Oshiro turned his back on the window, walked over to his desk, and picked up a remote. He turned on a screen mounted on the far wall. A twenty-four-hour news channel came on. Oshiro always kept it on mute. He preferred to read the headlines rather than listen to the so-called experts drone on for hours about nothing. Aside from the failed assassination attempt outside of ADF HQ in Rome, the next biggest news story was the upcoming presidential debates scheduled in three days’ time. The incumbent, President James Martinez, a Texan with a razor-sharp wit, was expected to do well. Despite what the pundits said, Oshiro knew that his challengers were not to be taken lightly. There was a retired military general who was popular with some of the more conservative elements of the population and a former member of the president’s cabinet who was proposing to enter into ceasefire talks with the Kurgan Empire.
Oshiro took his seat again and glanced over at an ornate brass clock on his desk. He saw that he had a couple of minutes before Parker placed his call with General Sadir, so he took one last gander at the news. A military spokesperson was explaining that the base on Eris had been stricken with he termed ‘a run of bad luck.’ They were having comms problems which the military expected to get fixed in the next couple of days. As well, the base had been placed out of bounds due to an outbreak of a virulent strain of influenza that had been brought there by a sick technician. Another lie that would have to be explained one day to the families of the dead, thought Oshiro. However, that was not the most pressing thing on his mind. If Valens failed to locate the missing virus, the entire human race could be facing extinction.
Chapter 5
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Sheridan as he looked up at the bulbous dome sitting atop the old wooden church.
“Vladimir Bodrov always had a flair for the dramatics,” replied Cole.
“Do you think he’ll see us? After all it is three in the morning.”
“Vlad would get up a minute after he went to sleep if he thought there were something in it for him. Come on, let’s wake him up.”
“There is no need, Alan, my old friend. I am already awake,” said a voice through a speaker hidden in a bush beside the path. A light above the church’s front door came on. “Come on inside and let us have a drink to old times.”
Sheridan whispered, “I sure hope we’re not walking into a trap.”
Cole smiled. “There’s only one way to find out.” With that, he walked to the brass-inlaid door and opened it. The inside of the church was dimly lit by a couple of half-melted candles sitting on a wooden table.
“Please do come in, you’re letting all of the heat out,” said a voice in the dark.
Sheridan walked in and pulled the doors closed behind him. In a flash, the lights in the church came on, blinding him.
“Don’t move a muscle or I will be forced to kill both of you!” threatened a man standing directly in front of Sheridan and Cole. In his hands was a military-issue assault rifle. He had thick black hair, which had been greased and combed back. His eyes were a dark blue. The man’s face was a crisscross of old scars. He was wearing a black leather jacket and dark gray pants.
“Morning, Vlad,” said Cole. “Glad to see that you haven’t lost your touch.”
“What do you want, Alan?”
“Me and Mister Sheridan are in need of your services.”
Bodrov’s eyes lingered on Cole’s uniform. “Where’s your rank insignia?”
“We dumped them along with some of our equipment when we abandoned ship.”
“Abandoned ship?”
“It’s a bit of a long story. Can we move now?”
Bodrov lowered his rifle. “Yes, of course. I’m being a poor host. Please let me show you around.”
“See, we’re good mates, Vlad and me,” Cole said to Sheridan.
“Yeah, whatever you say, Sergeant.”
They followed Bodrov down a narrow, winding stone staircase that led deep underground. As their host flicked on the lights, Sheridan and Cole saw just how enormous Bodrov’s operation was. Spread out before them was a vast subterranean warehouse that dwarfed the church built on top of it. It looked like he had enough weapons and equipment to supply a small army. There were rifles and small arms of all calibers still in their original shipping containers. Communication devices, scanners, computers, night-vision gear, and body armor were lying about everywhere.
“My God, you weren’t kidding when you said he could get us anything.” said Sheridan when he saw all of the equipment.
“Even I didn’t expect Vlad to have all this,” replied Cole, just as awestruck.
“Before we begin,” said Bodrov, “how will you be paying?”
“With these,” responded Cole, placing several gold bars on the table in front of him.
Bodrov picked one up and smiled. “Alan, my services do not come cheap. I hope you have access to more than those few paltry gold pieces.”
“I do, but I don’t have them on me. You’re going to have to trust me that you’ll get what you’re owed.”
Bodrov broke out laughing. “Alan, if it were only you here I would throw you out into the night for wasting my time. However, your young friend has access to a lot of credits. Don’t you, Captain Michael Sheridan, son of Admiral Robert Sheridan?”
Sheridan was surprised that Bodrov knew who he was. Then he remembered the outside speaker. Bodrov must have been watching them on a hidden camera and ran their faces through some illegally obtained facial recognition software. “Yeah, I can get you more credits if we need to.”
“That depends on what you want, my young friend.”
Cole said, “We need some new clothes, micro jammers for all makes and models of surveillance cameras, super-lightweight body armor, concealed weapons, comms gear, and new identification cards. We could also use several credit cards each with ten thousand credits on them.”
Bodrov chuckled. “Is that all?”
“That should do,” said Sheridan, wondering how much all of this was going to cost him.
“And why do you need all of this rather expensive equipment?” pried the black marketer.
“I’d tell you it’s none of your business but as we need your help, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
“And what is that?”
Cole grinned. “We’re here on orders from the commander of the fleet to kill a Kurgan operative and anyone else who may get in our way.”
Bodrov shook his head. “Sure you are.”
Cole looked over at Sheridan. “See, even when I tell the truth, people still don’t believe me.”
“Maybe because he knows you,” retorted Sheridan.
“Yeah, it could be that.”
Bodrov dug out his phone and placed a call to get some civilian clothing brought to his hideout. When he was done, he pocketed the gold Cole had laid out and picked up two small plastic cases from the table and gave them to the two Marines.
Sheridan opened his and looked inside. He scrunched up his face when he saw a small personal wrist phone.
“I can see by the look on your face, Mister Sheridan, that you are unimpressed with your new phone,” said Bodrov.
“I can pick one of these up from any shop for a few dozen credits,” remarked Sheridan.
“True, but yours is untraceable. Every call and every inquiry you make on the web is recorded by the authorities. If you wish to remain invisible, my phone is the way to go. If anyone were to try to trace you via your phone, they would be in for a big surprise. The latest military grade encryption software is built into your phone. You can use it anywhere in the world and be confident that you’re not being tracked.”
Cole placed it on his wrist. “I take it that it is fully charged.”
“Naturally. It will last two weeks before you need to recharge it.”
“I hope we’re not here on Earth that long,” mused Sheridan.
Next Bodrov opened a locker, grabbed a couple sets of ultra-lightweight liquid body armor, and placed them on the
table.
Sheridan picked up one of the armored vests and was amazed by how light it was. “This can’t weigh more than a T-Shirt. How on earth can it be expected stop a bullet?”
“It’s from the army’s testing grounds in Nevada,” explained Bodrov. “Trust me, it’ll stop a bullet, and unlike the armor you wear in the Marine Corps, this will soften and become flexible seconds after stopping a bullet, allowing the wearer enhanced mobility.”
“When you say it came from Nevada,” said Cole, “you mean you stole it.”
Bodrov gave a shrug and moved along. He picked up a piece of cloth and gave it to Sheridan. “What does that feel and look like to you?”
“A handkerchief, I guess.”
“Exactly. Now, Mister Sheridan, hold that cloth away from you and flick your wrist.”
Sheridan stepped back slightly and did as he was told. He was amazed when the handkerchief, in the blink of an eye, became rigid. He brought it up to look at it and saw that there was the outline of a knife in the material. Sheridan placed his thumb in the middle of the blade and pushed. The knife fell out into his other hand.
“That’s a neat trick,” said Cole. “How does it do that?”
“Like your body armor, this material reacts to a sudden jolt and changes its composition, becoming as hard as steel,” explained Bodrov.
Sheridan ran his thumb along the blade of the knife. “Unbelievable. It’s razor sharp!”
“Leave it,” said Cole. “Trust me, you’ll never use it.”
“I might.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I’m taking a couple anyway.”
Cole shook his head. “Officers and their toys.” He looked back at Bodrov. “What about micro jammers, do you have any of them?”
With a smile, Bodrov said, “You’re wearing them.”
“What, the phones?”
“Yes. What’s the point of going to all the trouble of making your phone untraceable when you can still be seen by the authorities and tracked that way? The best part is that they react only if you are being targeted. If not, they don’t emit any signal whatsoever.”
“What’s the point of that?”
“If we transmitted a signal all the time, our phones’ batteries would die in pretty short order,” explained Sheridan.
“He’s smarter than he looks,” said Bodrov.
“Ain’t that the truth, Vlad. You know, I’m going to do all my Christmas shopping with you from now on.”
Sheridan ignored the quip at his expense. “Can they be turned off manually?”
Bodrov nodded. “Yes. Tap the face of your watch two times to turn it off and three to turn it back on again. Yours is the master watch. If you turn yours off, your friend’s will go off as well.”
“How do we appear on the surveillance cameras?” queried Cole.
“With the older jammers you used to appear as a blur. But that can be tracked by a skilled technician. The devices you have are state of the art. When your faces are run through a computer database they will match the false identities I will be supplying you with shortly. Gentlemen, you will be hiding in plain sight.”
“Neat trick,” said Sheridan as he admired the watch on his wrist.
“What about pistols?” asked Cole. “You must have something that can get through the police security scanners without setting off the alarms.”
Bodrov waved for them to follow him deeper into his warehouse. He stopped by a sealed vault and entered his security code into a panel on the wall. With a click, the door popped open. Bodrov hauled back on the steel door and reached inside. When he turned about, he had two small metal cases in his hands. “Open them.”
“It’s camera gear,” Cole said, sounding far from impressed. “What gives?”
“Let me show you,” responded Bodrov. He took the case from Cole’s hands and set it down on a workbench. He brought out the camera, a battery pack, and a slender-looking light. “It may look like your average camera, but pay attention.” With that, he flipped the camera over and jammed the battery pack into a slot at the back of the device. Next, he snapped the light underneath the camera, and with a flick of his thumb, he turned it on. A red dot appeared on the wall.
Sheridan smiled when he recognized the snub-gun in Bodrov’s hands.
“Gentlemen, the GR-99 is the latest in undercover weapons technology. Designed to be used by intelligence agencies, the GR-99 is capable of firing caseless ammunition in semi and fully automatic modes. The targeting laser is sighted out to one hundred meters. There are fifty rounds in the pistol grip and another five hundred hidden inside your traveling cases.”
“Won’t the ammo set off the sniffers at the security stations?” asked Cole.
“Not at all. Your ammunition has been treated with an odorless film. It will never be detected by even the most sophisticated scanning devices out there.”
Cole poked Bodrov in the chest with his index finger. “This crap had all better work!”
“I wouldn’t stay in business if all of my clients kept getting arrested, now would I?”
“Where are our new IDs?” queried Sheridan.
“They’re being made. I had your faces scanned into my computer when you arrived. By the time your clothes arrive, your new identities will be ready.”
Cole leaned over and whispered into Sheridan’s ear. “I hope you’re rich. I have no idea how much all of this is going to cost, but I doubt my five gold bars will pay for a tenth of this.”
“I hope he takes an IOU as I don’t have access to my parents’ credits.”
“I’ll gladly accept an IOU from you, Mister Sheridan,” Bodrov said with a smile. “After all, I doubt a four-star admiral would like the press to learn that his son was buying black market weapons for some nefarious purpose.”
“My, what big ears you have, Vlad,” remarked Cole.
Bodrov shrugged and led them back to the front of the basement where a gorgeous young woman in a form-fitting black leather outfit waited for them. At her feet were a couple of bags.
“Thank you, Natalya,” Bodrov said as he slipped her one of the gold bars. The woman smiled, turned, and left the room.
“Oy, who was that?” Cole asked. “She was quite the looker. What’s she doing with you?”
“She’s one of my more efficient people,” explained Bodrov. He picked up the bags and handed them over. “Your clothes, gents.”
Inside each bag were civilian clothes that looked as if they had been removed from someone’s closet and dumped in the bags. Sheridan’s clothes included a black leather jacket, a green fleece top, and khaki pants. Cole’s clothes included a dark gray jacket, a blue flannel shirt, and jeans. Both men weren’t taken aback when their clothes fit. What they did not know was that when Bodrov had scanned their faces, he had also recorded their biometric readings in anticipation of obtaining a change of clothes for the Marines.
At the bottom of his bag, Sheridan saw an identity card, a small plastic container for his contact lenses, and three credit cards from different international banks. He chuckled when he read his new name—Mark Scott. An easy name to memorize as it used the first letters of his real name.
“Albert Coffin,” bitched Cole.
Bodrov slyly grinned. “It was the computer that picked your names. I had nothing to do with it.”
“In a pig’s eye.”
“Your contacts are the same color as your eyes are now. However, when they are scanned the name that will come up is the same one on your new IDs. Also, if the police decide to do a quick background check on you, your profession will come up on their computers as war correspondents. I thought it best that two men who will still look and act like professional soldiers in civilian clothes have a job that is befitting a pair of ‘former’ Marines.”
“Good thinking,” observed Sheridan.
Ten minutes later, with all of their gear packed away and changed into their new clothes, Sheridan and Cole took turns shaking Bodrov’s hand.
&
nbsp; “I will expect my money the moment whatever you are up to is over, Mister Sheridan,” stressed Bodrov. “I’d hate to see your family name dragged through the mud.”
Sheridan moved closer and looked into Bodrov’s eyes. He disliked being threatened by anyone, especially a thug. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you’re owed.”
Cole placed a hand on Sheridan’s shoulder and pulled him back. “Time for us to go.”
“Good night, gentlemen. My associate, Natalya, is outside waiting to give you a lift into town where you can catch a train to Moscow. From there you can go anywhere you want to.”
“Well, that will be a pleasant change from your ugly face, Vlad,” Cole said with a smile.
Together, the two Marines walked upstairs and out into the cold, gray light of dawn. Natalya was sitting in her car, waiting for them.
“Well, Captain, I’ve done my bit,” said Cole. “Where to now?”
“Rome. Harry allowed himself to be seen there, so that is where we must begin our search.”
“True. Have you stopped to think that we’re walking into a trap?”
“Perhaps. But I don’t think so. Harry used to like to play mind games with people at the Academy. His performance as a weak platoon leader during our operation to steal the Kurgan codes was meant to fool us. And I, foolishly, fell for it hook, line, and sinker. What I’m more curious about now is why did he even bother to try to assassinate the president. It’s apparent that he didn’t have enough men for the job. The attack was doomed from the start.”
“If he’s as cunning as you make him out to be, then I believe he wanted his people to die on camera. His aim wasn’t to kill the president so much as to increase the level of fear and tension already gripping the people back home on Earth.”
Vengeance (The Kurgan War Book 4) Page 4