Net Force--Kill Chain by Jerome Preisler (e book reader txt) 📕

eyes piercing. “One night, he took the young man out to a gully where a campfire was set up. In full uniform, epaulettes and all. His driver sat back in the car, waiting for them. And over a kettle of strong coffee, he told the young officer that he was nothing more than filth and dung. A poorly bred peasant. A nobody. Then, with his next breath, he told him he was being appointed to the Main Directorate.”

“A contradictory message,” Anna said. “Not to mention a cruel one.”

Urban shook his head in the negative. “It was perfect,” he said. “The chief went on to explain that a wise leader chooses his subordinates from, I quote, ‘the lowest levels.’ Because they depend on him for their success. Because if he falls, they go right back into the sump pit where he found them. Thus, their loyalty is based on self-preservation. They protect him to ensure their own survival. Do you see the relevance?”

“I think so,” she said. “Though I pity the young officer learning cruelty by example.”

“It’s a cruel world,” Urban said, and leaned forward. “Before I brought you to Russia, alte Frau, you were a common Stasi bureaucrat. A minion and bottom dweller about to rot for a decade in a German prison.” He paused. “Even here, you’ve been nothing more than a glorified babysitter, dependent on my success. I chose you wisely. Pulled you up the ranks. What do you believe will happen to you if I fail to take care of your favorite pupil?”

Anna bore his insults in practiced silence, looking down at her knobby, arthritic fingers on the cane handle. After a full thirty seconds, she raised her eyes to his face.

“Natasha has done nothing wrong,” she said. “Nothing to betray us.”

“No?” He laughed coldly. “When she isn’t shaking her ass in front of an appreciative audience, she works for the US Department of Internet Security and Law Enforcement. Handpicked by its director, Alex Michaels. With all her knowledge of Pinnacle. Of the secret city.”

“Those memories are blocked.”

“So you say.”

Anna shook her head. “You don’t have to believe me. The bottom line is she is a naturalized US citizen. No conditions were placed on the exchange. Viktor Mori honored his agreement.”

“A month ago, Mori was found wearing a noose in his prison cell,” Urban said. “As far as I’m concerned, his suicide cancels the deal.”

She was quiet awhile. Then she exhaled audibly. “The decision is yours. I’m not foolish enough to imagine I can stop you. I only ask that she isn’t harmed.”

More silence. Urban meshed his fingers together. His eyes were blue ice.

“I’ve heard you out as a courtesy,” he said. “Now return to your retirement home, alte. Enjoy the mud baths and back rubs. The board games with other decrepit fossils. But do yourself a favor and stay away from here. Your involvement in government business is no longer needed or welcome.”

Anna sighed again, a long breath through her mouth that seemed to take all the air out of her. She sat there for a moment, her shoulders slumped, looking tired and frail. Then she slowly pushed up from the chair, pressing her weight on the cane for leverage.

“Thank you for seeing me,” she said. “I’ll let myself out.”

He nodded his head imperceptibly. “One more piece of advice before you go.”

“Yes?”

“Purge the Mori girl from your memory,” he said. “You can’t grieve for someone you never knew existed.”

Anna looked into his frigid eyes, saying nothing. Then she turned, reached for the door handle, and exited the room.

Chapter Four

New York City

April 14, 2024

“OMG!” Natasha said. “Is that an effing kayak?”

Bryan looked at her out the lowered driver’s side window of his rental SUV, a large Toyota Pilot Sport seven-seater. He wore a neon orange insulated hoodie and had his long brown hair up in a bundle.

“A sea kayak,” he said, nodding. “I loaded our paddles and life vests in back.”

It was 3:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, an hour before closing time at Club Fallout, and Natasha and Duncan had wrapped up their fourth and final show of the weekend. She stared up at the long fiberglass watercraft strapped to his roof, ready to roll in her quilted hiking jacket, lightweight backpack, jeans, and neoprene wet shoes.

“Just so we’re straight,” she said, “you mentioned sandwiches. Not kayaks.”

“Kayak...it’s a two-person model. But I brought sandwiches too.” His expression was matter-of-fact. “I’m a great sandwich maker.”

“So you’ve bragged,” Natasha said. “Stick to the subject.”

He nodded.

“We’re paddling out to Chacagua,” he said. “It’s the only way to get out there from the mainland. Without a powerboat, that is.”

“Isn’t there a ferry or something?”

“The island’s uninhabited. Nobody lives on it. Why have a ferry for nobody?”

Natasha opened her mouth, closed it. She guessed that made sense.

Beside her, Duncan grinned, a Dev Zero ball cap pulled down over his forehead. Nearby on the cobblestoned street outside the club, two large road trunks sat behind the Trident’s open tailgate, a staffer waiting there to help load them aboard.

“We’re hitting a neap tide, so the current won’t be too rough,” Bryan said. “It’s only about three miles from shore over open water.”

Natasha looked at him for a full ten seconds. “This keeps getting better.”

Bryan nodded. “I downloaded nautical charts.”

“Uh-huh.”

“They’re on my phone.”

“Uh-huh.

“Plus I made hard copies.”

“Wonderful.” She took a deep breath and turned to Duncan. “You’re cool hauling the equipment alone?”

“No sweat. I’m gonna drive it over to storage right now.”

She nodded. “My place afterward? Or blue paradise?”

“Your place.” He winked. “Paradise can only handle so much of me.”

Natasha spread her arms wide and hugged him. “OK, hot stuff, see you next week. Maybe I’ll bring you back some seashells.”

“Shells? I want lobster, girl! A bucket of live ones!”

She spread her hands on his chest, gave him a playful shove. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll catch them myself. A whole barrelful.”

“Now you’re talkin’.”

They exchanged smiles. Then she turned and climbed into the SUV, waving animatedly out her window.

A moment later, Bryan pulled