But as he got on his belly, he saw that the goon next to him — the one who now just had one eye and was now out cold — had a small device clipped to his belt. It wasn’t a gun or a radio, and there was no sign of the Russian Variant who naturally generated null fields. So that meant, just possibly…
“Hey, honey pie, it’s gonna be okay,” Frank called out to Maggie, using the pet name he knew would annoy her the most. “It’ll be over in an instant. Like flipping a switch. It’s gonna be fine.”
“I’m so scared, Frankie,” Maggie fake-sobbed. “How you gonna make this okay? How?”
“Shut up!” the Russian yelled toward Maggie, then began shouting in Russian. There was no time left.
Frank reached for the device quickly, feeling for a switch. It was a toggle. Whatever. He flipped it and prayed.
The scream behind him was like a Beethoven symphony.
He called for reinforcements on the radio, Suleimenov said in his head. Your friend has him, though.
Frank turned to see the Russian sink to his knees, his eyes wide, his scream having turned into a kind of soft gurgling sound. A wet stain spread from between his legs and down his pants, and he grew so pale, Frank could see the stressed-out veins under the man’s skin. He clutched aimlessly at his chest as he stared up at his tormentor.
Maggie Dubinsky was not pulling punches. At all.
Frank scrambled to his feet, pocketing the null generator, just as the man fell over unconscious. “Is he alive?”
Maggie shrugged, then took his gun from him — and shot him in the head.
“Nope.”
“Jesus Christ, Mags!” Frank said, looking around to see if there were witnesses. Thankfully, the locals had likely dutifully scurried away at the first sign of trouble, and the weapon had a silencer on it. “He was out of the game!”
She turned and shot the other three Russians who weren’t on fire, then, after pausing a moment, shot the two guys still burning as well. “Now they’re out of the game. Give me the generator,” she said, steel in her voice.
Before he could respond, Frank’s mind was besieged. Memories, names, skills, knowledge — the sum total of the dead men on the ground — flowed into him, a tsunami of information. He sank to his knees, his hands reflexively going to the sides of his head as he screwed his eyes shut to concentrate. Boris Mikhailovich. Ivan Vladimirovich. Vasily Vasiliovich. Grigory Karlinovich. Andrei Borissovich. Josef Antoninovich. Their names came at Frank as if they were being shouted in his face. Images of wives, mothers, fathers, children. Memories of youth. Hopes for old age. Joys of life. Sorrows and indignities.
And information. The orders transmitted by some midlevel flunky to capture the “dangerous Americans” on behalf of the Deputy Premier. The null generators, given to them without explanation. The offices and safe houses in Moscow run by the MGB. Command and control. Contingency plans.
Frank grabbed as much as he could of the latter, which felt like grabbing at schools of fish in a rapid stream with his bare hands. In all his years, he’d never had so many die at once around him. It buffeted his mind, sent his senses reeling.
And then it passed. All was silent.
He opened his eyes to see Maggie standing above him, for once looking concerned and altogether humane. She still held the silenced gun. “Frank?”
“Get rid of that gun,” Frank whispered as he slowly staggered to his feet. “Can’t be seen.”
“Give me the device,” Maggie said, challenge returning to her voice and face.
“No. We’re taking it in for analysis. Didn’t know they had their own generators, need to know if they got it from us. Drop the gun. We’re leaving.”
Maggie looked as though she was going to argue, but Frank focused his own emotions into an angry “do not fuck with me” thought, and a moment later, the gun hit the gravel.
“You get anything?” Maggie asked.
I already called for backup. They will be coming in from the north. You must head east, said Boris Mikhailovich Kirov, the officer in charge of the men sent to capture them. His voice echoed in Frank’s head and, for a moment, he wondered if Boris would mislead him. That never happened before, in all the years of absorbing memories and knowledge, but Frank couldn’t help but wonder. He then shook his head to clear it. That wouldn’t happen.
“Some MGB stuff. Nothing big. Come on. This way.”
The two quickly ran into the topiary gardens and, a few minutes later, came out onto Upensky Street, where they quickly hailed a cab and headed for Red Square. From there, they’d take two more cabs before finally heading back to the Embassy.
“Jesus, Maggie,” Frank breathed once they were safely in the cab. “You gotta get a handle on it.”
She turned to him, confused. “I’m fine, honey,” she said, then gave him a saccharine smile.
She’s really not, Dr. Mills said in Frank’s head. Her sociopathy is reaching dangerous levels.
“Yep,” he replied aloud. To both of them.
FIELD REPORT
AGENCY: Central Intelligence Agency
PROJECT: MAJESTIC-12
CLASSIFICATION: TOP SECRET-MAJIC EYES-ONLY
TO: POTUS, DCI DULLES, GEN VANDENBERG USAF
FROM: CMDR WALLACE USN, MAJ LODGE USA, AGENT
DUBINSKY, AGENT SORENSEN
DATE: 12 MAR 1953
The assault on MAJ Lodge and Agent Dubinsky was a successful diversion from the activities of Subject-1 and Agent Sorensen. As planned, their visible presence during Stalin’s funeral and subsequent events focused USSR Deputy Premier Beria’s attention on them, and away from other matters.
Agent Sorensen was able to penetrate elaborate security inside the Kremlin and obtain several dozen photographs of sensitive documents pertaining to MGB activities both within the USSR and throughout the world. The information in those documents should be disseminated-under appropriate cover and with care to not reveal source documentation-to the relevant military and civilian intelligence agencies in the US and among allied governments. (See report under separate US Naval Intelligence cover this date from CMDR Wallace.) However, Agent Sorensen was unable to find any documentation regarding Soviet Variant activities or organization. It is assumed Beria keeps the Soviet Variant program well compartmentalized, and possible that among the current Soviet leadership, he alone knows of its existence.
Subject-1 was able to identify ten Variants within the greater Moscow area. Among these are the following known Soviet Variants:
- Lavrentiy Beria, who has the ability to create flames and project them from his hands;
- Maria Savrova, who can mentally track an individual to their exact location anywhere in the world after touching them;
- Mikhail Tsakhia, a Mongolian-Russian man who can generate fields of null-Enhancement organically; our devices were mirrored after his ability;
- Boris Illyanov, who retains his ability to move at extreme speeds despite his age;
- Unknown name, an individual who can project a semi-solid shadow figure of himself anywhere in the world.
There were five others identified by Subject-1, all of whom were successfully tracked down and photographed-three women and two men. Two of the men and one woman wore MGB and/or Red Army uniforms, while the other two were seen in the kind of high-end civilian dress reserved for Communist Party functionaries-suit and tie, nice dress, greatcoats, etc. Likewise, none of the new targets identified as Variants displayed any Enhancements while under observation. While this has kept us from better identifying their potential threat, it is also continued assurance that the Variants under Beria continue to keep their presence a secret from the larger Soviet population.