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

buttons given the situation and her lack of ability to defend herself, but his smug, taunting condescension was more than she could swallow.

He glowered at her and began crossing the room, but stopped before reaching her. “You need to learn some manners, little girl. You need to learn how to speak to your betters.”

“If any show up, I’ll be sure to change my tone.”

“You are a stupid little cyka.”

“If only I had a ruble for every time I’ve heard that,” Tracie said.

Lukashenko ignored her comment and said, “Would you like to know where I have been?”

“Not particularly. Given the state of your physical condition, I can only assume you were eating a meal with spectacularly little nutritional value.”

After her first insult penetrated his smarmy, used-car-salesman demeanor, Lukashenko had rallied. He seemed to have decided to ignore her taunts, apparently determining that Tracie’s helplessness was satisfaction enough.

“Actually,” he said, “I did have a quick lunch, but not until completing some fairly important business.”

He obviously wanted Tracie to ask, so she shut her mouth and waited.

“Since I know you are wondering,” he continued when it became clear after the briefest of pauses Tracie was not going to take the bait, “I left to make a telephone call. As you have seen, amenities inside this facility are…lacking.”

“Good for you,” Tracie said. “I’m surprised you could manage it all by yourself.”

“Would you like to know who I called?”

“To make a spa appointment for a little personal grooming?”

Anger flashed in The Weasel’s eyes and then disappeared as his aura of manufactured calm returned. “Not exactly,” he said. “The fact is I was calling an old friend of yours.”

“I assume by ‘friend’ you mean ‘enemy.’ Unless this is how you treat all of your friends.”

“All right, then. Have it your way. I was calling an enemy of yours.”

“In that case, you’re going to have to be more specific. It might surprise you to learn I’ve made more than my share of enemies in your beautiful country.”

He dropped the cheerful, best-friends-chatting persona for just a moment and said, “It would not surprise me at all.”

Again Tracie refused to take the bait. She thought she knew to whom Lukashenko might be referring, but couldn’t be positive. She hadn’t been lying when she told him she’d made plenty of enemies inside Russia. Either way, she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of asking. She looked away, examining the fingernails on her left hand in feigned boredom.

“But back to the subject of our conversation,” he said. “I had a very pleasant chat with General Ivan Gregorovich. Perhaps you recognize the name?”

She shrugged and Lukashenko smiled, the same greasy grin he’d displayed when he entered the building.

“In any event,” he said, “General Gregorovich remembers you, and quite vividly. You made a lasting impression on him while assaulting him inside his home and threatening his family.”

“It’s always nice to be remembered,” Tracie said, “although to say I threatened his family is not even close to being true. The assault thing, though, yeah, I can see why he might have misinterpreted our brief time together.”

“In my opinion he interpreted it in precisely the proper way. Either way, it made enough of an impression on him that he has gone to great lengths to ensure everyone inside the KGB is aware of you.”

“I’m honored.”

“And that is not all,” Lukashenko continued. “General Gregorovich was so anxious to renew acquaintances with you that he is on his way here to do exactly that.”

Tracie scoffed, attempting to hide the fear racing through her. “You’re telling me one of the busiest, highest-ranking generals in the entire Soviet military command structure is driving to some run-down piece of shit factory building in Sevastopol just because you somehow managed—against all odds—to chain me to a table?”

“Oh no,” The Weasel said. “He is not driving to Sevastopol. He is flying here, that is how anxious he is to see you.”

“Isn’t that flattering. I don’t suppose you’ll consider releasing me so I can get cleaned up for The Great Man’s arrival?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.”

“So,” Tracie said. “What are you getting out of your little telephone call? You went running out of here so fast earlier I thought the place was on fire.” She asked the question more to keep Lukashenko talking than because she cared about the answer. If he was talking to her, he wasn’t pistol-whipping her.

Lukashenko shrugged. “I am not expecting any favors from General Gregorovich. I was simply doing what any patriotic Russian would do when confronted with a spy working to tear down my country and harm its people.”

Tracie burst out in genuine laughter. “Sorry, Comrade, I’m not buying that statement for one second. I know how you operate. If you don’t want to say what Gregorovich promised you, just admit it.”

Another greasy smile. “I am being truthful, not that I care whether you believe me when I say the general promised me nothing. I will admit, however, it is a very comforting feeling knowing a man as powerful as Ivan Gregorovich is in my debt.”

“Well, all that matters is that you’re comfortable,” Tracie said drily.

“I agree,” Lukashenko shot back instantly. “That is all that matters.”

They fell silent and Tracie scanned the room for probably the hundredth time, desperately searching for something she could use to attempt an escape.

For the hundredth time she saw nothing.

“It seems we have run out of items to discuss,” Lukashenko said after a half-minute or so of silence.

“What would you like to talk about?” Tracie said. “Your favorite American game shows? You’ve spent enough time inside the United States ruining people’s lives and stealing state secrets, you must have developed an opinion on the subject.”

“The inanity of American television does not interest me. But I appreciate