Objekt 825 (Tracie Tanner Thrillers Book 9) by Allan Leverone (phonics reading books .txt) 📕

“I cannot tell you that, specifically. It is classified information. But I can tell you this: if need be, we can dock twelve full-sized submarines here at Objekt 825 simultaneously. We typically do not have that many here, and do not now, but we do have that capability.”

“I assume the Americans and British are unaware of this facility?”

Morozov smiled. “I would imagine they strongly suspect such a facility is in existence. But I am quite certain they are unaware of its location. Were there any indications to the contrary, your comrades inside the KGB would brief me immediately.”

Andrei whistled softly. Despite his earlier reluctance to accompany the base commander, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he’d been as fascinated by something work-related as he was right now. His free-time interests typically ran more toward getting drunk and getting laid, not necessarily in that order. And, in fact, those were precisely his plans for later tonight. But this was undeniably time well spent.

In the distance, Andrei could see what looked at first like a concrete wall, a dead-end. As they approached, it became clear that he was looking at a massive door. Secured to the wall next to the door was an alphanumeric keypad. The commander stopped next to the keypad, shielding it from Andrei’s view with his body, and punched in a series of numbers.

Instantly a loud siren wailed, echoing throughout the chamber, and the door began to open, swinging slowly sideways until grinding to a stop abeam the far wall.

“There are a series of security doors identical to this one,” Morozov said, “running the length of the facility. They allow us to section off the portions of the facility we are using for repairs and maintenance from the portions we are using simply to dock submarines.”

“I would not want to have a migraine headache while the doors are opening or closing,” Andrei said, and Morozov laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

When he’d stopped laughing, the commander said, “I would very much love to show you more of the facility, but I am afraid I have more work to do this afternoon. However, if you would like, I can instruct one of my men to escort you further.”

“You are very kind, and I have enjoyed my tour,” Andrei said. “But, like you, I have further business to attend to today. I must be on my way soon.”

“Then we will wrap this up.” Morozov pressed more buttons, and the siren began wailing again, and the big concrete door started its slow journey back to its original position.

They had retraced their steps at least fifty meters when the door closed with a heavy-sounding thunk that Andrei could hear even over the siren.

19

June 24, 1988

2:10 p.m.

Objekt 825

Indecision had never been a problem for Tracie Tanner, either professionally or personally.

She’d been taught when confronted with a choice, to identify the correct option and begin working to make that option a reality. Her father, whom she had idolized even as a teen, when other girls her age were rebelling and pushing their parents away, had told her time after time, “Identifying the right path is easy. It’s usually the hard path.”

Tact and discretion had never been major facets of her personality, either, and Tracie had at times paid dearly for their absence. But her father’s words had stood her in good stead over the years, and rarely had she been confronted with a situation where she simply could not decide what to do.

At this moment, though, she felt as though she simply did not have enough information to make the right call on the question of whether to stay here, relatively safe inside this abandoned building, or break cover and take action.

All things being equal, action was preferable to inaction, and while she couldn’t quite convince herself things were exactly equal in this situation, she knew also that staying here long-term was no option. Her food and water were limited, and now that the object of her mission had been delivered, the longer it stayed inside this secret facility the less likely she was ever to recover it.

So it was time to move.

She slid off the desk and bent over her equipment bag. Unzipped it and began rummaging through the items inside. After a moment she removed a small electronic device roughly the size and shape of a baseball that had been sliced in half. She placed it on the floor and continued searching until lifting out a second device that looked identical to the first.

GPS technology had been available to military and intelligence professionals since the early 1960s, but Tracie had never had occasion to utilize it in the field until last month while on the hunt for the Russian radicals who’d stolen a tactical nuclear device.

She’d been skeptical of what to her felt like smoke and mirrors masquerading as science, not convinced a tiny electronic device could actually allow her to monitor the radicals’ position without keeping them in sight. But the tracker had performed magnificently, and she had been able to follow the men from a greater distance than she’d expected.

The ability to maintain surveillance on a subject without actually keeping him in sight had been a game-changer last month, and she was hoping to put it to use again now.

She dropped the two transmitters into her pocket and exited the building through the same smashed-out rear window she’d used hours earlier to enter. After dropping silently to the ground, Tracie moved to the northeast corner of the building, the corner farthest from Objekt 825.

She was reasonably certain there were no soldiers patrolling who might catch sight of her behind the old hostel. What would be the point? Objekt 825 was a secret facility surrounded by concertina wire fencing