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

She raised her hands a little higher.

“Easy,” she said. “You asked my name and I was simply going to show you my identification.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t lower the rifle, either.

“May I show you my identification?”

“Take it out and hold it up. Do not come any closer.”

She almost shook her head in exasperation. Security was one thing—she would expect it to be tight around a secret military installation—but this seemed a little over the top. Doesn’t anyone ever go for a nighttime stroll around here?

“Okay,” she said. “I am going to reach into the breast pocket of my jacket.”

No answer. She eased her right hand across her body and slipped it inside the blazer, hoping for the best. She didn’t get shot when she removed the billfold containing her Red Army credentials, so she considered that a win.

The problem was, in the dark and at this distance—the kid was at least ten feet away—it would be impossible for him to see anything beyond the fact she was holding something that may or may not be an ID in her hand.

“Tell me your name,” he said when she raised her hand.

“I am Lieutenant Olga Koruskaya.”

“What is your business here at Objekt 825?”

“I am an auditor for the KGB, and I have an appointment scheduled for tomorrow with your base commander.”

She was making it up as she went, and almost didn’t mention the KGB part. The CIA employed some of the best forgers in the world, so she knew her military ID would pass muster with a Red Army private, but nothing on the credentials suggested any connection between Olga Koruskaya and the feared Soviet Committee for State Security. But she knew she needed to gain the upper hand in this little mini-drama and guessed referencing the KGB would be the best way to do so, at least without killing him and dumping his body in the woods, something she wanted very much to avoid.

If that kind of drastic action became necessary, everything would change instantly. And not for the better.

Her gamble had the precise effect she was hoping for. The soldier straightened noticeably, his surprise obvious. “KGB? Why is the KGB sending an auditor to meet with Commander Morozov?”

Tracie smiled tightly. “I am afraid I cannot share that information. I am sure you understand.”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “Forgive me. I was just thinking out loud. But…”

“Yes?”

“What is that on your back?”

“Well…it is a backpack, of course.”

“You went for a walk at four o’clock in the morning and decided to bring a backpack? Why would you do that?” The soldier’s voice had taken on an added note of suspicion, and Tracie knew she needed to regain control of the encounter.

“Because,” she answered, her tone cool and dismissive. “The subjects I need to discuss with Commander Morozov are of a singularly sensitive nature. And from what I have seen of the unfortunately lax security measures in place at this facility, I did not feel it would be safe to leave my notes in my room.”

She offered another tight smile. “I assume you have no problem with my decision?”

“Of-of course not,” the kid stammered.

“And now,” she continued, ‘I would like to continue my walk, if I may. Just a few hours remain until the meeting with Commander Morozov and I want to use that time to determine how best to approach our conversation.”

“I understand,” he said. His entire demeanor had changed upon hearing those three little letters—KGB—followed by Tracie adopting her intimidating persona. His posture had become subservient after starting out threatening, his tone had become deferential, and after his moment of suspicion when asking about her backpack, he seemed eager to focus her attention anywhere but upon himself.

He had lowered his weapon as they spoke, and now he extended his arm, apparently indicating she was free to walk away. “Please, forgive me for startling you.”

“It is not a problem. When I speak with Commander Morozov later this morning, I will be sure to let him know what a fine job at least one of his sentries is doing among the otherwise general sloth of the security staff.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I am just trying to do my job.”

“And doing it very well. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

Her observation about the lax security present in and around Objekt 825 had been made in an attempt to head off the soldier’s suspicions, but it occurred to her now that the words she’d spoken to the kid were all true. Over the decades since the construction of Objekt 825, the base’s command staff had allowed security to become dangerously ineffective.

And thank God for that.

Tracie turned in the direction of the single-family dwellings off in the distance, for the simple reason she had no other alternative. She didn’t want to risk being seen by Morozov on the off chance the commander was up and roaming around his home at this time of night, but on the other hand, returning in the direction of Objekt 825 would do nothing in the way of moving her mission forward.

She thought she would be okay as long as the sentry didn’t trail along behind her. She guessed he would want to put as much distance between himself and this KGB representative as he could, and after a couple dozen steps she risked a glance behind her.

He was striding quickly in the opposite direction, disappearing between the apartment buildings.

She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. It had been a close call, but she’d gained valuable intel from the encounter: she now knew the base commander’s name.

She slowed her walking pace. She’d covered roughly half the distance between the apartment complex and the small cluster of houses, inside one of which was Objekt 825’s commanding officer. Taking another long look in