The Unknown

by Brett Battles

  “Maybe there’s a crevasse or a dry riverbed we can use,” Nate said.

  “Looks pretty flat out there,” Kincaid said.

  “Dude, you’re bringing down the mood.”

  Kincaid snorted.

  Quinn looked through his glasses again and continued his examination of the airfield. Other than the runway, there were no other structures. It was like someone had picked up part of a small airport from somewhere else and dumped it here in the middle of nowhere.

  “Found it,” Daeng said a few moments later.

  “A way in?” Quinn asked.

  “What? No. Lonely Rock.”

  Quinn checked in the direction Daeng was looking.

  About a kilometer west of the airfield, at the end of the valley, sat a gigantic boulder. It must’ve been at least twice as large as the biggest one on the ridge where Quinn and the others now stood. And though a few other rocks were around it, they were smaller and mostly piled against it. Otherwise, there was nothing other than desert around it.

  A sentinel watching over the valley.

  A very lonely rock.

  They continued to scan the land for several more minutes, but no one found anything that would get them much closer to the airfield without the chance of being seen.

  “I think we should try another angle,” Nate said. “Hopefully there’s something we just can’t see from here.”

  Quinn nodded, having thought the same thing. “You and Daeng take the Range Rover east. See if you can find anything in that direction. The rest of us will go west. Same communication rules as before.”

  The new Danara Rule: any important conversations would happen outside the vehicles, over the comm, with no phones or computers nearby. A pair of double clicks would alert the others someone had important information to share. A returned triple click would indicate a person’s ability to speak freely.

  Nate and Daeng headed out first, then Quinn swung the Land Cruiser around and headed west. Kincaid was in the front passenger seat now, with Orlando and Jar sharing the back.

  They went about a half kilometer before stopping. Kincaid accompanied Quinn to the ridge, while Orlando and Jar remained in the vehicle. Jar was using the NSA satellite to search for any pathways through the desert, and Orlando was probing the facility for a wireless network she could hack into. It would have been great if they could have done these things without the possibility of Danara looking over their shoulders, but it couldn’t be avoided.

  Quinn and Kincaid searched the valley through their binoculars, but like before, spotted nothing they could use, so they returned to the Land Cruiser. Another stop, four hundred meters on, proved just as frustrating. It was looking more and more likely they would have to try a nighttime approach. God only knew what might happen to Brunner in the meantime.

  They were halfway to their next stop when a pair of double taps came over the comm. Quinn stopped.

  “Wait here,” he said to the others.

  After leaving his phone on his seat, he climbed out and walked a good thirty meters away from the SUV, then tapped his mic three times.

  “I think we found something,” Nate said.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “For God’s sake,” Grigory muttered for at least the twentieth time.

  Tiana grimaced. Though she was not unsympathetic to his frustrations, it was unacceptable for an officer with his training to let his feelings be known. Sure, they weren’t technically in the army anymore, but their roles within General Nesterov’s organization required just as much discipline, if not more.

  This, of course, was not the first time Grigory had disappointed her since the mission to obtain Brunner had begun. He was lucky she felt loyal to him from their days together as young, naïve Russian officers. But even that was starting to erode.

  After depositing the case holding Brunner in the man’s new cell, she and Grigory had tried to see the general but had been told he would not be available for two hours. Tiana had spent the intervening time taking a shower, changing into clean clothes, and getting something to eat. Grigory, however, was still wearing the same outfit he’d had on when they left Slovakia. She guessed he’d spent his time sleeping, because when she met up with him at the appointed time at the general’s office, he had the faraway stare of someone who’d been pulled out of deep slumber.

  They had been waiting in the antechamber to Nesterov’s office for over an hour now, with no sign that their holding pattern would change anytime soon. Turned out Grigory could have slept a while longer, which undoubtedly played a part in his impatience.

  “He’s mad at us,” Grigory said. “He wouldn’t leave us out here this long if he wasn’t.”

  “Shut up,” she snapped in a low voice. She would have preferred to say nothing, but she couldn’t take his whining anymore.

  He glared at her but kept his mouth shut.

  Good. He could be as mad at her as he wanted. At least her words had worked.

  She tried not to think about what was in store for them on the other side of the office door. The general was a hard man to predict, and she had learned to not even try.

  Mostly.

  Unlike Grigory, she had been handpicked by Nesterov after he’d been impressed by her several years earlier, when they’d worked together on several joint exercises between the Russian and the Kazakh armies. She’d done well by the general, and he had made it clear multiple times she was the best hire he’d made.

  She was the one who had brought in Grigory, a contribution she now regretted.

  She didn’t know the general’s age, but he was old enough to have started out in the Soviet Army, and then transferred into the service of the new nation of Kazakhstan, not long after it gained its independence in the early 1990s.

  It was unclear if Nesterov still held an official position within the Kazakhstan military, but even if he didn’t, he obviously still had very strong ties to it. Someone was funding this operation. But it wasn’t only cash that he had access to. Anytime he needed anything, he utilized his ties to get it.

  Case in point: Lonely Rock.

  The Soviet-era station had sat empty for decades before being indefinitely “leased” to Nesterov a few years earlier. Nesterov’s organization had a fancy name that sounded like it’d been created by some bureaucrat with nothing better to do. The Committee for the Delineation of Special Projects and Services. No one used that name, not even the general. He referred to their organization simply as Future Planning.

  “Our great country will one day be a major player in the world,” he had told Tiana the day she began working for him. “It is our job to make sure that happens.”

  Technically, Kazakhstan was Nesterov’s adopted country. Tiana’s too, for that matter. And as much as she loved her chosen country, she’d never reached the level of fervent patriotism Nesterov had achieved. Her passion lay in her loyalty to the general. She had been floundering in the Russian army, promotions that should have been hers given to men of lesser abilities. Nesterov had seen her for who she was from the very first time he met her, and had praised her for decisions she’d made that her superiors ignored. When the general offered her a chance to join him, she had jumped at it. His belief in her continued once she arrived at Future Planning, evidenced by his allowing her to lead his most important missions. If creating a greater Kazakhstan was his dream, then it was hers, too.

  The door to Nesterov’s private office opened and Rayana, the general’s assistant, stepped out. “Please go inside. The general is waiting.”

  Before Grigory could spit out a sarcastic response, Tiana stood, said, “Thank you,” and strode across the room toward the door. She heard Grigory behind her, scrambling to catch up.

  As with every other time she’d visited the general’s office, she was struck by how underwhelming the room was, given the great man sitting on the other side of the desk. Size-wise, the room was barely large enough to fit the few pieces of furniture. And then there was the stark lighting and bare
walls, like he was using it only temporarily. And yet, she’d been told it had been his office since the start.

  Nesterov’s crown of precisely combed white hair pointed at her as he hunched over an open file. Beside it was a pad of paper he was scrawling on. He made no indication he knew anyone else was there.

  Tiana took the only guest chair, leaving Grigory to stand. As she watched the general, she sensed Grigory’s anxiety level rising again. She decided if he tried to say something, she’d do nothing to stop him. If he wanted to cause himself more problems with the general, that was his choice.

  Seconds later, without looking up from what he was doing, Nesterov said, “Report.”

  Tiana brought him up to date on what had happened since she checked in with him last, which basically amounted to them having lost their pursuers.

  “How do you know that for sure?”

  “I had the pilots keep track on the radar. There was nothing that continued on the same path we did.”

  “What was the range you were checking?”

  Tiana blinked. Did he know something she didn’t? “Um, a hundred kilometers, I believe. Did you pick up something headed this way after we landed?”

  “Not here, no. But there was a plane that entered the area about an hour after you were down. It landed in Ketovo.”

  “I don’t know where that is.”

  “Southeast of here, about seventy-five kilometers. I thought about sending you to check it out, but it has already left again.”

  Tiana’s shoulders relaxed. If it had been the people who’d put the tracker on her plane and they knew she was in the area, they wouldn’t have left so quickly.

  “Consider yourself lucky,” Nesterov said, as if reading her mind.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, feeling shame at his rebuke for not having known about the plane before.

  “Let’s talk Slovakia. You lost a lot of good men. That does not make me happy.”

  “I take the blame entirely, General. I should have anticipated the attack.” That wasn’t entirely true. She had anticipated potential trouble. That’s why she’d had guards posted the entire time they were there. Unfortunately, the attackers had caught Tiana and her people at their most vulnerable moment. But whether or not she’d been prepared, the fact that the mission had nearly ended on the tarmac in Slovakia was all on her shoulders.

  “And you?” Nesterov said, looking at Grigory. “Anything to add?”

  “What’s there to add? Our mission was to get Brunner, bring him back alive, and destroy the ability for his work to be used by anyone else. He’s here. He’s breathing. And his lab is rubble. I’d say we’ve done well.”

  Nesterov considered him for a moment before turning his attention back to Tiana. “Tell me, how is our new guest?”

  “As you instructed, he’s still in the case.”

  “No problems?”

  “His vital signs stayed within the expected ranges.”

  “Good. I suspect he’s hungry now.”

  “I would think so.”

  The general clasped his hands and raised them in front of his chin, his elbows on the desk. “Let him out. If he asks for food, tell him some will be brought to him shortly.”

  Tiana started to stand.

  “You stay,” the general said, his eyes on Tiana. “Grigory can handle this on his own.”

  She sat back down, and Grigory exited the room.

  After the door was shut again, Nesterov said, “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I am very pleased with how everything turned out. You’ve done well. Starting today, you’re my special assistant. I would like you there when we question Brunner.”

  She blinked. “Thank you.” Having nearly failed, she was expecting the polar opposite of a promotion. And being asked to sit in on Brunner’s interrogation? Not only did she feel pride that Nesterov would trust her in this way, she would also relish the opportunity to learn what made Brunner so valuable to the general.

  “In your new capacity, there’s something I need you to take care of.”

  “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Our organization demands discipline and loyalty. It’s the only way we will succeed. What we cannot allow is for our organization to be hampered by those who will not conform.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Good. I’m glad you agree.” He smiled for the first time. “Then I am sure you will have no problem terminating Grigory.”

  She froze. Termination meant only one thing.

  “His attitude has been deteriorating for some time now,” Nesterov went on. “We can’t afford the resources needed to rehabilitate him, which I doubt would even be possible. And we cannot afford to let him go.”

  “Is there no other option?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “If there was, I would have said as much.” His reply was sharp and quick.

  “Yes, sir. I apologize for asking.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Can you do this? Or must I have you removed, too?”

  She swallowed hard. “Yes, yes, of course. You can count on me.”

  “Excellent. As soon as you have time, I want it done.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The general stood up, his stern mood gone. “Shall we go talk to Dr. Brunner?”

  Something hit the side of the case, jarring Brunner from his semiconscious state. He winced. His migraine had receded to an almost bearable state, but now reasserted itself as his head twisted slightly.

  A thunk, felt more than heard, from near his knees.

  Then another, shoulder high.

  With a creak, the blackness that had been his world lifted away, and light—brighter than any he could remember ever experiencing—flooded in. He slammed his eyes shut as the rays triggered a new wave of pain in his head.

  “Up,” a voice ordered.

  He heard it but the throbbing in his skull prevented him from comprehending, until hands grabbed his arms and started pulling him from the box. Another ripped the mask off his face, scraping it across his forehead.

  Before Brunner realized it, he was on his feet, being half marched, half dragged across a floor.

  He blinked and squinted, trying to see what was going on, but his eyes had been locked in darkness since before the plane ride and everything was still too bright.

  When he finally stopped moving, the same voice as before said, “You can sit.”

  He recognized it now. It belonged to the man who’d thrown Clarke out of the helicopter.

  Brunner reached behind him, trying to locate the chair or whatever it was he was supposed to sit on. Before his hand touched anything, someone shoved him in the chest. His calves knocked against something hard and his knees bent automatically, dropping him down, ass first, onto a cushion.

  No, he thought, as he felt around on either side. A mattress on a metal frame.

  He blinked again, and this time was able to keep his lids open in a slit. He was in a room, about the same size as the one he’d been in when they put him in the box. Like that one, his new cell had no windows, just a single door through which two of the four others in the room were carrying out the container.

  Another stood half a meter away. He must have been the one who’d guided Brunner to the bed and pushed him down.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” the man from the helicopter said. “You’re home now.”

  Though Brunner was already convinced this was where his life would end, the man’s words sent a chill down his spine.

  Brunner tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He’d been judicious while sipping the water from the bottle he’d been given for the trip, but he had drunk the last of the liquid hours ago. He swallowed what saliva he could and croaked, “Please…some water.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” the man said. He and the other man left, shutting and locking the door behind them.

  Brunner’s eyes were finally growing accustomed to the brightness. The big difference he now saw between this ro
om and his previous cell was that instead of a bucket, it had an honest-to-goodness toilet. Not that he needed one at the moment. Apparently, even the water he’d had on the plane had been fully absorbed before reaching his bladder.

  His muscles ached from the hours of inactivity. He twisted his torso to the side, then turned it the other way, going slowly to prevent aggravating his migraine. He stood and stretched his legs and arms as best he could. He so wanted to roll his head over his shoulders to relieve the tension in his neck, but he was afraid that would be pushing things a bit too far.

  He didn’t want to lie back down. He’d spent the last God only knew how many hours doing that. But his choice was to either stretch out or pace the room, which would not do his headache any good, so he reclined on the cot and shut his eyes.

  Ten minutes later, his lids snapped open at the sound of a key sliding into the lock on his door. He sat up carefully.

  When the door opened, the woman who had been with him since the train entered. With her was a trim man with white hair and a weathered face whom Brunner had never seen before.

  The woman stopped a few steps into the room, while the man continued on until he was standing in front of Brunner.

  In fluent but heavily accented German, the man said, “Welcome to Lonely Rock, Doctor. I am General Nesterov.” He gestured toward the woman. “Commander Snetkov tells me you had a pleasant journey.”

  Pleasant wasn’t the word that came to Brunner’s mind but he said nothing, waiting for the general to continue.

  “I am sure you are wondering, what is the purpose of all this? Why would we bring you all the way here?” The man smiled. “We just want to talk. Nothing more. A casual conversation, if you will.”

  Casual. There was another word Brunner wouldn’t have chosen.

  The general stared at him, his brow furrowing. “Doctor, you do not look well. Are you feeling all right?”

  This nearly caused Brunner to laugh, but he stifled the urge. “Migraine,” he said, his voice still raspy. “I don’t have my medicine.”

  “Migraine?” The older man looked back at the commander. “Did you know about this?”