"Silent Thunder" - читать интересную книгу автора (Johansen Iris, Johansen Roy)

NINE

ROCK BAY HARBOR, MAINE

In the parking lot adjacent to the Silent Thunder ramp, Hannah tossed a plastic card at Kirov, sitting in the passenger seat next to her. "You'll need this."

He picked it up and studied it. "What is it?"

"Your ticket onto the sub. If anyone asks, you're Lance King, my nuclear propulsion expert."

"He must weigh forty pounds more than I do."

"So you've been on the Atkins diet. No one looks that hard at the photo anyway. As long as the security people see you with me a few times, and the badge's bar code works, you're golden."

"No one here knows the real Lance King?"

"No. Lance's credentials were issued, but he never made it here before the project was disbanded. You'll be fine."

"If you say so." Kirov clipped the ID card to his jacket as he climbed out of the car.

It wasn't until they passed the security checkpoint and walked up the ramp to the Silent Thunder's forward hatch that it hit her.

Conner.

Hannah stopped as pain tore through her.

"Are you all right?" Kirov asked quietly.

"Yes."

Kirov moved closer to her. "Do you want me to go inside first?"

For God's sake, get a grip. She pushed past him and started down the hatch. "We have work to do. Stop treating me like an invalid."

"By all means." He followed her down the hatch to the engineering deck, where they stopped to let their eyes grow accustomed to the dim illumination of the work lights.

Kirov sniffed. "Diesel fumes."

"That's the first thing Conner said." Another painful memory. She tried to smile. "I told him the Oscar IIs had poor ventilation."

Kirov made a face. "Believe me, it never felt as if the fumes were being ventilated at all. The few times we had to use the auxiliaries, it made most of the crew sick." He glanced around. "Well, everything seems to be in order here."

"Did you spend much time in this section?"

"More time than you'd think. I told you, it was my goal to be able to do each job on this vessel better than every crewman." He motioned ahead. "Shall we move to the control room?"

They walked down the main corridor, past the turbines and radio plates, until they reached the control room.

She switched on a light above the instrument plates. "Is it like you remembered it?"

There was no reply. She turned to see Kirov standing in the entranceway, staring silently. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry." He still didn't look away from the control plates. "I never felt more… whole than I did in this room. I don't expect you to understand." His hand touching the bulkhead was caressing. "Magnificent," he said quietly. "There will never be another quite like her. A machine with a soul."

"Now you sound like my brother. What is it about men and the sea?"

Kirov smiled. "You people design and build these things, but they're not truly finished until after they're put to sea. That's when their true character comes out. I don't know how it gets there, but believe me, it exists."

"Uh-huh. So what's the Silent Thunder's character?"

"She's a noble soul. She's always at her best when you need her most."

"Sentimental rubbish."

He shrugged. "Believe me, I've been on vessels where that wasn't the case. But I'm telling you, maneuvers that were impossible for her suddenly became possible when the chips were down, and the crew's lives were at stake."

"You had a captain who knew what he was doing. Leadership can usually sway the balance between the possible and the impossible. You said yourself Vladzar was extraordinary."

"You prefer to believe in a man rather than a ship?"

"Any day. And there are hundreds of variables that can affect performance. Speed, churn, shock waves from those mines you were probably dodging…"

Kirov smiled. "I'm afraid that I side with your brother on this issue. I suspect I would have liked him."

"I don't know if he would have liked you." Yet she had an idea that Conner and Kirov would have found a strong common ground. Strange when their characters were so different. "But I'm sure he would have loved teaming up with you to torment me. Where next?"

"The officers' quarters." He waved his hand. "After you."

She climbed the mate's ladder and stepped into the dark corridor that would take them to the Section 4 living quarters. A dim light shined from a hatch about thirty feet toward the bow. "This is where I first saw Vladzar's book with the Samsovian symbols."

He moved toward the bookcase across the cabin. "I'm surprised they're still here after all these years."

"They probably wouldn't be if the officer who brought the sub here hadn't fought the Russians who tried to strip the sub. And, who knows, maybe they didn't consider Vladzar's personal effects important."

"I did." His hand touched the spine of one the books. "I borrowed every one of these books from Sergai at one time or another. We all traded books during the missions."

"Are they all here?"

He studied the books. "Yes. Plus one."

"What do you mean?"

Kirov picked up a paperbound collection of Greek myths. "This wasn't Sergai's."

"One of the other officers?"

"Possibly." He looked around the cabin. "Otherwise, this compartment is just the way Sergai left it." Kirov slipped the book into his jacket pocket. "Let's go take a look at the rest of the ship. Which areas did you miss when you were working here?"

"The turbines, the galleys, and what's left of the reactor room." She preceded him. "Though if the rest of the sub is like the command center, we're not going to find anything. It looks like a tornado hit it. It's shameful. We were so careful putting everything back the way we found it."

"This cabin isn't so bad. But maybe they didn't get to it yet."

The rest of the ship was in as bad a shape as the command center. Plates and cutlery strewn all over the galley. Radio logs scattered in the communications section. Mattresses tossed over every bunk.

"It's terrible. I hate to see it like this," Hannah murmured. "As soon as the team gets here, we'll get it shipshape. This was Conner's last job, and he'd want it tied up and neat the way he liked it. He was proud of his work, and he was so excited about this damn sub. He thought it was beautiful."

"She is beautiful," Kirov said.

She shook her head. "Conner died here."

"The sub didn't kill him, Pavski did."

"I can't separate them right now."

"You can't blame every vessel for the deaths of the people who served on them. It's not logical."

"Screw logic."

He smiled. "Screw logic," he repeated. "Forgive my pragmatism. Remember, I'm only a poor sailor who had to earn his berth on the Silent Thunder by being able to reason and calculate. I find it odd that you can hate the sub and yet be horrified about its state of disrepair."

"Do you?" She turned away. "Too bad. I don't have to explain myself to you. We're on board. Let's get to work. There are at least two areas that Bradworth didn't manage to reduce to shambles."

"I'll take the turbine room." He began to roll up his sleeves. "You should be happy that I relegate myself to the depths. When is your team supposed to get back?"

"Probably not for a few days. I'll call them." She frowned as she watched him go down the passage. "Don't get impatient when you're searching. I don't want the team to have more mess than necessary to put back in order."

"I'm seldom impatient." He didn't turn around. "And if I find something, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Liar."

He laughed. "Then you'd better check up on me, hadn't you?" He disappeared down the stairs.

Find anything?" Hannah knelt beside Kirov's prone body near a large diesel fuel tank.

"Do you think I'd tell you? I'm a liar, remember?"

"How could I forget?" She crawled in beside him. "I drew a zero on the conning tower." She pulled on the panel of a pressure gauge. "How did you get this apart?"

"I told you I knew every job of every crewman. Vladzar took delight in making me crawl in here and run tests on these engines. It was claustrophobic and loud as hell."

"Why? It's a dirty job. After all, you were his stepbrother."

"That's why he did it. I wasn't to be spared. Sergai was always on the straight and narrow." He carefully lifted the plate and shined his flashlight into the interior. "Nothing." He put the plate back and screwed it in place and drew a deep breath. "Let's get out of here. This is a zero too, and I need some air."

"Evidently you still find it claustrophobic. I don't know how you passed the psychological tests that got you on this submarine."

He looked back at her. "I had Sergai to tell me the right answers, of course."

She shook her head. "You told me he was too straight and narrow."

His blue eyes were glinting with mischief as he grinned. "Caught. I stole them from the dean's office of the academy."

"Why would you even want to be on a sub if you suffered claustrophobia?"

"It wasn't an extreme case."

"What about the captain?"

"I think he suspected, but he never confronted me."

"Because he wanted you on the Silent Thunder."

"Yes, I think so. I hope so."

They walked forward three compartments and climbed the ladder to the conning tower. He stood there a moment breathing in the night air. "That's good."

He had admitted to weakness, but that very admission seemed a strength in this moment, she thought. It took an unusual man to accept his own faults with no excuses. And there was nothing weak about his appearance. His dark hair was tied back by a sweat-soaked bandanna, revealing the bold structure of his face. His sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, and his arms were corded with muscle. He looked tough and basic and vaguely primitive.

And… disturbing.

She tore her gaze away from him. "Yes, it is. It's hard to take a deep breath down there."

He cocked his head toward the scaffolding that bridged the gap between the conning tower and the museum's concrete walkway. "Then let's go to the café and get a cup of coffee. I promise I'll clean up in the restaurant washroom so I won't offend you."

She hesitated. Oh what the hell. A cup of coffee was no commitment, and she definitely needed to know more about Kirov. She had been surprised and intrigued by the glimpse of his past he had so casually confided. "You won't offend me. I'm as dirty and sweaty as you are." She smiled. "And I promise I'll use the washroom, too."

Kirov and the woman have left the sub," Agent Teague said when Bradworth picked up. "They've gone up to the café on the pier."

"Tell me about the body language. Chummy?"

"No. Kirov never changes, but I'd say she appears to be distancing herself."

Bradworth wished the hell she'd distance herself right off Kirov's radar. "Keep an eye on them."

"No problem. They're settled in a booth in the café. They don't seem to be anxious to go anywhere else."

"Don't assume anything with Kirov. He likes to run his own show. He'd like nothing better than to cut us out and go after Pavski on his own." He hung up the phone.

If Teague was right about Hannah's attitude, at least Kirov wasn't entirely having his own way with her. Not that he could be assured that coolness would remain intact. Kirov always used every weapon at his disposal, and he was good with women.

It would be okay. He just had to make sure that they were constantly under surveillance until he could remedy the situation.

That's good." Kirov set his cup down on the table and leaned back in the booth with a sigh of contentment. "It's amazing how comforting the small pleasures can be. When I was on the run before I defected, I didn't know whether I'd live through the next day, but whenever I'd get the chance to get a good meal or a shot of vodka or an excellent cup of coffee, it made everything okay for a while."

"Bradworth said you were searching for word of Vladzar."

He shrugged. "There was a chance he was alive. I kept hearing stories that he might be. It wasn't likely, but I had to try to find him."

"What made you give up?"

"I didn't. I still have contacts in Russia who will tell me if they hear anything." He lifted his cup to his lips. "But after the government toppled, and Pavski was put on the undesirable list, the odds were that Sergai would have surfaced if he was still alive."

"You must have cared for him if you risked your life by staying in Russia."

"He would have done the same for me. Family feeling is very strong among us Russians." He met her gaze. "And among you Americans. It's a trait we share. It's clear you loved your brother very much."

"Enough to resent the hell out of you and Bradworth playing games with our lives."

"And so you should. That was a terrible night." He looked down into his cup. "I tried to get to him and save him. I was too late. I had to make a choice."

She stiffened. "Choice?"

"More coffee?" He gestured to the waitress to refill the cups. "We should get back to the sub. I want to spend more time in the turbine room."

"Choice?" She stared at him as memories of that night rushed back to her.

Icy water. Drowning. Drowning.

Stop fighting me. I'm trying to help you.

She whispered. "You were the one who pulled me out of the water that night."

He shrugged. "You were unconscious. You would have drowned."

"So you let Conner die instead."

"I wasn't sure your brother would be killed. I knew you'd die. There are always choices to make in situations like that."

"You should have gone to Conner."

"Probably. I might have saved him and kept the plates from Pavski. Since I'm such a self-serving bastard, that choice amazed me later." He looked her in the eye. "But I didn't do it, and there's no going back."

She could feel the tears sting her eyes. "No, there's no going back."

"But we can move forward. Revenge is sweet. Take it from someone who knows."

Her lips twisted. "And you know that emotion very well, don't you? How many people have you killed, Kirov?"

"Not as many as Pavski."

"That's no answer."

"That's all you'll get from me." He threw some money on the table. "Let's get back to the sub. I want our search over before Pavski figures out how to bypass Bradworth's men to get to me."

"You believe he's watching us?"

"Of course. Bradworth and Pavski both. You're the magnet that draws all of us. Pavski evidently found the plates to be incomplete and thinks that wonderful memory of yours may give him something else to work with. Bradworth and I need you to draw him out in the open."

"Then why do you think Pavski wants to get to you as well as me?"

"Because I stand in the way." He stood up. "I've stood in his way for a long time, but I've never let him get this close before. When I decided to come to you, I put myself in the spotlight instead of in the shadows. It makes me more vulnerable."

She rose to her feet. "Then why did you do it?"

"Because you're more valuable to me right now than anonymity." He smiled. "Choices, again."

"Well, this particular choice may have been a bust. We're not finding anything on the Silent Thunder."

"We'll give it the rest of the night. Then we move on." He headed for the door of the café. "If one door closes, then you open another." He glanced at her. "If you choose to go along with me. It's up to you."

"You're damn right it is." She paused. "And what door do you plan on opening?"

"I have a few contacts who might help us locate Pavski. But we'll have to lose Bradworth. If you consider him a safety net, that's too bad. My friends aren't fond of the CIA."

She thought about it. "My experiences with Bradworth haven't been very reassuring. But if we're being watched by him as well as Pavski, how do you intend to do that? It's a very small town."

He smiled as he opened the door for her. "Then we'll just have to go to a bigger town, won't we? Will you have breakfast with me tomorrow morning?"

"What?"

"I've done a little research about the town since the Silent Thunder arrived here. I think you'll find a little restaurant called Mrs. Finley's Kitchen very interesting."

You lost her?" Bradworth said between his teeth into the phone. "How in the hell did you lose her?"

Agent Teague stammered. "It was the restaurant. That Mrs. Finley's kitchen. I didn't know-I didn't read the back of the menu until later."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I stationed Willis at the back entrance and I watched the front. I thought that would be enough, but it-"

"How did they get away, dammit?"

"The restaurant has a secret underground exit that lets out in a shed about half a block away. It's been there since the Revolutionary War days."

Bradworth couldn't believe what he was hearing. "A secret exit."

"Not so secret, actually. There's a whole write-up about it on the back of the menu. I talked to the manager, and she says Ms. Bryson and Kirov went in back and asked to walk through it."

"How long has it been since they flew the coop?"

"Forty minutes. We're in the car now, scouting the area."

Forty minutes. Kirov would have a plan and an escape route, and forty minutes was more than enough time for him to implement it.

"Shit!"

NEW YORK CITY

4:48 P.M.

What makes you think this friend of yours can help us?" Hannah asked Kirov as they walked down East 51^st Street, past Lexington Avenue, and into a charming neighborhood of brownstones and small boutiques.

"Eugenia Voltar was one of the youngest and sharpest agents in the KGB's history." Kirov gaze was on the address on one of the buildings they were passing. "If anyone can help us, she can."

"KGB?"

He nodded. "However, she was never popular with the higher-ups there because she possessed the dangerous trait of speaking her mind. She was pushed out in the general downsizing, when the KGB became the FSB, and she eventually ended up here."

"She's a spy?"

"Not anymore. In the last few years, she's become quite wealthy by helping Western corporations move into Russia. She knows just which palms to grease to make anything happen." He cast a sideways glance at Hannah. "There was an arms trader I'd spent years searching for, and I finally found him with Eugenia's help."

"And what did you do when you found him?"

He didn't answer.

She hadn't really expected a reply. Kirov disclosed only what he chose to reveal about his life. In the past days she had found that sometimes he was surprisingly open, and at others he was completely uncommunicative. Just enough information to pique her curiosity and interest. Oh, yes, she couldn't deny the interest. He was a totally fascinating man, and every minute with him was a challenge. Yet she also was beginning to feel a strange sense of comfort and security when she was with him.

"Ah. Here we are." Kirov stopped. "318 East 51^st Street. Nice place, don't you think?"

It was a converted brownstone with a fresh brick façade, red canopy, and a brass plaque that read CONNECTIONS INTERNATIONAL.

"Terrible name," Kirov said, as they climbed the short flight of stairs and rang the doorbell. "I told Eugenia she should have used more imagination. It sounds like a dating service."

A youthful female voice came from the speaker box. "Yes?"

Kirov looked up at a security camera and winked.

Laughter pealed from the speaker box. "Kirov, you devil. I knew you couldn't stay away. You're powerless to resist me, you know." The voice was an intriguing mixture of Russian and British accents.

"So you keep telling me, Eugenia. Are you going to buzz me in, or am I going to stand out here like a panhandler?"

"I'm still deciding. I'm offended that, after all these months, you finally choose to visit me with such a pretty young woman at your side. Tsk, tsk. Very bad form, Kirov."

"You know I only have eyes for you, my dear."

"Ah, that's the charming liar I know and love."

The door buzzed. Kirov opened it and held it open for Hannah as they entered the foyer.

Before they'd even closed the door behind them, a petite young woman flew down a flight of stairs and threw her arms around Kirov. "I can't believe it! I thought you were dead, or worse, married and living in the suburbs!" She drew back and checked his left hand. "You're not, are you?"

Kirov smiled and kissed her cheek. "You know me better than that." He motioned to Hannah. "Eugenia, this is-"

Before Kirov could finish the sentence, Eugenia threw her arms around Hannah as if they were long-lost friends. "So nice to meet you! You are-?"

"Hannah Bryson."

"Hannah!" Eugenia gave her another squeeze and frowned as she felt Hannah instinctively pull back. "Too much? Kirov keeps telling me I'm too demonstrative, but life's too short to curl up inside yourself like a snail. And any friend of Kirov's and all that… You are a friend?"

Hannah smiled. Eugenia's high spirits were contagious. Although Kirov indicated the woman had worked for the KGB more than a decade before, she couldn't be older than her late twenties or early thirties. She was a pretty, fair-skinned woman with shoulder-length brown hair and bright, lively dark eyes.

"Actually, we're more acquaintances than friends."

"Oh, then I take back the hug. But I like your honesty. Come along."

Kirov and Hannah followed Eugenia up the stairs to see that the entire second floor had been converted to a large, sleek office that looked as if it should have been the home base for the CEO of a Fortune 500 company.

"You like my office?" Eugenia said.

"It's beautiful," Hannah said, admiring the granite countertops, marble floor, and tall mahogany shelves.

"I hate it," Eugenia said. "It's not me at all. Too showy. But, if the head of a multibillion-dollar corporation is going to trust me to expand his company into Russia, he needs to see this to feel comfortable. I do most of my real work upstairs." Eugenia motioned for them to follow her. "We can talk up there."

They climbed another flight until they found themselves in a room about half the size of Eugenia's office. Hannah's initial impression was that they'd somehow stumbled upon a college dorm room. The walls were hot pink and decorated with posters of the Beatles, the Clash, and Bruce Springsteen. A Jimi Hendrix solo blared from the small stereo even though Hannah had heard no trace of it on the floor below.

Eugenia smiled proudly. "Much more personality, yes?"

Hannah nodded. "Yes. I like it."

Eugenia turned to Kirov. "I was most surprised to hear that the Silent Thunder lives. I thought it was sold for scrap and now part of thousands of poorly made Russian automobiles."

"No one was more surprised than I. Hannah is overseeing its modifications for the museum exhibit." He turned to Hannah. "I called Eugenia last night and brought her up to speed about the situation."

"It was very sad about your brother," Eugenia said. "I'm sorry for your sorrow. And I met Anton Leonovsky a few times, and I'm extremely happy to hear the bastard met such a horrible end."

"Then translate that happiness into action," Kirov said.

Eugenia smile faded. "Are you pushing, my friend? I don't like to be pushed."

For the first time Hannah saw the steel beneath that effervescent exterior. Tough. Very tough.

"Do you take me for a fool?" Kirov asked. "I'm not about to ruffle your feathers by taking you for granted."

Eugenia was silent for a moment, and then smiled. "I look gorgeous with ruffled feathers, and no one has a better right to take me for granted than you. What do you need from me?"

Kirov looked at Hannah. "Hit her now before she changes her mind."

"I need to know who killed my brother," Hannah said. "And I need to know where to find him."

"I have no crystal ball." Eugenia turned to Kirov. "I thought you said it was Pavski?"

"Hannah doesn't entirely trust my word on that."

"When you're such a straightforward, uncomplicated bastard?" She smiled at Hannah. "You're wise to doubt him if you have no proof. I certainly did at one time. But the chances are it's Pavski, or Kirov wouldn't be interested."

"Thanks for the unstinting recommendation," Kirov said dryly.

"I'd give you an unqualified recommendation in many circumstances, but not where Pavski is concerned." Her tone became businesslike. "If you want help, give me specifics."

"My source in Moscow told me that Pavski has sent out word that he's revving up for a big operation and needs extra manpower." He nodded at Hannah. "And her contribution to the drain on his manpower may make the recruiting even more urgent. He lost two more at that gas station." He paused. "And Pavski wanted something else that he didn't broadcast far and wide. He contacted a few old GRU contacts and asked to be sent certain records."

"What records?"

Kirov shrugged. "I don't know. I was lucky to get that much."

"And who is your Moscow source?" Eugenia asked.

"Blenoff."

"He's usually at least eighty percent accurate. It's probably worth acting on."

"I'm glad you don't think I'm spinning my wheels," he said dryly. "Since Pavski doesn't trust Americans, he's probably recruiting all his help from Russia."

"And?"

"You know the players, in Moscow and here, like no one else. If a Russian acquired a doctored passport to slip into the country, you'd be our best hope of finding out about it. I need to know who they are, how many, and who sent them."

"I'm surprised you don't want me to try to grab those GRU records," she said sarcastically.

"Considering you have such great contacts, I was considering it."

"I can try to find out what files they were, but that's the limit. The KGB and GRU were never good friends. Is that all?"

"A current street address would be nice."

"Of course." Eugenia shook her head. "Russia is a big country, and so is America. There's no way I can track the comings and goings of each and every-"

"Not each and every," Kirov said. "Probably ex-government men. Men who might want to slip into the country undetected. Maybe some with a naval background. You know the people who can facilitate that kind of thing, don't you? There can't be that many."

"You'd be surprised." She thought for a moment. "But there aren't many who can do it well enough to suit the likes of Pavski. I can look into it, but it's still no guarantee that I'll be able-"

"We don't expect guarantees. Just your best effort. I'll pay well, Eugenia. Do we have a deal?"

She wrinkled her nose at him. "A deal? No."

"But you said-"

"A deal, my dear Kirov, implies a mutually beneficial transaction. This is a favor. I want you to owe me for a change." She glanced at Hannah. "Don't worry, I'm very good. You will see."

"I'm sure I will," Hannah said. "Thank you."

A radiant smile lit Eugenia's face. "I think I like you. You're sincere. That's rare in this counterfeit world." She went to the carved table in the foyer and opened a black enamel box. "You may need a place to stay. Hotels are never safe. I own the brownstone at the end of the block and keep it available for clients. I don't want them invading my space." She tossed Kirov a set of keys. "If I have time after I've contacted my sources, I'll come over tonight and have a drink with you." She grabbed a yellow legal pad and cranked up the music. "Now out of here, both of you. Dow-Corning wants to build a sixty-five-floor office building in the heart of Moscow, and I have to think of a way to make the Russian government pay for it."