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

it simply wasn’t possible. The support posts running floor-to-ceiling were massive, much too wide for the petite woman to put her arms around and then cuff her wrists together.

The iron equipment arm he’d cuffed her to featured a square metal top upon which some sort of equipment had once been fastened. It was wide enough to prevent the woman from lifting the fastened handcuff over, but if he’d forced her to climb atop the table and then cuffed her wrists together around the arm, she could simply have lifted them over the square piece.

She would still have been handcuffed, but she could have disappeared while Andrei went off and made his telephone call.

The fact that he had to leave and drive offsite just to make a phone call was annoying but unavoidable. Andrei was unaware of this facility’s history, but it—and all of the industrial buildings surrounding it—had clearly been empty for not just years but decades. What had happened to cause the mass closures he didn’t know, but he assumed it had been a nuclear or biological spill, something of that nature.

Whatever. If the KGB had determined this building was safe to use for the relatively short amounts of time it took to interrogate and intimidate citizens, that was good enough for him. The salient point, though, was that the facility featured neither electricity nor telephone service.

So Andrei would drive until he located a phone.

He dropped into the driver’s seat of his car, started it up and guessed at the direction he thought might take him to an area with a sufficient population density that he would be able to find a telephone booth. Obviously, the KGB had selected this site for its remoteness, but with a city the size of Sevastopol not more than fifteen minutes away by car, he knew it wouldn’t take long to locate what he needed.

And he was right.

Within ten minutes of exiting the safe house, he’d found a rundown telephone booth located in a grimy industrial area not much different than the one in which he’d left the enemy agent, except this one was still in use. Trucks came and went, belching black smoke and driving between factories and warehouses, the area a beehive of activity.

Andrei eased to a stop next to the booth and reached into the breast pocket of his suit coat. He pulled out a sheet of paper he’d folded multiple times and smoothed it out on the seat next to him, grateful he’d had the foresight to remove one of the many sheets that had been taped to doors and walls around KGB headquarters.

Then he picked it up and entered the booth. He dialed the number and waited as a series of clicks, whirs and unidentifiable staticky background noises assaulted his ear through the telephone handset. There was always the possibility the call would not go through and he would have to try again, as well as the possibility that he would be cut off in mid-conversation.

Using the telephone in Russia required a certain amount of patience.

To Andrei’s surprise, the call went through on the first try. A gruff male voice answered on the second ring and said, “General Gregorovich’s office. Who is calling, please?”

“Yes, my name is Andrei Lukashenko. I am employed by the KGB and I would like to speak with the general, please.”

“May I ask why you are calling?”

“I have something he very much wants.”

“I am sorry, but the general is a very busy man. You will have to be much more specific or our conversation will be over.”

“Very well. I have located and apprehended the young woman who entered his home last month and attacked General Gregorovich and his family. Is that specific enough for you?”

A short silence greeted Andrei’s words, followed by, “What did you say your name was, again?”

“Andrei Lukashenko.”

“And you work for the KGB?”

“Correct.”

“Please hold, I will see if the general is available to take your call.”

Andrei smiled. He was pretty sure the general would be available.

After ninety seconds or so, another voice came on the line. “This is General Ivan Gregorovich.”

“Good afternoon, General. I assume your assistant conveyed to you the nature of my call?”

“He did. You claim to have captured the murderous thug who assaulted me in my own home, is that correct?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I do not claim to have captured her, I have captured her.”

“How do you know it is the right woman?”

“General, the jagged scar running down the right side of her head is fairly conclusive. Also, I am currently looking at the photograph you included on the bulletin your office dispatched to Lubyanka. It is the same woman.”

Gregorovich sighed heavily, so much so that it was clearly identifiable even through the scratchy telephone receiver.

“Who else have you notified regarding the woman?” the general asked.

“No one. You sent out the bulletin, your telephone number was provided, so I called you.”

“Good. Keep it that way. I want you to tell no one, until I instruct you to do so.”

“I can do that,” Andrei said. This was getting interesting. “I assume you would like me to bring the woman to you?”

“No, I would not like that.”

“Where am I to take her then?”

“That depends,” Gregorovich said. “Where is she now?”

“I have her secured inside a KGB interrogation facility outside Sevastopol.”

“I see,” the general said thoughtfully before falling silent. It was obvious he was thinking, so Andrei remained quiet. Half a minute later, Gregorovich said, “I will come to you.”

“Sir, the facility in which the woman is being held is…primitive. It is not the kind of place you probably wish to visit.”

“Comrade Lukashenko, I have not always worked behind a desk. I served in World War II, where I nearly froze to death defending my homeland from Nazi Germany. I