“Gosha, you’re up. I’ve deactivated all security through Building Five. Press the green button on the access panels to open doors. Do not enter Building Five until Yuri is in position. The security guards in Building Six will be able to see you as soon as you enter.”
“Got it,” Gosha said, motioning to the scientist with his hand. “Time to earn your family’s release, Dr. Belyakov.”
“What are you looking for in Building Six?” Belyakov asked.
“Don’t worry about that yet. Just keep your mind focused on what will happen to your family if you fuck this up. Get moving.”
Gosha followed the scientist across the lobby, pausing to hand his PP2000 to Misha. The security uniform provided no possible way to conceal the compact submachine gun, and main station guards were not issued weapons. Only the Building Six station guards, roving patrols and Quick Reaction force carried weapons.
A few minutes later, Gosha paused in Building Three. “Hold up,” he said.
The scientist stopped and slowly turned around, exposing beads of sweat that had formed on his ghostly pale face. The guy looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“All right. Here’s how this will work. Another team is waiting for us in a room next to the access panel leading into the Building Six tunnel. The door to that room will be open. As we approach the transparent security door, you focus on the access panel and only the access panel. Do not look at the men in the open door. Understood?”
“Yes,” Belyakov replied.
“One of the men will slide a weapon in front of me on the floor. I will kick this into the vestibule with us. If I kick this into the back of your feet, you do not look down.”
“Won’t the guards see it?” Belyakov asked.
“No. The cameras cannot pan down to the floor, and the door’s frame is thick enough along the floor to block their view. Are we good?”
“Yes. You’re going to kill them like the others,” he stated.
“That’s right,” Gosha said.
“You’re going to kill me too,” Belyakov said.
“I’ll kill you if you don’t follow my directions. When we approach the access panel, you will use your card,” he said, handing Belyakov the security card, which was attached to a lanyard.
“They only allow one person through at a time. No exceptions. This won’t work,” Belyakov protested. “They won’t open the door with you in the vestibule.”
“Then you and I will have to convince them to make an exception. Stick to the script.”
Gennady Lyzlov sat up at his station and examined the rightmost computer monitor closely. One of the camera feeds showed two people walking briskly through Building Five’s main hallway. He used a computer mouse to take control of the camera and magnified the image, recognizing the scientist immediately. Dr. Arkady Belyakov. The scientist was no stranger to late-night laboratory work, but he usually arrived with one of his colleagues or lab assistants in tow, not a security guard.
“What do you think of this?” he said to his partner, who had already taken notice.
The second guard, sitting in a chair to the right of Lyzlov, leaned forward to check the computer screen.
“Zoom in on the guard,” he said.
The image shifted slightly, panning across the guard’s face.
“He’s definitely not one of the two guards at the main station,” the guard said.
“Let’s see what they want. Keep your hand near the alarm,” Lyzlov said, pointing to a gray button the size of a teacup saucer located to the far right side of the desk.
Gosha kept three feet between himself and Belyakov as they approached the vestibule. He wanted to give Yuri adequate room to slide the unsuppressed PP2000 along the floor between them. The trick would be to kick the weapon hard enough to get it over the vestibule lip. Too hard and he might flip it, which could momentarily expose the black metal submachine gun to the guard station thirty meters beyond the final door. Too soft and it might not make it over, requiring him to shuffle his feet to push it the rest of the way. Either of these scenarios might draw unwanted attention. Eliminating the guards without raising the alarm would require a near perfect confluence of events, which couldn’t be forced.
He watched the scientist pass the open doorway on this right, thankful that he didn’t panic. As Belyakov opened the vestibule door, Gosha approached the same point in the hallway, sensing movement in his peripheral vision and resisting the same temptation to look. He heard the metallic clatter of the PP2000 slide across the floor directly in his path. Without looking down, he brought his right foot forward in what appeared to be a normal step and connected with the weapon, sending it forward. The PP2000 slid toward the angled lip, slowing down as it rose slightly. It stopped at the top of the lip, perfectly exposed to the guard station, before it dropped into the vestibule. Gosha’s earpiece crackled.
“Take the guard on the left first. His hand is closest to the panic button. Guard on the right is armed with the same weapon at your feet, carried in a sling set across his right back. If you can’t convince them to open the door, I’ll open it for you, but you’ll lose any element of surprise.”
He nodded slightly. Element of surprise was a stretch of the word in this case, but he understood what Misha meant. Just the simple act of opening the door would occupy one of the seated guard’s hands for a fraction of a second. He would need that time to pull this off. If their assessment of Vektor’s security was completely accurate, the guards assigned to this station were rotated from the Quick Reaction team.
Before Belyakov could raise his security card to the reader, a voice echoed through the vestibule.
“Good evening, Dr. Belyakov. Sorry to bother you, but I need the security guard to step out of the vestibule.”
“Much to my dismay, this gentleman is required to stay in my presence until further notice. We have a situation worse than Monchegorsk, and the director insists that I be guarded at all times. He escorted me from my home,” Belyakov started.
Very nice. Right on script. The guard on the right stood up to face them.
“I’m just following orders. Mr. Ivkin was explicit in his directions,” Gosha said, invoking the name of Vektor’s security director.
“I spoke with Dr. Rodin and Zaslovsky on the way over, and they have escorts as well. They’re a few minutes behind us,” Belyakov said. “I’m surprised you haven’t been notified. This is a bit annoying.”
“I’ll have to verify this with QRS,” said the guard on the right.
“Hold on, officer,” Belyakov said, turning to Gosha. “Can’t you leave me here? This is a reinforced concrete tunnel, and unlike you, these guards are armed. I think a handoff at this point wouldn’t violate Mr. Ivkin’s instructions.”
“I don’t know,” Gosha said, “he was really clear about this. I don’t want to lose my job.”
“What could possibly happen? You can’t follow me around the building. You’re not cleared beyond this point. They’ll buzz the door, and you can watch me safely enter the tunnel. I’ll personally call Mr. Ivkin and notify him that you did your job well and that I arrived safely at the lab.”
“I suppose that would be all right,” Gosha said, putting on a conflicted face.
Belyakov swiped his card across the reader, turning the door handle LED indicator green. He turned to the guards next and pleaded with them. “Officers, please open the door, and I’ll call Mr. Ivkin. He shouldn’t put you in a position like this. We have a major disaster on our hands, and we don’t have time for this kind of miscommunication. Your station should have been notified immediately. It’s not this guy’s fault.”