Alexei smiled to himself. They weren’t bluffing. Orlov had a rigid timetable, and it was Alexei’s job to adhere to it and get the job done. No one ever disappointed Orlov. If they did, they didn’t live long. Alexei knew how to motivate his people; he’d been doing it for years. He was a master manipulator and a puppet master. He’d not got where he was by taking no for an answer.
“Comrade Volkov, it is imperative that you move your project more quickly. We need volume as well as quality, as you know.” He used the vernacular Comrade with the older scientists, for they responded better. Why, he didn’t know. The younger scientists seemed offended by it. Temperamental all. But he knew how to handle them, and they feared him if they were smart. The stupid ones simply disappeared.
“Yes, Comrade Borin. It will be as you say.” Goga’s greedy eyes drifted over to the much-coveted Jack Daniel’s whisky. The man licked his lips ever so slightly.
Borin smiled kindly. “Goga my friend, would you be so kind as to share a glass of the Sinatra Century with me? It would please me very much.” He grinned when Volkov’s eyes grew large behind the thick glasses. His gray caterpillar eyebrows fairly vibrated with pleasure.
“I would be honored, sir. Truly,” he stammered, his face suffusing into a brilliant red.
Alexei got up from his desk and went over to the credenza. He poured them each two fingers and handed the crystal tumbler to the older man. He watched as Volkov first sniffed, then sipped, his old eyes rolling back into his head with pleasure. Alexei liked when a man appreciated a good whisky. It was wasted on the young. They had no taste whatsoever. Cretins all.
He himself had started out very poor, and at an early age he had seen how the world really wagged. In his village, their school was not very progressive. He’d caught several buses each day to another town, to attend a better school. He knew his only way out of poverty was to educate himself.
Many had made the mistake of getting in the way of his pursuit of a better life, to their detriment. Even at a young age, Alexei had been a force to be reckoned with. He’d got into fights and had written his district’s representatives. He’d made such a fuss that he’d drawn the attention of several local politicians, who then took a personal interest in the boy’s education.
From there, he’d risen in all his endeavors, and now he commanded respect from all, even Orlov. He’d accomplished everything he’d ever gone for. He’d never known failure; it wasn’t in his vocabulary. For him, failure meant death. His own. He’d not live with himself should he fail. He’d not ever go back to being poor and worthless.
Returning back to his desk, he looked at his computer, which was triple encrypted. Then he looked back at Volkov. “This is important, Comrade Goga. This must be done very quietly. Do not let the right hand know what the left hand is doing. It is imperative, for all our lives,” Alexei said softly. He knew the man understood perfectly by the widening of his old eyes.
This was a delicate and dangerous time. Should word get out, both men would be dead an hour after the information was known. Very few mistakes were tolerated in Russia. No mistakes were tolerated in his line of work.
Johnny and Beverly were in the office, working late. They each had several contracts to finish before the next day. Both were dedicated realtors and knew that if you wanted to get the money, you put in the time. Beverly didn’t mind. She didn’t have anyone waiting at home for her except her cat, Rusty. Rusty was a lazy boy and he’d not care if she were there or not. As long as the food bowl was filled and plenty of water near at hand, all was good.
“Can you believe how Pike just lit out of here like that?” Beverly said, drinking a Frappuccino that had gone lukewarm. There was a half-eaten burrito on her desk as well, among the crumbs of decimated doughnuts. Sometimes she had to eat on the fly, and she never enjoyed that. She liked to sit and enjoy a meal. She’d grown up very poor and, with six other siblings, food was hard to come by. When she’d gotten older, she’d horded food. She had stopped the hording, but she knew the value of a good meal.
“Sure. He sucked at his job. Why would he think he’d do any better in Montana? He’s undisciplined and a slacker. He can’t close a sale, for Christ sake, I’m not even sure if he ever closed a sale. Maybe a couple, but those were few and far between. If he keeps the same job wherever he goes, he’ll always suck.” Johnny laughed, head thrown back, the back of his head turning red.
“He went to Missouri. And do you think it might have had something to do with that fish thing, you know, the Russian thing?” Beverly said, worry in her voice. She’d been thinking about what Pike had said. She’d been thinking about it a lot. Right after Pike had shown her the article, she’d looked it up for herself. There were quite a few sites, and there’d been really scary information on it. It was real. That many different places, having the same information… it couldn’t be fake news, could it?
It had given her nightmares and she was constantly thinking about it now. She was angry with Pike for putting it in her head. She liked her life simple and uncomplicated. Damn Pike anyway.
“Hell no. That’s some propaganda Billy Bob bullshit Russia is always spewing. Besides, do you think they would have let him into this country if it was real, or if he was planning to bomb us? We’d have just killed him then and there. I think it’s fake news. A bunch of horsecrap,” Johnny said, and turned back to his contracts, the back of his head bright purple now. She watched his broad shoulders hunch forward, and she could hear his scribbling something.
Johnny talked a good talk, but Beverly noticed that a lot of the bravado had gone out of his voice. Maybe he was full of shit himself. That frightened her more than Pike’s rantings. Johnny was one of the most confident people she knew. He wasn’t all that bright, but he was confident. That was why he did so well at selling properties: he was a natural born salesman.
But he couldn’t sell this. She wasn’t buying it. She didn’t think he was buying it either. She stared at the back of his head as it went from the purple to the glowing red that usually meant he was excited or upset. Perhaps this whole thing upset him as much as it did her, but he was such a blustering chump she couldn’t be sure.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to leave and go eat an extravagant meal. It if was true, there was nothing she could do to stop it. If it wasn’t Russia that was going to get them, then it would be the North Koreans, the Iranians or the Iraqis. Someone was always threatening the U.S. because it was a powerful nation. She supposed that, if she worried about all the threats that came their way, she’d live in perpetual fear.
She didn’t like the way she was feeling with all the talk Pike had done. It bothered her constantly. And That really made her angry. She liked her life with Rusty. It was comfortable, enjoyable. Now all she could do was think about that Russian weapon. There wasn’t anything Pike could do, and there was definitely nothing she could do. She had a big choice to make: she could live in perpetual fear, or she could go on, living her life as she pleased.
Leaving the office, she walked to her car. She might as well live each day as though it were her last. She didn’t think she wanted to live in a world that had gone to hell, that was nothing but a pile of rubble and ash. What the hell. Celebrate now, for tomorrow I might be dead. To hell with Pike and his ilk, and Johnny too. Blustering know-nothings, the lot of them. Her time was too precious to waste it worrying.