way the man’s head was jerking back and forth, it looked as though angry words were being exchanged.
Still, Subarao was the equivalent of an army major general, and Vasilyev was a mere
At long last, Vasilyev got out of the vehicle, slammed the door hard, and walked back toward Dean’s car. He looked … subdued. Angry, too.
“Okay, Charlie,” Telach told him. “Dr. Anand says he read Vasilyev the riot act. He backed your story about rumors of Pakistani saboteurs. Vasilyev doesn’t like it, but he should let you go now.”
“Copy.”
Vasilyev reached the car and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Out of the vehicle.”
“Did you call Air Vice Marshal—”
“I don’t need a
“Sir! I was simply following orders.”
“Next time you decide to follow orders, stay out of restricted military areas! It would be … unfortunate if you were shot. Your death might create an incident.”
“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel.”
“Get out of here, and don’t let me see you around my city again!”
“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. Thank you, sir.”
Dean hurried down the alley, as if he half expected to be shot in the back. He knew Vasilyev’s type well enough — a bully who enjoyed abusing his power over others, whether under his command or in the civilian population. He was just glad the Vympels hadn’t decided to search him. The radiation counter on his ankle would have been difficult to explain, as would the folding camera-binoculars in his pocket.
He crossed Rudaki and headed for Tolstoy Street. Ilya would meet him at the car when he was finished getting the pictures.
“C’mon, Ilya, c’mon!” he muttered. “What’s taking you so long?”
Akulinin reached the top of the basement-level steps and peered through the glass in the doors opening into the hospital lobby. Through the small window, he saw a bored-looking attendant at the information desk, but there was no one else in sight. “Come on, Masha,” he called over his shoulder. “It’s clear.”
Maria came up the stairs behind him. She’d shed her white lab coat and rubber gloves and was now wearing blue jeans, a green shirt, and flat-heeled shoes.
A burst of static sounded in Akulinin’s ear. “Ilya!” Jeff Rockman’s voice called. “Ilya, do you copy?”
“Right here, Jeff. I hear you.”
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Cut off down in the basement,” Akulinin replied. “I’m back on the street level now. Still in the hospital, about to enter the front lobby.”
“Who are you talking to, Ilya?” Maria asked.
“Remember those friends I mentioned?”
“Who’s that with you, Ilya?” That was Telach’s voice.
“Long story, guys,” he said. “I’m going to need your help here. First of all, I have some data to upload.”
He pulled out his camera and touched a control on the side. Next he reached down, touching another button on the radiation counter strapped to his leg. The devices began uploading their recordings to a communications satellite.
“We’re receiving,” Rockman said after a moment. “Nice shots … if a bit morbid.”
“The bodies are the ones Podpolkovnik Vasilyev brought back on the helicopter,” he told the Art Room. “I’m thinking the clean-shaven Caucasian looks a lot like our contact, Zhernov, though his face is cut up and bruised so badly, I’m not sure. The rad counts are being transmitted in the same order as the pictures. I’d be
“We’re running the photos through the ID database now,” Telach said. “Now … who’s that with you, and why? We can hear her over the open channel.”
“First things first, Marie. Do you have a fix on Charlie?”
“They let him go about ten minutes ago. He’s on his way back to your car.”
“Excellent.” That gave them some additional options. He wasn’t happy about turning Masha loose on the streets of Dushanbe if the FSB might be looking for her.
“And who is your little friend?”
“Maria Alekseyevna. Distressed foreign national, Russian citizenship. But she’s an American.”
“O-kay. How can she be a foreign national
“Look, we can go into the history later. What’s important is she helped me on the mission just now, and there’s a good chance that the opposition is going to be interested in her, understand? I need to get her to the safe house — then get her out of the country.”
“We’ll have to see about that,” Telach said. She did not sound like she approved. There was a certain air of “wait until your father gets home” about the way she said it.
“Is the boss there?” he asked. Might as well face the music right away.
“No, he’s not. But I imagine he’ll want to talk with you when he gets in.”
“I’m sure. I … wait a second.”
“What do you have, Ilya?”
Two Vympel soldiers had just entered the hospital’s front door and taken up sentry positions on either side of it.
“Possible trouble.”
He turned, about to lead Masha back down the stairs, but he stopped when he heard a hollow thump — a door banging open — echoing up the bare stairwell. Far below, he could hear voices, someone shouting, demanding information.
He heard another voice — the junior sergeant with the copy of
“Tell Charlie to bring the car south on Rudaki,” Akulinin told the Art Room. “Tell him there are two of us, we’re on the run, and the black hats are in pursuit! We’ll be going south, on the east side of the street, and we’ll meet him there!”
“Roger that. We’re patching through to Charlie now.”
Another boom from downstairs, closer now. Vasilyev and his troops were entering the stairwell, starting up the steps toward the first landing.
“Ilya!” Masha cried.
He gathered her close with his arm. “Trust me!” he said fiercely. “Just play along, okay? And whatever happens,
She nodded as he punched through the double doors in front of them and swept her with him into the lobby. The two soldiers looked up at the noise and began unslinging their rifles.
Akulinin laughed out loud, grinning broadly as he jogged directly toward the soldiers, his arm still tight around Masha’s waist. “This is going to be great!” he called out in Russian. “A night on the town you will
The soldiers brought their rifles to an uncertain port arms. They would have been expecting to see the woman alone, would not be expecting to see a Russian Army major accompanying her.
