The MP came in and did as instructed. The moment Smolin felt his hand go free, he grabbed the MP’s hand and jumped, headbutting him hard. The MP fell backward against the rack of monitors. The same second Smolin was on his feet, tearing his sensor wires away from his body, and kicking the fallen MP in the neck, sending him out cold.
He turned to deal with the nurse, who was leaping toward the exit. He grabbed her from behind and slammed her against the wall. She fell and lay senseless.
He leaned down, grabbed her ICU access card, and disappeared.
…74
Alex bypassed the line for the public TSA screening and went toward the gate reserved for flight crews and traveling law enforcement. That was her only option, if she wanted to travel anywhere with her weapon.
She presented her FBI credentials to the TSA officer, then she proceeded through the gate, and walked right out of there staring intently at the TSA officer who had just waved her through.
“Is there something wrong, miss?” the man asked, surprised by her intent gaze.
“N — no, nothing,” she said. She pulled her cell phone and dialed Weber’s number, walking away from the checkpoint.
“Miss? You forgot your bag.”
“Shit,” she mumbled, then grabbed it and walked away just as Weber picked up the call.
“Hey, Jeremy, it’s me.”
“Hey, you,” he replied. “Ready to go home?”
“Yeah. Just cleared TSA, which made me think we should ask them if they see sandwiches or any other food go by.”
“Right,” he said, “good point. I’ll get right on that. Safe travels, Ms. Hoffmann.”
“Thanks. Oh, and by the way, I hated working with you. So you know, Agent Weber,” she said, smiling widely. “You’re good people, Weber.”
“You, too. Hey, could you just hold on for a sec, I have another call coming in.”
He put her on hold before she could answer. There wasn’t really anything much left to be said, anyway.
“Hey, you still there?” Weber’s voice sounded grave and urgent as he picked up the call again.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Smolin’s gone. Escaped, vanished.”
“Oh, crap, how the hell did that happen? When?”
“He left the Naval Medical Center in an ambulance, headed who knows where. Left two people down in this wake. “
She suddenly halted her brisk walk toward the gate and did a 180, running in the opposite direction.
“Weber, listen, I think I know exactly where he’s going.”
“Another hunch?”
“He’s going to church.”
“To pray?” Weber sounded incredulous.
“Nope… to seek assistance,” she said, panting a little from her jog. “I’ve been wondering how they communicate, how they organize without ever being seen or noticed. Ethnic churches are the best way possible. Even judges resent issuing surveillance warrants for churches. It’s the perfect hiding place. There’s a Russian Orthodox Church nearby; I’m going there right now. I’m only minutes away.”
“Don’t engage him until we get there. You hear me?”
“Yeah, sure,” she replied, almost chuckling, then hung up and hailed a cab.
…75
Moscow’s Ritz Carlton spa knew how to treat its VIP guests. Dimitrov and Myatlev found there exquisite spa treatments in the safety and privacy of dedicated rooms well-guarded by Myatlev’s ex-Spetsnaz bodyguards. Rose essential oils and a carefully balanced breeze of fresh air completed a quiet, relaxing atmosphere that both of them enjoyed deeply.
Two masseuses, wearing barely there bikinis, had just completed full body massages for the two guests, then disappeared without a word, leaving their clients happy and content. The men rested naked on warm marble slabs, their skin completely covered in massage oils. They chatted quietly, subdued by deep relaxation, almost dozing off at times.
“You need a lot more massage to deal away with that flab, Vitya,” Dimitrov laughed, pointing at Myatlev’s potbelly.
“This?” Myatlev asked, pinching his overflowing belly. “This is beyond redemption, my dear friend.” They both broke down with laughter.
Myatlev signaled his adjutant, Ivan, for some Perrier water with lime. He drank a full glass, then said, “The goodies are starting to come in, just as planned.”
“What do you have?” Dimitrov asked, his interest dissipating his relaxation.
“We have the technical notes for the laser cannon installation on mobile platforms. We have enough to know what we’re missing to be able to deploy such weapon systems ourselves.”
“What do we need?”
“Power. Our power source for our laser weapon is huge, and our engineers haven’t figured out how to miniaturize it, even with the information that’s been trickling in.”
“So what do you want to do, Vitya?”
“We need to get our hands on the power source schematics, as soon as possible, what else?” Myatlev smiled and winked, making Dimitrov laugh.
“Of course,” he replied laughing. “Research takes too fucking long.”
“I’ll send Karp to the field. He’s ready.”
They remained silent for a while, as their laughter died down and they both became engulfed in their own thoughts.
“You know what else I’d like to do?” Myatlev asked after a while.
“Mmm… What?” Dimitrov replied.
“I’d like to pay a little attention to the American ICBM sites. Rumors have it they’re a little rusty, old, and falling apart. I think it’s doable and worth checking out.”
“We’ve cleaned ours up,” Dimitrov said. “Most of them were bad, inoperable. I wonder if theirs are just as bad.”
“Twenty-five years is twenty-five years in both countries, Mishka. That’s a lot of neglect. But I’m thinking more than just seeing which ones are operable and which ones are not.”
“What?” Dimitrov asked, intrigued, and turned on his side to face Myatlev.
“I’m thinking by now they must know you’ve cleaned and prepared ours for action, right?”
Dimitrov nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“Then they must be getting ready to clean theirs.”
“And?”
“And that means nuclear missiles moving from location to location, temporary nuclear test codes available for the right people, and so on. Tons of opportunity for us, Mishka.”
“You’re a twisted motherfucker! Genius! Let’s do that!” Dimitrov said, slapping him hard on the shoulder. “Glad you’re on our side!”
…76
“Lady, I’ve never seen anyone in such a hurry to get to church,” the cabbie said, grabbing the fifty-dollar bill offered to him. “Here we are,” he said, bringing the cab to an abrupt halt with a prolonged tire squeal.
“Wait here,” Alex said, pulling her weapon and heading for the church.
She entered the church quietly, her senses in full alert, taking in the stillness of the place, the dimmed light coning through the stained-glass windows and the strong smell of burned incense. She looked ahead and saw a man walking toward the iconostasis. The man had a slight asymmetry; he walked with his right shoulder a tad lower than the left.
“Smolin, stop right there!” she yelled, pointing her gun at the man’s back.