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

FIFTEEN

12:55 A.M.

"What do you know? The pretty lady returns." Niler smiled at her, leaning on the counter. "A dream come true."

Hannah stepped off the sand and glanced around the empty bar. "Does anyone but me ever come in here?"

"Slow day, so-so evening. The place pretty much cleared out after midnight. I might have closed early if I hadn't thought you might be back."

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"I could but hope." He smiled. "Okay, I'm pretty damned sure of myself."

"I like an honest man."

He started lifting the barstools and placing them on the bar. "How was your day?"

"Nice."

"Now that you've had a chance to check out the competition, you must realize there's no place on the beach better than TNT."

"Well, most had more customers than you. Have you considered ninety-nine-cent chicken wings?"

"This is a real bar. I don't need that stuff. And to be fair, you've only come to my place at odd hours."

"True."

He leaned close to her. "And even if the place is empty, you have to admit that the bartender lends it a certain charm."

"I came back, didn't I?"

He nodded. "I'm glad you did. What do you feel like doing?"

"A drink might be nice. After that, I'll leave it up to you."

"Perfect. Let me close up before some unwelcome straggler wanders in."

He unfastened a coil of nylon rope at a support post and lowered the canvas awning until it covered the front of the bar. He repeated the action on both sides, completely enclosing the seating area. "Alone at last."

The canvas folds of fabric brushed the pocket of her skirt, where Kirov's cell phone transmitted to him on the street outside.

Niler reached behind the bar and picked up something Hannah couldn't see. "A guy came in here tonight selling handmade jewelry. Most of it was seashell-and-bead crap, but he had a necklace that made me think of you."

"Did you get his number?"

"Nah. I bought it for you."

"You are sure of yourself, aren't you?"

He gave her a puckish grin. "Well, if you hadn't shown up I'd probably have just given it to another pretty tourist this weekend."

"I have no doubt."

"It's a necklace. Turn around. Let me put it on you. Though I have to warn you, there's just a chance that I want to get my hands on you."

"You're moving a little fast." But Hannah turned and lifted her hair, allowing him to fasten the necklace around her neck. Niler's hands felt warm and coarse on her skin as he carefully positioned it.

"There. Perfect." He reached over the bar, picked up a small mirror, and handed it to her. "I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will." She angled the mirror toward her throat. She inhaled sharply. "Oh, my God!"

Six paper-covered blocks and a tiny radio receiver.

She turned on him. "What the hell?"

"It's a low-power explosive device." He stepped back and showed her a small remote control. "I push this button, and your goddamn head flies off."

Hannah instinctively reached for the necklace.

"Don't do it!"

She stopped and let her hands fall to her sides. "Are you some kind of psycho?"

"Not at all. I'm just not very good with guns. I'm a rotten shot, and I always have been." He raised the remote. "This is more my speed. You have half a dozen cubes of HMX-based explosives around your neck. In the trade, we call them bullion cubes. It's enough to lop off your head, but light enough to leave me and my bar intact. I'll be open for business tomorrow, no problem. The question is, will you be open for business?"

Hannah felt the perspiration beading her face. "Why in the hell are you doing this?"

"You're the one who needs to explain. Who are you?"

"My name is Hannah Bryson. I'm a marine architect."

"Bullshit."

"It's the truth."

"Who broke into my car while you were chatting me up this morning?"

Hannah stiffened.

"Yeah, I know about that. I have a hard disk recorder hooked up to my security camera. Later in the day I noticed that my car alarm was off, and I never forget to set it when I get here. So I scanned the disk back and caught your friend. You were the only customer during my first hour of business, and my car was broken into during the five minutes you were here. You expect me to believe it was just a coincidence?"

"We didn't take anything."

"I would've been less worried if you had. What were you looking for?"

Hannah didn't reply.

He raised the remote and said with cold precision. "I repeat. What were you looking for?"

Kirov's voice called from outside. "That's enough, Niler. I'll tell you everything you need to know."

Niler turned toward the tarp. "Who's that?"

"The man who broke into your car," Hannah said. "I think you need to talk to him."

"Are you a cop? A Fed?"

Kirov said something in Russian that Hannah couldn't understand.

Niler turned toward Hannah. "Now, I have to say, I wasn't expecting that. Okay, lift up the awning and crawl under."

The awning pulled away, and Kirov appeared from underneath. "Still up to your old tricks, I see, Niler."

"Never old, always fresh and new. Keep your distance." Niler gestured to the remote. "I believe we have some things to sort out."

"So I see." Kirov walked toward Hannah. "Are you all right?"

She nodded.

Kirov turned toward Niler. "What do you say we take off that dreadful necklace? You used to have much better taste, Niler."

"She had a problem with it too. I have a quick way to oblige both of you."

"It would be unfortunate if someone at the next bar changed television channels or made a cell phone call that accidentally set off this device," Kirov said. "Can't we be civilized about this?"

Niler shook his head. "You know my work better than that. The charge won't go until I push this button."

"Of course. The Great Dane never makes mistakes."

"Too bad I can't say the same about you. What are you calling yourself these days?"

"Kirov."

"And what the hell are you doing here?"

Kirov took Hannah's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "We've recently encountered another one of your devices, Niler. Four red cylinders at extreme underwater depth-does that ring a bell?"

Niler smiled. "If you really encountered it, you're lucky to be standing here."

"I know Pavski commissioned it from you. He meant it for me."

"I'm not a terrorist."

"I never said you were."

"I only build sentry devices, to protect personal property."

"Like this necklace around Hannah's neck?"

Niler shrugged. "That's to protect me."

"Fair enough. But believe me when I say you're the last person on earth I'd want to see harmed. I want Pavski, and you're my best hope of finding him."

"That's what this is all about? Pavski?"

Kirov nodded. "I can make it worth your while to help us."

"I always protect the confidentiality of my clients."

"Very honorable, especially from a man who earns a great deal of his income from South American drug lords."

"I won't dignify that with a response."

"I wouldn't, either. Those are people you don't want to cross. If they somehow got the impression you're less than discreet…"

"Are you threatening me? Because if you are…?" Niler raised the remote.

"Enough of that. Trigger the explosive, and I'll kill you before the smoke clears."

"That won't help her."

"Nor you, and I won't be any closer to finding Pavski. We all lose. Instead, why don't we pursue an option in which we all win?"

Niler was silent, studying her. "What do you have in mind?"

"Help us find Pavski. Tell us what you know about his plans, his contact information, anything you have. As I said, we'll make it worth your while."

Niler smiled. "I imagine there must be a lot of people who would like to find Pavski."

"Almost as many people who would like to find me."

Niler gestured to Hannah. "Does she know who you are?"

"She has her own reasons for wanting Pavski. He used your bomb as a weapon against us. He lured us to it. I don't believe that was your intent."

"It wasn't. I told you, I'm not a terrorist."

"Will you help us?"

Niler stared at them.

"The necklace, Niler."

He didn't move for a full minute, then finally walked across the room and unfastened the necklace from around Hannah's neck.

She rubbed her throat as if a crushing weight had been lifted from it. Only then did she realize how much she'd been trembling. Jesus, she'd been scared.

"Well?" Kirov asked.

Niler disengaged the necklace's small radio receiver and placed it inside a cigar box behind the bar. He smiled. "There's a possibility I may have good news for you."

WASHINGTON, D.C.

1:10 A.M.

Bradworth rolled over in bed and grabbed the cell phone from his night table. "Bradworth."

"It's Fahey. I realize it's late there, but I knew you'd want to hear this."

"What have you got?"

"We just finished the DNA work on that skeleton. It's definitely Ivanov."

"Christ, I was afraid of that."

"Your buddy Kirov is an imposter. Dimitri Ivanov hasn't walked the earth in over five years."

If Bradworth hadn't been fully awake before, he was now. "You're absolutely positive?"

"They matched it with DNA they took from Ivanov's uncle. The certainty level is something like six billion to one. I'd go to Vegas with odds a lot worse than that."

"How are the Russians reacting?"

"They're understandably curious about who Kirov really is. I'm sure you'll be hearing about it from your Russian contacts."

"No doubt. Damn."

"You've been working with Kirov for years. You don't have any idea who you've been dealing with?"

"I'm working with the analysts on a list of possibilities."

"No idea, huh?"

"Good-bye, Fahey." Bradworth cut the connection. Snide son of a bitch.

Better get used to it, he thought. The guys at the Agency were going to have a field day with this one. The director had already ordered a review of all operations in which Kirov had been involved, and with this final piece of evidence, the scrutiny would only intensify.

This was how careers were destroyed, Bradworth realized. Kirov was his responsibility, and he was going to catch hell all the way up the chain of command. Though at the moment that didn't matter as much as he thought it would.

What mattered was Hannah Bryson. She was still out there with this Kirov or whoever the hell he was, and it might just cost her life.

Talk to us, Niler," Hannah said.

Hannah, Kirov, and Niler sat on the beach a few yards from the TNT Bar, facing the waves as they crashed ashore.

Niler sipped a mai tai from a tall sports bottle. "You sure I can't make either of you something?"

"We're fine." Hannah repeated through set teeth, "Talk, Niler."

"Relax, relax. I've been working all day, and I need to unwind."

"Sorry, but it's hard to unwind when I've just had a bomb strapped to my throat."

"A tall coco loco would fix you right up."

"Niler," Kirov said.

"Okay, okay. I should be seeing Pavski soon."

"Where?" Kirov asked.

"At a location to be determined. He's hired me to create another explosive device. I'll see him when he takes delivery of it. I'm supposed to finish it no later than this weekend, but he said he could meet me earlier if I finished it before then."

"What's the purpose of this device?"

"Actually, it's several devices. It's to provide protection for a fifty-square-yard area on the ocean floor. It's supposed to be rated at fifteen hundred feet."

Hannah and Kirov shared a glance. "Do you think he's found it?" she asked.

"No, but he's obviously making plans to protect it if he finds the location before we do."

"Hey." Niler's eyes were glittering with curiosity. "What are we talking about here?"

Hannah turned back. "Pavski didn't tell you?"

"No. I don't want to know what most of my clients are involved with, but it must be something special if Pavski and you guys are involved." Niler grimaced. "Shit. I don't think I've been charging enough."

"Probably not," Kirov said. "But if you work with us, perhaps we can make it up to you."

"I'm not saying I will or won't, but there's something I need to find out from you."

"By all means."

Niler paused to put his thoughts into words. For the first time, Hannah noticed the slightest trace of a Russian accent in his speech. "For years, I've heard rumors about what happened to the crew of the Silent Thunder. Pavski's name comes up in most of the stories."

"And?"

"I knew men on that sub," Niler continued soberly. "I suppose a good many Russian sailors had a friend or a relative on the Thunder. But you of all people would know what really happened."

"Oh, I do," Kirov said.

"If half of what I've heard is true, then I would have no problem giving you Pavski. So that's the first condition of our deal: I want to know the truth about what happened."

"Fair enough." Kirov leaned back in the sand, gazing out at the surf. "We were carrying bacteriological weapons on the Silent Thunder. We didn't like it, but we had our orders. And then we got the order to…"

Dane Niler was finishing a telephone conversation when Hannah and Kirov came into the bar the next afternoon. He cut the connection and smiled. "Hi. Fix you a drink?"

"No, thanks," Hannah said. "Have you spoken to Pavski yet?"

"Just got off the phone with Koppel, one of his lieutenants. I think I mean that literally-you know how he likes those ex-military types. Anyway, we're set for the Bay County Farmers Market Sunday morning at eleven."

Kirov nodded. "Pavski will be there himself?"

"That's what I've been led to believe, but no guarantees. He does like to inspect the merchandise himself before he lets go of cash. But I do expect payment whether he makes the trip or not. In any case, you'll have a lead that should take you right back to him."

"Fair enough," Kirov said. "But I'll give you a bonus if you'll come through with two other items. First, I want you to set up a call with Pavski before the delivery date. Not one of his lieutenants, himself. I want to verify you're dealing with him."

"You don't trust me?" He shrugged. "It will be hard to do without tipping my hand, but I'll manage. Pavski doesn't usually deal with the peasants except during the initial negotiations. And the second?"

"I want to see the device you're making for Pavski."

Hannah was just as surprised as Niler appeared to be. "Why?" she asked.

"I just want to see what Pavski is up to," Kirov said.

Niler smiled. "I can tell you all you need to know about it right here, over a tall Pineapple Fizz."

"I don't want to hear about it. I want to see the device."

"Not much to see yet. I've always been a last-minute kind of guy, you know?"

"I'll understand."

Niler switched on his stereo system, flooding the bar with Caribbean island music. He shrugged. "If that's what it takes to make you happy, we'll go tonight after dark."

"Why not before?"

Niler smiled as two bikini-clad women strolled into the bar. "It's better if no one sees me coming or going. I've got a pretty good spot, and I don't want anyone stumbling onto it. Nine o'clock." He turned and headed toward the two women. "You look hot, pretty ladies. I have just the drink that will fix you up."

You're joking, right?" Kirov shouted above the roaring surf.

Hannah, Kirov, and Niler aimed their flashlights ahead as they half walked, half slid down a sandy embankment to a narrow strip of shoreline. They were on a lonely stretch about forty minutes' drive from Niler's bar.

"Nope," Niler said. "This used to be a nice little beach, but Hurricane Opal took most of it away a few years ago. There was a set of stairs on that embankment, but they're gone too. That's good for me, because it keeps people away."

"Maybe it should have kept you away," Hannah said.

"Nah." Niler aimed his flashlight ahead at a small dilapidated structure. "That's an old snack stand. One of my old girlfriends used to get hot dogs and boiled peanuts from there when she was a kid. Anyway, I own it now."

"The bomb maker's lair," Kirov said.

"It's out of the way, and I can test fuses and detonators on the beach without causing a fuss."

Kirov chuckled. "Pity the poor passerby who tries to duck inside for some shelter from the elements."

Niler produced a large key ring. "It's securely locked. Someone would need a crowbar to get inside."

"Meaning that they would deserve to get blown to bits by your booby traps?" Hannah said.

"Damned straight," Niler said. He raised a tiny car alarm remote much like the one he'd used against Hannah the previous night. A doorbell-like tone sounded inside the structure. He raised a second remote, and a second tone sounded. Niler unlocked the door and threw it open wide. "Ladies first."

Hannah smiled. "This is one place I'd rather you lead the way."

"Still a little shell-shocked from the necklace I gave you, are you?" Niler strode through the door and turned on the overhead fluorescent lights.

"Wow," Hannah murmured. Niler's workshop resembled a laboratory clean room, bearing no resemblance to the weather-beaten shack outside. Bright fluorescent light flooded every nook and cranny of the windowless, almost antiseptic room, and an equipment-laden workbench dominated three of the four walls.

Niler smiled. "You expected a grimy little toolshed?"

"I don't know what I expected, but this wasn't it."

"Building bombs isn't like fixing lawn mowers. It's an exact science, or at least it should be." He pointed to four steel platters on the workbench. "There's the current project."

Kirov inspected the gray platters, which were approximately four inches thick and eighteen inches in diameter. "You're building these for Pavski?"

"You've got it. There will be a total of eight for a total covered area of fifty square feet. They'll be spaced just close enough together that one detonation will trigger the one next to it, which in turn will detonate the next in line, and so on."

"A ring of destruction," Kirov said. "So whatever they're protecting will be totally destroyed?"

Niler gave him a sour look. "Do you see a sign around here that says 'amateur bomb maker at work'? You must really enjoy insulting me."

Kirov turned to Hannah. "Artists are so sensitive about their work, aren't they?"

"Artist is right," Niler said. "And for that you've just won your way back into my good graces." He gestured toward the discs. "There's still a protected area of about twenty square feet. The main purpose of my devices is to protect, not destroy."

"Twenty square feet," Kirov said. "That seems small for the cargo were looking for."

Niler shrugged. "That's what Pavski needed. Maybe he wants this for something else."

"It doesn't matter," Kirov said. "It's Pavski we want, not the objects."

Niler smiled. "It wouldn't exactly suck if you got both, now would it? Money makes the world go round. Speaking of which, we need to have a chat about logistics."

"What do you mean?" Hannah asked.

"I don't know what you have planned for Pavski and friends, but you'll need to wait until my business with him is done."

"After you've handed off these devices?" Hannah said.

"And after I've received my money and gotten the hell out of your way."

"We'll try not to blow your deal." Kirov smiled. "No pun intended."

"It's not just the money. If it gets out that I've ratted out one of my clients, it might make my other customers… nervous."

"Understood," Kirov said. "I don't suppose you'd want to get on the bad side of a South American drug lord."

"Damn straight." Niler nodded. "You screw this up for me, I'll make damned sure you're on his bad side, too."