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

She veered toward the forest. Getting off the road would slow her progress considerably, particularly in the dark, but one near-disaster was one too many, and she still had plenty of time in which to cover a relatively small amount of ground. It was just past four a.m., and even the most dedicated of officers wouldn’t report to work before six at the earliest.

As she moved, keeping a sharp eye out to avoid stepping on and snapping any branches, she considered the likelihood of the sentry she’d just encountered checking with his superiors about KGB Lieutenant Olga Koruskaya’s supposed appointment with the base commander.

Obviously, if the security staff had access to Morozov’s schedule and decided to check it, they would find no such appointment.

But she didn’t think it would be a problem. The kid she’d just encountered had seemed more intimidated than suspicious by the end of their conversation. And even if Tracie had misread him and he reported the incident to his superiors, she thought there was a good chance the officer in charge of security for Objekt 825 would consider the KGB connection and decide that perhaps this audit of Commander Morozov’s operation was an unscheduled one.

For that reason, even if Olga Koruskaya’s presence were reported up the security chain, Tracie doubted any call would be made to the commander. Nobody would want to draw the wrong kind of attention from the KGB, and being known as the idiot who had blown a surprise audit would do exactly that.

Tracie leaned against a tree across from the three small homes, clustered together inside a small clearing carved out of the ever-present Russian forest.

Gazed out of the forest and across the narrow road.

The car she’d seen Morozov drive away from Objekt 825 was parked outside the middle home. Lights were off inside all three houses, which would make sense given the time.

Now that she had identified which home contained her target, Tracie turned her attention to the houses on either side of Morozov’s. Neither had a car parked in its driveway, and both gave off an aura of emptiness. She couldn’t exactly put her finger on why she thought they were empty; it was entirely possible anyone staying in either house would have no need for a vehicle. Still, she didn’t think that were the case.

If the homes were unoccupied, that would suit her purposes perfectly. She would have to approach Morozov differently if there were potential witnesses right next door than if there were not. She decided a closer look would be necessary to find out for sure.

Sunrise at this time of year would occur in less than an hour, and already Tracie could see the skies beginning to brighten. This kind of up-close reconnaissance was best done under cover of darkness, so she gave herself a moment to catch her breath, then broke silently out of the trees and headed toward the tiny Russian subdivision.

24

June 25, 1988

6:25 a.m.

Objekt 825

Tracie’s initial sense about the homes on either side of Commander Morozov’s being empty was proven correct. She checked multiple windows on both structures and found their interiors to be vacant, not just of residents but of furniture as well. Whatever their purpose, neither was occupied at this time.

Her original plan had been to wait in the woods for Morozov to exit his home, thus minimizing the likelihood of being seen. Given the distance of the commander’s residence from the apartment complex, though, she no longer thought that precaution would be necessary. It was highly unlikely any apartment resident would peer across the expanse toward the commander’s home, and even more unlikely anyone would see Tracie should they do so. And there was by now enough daylight that she would observe anyone moving by car or on foot toward the homes from either direction in plenty of time to take cover.

So after satisfying herself that Morozov’s home was the only one occupied, Tracie approached it from an angle that would keep her hidden should he happen to glance out a window. Then she flattened herself against the wall on the side facing away from the apartment complex. She placed her backpack on the damp grass and then sat on it to await the commander’s appearance.

Her theory was that he would want to be inside his office by seven a.m.—lead by example, show the troops what real professionalism looked like, that sort of thing—but if not, if he were a late sleeper, she was perfectly willing to wait until eight or even nine, if necessary.

She had nowhere to be.

Sooner or later he would have to leave his house.

***

It turned out to be sooner.

Tracie had been seated on her backpack less than ten minutes when she heard the front door open. A moment later it slammed closed, followed by the sound of a lock being engaged, and then footsteps descending the stairs and moving toward the driveway.

She climbed to her feet and shrugged the backpack onto her shoulders. Then she pulled her Beretta from its leather shoulder rig and slipped around the corner, falling in behind Morozov as she scanned the area for potential witnesses.

There were none.

She closed the distance between them steadily, moving noiselessly despite the incessant throbbing of her injured ankle. She’d hoped the few hours worth of sleep she got before departing the old hostel would be enough to allow for a bit of recovery, but it seemed to have done little to promote healing.

She pushed the pain from her mind and continued, timing her approach to coincide with Morozov’s arrival at his car. He reached for the door handle and then froze. Tracie realized he’d seen her reflection in the car’s side window, but by then it was too late for him to respond effectively.