Minya pursed her lips but did not respond.
A faint buzzing broke the tension.
Realizing it was her cell phone, Freya fished around inside her jacket pocket. Having retrieved it, she held it up briefly—the universal sorry, phone gesture—and walked away.
Minya could only make out part of the conversation. Someone was coming, and whoever it was didn’t make the American woman comfortable. In fact, she sounded more stressed.
Location: Grozny, Chechnya
Sasha sat in the Ansyr as it gunned along the dusk-lit dirt road, past derelict apartment buildings, on the outskirts of Grozny. The battered moonscape of this province bore no resemblance to the city center. Thanks to regular financial transfers from Moscow, Grozny now flaunted a 32-storey luxury hotel, designer boutiques, karaoke bars, and scantily clad women tottering around in high heels. But here, the aftermath of the separatist wars with Russia could not be hidden. The sight of piles of broken cars atop one another and poorly dressed children cycling through the garbage sickened Sasha. But this was where his mission had led him—to the Chechen Mafia.
One of the largest organized crime groups operating in the former Soviet Union, the Chechen Mafia’s sphere of influence now extended from Vladivostok to Vienna. Originally fighting for Chechen independence from Russia, their purpose was now blurred. For Sasha, it was still not clear whether they fought for an independent nation-state or were more intent on continuing regional instability.
The Chechens had gained support from the Islamic world. Fighters from many Arab countries had volunteered their services. Intelligence reports even suggested some militants wanted to establish an Islamic state across the North Caucasus. Sasha even had tried to link Chechen insurgents with Al-Qaeda but with little success.
Besides standard organized crime activities, car theft and money laundering, the mafia had now become involved in trafficking Chinese immigrants and the illegal sale of nuclear material such as plutonium and uranium. It was due to the latter activity that Sasha now approached one of their facilities. He needed what they had.
The vehicle ground to a halt, spraying gravel from beneath locked wheels. Swiftly, the Polkovnik and his men exited and spread out in formation, weapons in hand. Their stealthy advance belied their enormous builds as their huge boots failed to disturb the rubble underneath them.
The sky had now darkened, offering additional cover and allowing the night-gear-clad men to creep between the shadows. In quick succession, the troops surrounded the gray-walled compound. Covering every exit and blind spot as they moved, the team surged silently into the inner courtyard. Sasha followed quickly behind. The giant metallic double doors pushed open relatively easily. No one was inside. Sasha signaled the first wave of men in. They scurried inside and took up positions behind concrete pillars and large pieces of industrial machinery. Still, there was no one to be seen.
The Polkovnik stepped cautiously into the cavernous room and surveyed his surroundings. In the center of the derelict-looking space sat row upon row of tall, cream-colored, metal cylinders. The makeshift construction was at least ten tubes wide and easily one hundred long. One thousand tubes daisy-chained together, stood on end like the bristles of a giant toothbrush. Sasha knew this machine was nothing so innocuous. It was a series of gas centrifuges, each containing toxic uranium hexafluoride and designed to separate atoms with weights of 238 from those with 235. The latter being required to create a nuclear bomb.
A clang in the corner of the room jolted Sasha from his study of the gargantuan mechanism. He pulled his firearm and signaled to his men to be on alert; they were not alone. With adrenaline rushing through his body and his heart beating fiercely, he rounded the corner of the machine and pointed his gun straight ahead.
A skinny black cat bolted for the exit, startled by the Polkovnik’s quick movement.
“Yebat,” he cursed under his breath.
A lone bullet squealed off the metal piping next to Sasha’s head and ricocheted before becoming embedded in the concrete of a nearby wall, debris spraying across the cold floor. Sasha instinctively ducked and yelled a command to hold fire. They could not risk puncturing the cylinders and releasing the radioactive gas. Single, controlled headshots only.
The team circled around the machine to approach from the rear. Another barrage of ammunition and shrapnel shattered through the room, exploding brickwork and screaming off the metal cylinders. The Russian team took cover behind the pillars and the uranium centrifuge in hopes their assailants would exercise a little more caution around the radioactive elephant in the room. They did not. Instead, a hand grenade was tossed between the cylinders.
One Russian soldier scrambled underneath and forced his arm through a tight gap in the metal framework holding the contraption together. He strained and growled as he struggled to place his fingers around the deadly device. Sasha held his breath.
Moments later, the soldier jumped up from the ground and lobbed the grenade as hard and as far as he could through the doors to the outside. It exploded midair, blasting the doors off their hinges but miraculously did not affect the centrifuge. Sasha exhaled in relief.
These guys were not Chechen. They had to be fundamentalists—willing to blow themselves and their whole operation to hell if they needed to. He gathered his thoughts. How to do this? It was dark. And their enemy’s shots were pretty accurate. That would suggest night-vision goggles. Crouching to the floor, he signaled to his lead soldier: disorientation. The man complied and relayed the silent message via hand gestures to his comrades. A few seconds later, the entire crew had taken the black cylinders from their belts and waited patiently. Sasha nodded once.
In unison, the Russians pulled the pin on their flash grenades, counted to five, and tossed the grenades straight in the air before covering their faces. A massive, blinding, magnesium-white light exploded in the air—an Earth-bound supernova.
Screams from the Chechens filled the room as their night vision goggles amplified the intense burst of light, burning their retinas. The Russians seized their opportunity and stormed around the centrifuge into the room behind, stomping on and pistol-whipping Chechen Mafia thugs in their path.
A single man, tubby and Middle Eastern, was backed against the far wall, a Kalashnikov in one hand and a grenade in the other. He said something in an Arabic language that none of the soldiers understood, but it was panicked and accompanied by the waving of the grenade.
Sasha walked calmly into the room and between his soldiers. The man’s ranting became more enthusiastic and his gesticulations more overt. Without even breaking his gait, Sasha put a bullet in the man’s shoulder, which exploded in a mess of flesh. The man screamed and slumped to the floor, dropping the assault rifle. Sasha crouched down to eye level with the whimpering man and pried the grenade, pin still in place, from his hand. This mafia member definitely didn’t look Chechen or, for that matter, Russian. “Ty govoriˇs’ po-russki?”
The man didn’t answer but turned his whimpering face away in defiance.
Sasha held out one hand. One of his men placed the pommel end of a knife into it. Swiftly, Sasha drove the blade into the top of their prisoner’s knee. The man screamed as blood poured from his wound.
Sasha kept hold of the pommel and stared into the man’s eyes. “English, then? You understand if I twist this knife, how much it is going to hurt?”
The sweaty, whimpering man nodded.
“Good. Where is the warhead?”
The man sniveled some more and hesitated to provide an answer.
The Polkovnik twisted the blade a quarter of an inch to the right.
The prisoner cried out as the wound opened, and the tip of the blade ground against his femur.
“Did you not understand the question?”
“Yes, yes!” the man replied, panting and crying. “There is no bomb. We were not finished. We only just distilled the gas. Right ... right now it’s the uranium metal.”
Sasha sighed and raised his eyes to
meet the gaze of his men. “This is good news. Moving the metal is much easier than moving an entire warhead. Where?”
The man nodded toward the back of the room, where a large, industrial-looking chest sat on the floor.
Sasha peered back over his own shoulder. “In the trunk?”
“Yes, yes. It’s in there.”
“Thank you.” He stood up, shot a glance to the soldier next to him, and marched off toward the chest.
The clap of gunfire echoed in the room, but Sasha didn’t flinch. He was too focused on the prize.
He approached the chest and stared down at it before pulling out his cell phone. He pressed a single digit and raised the phone to his ear. “I have it. Yes, it is transportable.” As Sasha spoke, his attention was drawn to three words haphazardly painted across the front. That’s not possible, is it? He had not been expecting this. They read: TEAK AND ORANGE.
Location: Dulce Base, New Mexico, USA
The dawn sun slid upward into the sky, dividing the view into three disconnected horizontal bars: the black sand, the orange-red streak above it, and the powder-blue sky presiding as the uppermost layer. But it offered no warmth, and the cold breeze whipped over the dunes.
The caravan of four HMMVWs, each furnished with an M134 minigun operated by a lone soldier, created a square defense net around the entrance to the barn. A team of ten heavily armed troopers, dressed head-to-toe in desert combat gear, filled the gaps between the vehicles. Within the circle of safety stood Lucy, Freya, Minya, and Victoria, who were huddled up to Kelly. They waited for Dr. Parnham to arrive at the surface. He was to be escorted by two armed guards who were ordered to kill the animal that would accompany him, should it be necessary.
“Do you think it’s going well?” Kelly asked.
“I have no idea, Mr. Graham—sorry, Kelly. We are taking a huge risk, but I am really not sure what choice we have at this point.” Lucy wanted so badly to find a humane way to deal with the situation, but her gut told her this venture had a high chance of going sour.
“How will they bring animal to surface?” Minya scanned the opening to the barn, hoping to see movement inside.
“This will be the relatively easy part. A small, tube-like aquarium will be brought up in the elevator. Wak will be inside. The difficulty will be when it is released to roam free.”
Kelly glanced at the Secretary. She was a brave woman—naïve but brave. Going against the grain and trying to do some good was not at all how he had imagined a politician to be. And for his part, it worked in his favor. Once the animal was loose, Kelly would make his move.
The elevator slid up through the floor of the barn. Kelly craned his neck and strained his eyes to see just a little better. He unconsciously held his breath as the doors glided open. Dr. Parnham was standing inside—alone. Kelly huffed in disappointment.
The doctor fiddled with his ill-fitting tie and stepped out onto the dusty ground. The elevator doors closed with a faint whoosh. The elevator then disappeared back underground.
“Doctor?” Lucy asked, expectantly.
“It was too small inside for me, Wak, and the guards. And they wouldn’t leave me alone with it, so they’re coming up behind.”
On cue, the elevator hissed out of its hole in the ground again. The doors slid open, revealing two armed soldiers, one either side of a thin, water-filled, transparent tube. Wak was squashed inside, its bulky frame pressed against the glass.
“Nice, guys, piss it off before we even start. Look at it!” Kelly pointed at the animal.
“We’re working on a bit of a tight timeline, Mr. Graham. We didn’t have time to prep the delivery system. You wanted to move quickly, yes?” The doctor’s tone was laced with sarcasm. Following this idiot’s idea was not what he had in mind. But the Secretary’s instructions were clear.
“Look, pal. You ever been hooked up to a giant salamander?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, I have. We need Vicky away from this thing ASAP. We ain’t got time to follow all your dumbass protocols.”
Victoria fidgeted on the spot, her frightened gaze fixed on the animal.
Kelly backed off the doctor and put his arms around her. “It’ll be alright. Psycho salamander is going on a trip.”
Freya watched in anticipation. Adrenaline coursing through her veins. She shifted her weight to feel for the Berettas strapped under her jacket.
“You know, this is nuts. I’m really not comfortable with this.” The doctor had sidled up to Lucy.
“I know, Doctor, but what else do you suggest? If we try to leash the animal, I think we’ll anger it and cause more damage. We need to give it some room, and let it follow its instincts.”
“And what if its instincts are to kill you?” the doctor asked.
Lucy didn’t answer. She didn’t want to consider that.
The doctor gave Lucy a last glance, a silent plea for reason. But she didn’t make eye contact. He sighed and started toward the glass tube. He stopped in front of it, and exhaled slowly. He caught the eye of the guard on the left, a blonde man a little older than one might expect in a low rank. “Tom, right?”
“Yes, sir. Tom Radley, sir.”
“When I open this, you’d better be ready, Tom.”
The soldier smiled. “I got this, sir.”
The doctor reached above the tube to the two-inch high, black ring that crowned the top. He pulled back a small panel and punched a few large keys in specific succession. “There. Here we go.” He stepped back and to the side.
A sharp sibilant sound filled the air as the seal on the tubing ruptured. A previously unseen seam appeared along the exact vertical center of the glass. The two halves parted but only by a crack. A blade of water sprayed from the thin slit, slowly emptying the tube of its contents until, all too soon, the animal inside was resting with its hind legs on the floor and its forelimbs pressed against the inner transparent surface.
A faint clunk ended the expulsion of water, and the glass doors slid backward, following the contour of the tube. Wak fell forward heavily onto all fours. For a moment, it seemed dazed—confused—but then it passed. Quickly, it padded forward into the dawn light. It squinted, protecting its eyes, before scanning the horizon. Each and every one of the humans watched it with fascinated and worried stares.
“Are we ready?” Lucy asked.
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Freya replied. “Okay, people, give it some room!” She waved her arms back, indicating the soldiers should back off.
The doctor, frozen to his spot, breathed as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw attention. Wak stepped cautiously forward. One step at a time. It scanned left and right until its search found her—Victoria.
Her stomach knotted as the animal’s stare bore into her. “Kelly, it’s staring at me.” She shrank back into his embrace.
“I know, I know. It’ll be gone soon.”
It came a step closer, but then, a powerful spasm took hold of it. Its neck twisted to the side, and its eyes screwed shut.
Kelly decided its epileptic fit was his chance. It’s now or never. Kelly launched himself at Wak, his arms outstretched to grab it by the gills. His right hand managed to grasp a filament, but his left missed, slapping the animal in the back.
“Kelly, no!” screamed Freya.
The soldiers immediately focused their aim, their trigger fingers twitching.
Kelly wrestled with the animal as it flailed its head. “Bond with me, you ugly fucker!” yelled Kelly, struggling to keep his grip.
With a powerful hand, it grabbed him by the throat and flung him like a rag doll into the dirt. Kelly lay there, rolling on his back, struggling to breathe through his crushed trachea. Wak snapped its sights back to Victoria and bounded toward her.
“Fire!” Freya ordered.
The soldiers obeyed, unleashing a firestorm on the animal.
Lucy shrieked. “No!”
With speed unknown by any human, Wak pounced, slid and darted amongst the ammunition. It leaped
at the nearest soldier, grabbing him by the head. The man screamed as the immense creature pulled on his skull until his neck broke.
The firing stopped. Everyone froze. Wak surveyed the circle of men. Freya, breathing heavily, eyed her men. Shit. What to do? There was no more time to think.
Having sized up the opposition, Wak moved swiftly and in calculated succession through the ring of soldiers. Necks were crushed, spines snapped, and abdomens ruptured as the animal tore through the humans with its powerful arms.
The soldiers fired wildly but never hit the animal.
A young man who had been operating the minigun atop a Humvee slumped off the roof, leaving Wak in his place. It sat there, perched on all fours, surveying the remaining humans from its elevated position. The last few soldiers fixed their sights on the animal but stayed still.
Kelly clambered to his knees, still nursing his throat. “Jesus.” He wheezed. “Yo, Tom, I thought you had that?”
The soldier shrugged sheepishly.
“What the hell, Kelly?” Freya whispered.
“I was trying—”
“Forget it. Just stand still, dammit,” she ordered through gritted teeth.
Kelly did as he was told.
“Now what?” Lucy said, her eyes wide, absorbing the carnage around her.
The animal dropped from the roof of the Humvee to the ground and again eyed the statue-like humans. It padded slowly forward toward the cowering Victoria.
“Kelly?” Victoria’s voice trembled.
“Vicky, don’t move.” He edged in her direction.
Wak, spotting Kelly’s movement, accelerated forward and locked Victoria against its body with one hand. With the other, it blocked Kelly’s attack and shoved him away, once again into the dirt. Carrying Victoria, who had now passed out, Wak sped off past a truck and into the desert. The woman, clutched to its side, flapped like a child’s toy, her braids flailing in time with the animal’s gait.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Freya’s eyes had glazed over as had everyone else’s. The sheer overwhelming speed with which Wak had dispatched the entire team and stolen Victoria was beyond belief.
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