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

or wherever the communication decoder is being held, that your KGB contact—that would be me—will be accompanying you to retrieve the device. After we pick it up, we will leave the facility together. We will part company once we have gotten clear of the security fencing surrounding Objekt 825.”

“By ‘part company,’” he said slowly, “I assume you mean you will kill me and dump my body in the forest?”

Tracie shook her head. “If you give me a reason to, I will eliminate you without a second thought. But as I have already told you, I have no desire to kill you, and no intention of doing so, unless you leave me with no choice.”

Morozov’s heavily creased forehead and grim expression told Tracie the commander didn’t believe a word she said, and why would he? Leaving him alive would make no sense from a strategic standpoint. It would give him the opportunity to raise the alarm and call for reinforcements before she’d gotten far enough away from Objekt 825 to have a real chance of escape.

But the bottle of vodka she’d found inside the commander’s desk had given Tracie an idea. She meant what she’d said about not wanting to kill Morozov, and thought she might just be able to avoid doing so, whether he believed it or not.

“I will ask you again,” she said. “Do you understand what I have told you?”

He cleared his throat and reluctantly said, “Da. I understand.”

“Good. Then you have a call to make.”

He lifted the handset of the console telephone sitting on the corner of his desk. Before he could press any buttons, Tracie said, “Let me ask you, Commander. What do you think of my Russian language skills?”

“What?” The handset hung inches from the side of his head.

“Do I speak Russian well?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“Exactly. Keep that knowledge foremost in your mind. If you try to pass along any kind of message to whoever answers that call, I will know. And you will die before you realize what is happening.”

He shook his head angrily but did not answer. Mashed a red button on the console and jammed the handset to his head.

A moment later he said, “Aleksander, this is Commander Morozov.”

A momentary silence as the person on the other end of the line responded, then he said, “I am fine, thank you. But there has been an unexpected change in plans. I need you to box up the device that was delivered to the facility yesterday. It is being transported back to Lubyanka.”

Another silence, this one longer. “I understand we just took possession of it. I understand you have not had the opportunity to begin examining it. But do you want to know what else I understand? I understand that we are all bound to follow the orders of our superiors. If Lubyanka wants the device returned, the device will be returned. Please prepare it for release to my KGB contact.”

This silence was the longest one yet, as Aleksander apparently made his displeasure with the orders known. It didn’t matter, though. He would do as he was told. He had no choice.

A moment later Morozov said, “Thank you,” into the handset and dropped it heavily back onto the console. He looked across the desk at Tracie with hooded eyes and said, “It is done. Are you satisfied?”

“Not even close,” she said calmly. “I won’t be satisfied until I have the device in my possession and I am far from Objekt 825. Hopefully I will never see the inside of this place again.”

“Finally, we agree on something,” Morozov said.

She gave a “stand up” gesture with the barrel of her gun and said, “Now, let us go put this plan into motion.”

He shook his head. “The research department needs a few minutes to prepare the device for transport.”

“Prepare it for transport? What do they have to do? They can’t possibly have begun disassembling it yet.”

He shrugged. “I do not know. But believe me when I tell you, I want this over with as much as you do. Probably more.”

“How long do they need?”

“The research supervisor said just a few minutes. He will call me when it is ready.”

“Fine,” Tracie answered. “That gives us a little time to begin working on your second assignment.”

“And what is that?”

She lifted the vodka bottle. “You’re going to start drinking.”

He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Tracie thought maybe she had.

“I do not understand.”

“You don’t have to.” She reached across the desk and handed him the bottle. “Drink.”

***

The call back from “Aleksander” took no more than ten minutes, but in that time Morozov had begun making a significant dent in the amount of liquid remaining inside the bottle. The first three or four swigs, Tracie had been forced to remind him to drink more vodka, but after that he seemed to get the idea, lifting it to his lips and taking a healthy jolt every thirty seconds or so. He seemed to be an enthusiastic vodka-lover.

When the phone rang, Tracie lifted her weapon as a reminder to the commander of just what was at stake.

He frowned at her and then lifted the handset to his head. “Yes?” Then, “We will be there momentarily.”

He hung up the phone and Tracie stood while he placed the bottle on top of his desk and then rose. She noticed him sway slightly. He’d had a large amount of vodka in a short amount of time, and she knew even an obviously experienced drinker like Morozov would have to be affected.

She re-holstered her weapon and followed Morozov out the door, her tension rising thanks to force-feeding the man alcohol. As the strong Russian vodka began to take effect his behavior would become less predictable, and quite possibly less controllable. Her goal was to render him incapacitated