, sit in that chair and don’t try to play any tricks. Don’t make me get you fucked before I get you dead…”
“What is this obsession with screwing other men? Why not go work for the ‘Empress’? You’d be a sensation there. Strappy guy! Were those psychos in Budapest any relatives of yours? Are you subconsciously gay and feel guilty in Russia? What’s your story?” asked David, now tied to the chair.
The man slapped him in the face hard with a sweep of his fist, making blood come of out the corners. “One of those operatives you assholes killed, was my brother. He and his colleague, were a bit eccentric—signature move, so to speak: humiliate the target whenever advisable, they said. Now, silence. Our late arrival should be coming soon, if he’s not de….”
He could not finish the sentence.
When David turned around, Severian was smiling. “Seems I always end up having to save your ass, one way or another,” he chuckled, plucking David’s wrist ties with one of his claws. “I read from your mind that you and Tony wanted to know more about this guy. He was the one with the shuriken that killed the toilet spider, yes? He’s a double agent that now has gone to the Russian side. He knows a few interesting things. Worth preserving, I think. The other one, who’s coming about now, is still working for your side. I won’t kill him either, then. He too, is trying to find ‘Vavoom’.
Once Tony comes back from his mind haze, we should let him decide. For now, just make some kind of introduction: maybe explain what’s happened to this guy, prevent a scene. Our other double-agent friend has already tied his boat and is entering the shack now, very much in stealth mode. He’s realized something’s wrong and is…now…approaching this room commando style, to investigate.”
40—Tying loose ends
When the missing operative finally entered the room, David and Tony were having coffee, intently looking in his general direction, both altogether surprisingly relaxed—except Tony was still nursing the mother of all headaches, slightly frowning, lips pursed, blinking, smacking his teeth, and insistently rubbing the back of his head. The other double agent, the one Severian had caught by surprise, on the other hand, was now firmly tied to the chair, bagged, and gagged. His L-pill and cyanide tooth had been plucked, left on the table, right in front of him, ostensibly for display, along with the extraction tools, still wet, bloodied and shiny. His mouth was still bleeding and already starting to swell.
“Hello, Gennady. How did your operation go?” asked Tony, stopping his head rubbing and rising his cup in a toast. “Is Natalia Vassilissa nearby?”
“How do you know about ‘Vavoom’? Why is he tied? Are all the others dead? A few I tested, for pulse and breathing—and all seemed pretty dead. And…how come you are having coffee, calling me by my real name—and still, aren’t pointing a gun to my face?” Gennady swung back, pointing his own gun at him. “What kind of deception is this?”
“Well, for the sake of international cooperation among war dogs, I guess need-to-know can be stretched a bit more. I will be
candid with you if you are candid with me. If you lie, you’ll die. How’s that for a deal?” replied Tony.
“You’re a little overconfident, my friend. All the others are dead. You and David alone can’t take me on,” Gennady spat back. “And I have my friend with me…” he added, swinging his machine gun with a satisfied grin.
“Perhaps yes, perhaps not. However, I can positively assure you: If you try anything funny, or if you lie, you shall die. You have my word,” asserted Tony. Since Gennady gestured as in ‘cut the BS out’, Tony nodded and continued: “To make things more palatable, I will tell you a few things only you should know, so you realize how far my tentacles go.
Your passport ‘imperfection’ was no such thing: it was an attempt by someone else, up my own food chain, someone I will make sure ends behind bars for a very long time, to get you into trouble. He wanted us to ‘cleanse’ you, so that he has no thumbprints anywhere—the reason being he knows you straddle both sides, but are still on our side of the big divide. In other words, there is someone up my food chain who works for ‘Vavoom’ and wanted us to ‘cleanse’ you. That might be a problem for you if/when you return to Mother Russia or have meetings with your more inquisitive Slavic friends. You mighty be naked all the time there, my friend— and not when only acting as a raven.
Also, your ex-friend here has no more poison teeth, no more L-pills, and no break-inject poison patches, anywhere, left in his body. No matter how much he might contort, he won’t die before being interrogated.”
“The poison teeth you might have guessed, then found and removed them. The poison patches you could not possibly have checked so fast. I heard you when you sat him on the chair. He’s still unconscious and the teeth still bleeding. I can see the blood seeping through the gag cloth and the face starting to swell. And tied like that, he can’t contort much, can he?” replied Gennady.
“Trust me. No patches. You missed the raven part, didn’t you?” Tony said.
“I know I’m dashing, but I’m no there seducing women for the GU,” Gennady rebuffed.
“Really?” countered Tony. “Do you want me to tell you the name of your two immediate superiors at Seryshevo and their superiors in as well? Your girlfriend in Vladivostok?” asked Tony.
“That is relatively easy to find,” Gennady smirked, undaunted.
“No. Not that easy. I’m not talking your ‘nominal’ superior officers, but your real superiors, the one in Khoroshovskoye Shosse, for which a certain ‘spetsnaz’ did some ‘discoverable influence operations’; and the one in Langley, which has very bad allergy problems. And neither am I talking about your friend Tamara Mikhaelyna, but your real ‘girlfriend’ Yuri Petrovich,” snickered Tony, with a satisfied evil grin.
“Who else knows this?” snarled Gennady, now nervously swerving his SVLK-14S.
“Wow! No GU, nyet? And yet, you’ve stolen from your brethren?” asked Tony.
“Nice gun, nyet? You were saying?” replied Gennady, sounding cocky.
“That gun would be pointless in close quarters combat, tovarich,” chuckled Tony, flapping both hands, palms floor side, signaling to calm down. “In any case, this information might stay here, or travel all the way to Moscow, depending on how well we understand each other,” Tony persisted.
“I might have to kill you both, then. You give me no other option!” said Gennady.
“Alright. Now, I’m going to make you drop your SVLK-14S, and your dagger, and also make you shit your pants—literally—in a bad way,” threatened Tony.
“I’d like to see you…” Gennady began, but couldn’t finish his sentence. Moments later, he felt an irresistible need to drop the dagger and the combat rifle, and also, paralyzed, unable to run for the loo or even to drop his pants, he experienced a massive bowel movement while standing there, shaking, fully clothed, disgusted by the warmth running down his legs.
“I keep my promises,” snarked Tony.
“This is not VX2 or any of its cousins. I can see anything like a spray and these are not the effects of any nerve gas. No salivation, lacrimation, mild urination, no vomiting or killer bees. What sort of thing are you?” said Gennady, angry, embarrassed, confused, and clearly, now shitting in his pants even more.
“An understanding man, with an unusual mind. Can we now agree to talk, honestly and openly?” Tony asked, “or do I have to make you, say, lop your own dick off?”
“Yes. We can. We can talk,” conceded Gennady, nervously glancing at his pants.
“Well, to prove my good faith, why don’t you go wash up and change, soldier? Just don’t eat or drink anything, alright? If you do, you might die. Meanwhile, David and I will finish verifying everyone else at the shack is indeed dead, wait until Oleg there on the chair comes back from dreamland; and then, together, we shall see what we can do, so everyone—except Oleg; sorry, my man! — gets what they want?” prompted Tony, glancing at the unconscious prisoner. Gennady didn’t need, nor did he wait for, a second hint.
After a while, Gennady was back, cleaned up and utterly mystified by the things Tony had uncovered about him. By then, not only there were no doubts everyone else was dead. Since David and Tony also knew exactly how Oleg had killed them all, from now on, they wouldn’t eat or drink anything in the compound, except coffee. Fortunately, Oleg was a compulsive coffee addict. Hence, until the sub came, they’d go hungry, or would fish, or, most probably, go buy overpriced food and non-lethal utensils from ‘la Emperatriz’.
“Everyone else is dead,” David began, as he and Tony entered the room where Gennady was sitting. “I wouldn’t feed them to the fauna. Neither would I burn them near other people’s palafitos. Maybe we can leave them here, bagged, with a note to our friends. They have plenty bleach, permanganate, sulfuric acid, and lime to neutralize the poison.”
“No!” countered Tony. “We’ll have to buy those from ‘la Emperatriz’ and clean the place ourselves. On second thought, it might be a real problem if we told Arturo this place is now a death trap. And I definitely don’t want any more problems than necessary. We’ll see what we can get. Your equipment will have to be specially bagged, but you can’t touch it anymore. What a fucking mess!”
“A sacred mess, dear Oleg has left us here. Ublyudok! Anyhow, are we going to risk death to clean this shit? Shouldn’t we just burn the place down?” asked David.
“No. No can do! We…might have future need for this place,” admitted Tony. “Maybe I can arrange things in a different way…with the people in the submarine. But that would be touch and go.”
“Anyway,” continued David, shrugging, “Oleg is still alive. We should make him lick our boots and die. But,” he said addressing Gennady, “Tony wants him alive, tied like a salami, on ‘full sensory deprivation’, as he likes to say, until further notice.”
“Alright. So what now?” asked Gennady.
“Just so you know, Oleg had this strange idea: since our friends in Moscow have not one but two YSR885R submarines leaking plutonium, and we were going to come with two new-ish submarines, ‘Vavoom’ and friends—who apparently think ours are next-gen Hunter Killers— were going to purloin them, tow them to Havana, fix their tin cans there, and send ours as gifts to Old Mother Russia. Since our subs officially were never here, getting a hold of them could go a long way to embarrass a whole bunch of people—plus, once in Russia, the GU could learn a lot about our new experimental stealth prototype subs,” replied Tony.
“Smashing!” cheered Gennady, clapping. “So, what do we do now? Sue them for attempted copyright infringement?”
“Cute. Are you going back to Seryshevo?” asked Tony.
“Perhaps,” replied Gennady, “if we survive.”
“Then, can we count on you?” said Tony.
“To do exactly what?” Gennady asked.
“The subs are located in a deeper area of the lake. For now, their reactors provide more than enough power to keep them running. However, the leaks make anything but brief exposure inside their hulls an almost cert
ain death sentence. So, there are boxes…” Tony began.
“You mean you’re going to try to get the remotes you connect via the tethering cable using an underwater drone and try to steal their subs? Those submarines are the newest of them all. Someone had to sabotage them to get those leaks despite the interlaced safety protocols. They probably were waiting for…” Gennady stopped himself.
“…Orders to deploy in Operation Ivan the Terrible?” chuckled Tony. “Not happening!”
“Touché! Your tentacles are long. No: I meant, after suspect leaks, the subs are probably under extreme surveillance. Is stealing them worth the risk?” asked Gennady.
“Too much surveillance would blow their cover. And assets with high enough clearance to guard them are too qualified to die glowing in the dark so soon. We originally mistook them for Soviet relics—but that, they clearly are not. Going by what our friend Oleg believes, there is something very new about their reactors. Were it not for the extreme level of radiation inside them, ‘Vavoom’ and friends would already have at least removed the reactor housing units, blown up the triple hulls, and let the rest of them sink into the depths,” said David.
“Yes,” added Tony, “I guess after what she did to Lake Balkhash no one could accuse ‘Vavoom’ of giving a flying fuck about ecological disasters.”
“I see. And how does David know all that?” asked Gennady. “I know Tony is a very unusual priest. You too have fooled me. You, David are not just an exotic weatherman, are you? Mossad or CIA, maybe?”
“We’ve learned lots from Oleg. He’s quite talkative these days,” said Tony.
“Is he? Talkative…on what? Guess the Geneva Convention is experiencing a leak and has sunken here to the depths as well, has it?” asked Gennady, a bit incredulous.
“Let’s just say he’s a very practical man. Now, would you help us get the boxes?” said Tony.
“If I do that, I won’t be able to go back to Seryshevo, will I? Besides, no matter how good your underwater drone, a connection won’t be allowed unless the locks aren’t removed from the inside. So, who’s gonna go glow in the dark? Also, I don’t even know exactly what these boxes look like,” retorted Gennady.
Quest for the Ark Page 42