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

Lukashenko had said the manufacturing plant had been used for and prayed she was remembering correctly. Her whole plan depended upon the police finding the location quickly.

“We know where it is, yes. What are you calling about?” Now the dispatcher sounded annoyed rather than bored.

“I have to report a murder!” She feigned breathlessness and said, “I was walking past the building and heard a scream. When I looked inside I saw an army officer firing a gun into the head of another man who was lying on the floor. I think the second man is dead!”

“Who are you? Are you at the scene now?” The voice no longer sounded bored and annoyed. Now it sounded clipped and insistent.

“Please send someone as quickly as you can,” she continued, ignoring the dispatcher’s question.

“I am sending officers even as we speak,” came the reply. “You must listen to me. Stay on the line and tell me who you are and where you are calling from. I need to know because it is very important that we get as much information as—”

Tracie hung up the line and bolted out of the house. She jammed the door closed again as best she could and set off at a dead run in the direction of the old factory.

46

 

June 25, 1988

3:45 p.m.

KGB interrogation facility, Sevastopol, Russia, USSR

 

Ivan Gregorovich was fighting to keep his cool by the time he arrived at the KGB facility to meet with Andrei Lukashenko. He should have been here at least twenty minutes ago, but a two-car auto accident had brought traffic to a standstill. By the time Ivan realized what was happening, his car had become hopelessly snarled in the traffic jam.

Reversing course and continuing via a different route had been impossible.

Ivan had been left with no option besides pounding the steering wheel in frustration and swearing under his breath. Eventually, the line of traffic had crept past the accident scene—it looked bad, with automobile parts all over the road, and ambulances and militsiya vehicles clogging the travel lanes—and then Ivan had been able to accelerate once again to a normal speed.

He’d lost time, though, and all of his previous excitement about confronting the young woman who had so humiliated him inside his home had evaporated. He was angry and impatient and itching to inflict damage on human flesh.

Ivan was familiar with the location of the KGB facility, as he was more or less familiar with the locations of all similar facilities around western Russia. But he’d never actually visited it, and was navigating via a map book that he suspected was seriously outdated. As he drove, he passed more than one turnoff for more than one road that was not shown on the map, and he felt his blood pressure rising a little each time.

If he got lost and had to stop and ask directions, he thought he just might shoot somebody.

Relax, he told himself. You can take all your frustrations out on the young redheaded spy very soon. Just hang in there a few more minutes.

And then he was there. He knew he was getting close simply by the condition of the access road. It was narrower than a public road by half, and featured a gauntlet of washed-out pavement and potholes that threatened to snap an axle or tear the bottom of the car out.

He passed a tiny house set back from the road that looked like it was about to collapse in on itself, then rounded a corner and saw the old manufacturing plant on the right, a couple hundred meters ahead. The tattered remains of a sign that said MARKOV INDUSTRIAL NETTING hung crookedly on the front of the concrete-block building, and a lone car had been angled nose-in to the front entrance.

Ivan smiled, a little bit of his pent-up fury and tension beginning to melt away. Obviously, Lukashenko was waiting inside with the girl.

Ivan didn’t know whether The Weasel was hoping to take part in the upcoming interrogation festivities, but if so he was going to be sorely disappointed. Ivan had made it clear to Lukashenko that he was not to harm the prisoner prior to Ivan’s arrival, and he guessed the KGB man was chomping at the bit by now to assist in doing exactly that.

Too bad. Ivan wasn’t about to let a KGB man witness the brutalities he was going to inflict on his prisoner, any more than he would have allowed his security team to do so.

His no witnesses rule was iron-clad and non-negotiable.

He pulled to a stop, parking next to Lukashenko’s car, and killed the engine. A flutter of excitement had joined the sensations of anger and impatience rattling around inside his body. The anticipation of what he was about to do had caused his headache to return with a vengeance.

It had been a long time since Ivan had indulged his darker side. One of the exceedingly few drawbacks to holding a position virtually at the pinnacle of the military chain of command was the knowledge that everyone was watching him, and more than a few of those watching were ready to pounce should he show any sign of weakness or lack of fitness for command.

He realized his hands were shaking as he climbed out of the car, and Ivan forced himself to pause and breathe deeply before slamming the door and continuing toward the building. The shakiness was being caused by excitement, not nervousness or fear, but it wouldn’t do for him to exhibit any sign of weakness to Lukashenko, and especially not to the girl.

A second deep breath as he approached the front entrance, and Ivan decided he was ready. He stood tall, head held high, adopting the imperious bearing he had established over the years that instantly told everyone he was the most important person in the room when