38. Chapter 38
Chapter thirty-eight
Day 17 Petropavlovsk, Russia
The safe was made of black metal that blended into the darkness below. Almost two feet wide, it sat back from the front of the compartment, which allowed room for its door to swing open.
He leaned down and dialed in the combination Kuznetsov’s woman had recited. A soft snick sounded. He pulled back the handle and the door silently swung open.
The woohanna hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said the safe was full of jewelry. The entire right side of the interior was stacked from bottom to top with velvet-wrapped boxes. Stacks of money took up the left side of the safe.
He swept his flashlight beam from corner to corner, making sure Kuznetsov hadn’t booby-trapped the interior, but saw nothing of concern. He removed the money first, flipping through each of the banded stacks. There were a variety of currencies—the US dollar, the Australian dollar, the Russian ruble, the Chinese yuan.
He reached for the jewelry boxes next. The wanatesa weapon was microscopic. The vessel that contained it could be equally small. Perhaps the Russian had attempted to conceal it inside a jewelry box.
But case after velvet-lined case contained nothing but jewelry. Necklaces, bracelets, watches, earrings, rubies, sapphires, diamonds. Each piece was gaudier than the last. Unless the nanobots had been infused in the jewelry, which seemed unlikely—how would you deploy it?—the jewelry collection was of no use to them.
When the compartment was empty, he laid on his side, clamped the torch between his teeth and eased his head into the space, angling it until he could see into the safe. His flashlight beam reflected off a silver-gray rectangular case pressed up against the back wall. Leaning further down, he worked his arm into the safe, and wedged the tips of his fingers into the space between the back of the case and the wall. He pulled, but it didn’t budge.
He forced his arm in further, ignoring his burning shoulder, which was wedged against the corner of the safe. Even with his fingers shoved deeper behind the case, the object didn’t move when he tried to pull it forward. Was it bolted to the safe? His shoulder and his fingers burned as he forced his fingers fully into the space and pulled hard.
This time, the case wiggled forward a bit. Apparently, it wasn’t bolted to the floor, just incredibly heavy. It was also cold, almost icy, numbing his hand.
Inch by inch, he dragged the box closer. A heavy, scraping sound accompanied its progress to the front of the safe. He kept pulling until the box sat half on the lip of the safe and half on the floor beneath it. There was just enough room to get his hands under it. He shifted onto his stomach and reached for his prize with both hands. Once he had a good grip on the box, he lifted it, while simultaneously scooting backwards.
Astonishing, how heavy the thing was. At least fifty pounds.
His heart rate doubled as he got his first good look at the rectangular container. The fact it had been hidden so deep in the safe, along with its appearance, hinted he might have found what they’d come for. The case was metal and narrow, maybe five inches wide, but long—at least eighteen inches in length. Two thick hasps with rotating clasps secured the lid in place.
Setting it on the floor, he rotated the clasps, freeing the hasps. After a quick prayer to the Shadow Warrior that the lid wasn’t booby trapped, he cautiously lifted the top. The interior contained a cushioned bottom. The lid was cushioned, too. Five indented slots ran along the bottom cushion. Four of the slots were empty. The fifth held a metal container of the same silver gray as the case. It was small—maybe two by three inches, narrow at the top and bottom, with a flat bottom and bulging sides. It looked like a miniature hand grenade, complete with a metal ring and pin. Although this thing had a smooth exterior and was a third the size of a normal grenade.
He frowned at the lone metal object resting in the case. There were no labels or lettering, but this thing sure looked like a containment device that might hold nanobots. Even the grenade design was relevant. The nanoweapon hit the brain like a bomb, bringing insanity and murderous aggression.
Of course, it could be something else entirely. Maybe a prototype for a new type of explosive.
He touched nothing in the case. What if it was the nanoweapon? What if the pin had slipped and some of those brain eating microscopic bugs had escaped their prison? Wolf shuddered and carefully closed the lid, re-clasping the hasps.
He carried the metal case out of the closet and over to the bed. Kuznetsov glanced over as Wolf set it down on the mattress next to him. The Russian’s face went ashen, and he lunged to the side, away from the silver box. He would have fallen off the bed if Samuel hadn’t grabbed him. An urgent stream of Russian exploded from him. Their captive’s recoil was another sign that they had found what they were seeking. This time, Muffin didn’t react from where she’d relaxed into her mistress’s arms.
Samuel translated the spate of Russian. “No. Take away. No open. Is dangerous.”
More confirmation. Wolf grunted, his skin crawling at what the case likely contained. “Ask how many canisters he used at the well in Karaveht.”
If he’d used four of the canisters in Karaveht, then the one left was the weapon posted for sale on the dark web. If he’d used less than four, Wolf grimaced, then they faced more trouble.
After a few seconds of back and forth in Russian, where Samuel’s face grew progressively grimmer, his second finally turned to face Wolf. From the tension radiating across Samuel’s face, Wolf already knew what his Caetanee was about to say.
“They were given five vials. Three were used during the testing in Karaveht. One was sold privately. This is the one currently up for sale on the web.”
Wolf absorbed the information with silence and stillness. But frustration and rage warred beneath that calm. One of the doomsday devices was still out there.
Samuel was talking again. “He says the purchaser was anonymous. An exchange was made in Tajikistan. Money for the vial.
Is he being truthful? Wolf asked, studying their hostage.
Kuznetsov’s face was slack. His eyes were vague, his words slurred. He didn’t look like he could keep this secret to himself. Still, it was possible the Russian had instinctively recognized the dangers associated with Samuel’s questions and was resisting answering. While the truth serum made it difficult for a subject to prevaricate, it didn’t make it impossible.
Samuel shrugged. Unknown. I will keep questioning.
Frowning, Wolf turned to the woman. Perhaps she could answer his remaining questions. Her knees drawn up to her pillowy chest, she rocked back and forth on the floor with her eyes down. Her short pixie hair was a tousled mess, her face wet with tears.
Crossing to her, he squared his feet and crossed his arms. “What do you know of Kuznetsov’s business dealings?”
Her forehead wrinkled as she peeked up at him. She clutched Muffin closer, and confusion touched her wet eyes. “Business? What business?”
“His weapons.” A scowl touched Wolf’s face. “Specifically, this new weapon.” Wolf nodded toward the silver case. “Is he hiding more vials elsewhere?”
The confusion deepened on her face. She reached up with trembling fingers to scratch Muffin behind her floppy ears. The dog sighed and relaxed into her chest even more. “Weapons? The only weapons I have seen are the ones he kept under our pillows and the ones his guards carry.”
“Not those weapons.” Wolf tempered his tone when she flinched. “I speak of the silver one inside this case.” He nodded toward the bed and the metal container sitting on it.
Another round of sobs broke from her. “I don’t know anything about that.” The sobbing sped up. “He said…he said…he was an international banker. I know…of…of…no weapons.”
Muffy suddenly jackknifed up, her head swiveling toward the door. A high-pitched warning bark broke from her. Wolf turned as the Australian woman went to work, shushing and jiggling the dog again. He frowned at the sight of O’Neill in the middle of the doorframe. What was the jie'van doing up here? If there was a problem downstairs, Mackenzie would have let him know.
“Is there a reason you are here?” Wolf kept his voice flat. No doubt whatever reason the jie'van gave was secondary to his real reason—to act the fly, buzzing around and annoying everyone around him. He should have stuck him with Aggress Two. At least he’d be outside the house and out of Wolf’s hair.
O’Neill’s gaze shifted from Wolf to the bed and locked on the silver case. His green eyes narrowed. “Is that what we came for?”
Wolf shrugged. “So it would seem.”
O’Neill shifted his focus to the Russian, and then to the syringe sitting on the bedside table. There was an infinitesimal relaxation to his facial muscles. “He talked then? Told you everything we need to know.”
Was that relief Wolf heard in his voice? Impossible.
“He did.” Wolf crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow. He wouldn’t say their mark had told them everything. The interrogation was still ongoing. But O’Neill had no part in the questioning and no reason for his interest. “Why are you here?”
A flash of something almost like guilt crossed O’Neill’s face, but it was gone so quickly Wolf dismissed it. “Just wanted to make sure we got what we came for,” he drawled, mockery lighting his eyes and vibrating in his voice. “Wouldn’t want this whole shebang to be for nothing.”
Before Wolf responded, his pilot’s grim voice came through the Neealaho .
“An alert for an unidentified aircraft just went out through Rybachiy. They’re scrambling stealth checkmates. We need to get airborne.”
O’Neill disappeared from the door. Wolf pivoted. The rest of their questions for the Russian would have to wait. He glanced at Samuel. “Get him dressed.”
The aggress had gone perfectly so far, which prickled at the back of his neck. Perfect a ggresses often ended in catastrophe. He sensed they were headed in that direction.
“Prepare for evac,” he barked into the comm and through the neural net.
“I need my jewelry and money.” The woman’s voice broke as sobs struck again. Tears slid faster down her cheeks. “Please. I need them to pay for my way home. They will be stolen if I leave them behind.”
Wolf grabbed the cell phone from the nightstand on the side of the bed that Kuznetsov had been sleeping on, then leaned across the bed to grab the phone off the woman’s side of the bed.
“Lady, stop the damn crying. You can grab your things after we leave,” he growled as he slipped the phones beneath the webbing of his equipment belt.
The sobbing stopped like someone had turned off a faucet. He turned to stare at her. Her skin had turned ashen. Horror swam in her eyes.
“You can’t leave me here with them, with Grigory’s guards.” She shuddered, her arms tightening so hard around her dog, Muffy squealed and squirmed. A queasy look settled over her face. “They’re awful…rapists and murderers. They constantly watch me with the most disgusting, lewd expressions. The minute you leave, they’ll be on me like a pack of animals. The only thing that’s kept me safe from them is that they knew Grigory would kill anyone who touched me.” Her voice dropped to a thin whisper. “But once you take Grigory …”
Wolf tilted his head back and glared up at the ceiling.
Fuck…fuck…fuck.
Sometimes the woohanta’s favorite word was the only thing that described the situation. He ground his teeth.
The woman was right. After the Thunderbird took to the sky with Kuznetsov and the guards were discovered and freed, they’d turn on her. Gang rape was a certainty, and something he could not allow. Not when he could prevent it.
Lowering his head, he sighed and scrubbed a weary hand down his face. “Fine. You will come with us…for now. We will drop you off somewhere safe.”
Where that would be, he knew not. Shadow Mountain intel would have to locate a safe place to offload her, one that wouldn’t risk their chances of making it safely home. His gaze fell to her ridiculous shoes.
Those she could not wear outside this house. He did not want to explain how One Bird had healed her broken ankle with only his hands.
Women. They complicated everything.