“Who’s General Rurik?” Colonel Mishenka asked. “And what does he have to do with this generator?”
“Rurik is the head of SD8,” General Bolodenka said. “That is the department that was in charge of the generator.”
“ ‘Was’?” Mishenka asked. “What does SD8 do now?”
“It runs the successor to the phased-displacement generator program,” Bolodenka said.
“Which is?” Mishenka pressed.
“That, Colonel”— General Bolodenka’s voice had turned chilly— “is none of your concern.”
“I disagree, General,” Mishenka said. “I do not think this kidnapping can be a coincidence. All of this information is most definitely connected. Anything you withhold from me will hinder any action I take.”
“Let us deal with one problem at a time,” Bolodenka said.
“What do you want me here for, then?” Mishenka asked.
“When we find the generator, your men will go in and secure it,” Bolodenka said. “You will also neutralize all those involved with extreme vigor.”
‘Just say ‘kill,’ ” Mishenka said. “It does not bother me to deal in the truth.”
“Kill, then,” Bolodenka said.
“And how do you propose to find the generator?” Mishenka asked.
“That is not your concern.” Bolodenka smiled, revealing expensive capped teeth. “But rest assured we will.”
“I need to know what is going on,” Mishenka said. “Or I will not accept this assignment.”
Bolodenka stood. “Alert your men, Colonel Mishenka. Be ready to move at a moment’s notice.” The general walked toward the door and paused. “Contact my scientific adviser. He will update you on SD8’s current status.” Bolodenka went out of the room, the others following.
Mishenka pulled a cell phone out of his breast pocket.
“Can you get that phone’s number?” Dalton asked Jackson.
“Yes.”
“Do it,” Dalton ordered.
She coalesced into the glowing ball and slid over Mishenka’s hand. In a moment she was back at Dalton’s side.
“Let’s go, ” Jackson said.
Dalton followed her out of the room, into the featureless virtual plane. They paused as they both considered what they had learned.
“You really believe the Russians destroyed one of our subs in 1963 with this thing?” Dalton asked.
“It’s long been an unsubstantiated rumor that the Thresher, an attack submarine, was destroyed by some sort of psychic force,” Jackson said.
Dalton was concerned with something else. “Do you think this Chyort is the successor to the generator?”
“Yes, ” Jackson said.
“So the Chyort is an avatar, just like us?”
“Like us,” Jackson acknowledged, “but more powerful. They’ve done something different than Psychic Warrior.”
“What the hell is going on?” Dalton wondered. “This doesn’t make much sense. If all this is true, and you met the Chyort in the railyard, then the GRU should know that the Mafia plans to take down the nuke train. But those guys in there acted like they didn’t have a clue.”
“Maybe the information is compartmentalized?” Jackson suggested.
“That was the head of the GRU in there. If he doesn ’t know, who does? Hell, Chyort, whoever the hell he is, should be stopping all this.”
“Let’s get home,” Jackson said. “I’m tired and this doesn’t change anything. In fact, it makes it all the more critical that we stop the nuke hijacking, now that we know that the Mafia will have a means of projecting those warheads anywhere on the globe.”
“One billion dollars. U.S. currency, of course.” Oma lit a foul-smelling Russian cigarette and watched the two men across the expanse of her desk. There was no external response on their part to her quoted price or the odor she blew across the desk.
“I will be most reasonable about payment,” Oma said. “One hundred million due in the next twenty-four hours to insure targeting. The balance to be paid on completion of the task.”
“For one nuclear bomb?” the head of the delegation asked.
“For one nuclear bomb placed anywhere you want it on the face of the planet and detonated there, Mr. Abd al-Bari,” Oma clarified. “You want the bomb inside of Israel’s secret nuclear weapon storage facility in the Negev Desert? I will put it there and detonate it.” Oma’s steel teeth shone as she smiled. “The world will think it an accident. The Israelis will have to go public and admit what they have so fervently denied for so long. Their nuclear arsenal will be destroyed. The military forces based nearby will also be destroyed. A rather spectacular coup, and there is no way they can trace it to you.”
“No one can get inside Negev,” the younger of the two men protested, before he was shushed by Abd al-Bari.
“I can put the weapon anywhere you want and detonate it,” Oma repeated. “That is why the price is set as it is.”
“Still rather high for one weapon,” Abd al-Bari said.
“How much do you spend on your military each year?” Oma didn’t wait for an answer. “Buy a few less fighter jets and you won’t even tweak your budget.”
“The money is not the critical factor,” Abd al-Bari said. “I want to know how you can do this.”
“That is not part of the deal,” Oma said.
Abd al-Bari laughed. “Then there is no deal.” He stood. “I have listened to many fools make many outrageous promises over the years. I do not need to waste any more time.”
Oma spread her hands out on her desktop. “You fail to understand the true nature of what we are discussing. I am trying to be courteous. To give you something for your money.”
“I do not need to listen to your blustering.” Abd al-Bari turned for the door.
“I understand you enjoy gambling,” Oma said.
Abd al-Bari paused.
“According to my sources, you play the cards,” Oma continued. “That means you understand the difference between a bluff and someone holding a strong hand.”
“I am very good at everything I do,” al-Bari said.
“If you have the imagination, I would suggest you turn this all around and picture my deal for one billion dollars per bomb as a winning hand.” Oma smiled once more. “I do not wish to offend you, but please, understand that I can put those nuclear bombs anywhere, including the center of your largest oil field. There are some who would pay the money I am asking for that to happen. Of course, I have not contacted them yet. If I am bluffing, then no harm done if you walk out that door. But if I truly hold the cards I am telling you I hold— ”
Abd al-Bari’s skin flushed a shade darker. “Do not threaten me.”
“I am trying to be reasonable,” Oma said. “I would like to continue to be reasonable. But I thought it best that all the possibilities be put on the table, so to speak, so that we have complete understanding.”
Abd al-Bari said, “And if you fail? If you do not do what you say you can after I have paid you the money you ask for down payment?”
Oma spread her hands wide, taking in her office and the building. “Then you know where to find me and you can play your winning hand. I understand you have those in your organization who are most willing to die for your cause. I have no doubt that if you wanted me dead, one of those people would find a way to accomplish that.”