“Now, you gonna tell me what’s going on? Is someone about to bust down the doors after you-all?”
“They’re searching for us, but we don’t believe they’re on our trail,” Zara said.
“What kind of trouble you in? You were always such a good boy, but being that you’re with this Jezebel, I have all sorts of ideations. She always did get you into trouble.”
Faith fought back years of anger. She opened her mouth to speak, but Zara leaned over to her and whispered into her ear.
“Ask her about your father.”
Faith’s confused reaction to Zara’s warm breath distracted her from her ire.
Summer towered over Mama Whitney and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Now you two are going to have to bury the hatchet for a little while. It’s a matter of national security. I know you’ve always been a God-fearing, patriotic American, so you’re going to have to put your differences aside for the time being and give each other the benefit of the doubt for the good of the country.”
“You’re still in those special armed forces?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then it must be something real important if you’re here behind the Iron Curtain.”
“Yes, ma’am, and it hasn’t gone too good, but with the help of these two ladies here and your hospitality-and the good Lord willing-we’re going to get things straightened out. I’m not free to talk about it, so I hope you understand.”
“You all stink to high heaven. There’s an old shower down there. I’m pretty sure there’s a dried-up bar of soap. I’ll send someone down with shampoo, towels and the like. Can I get you anything else?”
“Mind if we help ourselves to some clothes and things laying around here? How about if you check on us in a half an hour after we’ve had a little time to regroup? I’m sure we’d all appreciate something to eat and drink then.”
“I’ll see what I can conjure up. Wish I’d a known you were coming, I would’ve whipped up some biscuits and gravy. They always were your favorite.”
“Nobody makes redeye gravy like you do, Mama Whitney.” Summer’s eyes sparkled in the faint light.
Faith descended the ladder first. In contrast to the chaos of the upper basement, the dank secret room was orderly. Crates stenciled with the words INFANT FORMULA in both English and Russian were stacked along a wall beside a padlocked metal door. The heavy lock was new and shiny in contrast to the rest of the dingy room. Dust, mold and flakes of blue paint hugged the brick walls. A rusty showerhead was connected to overhead pipes and a drain was cut into the floor.
Faith palpated her sore ribs. “What the hell do we do now?”
Summer closed the wooden panel. “This is our war room. Time to plan out our op.”
“Who do you think you are, bringing me here?” Faith said to Zara. “You must know tons of people in Moscow, and one of them has to have an empty garage or something.”
“I don’t know anyone I would trust with something this sensitive-not even my father. I’ve spent most of my life abroad. My contacts are in the KGB and diplomatic corps. And no one will ever expect you to turn to your mother for assistance.”
“Present company included,” Faith said.
“Amen to that, but she’s not that bad and she is your mama.” Summer pulled out a chair, turned it around and sat in it backwards at the table made from two sawhorses and an old wooden door.
“Maybe not that bad with you. You always could charm all of the Whitney women.”
Zara’s facial muscles tightened. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have a lot of work and not much time. First, I want an inventory of our resources, then a review of the target-”
“Hold on,” Summer said. “I think the first thing we need is to agree on our command structure.”
“Very well. I’m in command. As I was saying-”
“Not so fast, comrade. I command special operations all over the world and I blow things up for a living. You’re a spook. You’re used to sneaking around, kidnapping people-and I think you did a pretty crappy job at that.”
“You’re here, aren’t you? And I didn’t plan that one-my staff threw it together on short notice. Don’t forget I’m a lieutenant colonel and you’re a lieutenant commander. I outrank you.”
“Just because the KGB has military ranks doesn’t mean you’ve got equivalent preparation, particularly for this op. I’m a twin-pin-EOD and SEAL.”
“And I was a Girl Scout,” Faith said. “Why don’t we vote on it?”
“No,” Summer and Zara said in unison.
“Glad we’re not fighting for democracy.” Faith laughed, but Zara and Summer scowled.
“Without going into my extensive operations background,” Zara said, “I do concede my work has been of a different nature, and I’ll defer to your expertise for running this op, but only this op.”
“Fair enough. Now, the first thing I want you to do is run this meeting. Carry on.”
Faith rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous. Let’s get on with it.”
“Faith, this is important. It might seem trivial to a civilian, but a clear command structure is vital to the success of any operation.”
“Command structure? Come on, this is a pissing contest. There are three of us. We’re hardly a SEAL or Spetsnaz team.”
“Commander Summer has a point. You’re going to have to trust both of us and go along.”
“Whatever.” Faith threw her arms into the air. “He’s the captain, you’re the platoon leader and I’m the troops. We’re screwed.”
“Let’s review our resources,” Zara said.
“Come on,” Faith said. “We all know what we’ve got and it’s not much-about ten pounds of C-4, the gun Summer took from the guard and whatever your pistol is. If I understand my recent explosives lessons correctly, we can’t do much without time fuse and a blasting cap. Speaking purely as a nonprofessional, we’re well equipped to knock off a Seven-Eleven.”
“You’re a good pupil, but you didn’t make it to lesson two. There are ways to set off C without using a cap or fuse-if you absolutely have to. They’re just not pretty. We have enough C to do anything we need, but we’ll have to come up with an easily ignited explosive to detonate it. Give me a couple of minutes under anyone’s kitchen sink and I can come up with a crude bomb. The issue’s survivability. It’s tough to jury-rig a slow-burning fuse to set off a high-velocity explosive.”
Faith held up her hand as if stopping traffic. “Whoa. Survivability? Forget it if you don’t think we’re going to come out of this alive.”
“Faith.” Zara looked her in the eyes. “What we’re about to do will save countless lives-maybe even prevent another war. We have to accept there could be casualties.”
Faith turned her gaze to Summer. He nodded.
“I don’t like it one bit,” Faith said. “Casualties-as you so technically call one of us dying-are not acceptable.”
“We can’t take time to debate this. If you don’t want to be a part of it, opt out now. The comrade here and I have a job to do,” Summer said.
“Call me Zara.” Zara turned from Summer to Faith and smiled. “You could always go upstairs and visit with your mother.”
“That was low. Speaking of my dear mother, what the hell is she doing with a secret room she can’t even squeeze her chubby self into? And why would anyone have to hide crates of infant formula?” Faith stood and walked over to the stacks of crates. “I might not be a professional spy or a SEAL, but I know the hallmark of a smuggler when I see it.” Faith picked up the corner of a crate. “This infant formula is too light. Help me get this open.”
Summer pulled the Leatherman from his pocket and slid a blade under a metal staple, digging into the wood. With a couple of twists, an end of the staple popped out. Within moments, he pried off the lid.