Objekt 825 (Tracie Tanner Thrillers Book 9), Allan Leverone [books to read for 13 year olds txt] 📗

was difficult, with sandy terrain and low vegetation combining to slow her progress. Mosquitos began to feast on her exposed arms. She waved them away as best she could but didn’t want to slap at them for fear of the noise alerting patrolling sentries if she were getting close to civilization.

And she needed to step softly. The Soviets had been known to install underground sensors around some of their closed cities, sensors that served to alert authorities to the approach of not just automotive traffic, but foot traffic as well, if the traveler did not disguise her approach.

Tracie doubted such sensors had been installed here, due simply to the remoteness of the area. But she wasn’t about to take any chances.

By seven a.m., she estimated she’d traveled close to two miles when she finally encountered what she’d known she eventually would: chain-link fencing topped with concertina wire. Both the closed cities Tracie previously entered had been fortified in exactly the same way.

Fifteen feet ahead, the dull glint of sunlight reflecting off metal told her she had found the northern perimeter of Objekt 825. She had been hiking far enough from the road that she could not see any sign of the reinforced gate or the guard shack housing Red Army sentries, but she didn’t have to see them. She knew they were there.

She turned in the opposite direction and crept further into the vegetation, moving even more slowly than she’d been doing. Stealth was critical. If she were to be apprehended here, her situation would be just as dire as if she were caught inside Objekt 825. There simply would be no believable explanation for her presence.

Especially since she was carrying a large set of bolt cutters.

When she thought she’d put enough distance between herself and the roadway, Tracie eased her bag off her shoulder and set it gently onto the ground. She unzipped it, slowly and carefully, and removed the bolt cutters from the bottom of the bag.

She approached the fence and began snipping the links, one after the other, beginning at ground level and moving upward until she’d sliced through an area high enough to allow her to squeeze through the opening. She pulled the section of fencing back and slipped her bag through. Then she followed, closing and securing the damaged section of fence behind her as much as she could.

Once she’d secured the fence, more or less, Tracie stood still, slowing her breathing, listening for shouting, or bodies tramping through the underbrush, or any other indication her presence had been detected.

Two minutes later she decided she was alone.

She wiped the sweat from her eyes and continued.

***

 

June 24, 1988

7:45 a.m.

Objekt 825

Locating Objekt 825 took just minutes. Getting inside the facility would be challenging, but finding it couldn’t have been easier.

Obviously, a submarine base would have to be located on the water, so Tracie’s first move after breaching the security fence was to give the guard shack a wide berth and then follow the fence line until reaching the coast. Then she simply turned and continued hiking away from Sevastopol.

Sooner or later, she knew she would reach the sub base.

After another twenty minutes, she had done just that. The coastline along this section of the Black Sea was filled with inlets and coves, and Tracie knew Soviet military commanders tasked with selecting the location in which to construct a secret naval base would have valued privacy almost above all else.

With that in mind, spotting the seagoing entrance to the underground base was easy from ground level. It stood out like a sore thumb. Engineers had clearly taken great pains during construction in the 1950s to make it look like a natural outcropping from above, with the intention of foiling high altitude American aerial surveillance, but screening it from view along the coastline had not been a priority.

The Soviets had known they would be restricting civilian access, so they hadn’t anticipated any need to hide the entrance. For three decades they’d been right, never expecting the Americans to be bold enough—or foolish enough—to assign an intelligence operative to infiltrate Objekt 825, even if they eventually learned of the base’s existence.

Tracie took her time examining the entrance through her binoculars. A massive concrete opening built into the side of a large, steep hill funneled the submerged ships toward a huge opening sliced into the side of the gradient. It looked to Tracie like the waterway was sealed shut with massive concrete doors that probably opened on hinges only when a submarine were entering or exiting.

It became immediately obvious why the Soviets had selected this location. A natural inlet prevented Objekt 825 from being detectable by ships operating farther out in the Black Sea. The cove was narrow but apparently deep enough to allow Soviet subs to navigate into and out of the facility without ever surfacing, thus allowing them to remain unseen at all times.

Once she’d pinned down the location of Objekt 825’s waterborne entryway, determining its land-based entrance became a fairly easy task. The facility would have to be located near enough to the huge hill towering over the concrete sea-funnel to allow technicians and administrators to get to work without having to traverse hundreds of yards of underground tunnels.

Tracie picked the administration building out almost as quickly as she’d found the sub entrance. Most of the structures adjacent to the coastal road in this section of the old Balaklava were in various stages of disrepair and decay, having been ignored by Soviet bureaucrats and military leaders as they focused their attention—and their funding—solely on the hidden facility.

But one building had been renovated at some point since the 1950s. It stood out from the rest like a mansion among hovels. While similar in style and construction to the others, it appeared functional and, to Tracie’s mind, had the feel of an office