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

After a moment, she passed it across the desk and said, “Please pin this to your jacket and keep it displayed at all times while inside the facility.”

“I will do that,” Tracie said.

“Have a nice day, and enjoy your time here.”

“I am sure it will be very productive.”

She turned to the commander and said, “May we begin the day in your office, please, Commander Morozov? We have much to discuss.”

“Of course,” Morozov replied, his voice gravelly and curt. Numerous hallways led out of the lobby in multiple directions, and the commander turned toward the one farthest to the right. Tracie turned with him, careful to remain off his right side, a position which would enable her to lift her left arm and fire her weapon directly from her shoulder holster should it become necessary.

So far, Morozov had shown no signs of attempting to warn any of the soldiers strolling the facility that they had an enemy in their midst, but this was his turf, not hers. Things could go sideways in an instant, and she wanted to maximize her chances for survival should that happen. The farther the entryway doors got behind her, the less likely that survival became in the event Morozov did something stupid, but she wasn’t about to make the odds any longer than they needed to be.

They entered the hallway into what was clearly the office suite reserved for Objekt 825’s upper management. The gold carpeting was a step up from the bare concrete of the lobby, although it looked ancient, grubby and worn. The first door on the right was Morozov’s office.

“I need to reach into my pocket for the key to unlock my door,” Morozov said, speaking softly.

Tracie answer was spoken just as softly. “Fine. Do not do anything you will regret.”

“I already have.”

“Then let me put it to you differently: do not do anything that will get you killed.”

Another angry huff accompanied the jingling of keys, as Morozov selected the proper one and pushed open the door. Tracie was pleased to note that the metal door’s reinforced glass window was pebbled, obscuring the interior of the office from the gaze of anyone passing by in the corridor.

A picture window at the rear of the office featured a set of blinds, and the moment Tracie eased the door closed behind her, she told Morozov, “Close the blinds.”

She stood with her back to the door, her hand inside her blazer on the butt of her weapon while he complied.

“Good,” she said. “Now move to the far corner and face the wall.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I am going to search your desk.”

“The device you are looking for is not inside my desk.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Tracie said. “I want to make sure you don’t sit down and immediately pull a weapon out of your top drawer.”

“I told you, I am not armed. There has never been a reason to keep a gun inside my desk, although I suppose if I survive that will have to change.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”

She began rifling through the drawers, moving quickly but keeping a close eye on Morozov. A narrow drawer above the foot well, just beneath the writing surface, was filled with pens, pencils, notepaper, a calculator, a stapler, paper clips, and other office supplies the commander of a secret military base might presumably need.

Three deeper drawers ran top to bottom along the left side of the desk, and they next became the focus of Tracie’s search. The bottom drawer contained three thick manuals, specific to the operation of Objekt 825. Inside the drawer above it was a stack of official paperwork that looked as though it had been swept into the drawer in frustration when the commander grew tired of dealing with it.

She guessed the top drawer would be where she would find anything interesting, and she was right. She pulled it open and immediately turned her full attention to Morozov.

“You lied to me,” she said softly, reaching into the drawer and removing a Makarov 9mm semi-auto pistol. She turned it over in her hands before slipping it into the waistband of her slacks at the small of her back. “Or did you forget this gun was here?”

“What did you expect?” the commander answered. “Put yourself in my position. Would you have admitted to having a weapon?”

Tracie realized he had a point, but she wasn’t going to acknowledge that to him.

Instead, she said, “This is not the way to build trust, Commander. Our relationship has gotten off to a rocky start, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Again, what would you expect?”

This time Tracie ignored his comment and re-opened one of the deeper drawers, lifting out a mostly full bottle of expensive Russian vodka. She gazed at it thoughtfully before closing the drawer and returning to the closed office door.

“Move behind your desk and sit,” she said.

26

June 25, 1988

7:20 a.m.

Objekt 825 administration building

Morozov eased into his office chair, eying Tracie warily. It was clear he thought she might lift her weapon and put a bullet between his eyes at any moment, a notion she was only too happy to encourage as long as he didn’t get so fearful he did something unexpected out of sheer desperation.

She wanted him compliant, not panicked.

“Do not lie to me again,” she said softly, maintaining eye contact until Morozov lowered his gaze. “If you do, I will kill you, and without hesitation. Do you understand what I am telling you, Commander?”

He nodded curtly and she said, “That is not good enough. Answer me.”

“I understand.”

“Do not forget,” she said. “Now, this is how the rest of your morning is going to go. You will notify the person in charge of your lab,