Kill Them Wherever You Find Them (4 page)

"Very good, we will be there in three hours
with your money in American dollars, as agreed."

A little more than three hours, and two
nervously smoked cigarettes later, Sasha had the containers filled,
then secured in the locker of a past employee. He had disabled the
security cameras and cryogenic room alarm earlier. This would raise
concerns at Central, but nothing could be directly linked to him.
He would have to be careful to not flaunt his newly found monetary
windfall.

He would insist on counting the cash before
handing the canisters over. One would be wise to not take any
chances with so much money involved. Additionally, these two were
obviously not men to be trusted.

"Sasha, you are looking well! You have our
samples ready for us, da?"

"I do, but I am sure you will understand that
I want to count money before completing our transaction. Your
samples are safe, stored nearby."

"Of course, of course we understand. You are
important business man after all! Your money is in briefcase.
Please take your time my friend, no hurries here."

Flipping through the bundled stacks of bills,
holding several up to the flickering fluorescent lighting, Sasha
was satisfied that the money was genuine. Most likely the full
amount was in the briefcase based on the weight and number of
bundled one hundred dollar bills. It would take far too long to
count the money properly and he did not want these two lingering in
his office any longer than absolutely necessary.

He realized that he would have to come up
with a plausible story before he told his wife about all of this
American currency in his possession. Given this much cash it would
be doubtful that any story, other than the truth, would be even
close to believable. Hopefully she would have the grace to just
accept their good fortune without probing the source too closely.
She was, after all, the person who had suggested he relax his moral
values a little and accept whatever opportunities for financial
gain that might come their way.

"Everything appears to be in proper order.
I'll just get your canisters now." He was delighted that his
children would not go to bed hungry as he searched for gainful
employment, even if it took a few years. Accompanied by the scarier
of the two men, with a light heart he went to the locker, quickly
spun the dial to the correct number code for the combination lock,
and removed the canisters.

"Be extremely careful with these. They are
hermetically sealed and pose no threat to you as long as you take
proper precautions. Dropping them will not break seal, but that's
manufacturer guarantee that you wouldn't want to test. You now have
just under one hour to get them into your cryogenic storage
unit."

"Spaceeba, it was pleasure doing business
with you."

As with their first visit to his office he
again noticed that the slender man with cold, steel gray eyes
seemed to irresistibly hold one's gaze as he spoke, his voice
deceptively calming and peaceful. Sasha felt very much like a mouse
being lulled into the hypnotic, false security of a cobra ready to
strike its prey. Without doubt this was merely his nerves getting
the better of him. It was after all his partner, not this man, who
posed any significant threat.

"You as well." Replied Sasha. "Look, we have
two more days before everything has been transferred. Perhaps there
might be additional
samples
that would be of interest to
you?" Not a greedy man, Sasha did, however; understand full well
that the foreseeable future might be lean for his family. He
realized that if he were to add more money to this small treasure
of cash, now would be the time to act. Having already made a deal
with the devil there was nothing more to lose, self-respect already
evaporated.

"Thank you for your kind offer, but we now
have everything we need. It's time for us to take our leave."

He felt some relief that their business
transaction had been completed to everyone's mutual satisfaction
and that they were soon to be gone. More money would have been
nice, to be sure, but having these two out of his life was
undoubtedly for the best. It would not be a good idea, he knew, to
get in too deep with this shady sort - especially the
Enforcer
, who looked like he could have snapped Sasha's neck
with just two fingers.

"Allow me to extend our warm wishes to you,
and Ekaterina, what with your new baby soon to arrive. Little boy,
if I remember correctly. Name you discussed yesterday, Pyetrov, is
fine name for man. This much money should help to smooth your
financial path for long while."

The fact that they knew his wife's name
caught him by surprise, and that they were expecting a child. Not
only that but that they were aware of the quiet discussion they had
after dinner when they finally agreed on a name for their son. Then
he was surprised that he should have been at all surprised by any
of this. They knew so much about this laboratory, the employees and
the cryogenic frozen strains of death contained therein, it went
without saying that they would know about his family too. That they
would have electronically listened-in on his private conversations
while at home made perfect sense.

They certainly would have researched the
lives, backgrounds, and financial situation of each of the seven
remaining lab employees to ascertain their various options. They
would have speedily reached the conclusion that they could only
gain samples from him, the only person remaining to have easy
access to the cryogenic storage chamber.

He briefly shivered, hoping that they didn't
notice of the fear creeping into his countenance.

Sasha's initial surprise and realizations
were substituted with a mind-shattering shock when the slender,
soft-spoken of the two men, deftly pulled out a Glock aiming it
directly at his head.

A romantic sort, Sasha had long hoped that
his last thought in this life, and first thought in the next, would
be of Katia. She always believed in him, gave him encouragement
without pushing or nagging too terribly much, and was a good mother
to their children. Instead of thinking of his wife and what would
become of his family without him, he simply wondered, "How did I
not see this coming and prepare for it?"

~ ~ ~

"Go retrieve explosives from car." The
diminutive of the two seemed to almost gently instruct his partner
who stood grinning at the lifeless body near his feet; a single
bullet hole still expelling a small trickle of blood from the
center of his forehead.

Pointing with his index and middle fingers,
he continued his instructions in a steady tone, "We need to set
charges there, there, and there, with two more inside scrub area.
Incendiary bomb must be at very center of basement. Secure it at
base of load-bearing wall marked on schematics."

Hearing a commotion the guard who Sasha had
earlier relieved for his lunch break left his station to check on
the lab manager, calling out his name as he neared the door to his
office.

No sooner had his face appeared at the small,
rectangular window of the faux wood door leading to the manager's
office, than a bullet issued forth from the Glock. It met its
target, instantly vaporizing the guard's right eye from its socket,
exiting the back of his skull at such an angle and force as to blow
out fully a quarter section from of the back of his skull. The
guard went limp, dropping in a spray of opaque red blood and gore
coating both the window and wall behind him.

"Set timer for fifteen minutes. I want to be
at least three kilometers away before building becomes ball of
fire."

"Done." His partner spoke for the first
time.

"Excellent. Let's get going, we have
important delivery to make. Today, my friend, you and I have
changed our world and those who control it. Most importantly, we
will finally be able to free our country from tight grip of Russia,
returning to our own ancestral language and culture. With this
leverage, we can offer same freedom to all other Russian satellite
countries – for considerable price. Others in group are waiting for
us. Let's get going so they don't have to wait much longer. We need
to get these canisters back into cryogenic storage."

Returning to the parking lot, whose camera
remained disabled along with the rest of the security system, both
were surprised, and annoyed, to see two members of the group of
conspirators waiting for them near their car.

"What are you doing here? It was agreed we
carry out operation alone, avoid undue attention."

"We thought it best to come in case you
should require any backup."

"Obviously we did not. We have to get out of
here, explosives are set for less than fourteen minutes."

"You are right, I apologize. You obviously
didn't require our assistance; you did an excellent job. We think
it best, though, to check the integrity of the canisters before
moving them."

The soft-spoken of the duo was getting angry,
though neither anger nor fear or frustration once manifested in his
voice or on his face throughout the verbal exchange. He never
trusted these two. Originating from somewhere in the Middle East,
they were not
his
fellow countrymen. He felt no love lost
toward any foreigners, especially since the Russians invaded his
country in the time of his grandparents. When they first approached
him through a mutual contact that he trusted with their audacious
plan to weaken Russia, he heard them out. Their money was an added
incentive, money his own group would require for an operation of
this size and complexity to weaken the political resolve of
Mother
Russia as she prepared once more to maneuver a
military show of strength on his country's boarders. Earlier Russia
was conducting military exercises near the boarder of a large part
of the Ukraine that was heavily ethnic Russian, a part of the
country that welcomed Russian rule and citizenship with open
arms.

"There is no time, we have to move
now
."

"Then I suggest you
make
time."

Eager to get out of there before the bombs
leveled the building and blocks surrounding it, he nodded to his
partner to hand over the canisters for inspection. As soon as they
were on the ground, one of the Middle Eastern men removed an
instrument from his overcoat, passing it around and over the tops
and bottoms of each canister. This was, in fact, completely
unnecessary. Had there been a leak all would have been dead
already.

"The seals are holding, the temperature is
steady, there is no sign of contamination on the surfaces or in the
air."

Once safety was confirmed, the foreigners
each took out a silencer-equipped automatic from their overcoats.
Aiming with casual ease they pressed the triggers, permanently
silencing the other two who they played so easily. The canisters
were carefully loaded into padded containers to be whisked away to
an experimental facility, where hundreds awaited agonizing deaths
as human test subjects as the strains were modified, multiplied,
perfected, and then weaponized.

Table of
Contents

3. Her Grandmother's
Legacy

"Time is a dressmaker specializing in
alterations."
– Faith Baldwin

Somewhere in the Negev Desert,
State of Israel

Returning to her home
in Ramat Gan, a
beautiful suburb of Tel Aviv where she lectured at Bar-Illan
University, Rachael was deep in thought – but not so much so as to
not be able to already itemize the things she would need for the
Sabbath meal this evening.

A quick visit to the kosher meat market for a
hearty chicken and vegetable soup, then the bakery for dairy-free
bread would complete the checklist.

"How did Yishai and children fair during my
two week absence?" She wondered. With a mental shrug she pulled
into the first food
to do
parking lot. It had been a while
since she saw her family, so this would be a special meal. Yishai
could burn water, a genetic trait both children appeared to have
inherited. Though, in the case of the children, it was more likely
that they realized that, should they cook one meal well, it may
prove an indictment against them for future preparations. She was
certain that they had been living on frozen pizzas and fast
food.

Arriving at their flat, her children had to
be cajoled into the family room by their father. Video game in the
hands of Shmu’el, mobile phone a permanent fixture in the hands of
his older sister Sarah who if not talking with or about boys, could
be found texting with, or about boys.

"Did you bring us a souvenir?" Their first
line of inquiry, coupled with faces belying anticipation. Souvenir?
Then Rachael remembered that she and her husband Yishai had agreed
to tell the children that she had traveled to Paris for a
conference on String Theory. "String Theory!" The instant retort
from Shmu’el followed. "You mean to tell us Physicists still don’t
know how to tie their shoes!" Mercifully, Yishai saved her from
having to fabricate yet another little white lie by holding her in
his arms, kissing her, then telling the children to carry in the
groceries.

Prayers to begin the Sabbath and the
traditional welcoming of the Sabbath Queen, followed by a delicious
meal, were accomplished with few problems. Not typical for a
household with two teenagers, but mom had been away for a while so
there was a welcome respite from the norm.

"So, can you talk about it?" Yishai started
the pillow talk that night.

"You know I can’t."

"If I guess, will you confirm?"

"In the unlikely event that you guess, I’ll
have you shot. Well, interrogated first, then shot. Execution to be
deferred until after you welcome me back home properly!"