Breacher (Tom Keeler Book 2) by Jack Lively (reading well TXT) 📕

of stones into the creek. “Something like that. It was Chapman’s call. We were stuck. Going nowhere fast. She decided that we needed to insert a little chaos into the equation. Boris Spassky’s got a famous chess proverb. Something about when you’re stuck in a stalemate position, the best thing to do is make completely unpredictable move and see what possibilities open up. You were Chapman’s move, Keeler.”

I said, “I was the element of chaos you needed. Smart choice. Smart how Chapman allowed Zarembina to think she’d made the call herself.”

Hagen said nothing. I said, “What?”

He said, “Arrogance. That’s what made her easy to control. To be honest.” He looked up from the creek.

I said, “What was Abrams supposed to do up here?”

Hagen said, “Abrams works on non-linear acoustics. Which is a complicated and dry topic. The important thing to know is that he’s the kind of guy who figures out how to either find something underwater or hide something underwater.”

“Give me the cliff notes version.”

“The simple version is that you can’t use regular vision to find things underwater. It isn’t practical, and there’s a far better way to detect stuff because of how sound waves travel through liquid.”

“Sonar. Like a beeping version of radar.”

Hagen said, “Correct. You throw a sound wave at something, measure the way it comes back. Seems simple, but it isn’t. You need the academic minds in there to figure it out.”

I said, “So Abrams was like the Seal Team Six of underwater detection, but what about hiding stuff?”

“Abrams’ research was all about figuring out how to make sounds that can hide an underwater asset, rather than finding it. He was able to construct precise noise fields built from frequencies that were designed to absorb the sonar pings.”

“Like a composer or something. A counter-surveillance sound artist.”

Hagen snorted. “Something like that, although nothing that can be detected by the human ear.”

I said, “But you never found out what he discovered up here in Alaska.”

“From what George Abrams told Chapman,” Hagen said, “His job here was to listen for exactly the kind of sound fields that he would have used to hide something like K-349. But the kid disappeared. It hasn’t worked out very well in the end.”

I shook my head. “You’re wrong there, Hagen. It’s working out fine, far as I can see. The kid disappeared. He took one for the team, which is a message all by itself. It says that he found something. It’s like he was putting a gift in a box, but didn’t have time to finish the job. Now we’re going to wrap this all up and tie a bow on it.”

Hagen said, “I wish I were as optimistic as you.”

“You would be, if you were an American. But you’re not. What we’ve got here is a situation gone FUBAR. It isn’t looking good for George Abrams. Best case scenario, the whole thing just ends.”

He said, “And what’s your proposition for ending it?”

“I’m working on it. The only thing I’m quite sure of is that it’s going to happen tonight.”

Hagen said, “So you agree that we’re on the same side, with the same intentions?”

I said, “More or less. Who are the Russian boys working for Mister Lawrence?”

Hagen nodded. “That’s the other complication, and one of the reasons we needed to go in with a low profile. Mister Lawrence was smart enough to hire Russian mercenaries. Maybe they knew that we would be the most interested in tracing our missing property. The mercenaries are known as the Wagner Group. Very efficient, and very dangerous. All veterans of the war in Syria.”

I nodded. “I know them. Killed a few, happy to kill more. Slightly weird, Russians going up against Russians.”

Hagen shrugged. “Internal competition, same everywhere. Wagner group is run-out of our military intelligence agency, the GRU, we’re the FSB. They won’t hesitate to kill us all.”

Ellie’s boots crunched gravel. We both looked at her. The Ruger was down at her side. I said, “All good?”

Ellie said, “I’ve got a question.”

I spoke to Hagen, “This is Ellie.”

He looked at her and nodded. “Shoot.” He smiled, like he’d made a joke.

She said, “How did you know that Chapman was going to be at the Rendezvous? She had no phone.”

Hagen broadened the smile and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

I said, “Give me your wallet, Hagen.” He pulled the wallet out of his jeans pocket, tossed it at me. I caught the tight leather package in my left hand and flipped it open. About a hundred and twenty in cash. Including one ten and a five. I hesitated and chose the five. I handed the bill to Ellie. “See if you can find a message on there.”

Ellie used the light from her phone to scan the five-dollar bill. She found what I had expected her to find. She said, “RDV dash 5. Written right on Abe Lincoln’s forehead in ballpoint pen.”

Ellie handed the five back to Hagen. “What’s RDV?”

I spoke to Ellie. “RDV is the French contraction for the word Rendezvous. The other part is what, fifth toilet counting clockwise?” Hagen nodded. “Chapman gives the bum a five-dollar bill, and then you show up and offer him a twenty in exchange for five in change.”

Ellie said, “Did the drunk guy even know what he was doing?”

Hagen said, “I don’t think he did, no.”

I said, “That’s a nuclear scientist for you. Smart.” I looked at Hagen. “How did you know he wouldn’t spend it?”

Hagen smiled very slightly. “No such thing as zero risk right Keeler?”

I turned the Smith & Wesson around and handed it to him. He took the gun and inspected it. “Thanks.”

I said, “Your uncle really gave that to you?”

“Some kind of an uncle, yes.”

“Tell me something Hagen, how does it end. I mean as far as you and Chapman are concerned. What’s a satisfactory outcome from your point of view.”

Hagen shrugged. “We need to get the nuclear materials out of the hands of the thieves and into the hands of a responsible party.”

“Such as the