rludlum-shelby.thecassandracompact-第17章

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　Slipping　it　into　the　pocket　of　his　antiplague　suit；　Yardeni　opened　the　door　to　the　Zone　Two　lab。　Inside；　he　made　his　way　past　stainless…steel　worktables　to　what　the　researchers　jokingly　referred　to　as　the　Coke　machine。　It　was　actually　a　walk…in　refrigerator　with　a　door　of　specially　constructed；　hermetically　sealed　Plexiglas。　It　always　reminded　Yardeni　of　the　bulletproof　barriers　at　the　cashiers'　booths　in　the　American　Express　office。
　He　slipped　the　coded　key　card　into　the　slot；　punched　in　the　bination；　and　listened　to　the　long；　slow　hiss　as　the　door　swung　back。　Three　seconds　later；　it　closed　behind　him。
　Pulling　open　one　of　the　drawers；　Yardeni　gazed　down　at　row　after　row　of　vials　made　of　tempered　glass。　Working　quickly；　he　unscrewed　the　container　at　its　midsection　and　placed　the　top　half　to　one　side。　Set　in　the　base　were　six　slots；　much　like　the　chambers　of　a　revolver。　He　placed　one　ampoule　into　each　of　the　slots；　then　replaced　the　top　section；　making　sure　that　it　was　tightly　in　place。
　Using　his　key　card；　he　exited　the　Coke　machine　and　made　his　way　out　of　the　lab。　The　procedure　in　the　changing　rooms　was　reversed　as　he　deposited　parts　of　the　suit　into　burn　bags。　After　a　second　decontamination　mist；　he　was　ready　to　get　dressed；　except　that　this　time　he　changed　into　casual　clothes…　jeans；　sweatshirt；　and　a　baggy　parka。
　A　few　minutes　later；　Yardeni　was　outside；　breathing　deeply　in　the　night　air。　A　cigarette　steadied　him。　Option　Two；　the　voice　had　said。　That　meant　something　had　gone　wrong。　Instead　of　Yardeni　choosing　his　moment　to　purloin　the　variola；　he　had　had　to　take　it　now。　And　quickly；　too；　because　for　some　reason　Moscow　had　bee　suspicious。
　Yardeni　knew　all　about　the　Special　Forces　mand　outside　Vladimir。　He'd　befriended　some　of　the　trainees　in　town　bars；　they　were　tough　and　capable；　not　the　kind　of　men　that　even　he　would　ever　want　to　tangle　with。　But　the　rounds　of　vodka　had　bought　him　valuable　information。　He　knew　exactly　what　kind　of　exercises　the　Special　Forces　went　through　and　how　long　it　took　to　execute　them。
　Yardeni　crushed　his　cigarette　under　his　boot　and　began　walking　away　from　Building　103；　headed　for　one　of　the　guard　posts　on　the　perimeter。　Tonight；　as　every　night　for　the　past　month；　rades　from　his　old　army　unit　would　staff　it。　Yardeni　would　tell　them　he　was　going　off…shift；　they　would　joke　that　he　could　still　do　the　last　show　at　the　Little　Boy　Blue。　And　if　someone　bothered　to　check　the　puterized　roster；　let　him。
　
　For　the　past　fifty　minutes；　Kravchenko　had　been　working　swiftly　and　silently。　No　lights　had　gone　on　in　the　training　ground；　no　alarms　had　sounded。　His　soldiers　were　rousted　and　assembled　under　the　cover　of　darkness。　As　soon　as　the　troops　had　been　mustered；　the　first　armored　personnel　carriers　rumbled　through　the　gates。　Kravchenko　couldn't　do　anything　about　the　engine　noise　and　didn't　pay　it　any　mind。　Both　the　citizens　of　Vladimir　and　the　Bioaparat　employees　who　worked　the　evening　shifts　were　used　to　nighttime　military　exercises。
　Riding　in　the　mand　APC；　Kravchenko　guided　his　column　down　the　two…lane　highway　that　led　out　of　his　pound。　His　orders　had　been　clear；　if　a　traitor　was　on…site；　he　would　be　surrounded。　The　one　thing　Kravchenko；　an　eminently　practical　man；　could　guarantee　was　that　no　one　could　break　the　quarantine。
　
　
　〃Grigori？〃
　〃It's　me；　Oleg。〃　Yardeni　strolled　up　to　the　brick　post。　Standing　outside　finishing　a　cigarette　was　a　fellow　BSD　guard。
　〃Is　your　shift　over？〃
　Yardeni　feigned　boredom。　〃Yeah。　Arkadi　clocked　in　early。　He　owes　me　time　from　last　month。　Now　I　can　go　home　and　get　some　sleep。〃
　Arkadi　was　Yardeni's　relief；　who　at　this　time　was；　Yardeni　assumed；　asleep　next　to　his　fat　wife；　not　due　to　e　in　for　another　four　hours。　But　Yardeni　had　coaxed　the　puter　to　tell　a　different　story。
　〃One　moment；　please。〃
　Yardeni　turned　in　the　direction　of　the　voice　ing　through　the　open　window　of　the　post。　Inside　was　a　guard　he　had　never　seen　before。　He　glanced　at　his　friend。
　〃You　didn't　tell　me　that　Alex　was　out　tonight。〃
　〃The　flu。　This　is　Marko。　He　usually　works　days。〃
　〃Fine。　But　would　you　tell　him　to　let　me　out　of　this　dump？　I'm　getting　cold。〃
　When　Oleg　opened　the　door　of　the　post；　Yardem　realized　it　was　already　too　late：　the　other　guard　was　already　checking　the　puter。
　〃I　have　your　relief　clocked　in；　Lieutenant；　but　there's　no　shift　change　on　the　roster；〃　he　said。　〃Technically；　you're　leaving　your　post　unattended。〃
　The　guard's　accusatory　tone　decided　Yardem's　next　action。　His　friend　Oleg　had　his　back　to　him。　He　never　saw　Yardeni's　arm　e　around　his　neck；　and　felt　only　a　sharp　tug　before　his　neck　snapped。
　The　second　guard　was　fumbling　for　his　holstered　gun　when　Yardeni　drove　the　knuckles　of　his　right　hand　into　his　windpipe。　After　the　guard　sank　to　his　knees；　struggling　to　breathe；　it　was　easy　enough　to　kill　him　by　breaking　his　neck；　too。
　Yardeni　staggered　out　of　the　booth　and　slammed　the　door。　Instinct　and　training　took　over。　He　began　walking；　the　old　infantry　refrain　repeating　itself　over　and　over　in　his　mind：　One　foot　in　front　of　the　other；　and　in　front　of　the　other；　and　in　front。。。
　Outside　the　perimeter　wall；　Yardeni　saw　the　lights　of　Vladimir。　He　heard　the　lonely　whistle　of　a　still…distant　train。　The　whistle　snapped　him　back　to　reality；　reminded　him　what　he　had　left　to　do。　Leaving　the　road；　he　headed　into　the　woods　that　surrounded　Bioaparat。　He　had　spent　many　hours　there；　and　finding　the　right　paths　on　a　moonlit　night　was　easy　enough。　He　set　a　brisk　pace　and　moved　off。
　Yardeni　called　up　specific　images　as　he　ran。　A　contact　would　be　waiting。　He　would　have　the　passport　that　identified　Yardeni　as　a　visiting　Canadian　businessman。　There　would　be　a　plane　ticket　for　an　Air　Canada　flight　and　a　thick　wad　of　American　currency　to　tide　him　over　until　he　reached　Toronto　and　the　bank　where　his　money　and　new　ID　papers　had　been　deposited。
　Forget　Oleg！　Forget　that　other　one！　You're　almost　free！
　Yardeni　was　deep　into　the　woods　when　he　slowed　and　finally　stopped。　His　hand　dropped　to　his　zippered　parka　pocket；　his　fingers　curling　around　the　cold　aluminum　container。　The　marker　to　his　new　life　was　secure。
　Then　he　heard　it…　the　faint　roar　of　heavy　vehicles　approaching。　They　were　moving　west；　toward　the　pound。　Yardeni　had　no　problem　identifying　them　by　sound　alone：　APCs；　filled　with　Special　Forces。　But　he　did　not　panic。　He　was　familiar　with　the　procedures　they　would　follow。　As　long　as　he　was　outside　the　perimeter　they　would　establish；　he　was　safe。　He　started　to　run　again。
　
　A　half　mile　out　of　town；　Kravchenko　saw　the　security　lamps　that　bathed　the　perimeter　of　Bioaparat　in　white；　hot　light。　Ordering　his　column　off　the　highway；　he　guided　the　vehicles　along　secondary　roads　and　cart　paths　until　the　APCs　created　an　unbreakable　steel　ring　around　the　facility。　Roadblocks　were　set　up　at　all　the　arteries　leading　into　and　out　of　the　plex。　Observation　units　were　posted　thirty　meters　from　the　brick　wall；　at　fifty…meter　intervals。　Snipers　using　thermal　scopes　were　hidden　in　those　spaces。　At　2：45　A。M。；　using　a　satellite　relay；　Kravchenko　informed　his　president　that　the　noose　was　in　place。
　〃Sir？〃
　Kravchenko　turned　to　his　second…in…mand。　〃Yes；　number　two？〃
　〃Sir；　some　of　the　men　have　been。。。　wondering。　Is　something　wrong　inside？　Has　there　been　an　accident？〃
　Kravchenko　drew　out　cigarettes。　〃I　know　that　some　of　the　men　have　families　in　town。　Tell　them　not　to　worry。　That　is　all　you　may　tell　them…　for　now。〃
　〃Thank　you；　sir。〃
　Kravchenko　exhaled　the　smoke　with　a　soft　hiss。　He　was　a　good　mander　who　understood　the　need　for　honesty　when　leading　men。　Nothing　else　worked　for　very　long。　But　in　this　case　he　did　not　feel　it　prudent　to　add　that　even　as　he　spoke；　an　Ilyushin　military　transport　plane　belonging　to　the　army's　biohazard　containment　unit　was　being　readied　in　Moscow。　The　time　to　worry　would　e　if　or　when　that　plane　left　the　ground。
　
　
　The　passenger　train　that　pulled　into　Vladimir　at　exactly　3：00　A。M。　had　begun　its　journey　twelve　hundred　miles　to　the　west；　in　Kolima　in　the　Ural　Mountains。　Vladimir　was　its　last　stop…　a　brief　one…　before　the　final　three…hour　run　to　Moscow。
　The　engineer　had　been　looking　out　the　window　of　his　lootive　as　he'd　pulled　into　the　station。　He　grunted　at　the　sight　of　the　solitary　passenger　standing　on　the　platform。　The　only　reason　Vladimir　was　a　scheduled　stop　was　to　pick　up　soldiers　headed　for　Moscow　on　leave。　Tonight　he　decided　that　he　could　shave　a　few　minutes　off　his　schedule。
　The　tall　figure；　wrapped　in　a　greatcoat；　did　not　move　as　the　train　rolled　past　him。　Standing　a　few　feet　from　the　edge　of　the　platform；　he　continued　to　scan　the　darkness　beyond　the　weak　station　lights。
　Ivan　Beria；　born　in　Macedonia　thirty…eight　years　ago；　was　a　patient　man。　Raised　in　the　cauldron　of　ethnic　hatred　and　bloodletting　that　was　the　Balkans；　he　had　learned　firsthand　how　patience　worked：　your　grandfather　recounts　how　ethnic　Albanians　killed　off　most　of　your　family。　The　story　is　retold　so　many　times　that　it　seems　the　events　took　place　only　yesterday。　So　when　the　opportunity　for　revenge　eventually　presents　itself；　you　seize　it　with　both　hands…　preferably　around　your　enemy's　neck。
　Beria　was　twelve　when　he　had　killed　his　first　man。　He　kept　on　killing　until　all　the　family　blood　debts　were　settled。　By　the　age　of　twenty；　his　reputation　as　an　assassin　was　made。　Other　families；　whose　sons　or　husbands　were　dead　or　maimed；　turned　to　him；　offering　the　gold　on　their　hands　or　around　their　necks　as　payment　for　services　to　be　rendered。
　Beria　graduated　swiftly　from　settling　family　feuds　to　being　a　freelance　operator　whose　services　were　available　to　the　highest　bidder；　usually　the　KGB。　As　twilight　descended　over　munism；　the　security　apparatus　turned　more　and　more　to　freelancers　in　order　to　maintain　deniability。　At　the　same　time；　as　Western　investment　began　to　permeate　Russia；　the　same　capitalists　who　arrived　to　do　business　were　also　interested　in　more　exotic　investments。　They　were　seeking　a　special　kind　of　man　who；　because　of　the　worldwide　puter　links　between　police　and　intelligence　agencies；　was　being　more　and　more　difficult　to　e　by　in　the　West。　Through　his　KGB　contacts；　Beria　discovered　that　the　pockets　of　American　and　European　entrepreneurs　were　very　deep；　especially　when　it　was　necessary　to　cripple　or　eliminate　a　petitor。
　Over　a　five…year　period；　Beria　kidnapped　over　a　dozen　executives。　Seven　of　them　were　killed　when　the　ransom　demands　were　not　met。　One　of　his　targets　was　a　senior　official　with　a　Swiss　firm　called　Bauer…Zermatt。　Beria　was　astonished　to　discover　that　when　the　ransom　was　paid；　there　was　twice　the　amount　of　money　that　he'd　stipulated。　Included　was　a　request　that　Beria　not　only　free　the　executive　but　that　he　severely　inhibit　Bauer…Zermatt's　petitor's　desire　to　move　into　the　region。　Beria　was　more　than　happy　to　oblige；　and　that　marked　the　beginning　of　his　long　and　very　profitable　relationship　with　Dr。　Karl　Bauer。
　〃You！　Are　you　getting　on？　I　have　a　schedule　to　keep。〃
　Beria　looked　at　the　fat；　florid…faced　conductor；　his　baggy　uniform　crumpled　from　having　been　slept　in。　Even　in　the　fresh　air；　he　smelled　the　sour　stench　of　liquor　ing　off　the　man。
　〃You　don't　leave　for　another　three　minutes。〃
　〃This　train　leaves　when　I　say　it　do