Chapter 28
Bennet Estate
Hamilton County, New York
Alexei Ivanov had never felt quite so on edge as he did back when he’d arrived at the barn, half expecting at any given moment to hear approaching vehicles or worse yet, police sirens announcing an active search for Jack Stapleton.
His level of anxiety had been such that he wondered how he was going to get through the next few hours, much less the next few days.
It was as if he were on a precipice, and General Viktor Mikhailov was deliberating nudging him closer and closer to the edge.
As if in response to his angst, Alexei had never worked quite so intensely and with such concentration as he had while doing the third premature determination of the theta prion concentration.
From the moment he’d donned the protective gear, he’d thought of nothing other than what he was doing as a way of calming his otherwise frazzled nerves.
Thanks to his intense concentration he was almost done.
Using a calibrated pipette to add the calculated amount of colorimetric analyzer, Alexei swirled the graduated vial for several minutes to make certain it had mixed evenly.
He then compared the color achieved with the accompanying chart.
Once again he was impressed that there was any theta prion detectable at all, and interestingly enough, the detected concentration was again slightly higher than the previous one, confirming that this current batch of Saccharomyces cerevisiae yeast was definitely a wonderfully robust strain.
But Alexei didn’t write this result down in the logbook.
Instead, he arbitrarily doubled it to make the level harvestable, even if on the low side.
His plan now was to bring the logbook itself up to the house and show it to Viktor as proof he could immediately do a rapid harvest, and then he and Dmitry could drive it into town and dump it into the municipal water supply.
His hope was for the four of them to get the hell out of Essex Falls and be on their way north to the border late that night or early in the morning the latest.
As Alexei removed his protective gear, all his earlier anxieties, which had been temporarily masked by his work intensity, came back in a rush.
With his pulse and blood pressure rising all over again, all he could think about was getting back up to the house and getting the meeting with Viktor behind him.
He certainly wasn’t looking forward to it, which was the understatement of the year, especially since Viktor and his volatile reputation so intimidated him.
And on top of everything else, Alexei had a new concern.
He’d never in his career falsified data before and considered it a major violation of principle, and he worried he might do or say something stupid and thereby give himself away.
He hated the idea of having to lie about his work, but at the same time, he thought he had no choice.
Leaving the barn and pulling the door closed behind himself but without bothering to reengage the padlock since he hoped to be returning forthwith to do the supposed harvest, he started power walking up toward the house clutching the logbook to his chest. The sooner he got the meeting with Viktor over with, the better off he’d be.
But with the very first steps the Glock in his pocket thumped heavily against his thigh, reminding him of the damn forensic pathologist, Jack Stapleton.
Coming to a sudden stop, Alexei briefly glanced over at the front of the icehouse while the question flashed through his mind whether or not he should take the time to detour and shoot the goddamned man to at least take care of one loose end.
But he immediately nixed the idea as he acknowledged that what he really wanted to do was not just kill the meddling freak but get rid of him completely, meaning having him join Ethan and JD.
But he quickly recognized getting that done would take too long, and he couldn’t do it by himself.
Just getting the body from the icehouse to the dock on his own would be nearly impossible.
Alexei recommenced his power walking. Turning his attention back to the main house and the tense issue at hand, he found himself now worrying that his growing nervousness alone might give himself away and cause Viktor to question the results.
This new concern brought Alexei to a second stop.
Recalling Viktor’s capricious and violent reputation, there was little doubt in Alexei’s mind that falsifying data on a major governmental sanctioned operation could very well cost him his life.
For a few moments Alexei stood halfway from the barn to the house debating if he should change his mind about fudging the concentration results.
He truly had no idea what would happen if Viktor suddenly did suspect what he was doing.
Unfortunately, knowing the man from having spent more than a month living with him, Alexei had to at least consider the worst-case scenario, which was alarming.
And yet, thinking about the risk Viktor was already forcing them to take on by delaying their departure spurred him forward.
Alexei had little choice. The threat of their capture by the American authorities was just too damn high and getting higher with each passing minute and thereby trumped other concerns.
Besides, there had never been any question of the validity of his work.
Taking a fortifying deep breath, Alexei went back to his power walking.
Within minutes he reached the base of the stairs leading up to the porch, and he proceeded up without further hesitation.
He entered the house and headed directly into the vast kitchen where he was confident everyone would undoubtedly be.
It was after 8:00 p.m., and they had yet to have their evening meal.
As he expected, he was correct. Viktor, Nikolai, and Dmitry were in the kitchen, but the scene wasn’t quite as he anticipated.
All the lights were on over the expansive granite-topped island, even though the sun was still streaming in through the western-facing windows.
More surprising, all three were sitting stiffly in a row on the opposite side of the kitchen island as if they had been in the middle of a serious conversation but had been interrupted by Alexei’s arrival.
Instead of interacting in any way, they were all silently staring at Alexei across the granite expanse as he approached the opposite side.
Alexei avoided their silent stares as he rotated one of the barstools and took a seat.
Only after placing the logbook onto the granite top did he look up at the three.
Their neutral expressions hadn’t changed nor had their postures, which in and of itself made Alexei feel uneasy.
A few papers were strewn about in front of them, which Alexei assumed were copies of the texts Viktor had mentioned he would be sending to the GRU and FSB concerning their upcoming departure.
Why they were in such disarray, he had no idea.
But what really caught his attention, and which was far more unsettling, was that on top of the loose papers was one of the many handguns they had in the house, and they had a fair number thanks to the Diehard Patriots requests for professional evaluations.
It was a large, cumbersome .44 Magnum revolver with a long barrel and with bullets visible in its cylinder even from across the island.
The gun’s position was more or less in front of both Viktor and Nikolai.
Behind them an AR-15, only partially visible from Alexei’s position, leaned against the kitchen wall.
The rifle didn’t bother Alexei in the slightest as it was probably the one that Dmitry had grabbed from the storeroom when they dashed out of the house to intercept Jack Stapleton.
The presence of the pistol caused Alexei a stab of fear as it pointedly reminded him of Viktor’s reputation.
And why was it there in plain sight? Had the three been examining it and debating its pluses and minuses, which had happened on occasion in the past?
All the firearms were normally kept in the storeroom, either on the open shelves or in one of the many closets.
Only half aware he was doing it, Alexei adjusted his pants so that his pocket was more accessible, rationalizing to himself that he didn’t want to be sitting partially on the Glock, as it was uncomfortable.
“Were you able to measure the theta prion concentration?” Viktor asked in kind of a curious monotone, breaking the heavy silence. In Alexei’s sensitive state, it seemed more of a statement than a question and added to his continued puzzlement and discomfort.
“Yes, sir!” Alexei said sharply, trying to sound definitive, even martial.
“Well, Corporal,” Viktor said in the same monotone. “What did you find?”
“I found, sir, finally some good news,” he said, making the sudden decision despite his nearly overpowering nervousness to go ahead with his “fudging” plan.
He readjusted himself again on his barstool and even managed a nervous smile.
“Let me say this: We have been lucky. It seems that the particular Saccharomyces cerevisiae strains, which happened to incorporate the excellent vectors that you and Nikolai formulated Monday morning, are wonderfully robust. They have been reproducing like rabbits and working overtime with their protein production. Check this concentration, sir!”
With that positive introduction, Alexei slid the logbook almost like a hockey puck across the granite expanse directly to Viktor. It stopped within arm’s reach, and Viktor pulled it toward himself and flipped it open. He looked at the figures a moment before shoving it in front of Nikolai.