“The house ahead is the security station. It’s home to roughly a dozen security specialists, all former special operations personnel. It houses the state-of-the-art equipment used to keep track of the compound’s ‘guests.’ Every aspect of the guests’ lives is monitored and analyzed, from heartbeats to toilet flushes. Dozens of active and passive measures are taken to ensure each guest’s compliance with the rules.
“The guests stay in residences situated beyond the thick tree line that surrounds the clearing. Each residence is bugged and monitored by several cameras mounted in nearby trees. Motion detectors track movement inside and outside of each structure, guiding the sophisticated array of night vision and thermal imaging equipped cameras assigned to each guest. Patterns are recorded, analyzed and anticipated. Anything out of the ordinary is immediately investigated by a mobile security team. Normally, you’d see a few ATVs around here. They must be busy.”
“What the fuck is that place? A goddamn resort lodge?” Petrovich asked, pointing at the post-and-beam structure.
“The lodge holds the facility’s gourmet kitchen, common dining area, recreation room, indoor pool and exercise facilities…trust me, I think it’s a fucking crock of shit, but the promise of a life here has motivated some of our most hardened enemies to cooperate. The small white building houses the compound’s backup generator, water distribution system and main electricity breaker. The garages hold ATVs for patrolling the grounds, plowing snow and transporting guests.”
“I lost three good men capturing that motherfucker, and now he’s eating crème brule after dinner?”
“And after lunch if so desired,” Berg said.
“I’m not finding any of this to be amusing. You have to be kidding me?” Daniel said, stopping Berg before their welcoming committee arrived. “He gets to live out the rest of his life here? Seriously?”
“That’s the general concept, but in the case of Anatoly Reznikov, I might throw him an early retirement party. Those lives weren’t wasted.”
Berg cast him a deadly serious look that Petrovich recognized immediately. For the moment, he was satisfied that Reznikov wouldn’t get to live out his golden years snacking on fresh cheese and drinking Green Mountain coffee. He risked one more glance at the lodge’s porch and saw someone take a seat in one of the Adirondack chairs with a cup and saucer.
“They can roam the place freely?”
The man joining them from the house answered his question. “Guests are allowed free run of the compound, as long as they don’t bother another guest or interfere with the staff. Or try to escape. Violations result in a remotely activated lockdown. Gary Sheffield,” he said, shaking hands with Petrovich first.
“Daniel Petrovich,” he responded, stuck in Sheffield’s iron grip.
Unlike his Members Only jacket adorned security staff, Sheffield looked like he had embraced the Vermont mountain life. The bottoms of his worn quilted flannel shirt flapped in the breeze, lapping gently against his reinforced khaki pants. A pair of rugged dark brown hiking boots stood firmly planted in the ground in front of them. His face betrayed a four to five day growth of graying hair, which had the potential to sprout into a proper beard if left unchecked, but like Petrovich, the man couldn’t completely abandon the ritual of shaving. Give Sheffield another year or two out here, and he’d look like Grizzly Adams. He wondered how a CIA officer pulled duty out here…if the guy was even CIA.
“Welcome back, Karl. Looks like Mr. Reznikov is keeping you busy,” Sheffield said.
“It’s a refreshing break from the pollution.”
“I didn’t think D.C. was that bad,” Sheffield remarked.
“I wasn’t talking about the air,” Berg replied.
“Neither was I,” Sheffield said, smirking, and the two men shook hands.
“Gary and I served together in Eastern Europe back in the day,” Berg said to Daniel. “He headed up one of our most successful Special Operations groups behind the Iron Curtain. How he ended up with a cushy assignment like this is unfathomable.”
“Beyond the cameras and motion detectors, what keeps the prisoners from walking to the nearest town?” Petrovich asked.
Sheffield put a hand on his hip and pointed at the forest with the other, sweeping his hand in a grand gesture at the tree line. “The final immediate security precaution consists of a reinforced, twelve-foot-tall razor-wire fence that encircles the entire compound. The fence is located three hundred meters beyond the edge of the clearing, and the entire fence line is monitored by cameras and motion detectors. If one of the compound’s guests or an outside party decided to scale the fence, security personnel could deliver a substantial electrical charge to that specific section of fence. Beyond the fence, the last deterrent to an escape is isolation. Anyone finding themselves on the other side of that fence would face a fifty-mile trek through unforgiving wilderness to reach the first signs of civilization.”
“Has anyone tried to go over the fence?” Daniel said.
“Fuck no. The average guest puts on thirty to forty pounds within the first three months here…and most of them arrive already showing the signs of an excessive lifestyle. The gourmet food serves a purpose. Most of them would have a heart attack getting to the fence. Speaking of heart conditions, Mr. Reznikov’s health is improving.”
“That’s a shame,” Berg said.
“Good food. Fresh air. Works wonders. I’ll notify him that you’ve arrived. Should I announce Mr. Petrovich?”
“No. I’d like to surprise him. Maybe set his health back a few notches. The two of them have met before,” Berg said.
“Very well. I’ll send his usual breakfast over. Can I get the two of you anything?”
“Lobster Benedict with homefries?”
“How do you like the egg yolks?” Sheffield asked.
“Wow, I was just kidding,” Petrovich said. “Cooked through.”
“Karl?”
“I’ll have the same, but runny.”
“Give it about thirty minutes. Here’s the code to cut the audio feeds. Input at the door touch pad,” Sheffield said, removing a notecard from his trouser pocket.
“Thanks, Gary. See you on the way out,” Berg said.
Sheffield nodded at his security officers, who followed him into the security station as Berg and Petrovich walked down the raked gravel path toward Reznikov’s residence. They arrived at the cozy Cape Cod-style cottage a few minutes later after a short walk through the forest. Without stopping to examine any of the trees, Daniel failed to detect any of the surveillance equipment installed to keep Reznikov from wandering off the reservation. Either the gear had been expertly hidden or the whole system was a carefully crafted lie to keep the inmates guessing. Either method could be equally effective. He maneuvered himself behind Berg as they approached the cottage.
Petrovich saw one of the curtains flutter as they walked onto the small covered porch. Less than a second later, the door flashed open, and Reznikov bellowed in a deep Russian voice, welcoming Karl Berg. When Daniel stepped onto the porch, clearing Berg’s shadow, the pallid Russian’s face lost any last vestiges of color. He imagined that Sheffield and his crew were getting their monthly dose of entertainment watching Reznikov’s vital signs spike.
“Good morning, Dr. Reznikov,” Petrovich said in his cheeriest voice.
“What is he doing here?” Reznikov asked, looking betrayed.
“Emotional support…and to reinforce the fact that you are not out of the woods by a long shot. Stand back from the door,” Berg ordered.
Reznikov retreated into the house, and Petrovich followed him, glancing around at the modestly appointed residence. Comfortable, inexpensive furniture adorned the family room to the right, reminding him of the mountain cottage he had rented for a week with Jessica in New Hampshire. He heard Berg type his code into the keypad on the porch, which piqued Reznikov’s interest.