TIRASPOL BEST CHOICE MOTEL
TRANSNISTRIA UNRECOGNIZED TERRITORY
TALIA AND EDDIE LEFT THE MOTEL for their final day at Avantec late in the afternoon. After she rejected his offer of an extended date, Ivanov had given her some line about an all-day project. He had asked her to meet him the following evening at the compound’s private airfield, the only section she hadn’t inspected yet. Talia suspected his true motivation was to shorten the goodbye.
She didn’t blame him.
As they got in the car, Eddie asked how the dinner had gone. The tone behind Talia’s “Fine” shut him down.
What had she been thinking, showing romantic interest in the subject of her mission? The guy didn’t even know her real name. To take things further would only punish them both. An abrupt end to their relationship, professional or otherwise, was the right play.
Eddie was staring, and Talia realized she had the Opel’s gas pedal pinned to the floor. She let up and glanced at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Bazin met them at guest parking and crammed his oversize form into the driver’s seat of a golf cart. “I take you to airfield.”
A twelve-foot fence topped with concertina wire surrounded the airfield and its hangars. As Bazin drove down the perimeter road, Eddie leaned forward from the rear seat and nodded at the gauges. “So what kind of mileage does this thing get?”
The big bear hit him with a scowl.
Eddie raised his hands. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
Bazin drove them down a row of flat offices and in through the back of a sparkling-clean hangar. No grease stains marred the polished floor. Complex machinery manned by a small army of engineers left no stretch of wall uncovered. The Russian walked Talia and Eddie to the open doors at the front, facing the runway, and tucked his hands behind him in a military stance.
All three stood there for a long while. Eddie clearly could not handle the silence. “So,” he asked, fidget spinner twirling in his fingers, “where’s your boss?”
“Dr. Ivanov arrive soon.”
Talia was intrigued. “With Mr. Tyler, I presume? On his Gulfstream?”
Bazin shook his head. “No Mr. Tyler.” A deep chuckle rumbled in the bear’s chest. “I think he bored with whole business.”
“That sounds about right.” Talia shifted her gaze out to the runway. Bad grammar or not, Bazin could be fairly insightful.
A few seconds later, the Russian pointed high above the orange glow of the setting sun. “Dr. Ivanov.”
The aircraft began as a black wedge, falling out of the sky like an elevator, with no sound at all. Talia could make out four massive engines with cowlings that swiveled within the hull. Their fans kicked up to a whine and then a roar, rapidly slowing the craft to a hover five feet over the runway. The cowlings tilted forward, and the craft floated along a short network of taxiways until it reached the apron, where tricycle gear extended to cushion its final touchdown. A hatch with built-in stairs extended from the side, and a pilot in a gray, form-fitting flight suit sauntered down the steps.
Talia knew him by his walk before he pulled off his helmet. “Pavel?” She used his first name without thinking.
Ivanov lobbed the helmet to Eddie and grinned. “What do you think?”
“I think you set up this whole scenario to impress me.”
EDDIE WAVED THE HELMET AT HIM. “I might have gone with a dramatic head toss when you pulled this off, but I’m not sure you have the hair for it. So good call.”
Ivanov ignored him, giving Talia a bow. “You read me so well. But did it work?”
“Yes.” A smile forced its way past the poker face she was fighting to hold. “Yes, it did.”
“Excellent. I like hearing you say that word.”
“You mean, ‘Yes’?”
“Exactly.” Ivanov accepted a tablet from one of his engineers and used it to gesture at the craft. “I give you the Mark Seven, Avantec’s prototype free-flying lift.”
“Soo, it’s a helicopter.” Eddie passed the helmet off to another engineer.
Talia stifled a laugh. “It is impressive. But I’m afraid I’m not one for heights.”
“That is too bad.” Pavel began typing on his tablet. “I would love to give you a ride. As for your comment,” he said, glancing at Eddie, “the Mark Seven’s performance reaches far beyond any helicopter. It is a hybrid rocket-jet that can reach the highest suborbital altitude.”
“Suborbital?” Eddie’s sarcasm faded and the tech geek emerged. “To what purpose?”
“Any purpose I desire.” Ivanov offered Eddie a congenial smile, but Talia felt a sense of barely contained power behind the statement. “Mostly it will service Gryphon, as a towing and maintenance vehicle.” He led them into the hangar. “Let me get changed. I want to show you the airfield, but not in this pressure suit. You have no idea how much it itches.”
TALIA FOUND THE AIRFIELD surprisingly well defended, with an armed patrol in a HiLux pickup, motion sensors, and cameras. She could understand the security hardware for a tech company, but the armed patrol seemed excessive.
Ivanov read her mind, nodding at the pickup as they passed. “See, I have already taken your concerns to heart—extra men to stop Mr. Lukon.”
Night had fallen by the time the four reached the conference room. From her portfolio, Talia removed a set of papers. “Here are our recommendations, all the changes and additions you need to make to protect yourself. And Wright Way will continue to employ our intelligence resources to look into Lukon. If we find out more, you’ll hear from me.”
“In that case I hope you do find more.” Ivanov laid a hand on top of hers, stopping the papers, that playful glint in his eyes. “Perhaps I should be the one to call on you. In case I have questions.”
There it was. Talia resolved to manage his expectations, right there and then. She started by drawing her hand out from under his. “Dr. Ivanov, my life is fluid. I’ll be halfway across Europe tomorrow.”
His eyes went from playful to mystified at the emphasis she put on Dr. Ivanov. And then he stiffened. He slid the papers over to Bazin. “I see. Then your report is for my head of security, not me. I will leave you with him to discuss the details. Thank you for your time.” He pushed back from the table and left the room.
Bazin watched him go, then folded his hands on top of the papers. “Glad that over. I feel like fourth wheel all week.”
“Third wheel,” Eddie said, correcting the idiom.
Bazin furrowed his brow.
Talia touched Eddie’s arm. “Don’t. Don’t even try.”
The language barrier did not help the review of Talia’s security suggestions. She and Bazin conducted most of it in Russian, stopping occasionally to include Eddie, and by the time the three walked off the elevator and into the lobby, only a few lights were lit. The beat-up Opel sat alone in the parking lot. There was no Mercedes G-Wagon, and Ivanov made no appearance for a final goodbye.
Talia said little on the drive to the gatehouse and would have remained silent all the way to the motel if the guard had been awake to open the gate for her. Not a good sign. She would have to call Bazin in the morning to report the infraction, and Bazin would likely throttle the man for sleeping on the job. She honked the horn and rolled down the window. “Hey! A little help here!”
No response.
A breath of wind and a soft creak shifted Talia’s attention to the gate. It hung loose on its hinges—not quite closed. She shut off the engine and drew her Glock.
“Whoa,” Eddie said. “I know you’re in a bad mood, but you can’t shoot the guy for slacking off.”
Talia scanned the scene outside, watching the periphery of the gate’s spotlights for movement. Nothing. She cracked her door. “Stay here.”
Moving in an arc with her weapon up, Talia shouldered her way through the door and found the guard facedown at his station. She checked his pulse. Faint, but present. He was still breathing.
A shadow moved in the monitors, and she spun.
“Easy. Easy. It’s just me.” Eddie came through the door, frowning at her Glock.
“I told you to stay in the car.”
“Bad call. Which of us can tell if someone’s messed with the gatehouse computer, hmm?” He walked past.
She lowered the Glock and watched him work the keyboard. On a hunch, Talia picked up the guard’s coffee. She lifted the lid and gave it a sniff. She handed him the cup. “Smell this.”
He grimaced. “Smells like the milk went bad.”
“Valerian oil. Heavy sedative. This guy was drugged.”
“They hacked his computer too.” Eddie turned back to the keyboard and typed some more. “Specifically . . . the motion detectors on a section of the outer fence.”
A dark well opened in Talia’s stomach. “Which section?”
“Southwest section, near the—”
Talia was already running for the car. “Near the residence!”
She and Eddie had the Opel speeding around the lake less than a minute later. Talia had her phone to her ear. “Come on, Pavel. Pick up the—” She didn’t finish. A massive explosion lit up the water.