Vengeance (The Kurgan War Book 4) (5 page)

“Sir, Admiral Sheridan has asked for a private meeting with you at sixteen hundred hours tomorrow.”

Oshiro lowered the tablet. He had a perplexed look on his face. “Is Robert here in Norfolk?”

Parker shook his head. “No, sir. His aide, Commander Roy, is here on his behalf.”

“Did he say why?”

“No, sir. I asked him, but Admiral Sheridan insisted that it was urgent and that Commander Roy would convey his message to you.”

“Very well, please see to it that we are not disturbed.” Paranoia seemed to be gripping everyone since the attempted assassination of the federation president. When his fleet commanders started to use couriers instead of the normal communication channels to pass along information, Oshiro knew things were truly beginning to fall apart. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

“No, sir, that is all until tonight’s operational briefings by the staff.”

“Thank you, Sean.”

Parker stood and left the room.

Oshiro got out of his seat, walked over to the windows, and looked out over Chesapeake Bay. A sailboat was making its way out to sea. For a brief moment, Oshiro could see his grandfather and himself as a young boy sailing on the waters off Yokohama. He smiled and wished his life could return to those simpler days. It was a fool’s dream. He had responsibilities to the men and women of the fleet that went far beyond his own wishes and desires.
 

The term fleet was incorrect, but that didn’t stop Oshiro and everyone under his command from using it. The correct title for the organization under his command was the Federation Expeditionary Navy, which included the Marine Corps. It was one of three services that made up the Allied Defense Force. The Federation Expeditionary Army was responsible for the defense of the off-world colonies. Lastly, the Federation Home Guard looked after the defense of the Terran Solar System.

Oshiro turned his back on the window, walked over to his desk, and picked up a remote. He turned on a screen mounted on the far wall. A twenty-four-hour news channel came on. Oshiro always kept it on mute. He preferred to read the headlines rather than listen to the so-called experts drone on for hours about nothing. Aside from the failed assassination attempt outside of ADF HQ in Rome, the next biggest news story was the upcoming presidential debates scheduled in three days’ time. The incumbent, President James Martinez, a Texan with a razor-sharp wit, was expected to do well. Despite what the pundits said, Oshiro knew that his challengers were not to be taken lightly. There was a retired military general who was popular with some of the more conservative elements of the population and a former member of the president’s cabinet who was proposing to enter into ceasefire talks with the Kurgan Empire.
 

Oshiro took his seat again and glanced over at an ornate brass clock on his desk. He saw that he had a couple of minutes before Parker placed his call with General Sadir, so he took one last gander at the news. A military spokesperson was explaining that the base on Eris had been stricken with he termed ‘a run of bad luck.’ They were having comms problems which the military expected to get fixed in the next couple of days. As well, the base had been placed out of bounds due to an outbreak of a virulent strain of influenza that had been brought there by a sick technician.
Another lie that would have to be explained one day to the families of the dead
, thought Oshiro. However, that was not the most pressing thing on his mind. If Valens failed to locate the missing virus, the entire human race could be facing extinction.

Chapter 5

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Sheridan as he looked up at the bulbous dome sitting atop the old wooden church.

“Vladimir Bodrov always had a flair for the dramatics,” replied Cole.
 

“Do you think he’ll see us? After all it is three in the morning.”

“Vlad would get up a minute after he went to sleep if he thought there were something in it for him. Come on, let’s wake him up.”

“There is no need, Alan, my old friend. I am already awake,” said a voice through a speaker hidden in a bush beside the path. A light above the church’s front door came on. “Come on inside and let us have a drink to old times.”

Sheridan whispered, “I sure hope we’re not walking into a trap.”

Cole smiled. “There’s only one way to find out.” With that, he walked to the brass-inlaid door and opened it. The inside of the church was dimly lit by a couple of half-melted candles sitting on a wooden table.

“Please do come in, you’re letting all of the heat out,” said a voice in the dark.

Sheridan walked in and pulled the doors closed behind him. In a flash, the lights in the church came on, blinding him.

“Don’t move a muscle or I will be forced to kill both of you!” threatened a man standing directly in front of Sheridan and Cole. In his hands was a military-issue assault rifle. He had thick black hair, which had been greased and combed back. His eyes were a dark blue. The man’s face was a crisscross of old scars. He was wearing a black leather jacket and dark gray pants.
 

“Morning, Vlad,” said Cole. “Glad to see that you haven’t lost your touch.”

“What do you want, Alan?”

“Me and Mister Sheridan are in need of your services.”

Bodrov’s eyes lingered on Cole’s uniform. “Where’s your rank insignia?”

“We dumped them along with some of our equipment when we abandoned ship.”

“Abandoned ship?”

“It’s a bit of a long story. Can we move now?”

Bodrov lowered his rifle. “Yes, of course. I’m being a poor host. Please let me show you around.”

“See, we’re good mates, Vlad and me,” Cole said to Sheridan.

“Yeah, whatever you say, Sergeant.”

They followed Bodrov down a narrow, winding stone staircase that led deep underground. As their host flicked on the lights, Sheridan and Cole saw just how enormous Bodrov’s operation was. Spread out before them was a vast subterranean warehouse that dwarfed the church built on top of it. It looked like he had enough weapons and equipment to supply a small army. There were rifles and small arms of all calibers still in their original shipping containers. Communication devices, scanners, computers, night-vision gear, and body armor were lying about everywhere.

“My God, you weren’t kidding when you said he could get us anything.” said Sheridan when he saw all of the equipment.

“Even I didn’t expect Vlad to have all this,” replied Cole, just as awestruck.

“Before we begin,” said Bodrov, “how will you be paying?”

“With these,” responded Cole, placing several gold bars on the table in front of him.

Bodrov picked one up and smiled. “Alan, my services do not come cheap. I hope you have access to more than those few paltry gold pieces.”

“I do, but I don’t have them on me. You’re going to have to trust me that you’ll get what you’re owed.”

Bodrov broke out laughing. “Alan, if it were only you here I would throw you out into the night for wasting my time. However, your young friend has access to a lot of credits. Don’t you, Captain Michael Sheridan, son of Admiral Robert Sheridan?”

Sheridan was surprised that Bodrov knew who he was. Then he remembered the outside speaker. Bodrov must have been watching them on a hidden camera and ran their faces through some illegally obtained facial recognition software. “Yeah, I can get you more credits if we need to.”

“That depends on what you want, my young friend.”

Cole said, “We need some new clothes, micro jammers for all makes and models of surveillance cameras, super-lightweight body armor, concealed weapons, comms gear, and new identification cards. We could also use several credit cards each with ten thousand credits on them.”

Bodrov chuckled. “Is that all?”

 
“That should do,” said Sheridan, wondering how much all of this was going to cost him.

“And why do you need all of this rather expensive equipment?” pried the black marketer.

 
“I’d tell you it’s none of your business but as we need your help, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

“And what is that?”

Cole grinned. “We’re here on orders from the commander of the fleet to kill a Kurgan operative and anyone else who may get in our way.”

Bodrov shook his head. “Sure you are.”

Cole looked over at Sheridan. “See, even when I tell the truth, people still don’t believe me.”

“Maybe because he knows you,” retorted Sheridan.

“Yeah, it could be that.”

Bodrov dug out his phone and placed a call to get some civilian clothing brought to his hideout. When he was done, he pocketed the gold Cole had laid out and picked up two small plastic cases from the table and gave them to the two Marines.

Sheridan opened his and looked inside. He scrunched up his face when he saw a small personal wrist phone.
 

“I can see by the look on your face, Mister Sheridan, that you are unimpressed with your new phone,” said Bodrov.

“I can pick one of these up from any shop for a few dozen credits,” remarked Sheridan.

“True, but yours is untraceable. Every call and every inquiry you make on the web is recorded by the authorities. If you wish to remain invisible, my phone is the way to go. If anyone were to try to trace you via your phone, they would be in for a big surprise. The latest military grade encryption software is built into your phone. You can use it anywhere in the world and be confident that you’re not being tracked.”

Cole placed it on his wrist. “I take it that it is fully charged.”

“Naturally. It will last two weeks before you need to recharge it.”

“I hope we’re not here on Earth that long,” mused Sheridan.

Next Bodrov opened a locker, grabbed a couple sets of ultra-lightweight liquid body armor, and placed them on the table.

Sheridan picked up one of the armored vests and was amazed by how light it was. “This can’t weigh more than a T-Shirt. How on earth can it be expected stop a bullet?”

“It’s from the army’s testing grounds in Nevada,” explained Bodrov. “Trust me, it’ll stop a bullet, and unlike the armor you wear in the Marine Corps, this will soften and become flexible seconds after stopping a bullet, allowing the wearer enhanced mobility.”

“When you say it came from Nevada,” said Cole, “you mean you stole it.”

Bodrov gave a shrug and moved along. He picked up a piece of cloth and gave it to Sheridan. “What does that feel and look like to you?”

“A handkerchief, I guess.”

“Exactly. Now, Mister Sheridan, hold that cloth away from you and flick your wrist.”

Sheridan stepped back slightly and did as he was told. He was amazed when the handkerchief, in the blink of an eye, became rigid. He brought it up to look at it and saw that there was the outline of a knife in the material. Sheridan placed his thumb in the middle of the blade and pushed. The knife fell out into his other hand.
 

“That’s a neat trick,” said Cole. “How does it do that?”

“Like your body armor, this material reacts to a sudden jolt and changes its composition, becoming as hard as steel,” explained Bodrov.

Sheridan ran his thumb along the blade of the knife. “Unbelievable. It’s razor sharp!”

“Leave it,” said Cole. “Trust me, you’ll never use it.”

“I might.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I’m taking a couple anyway.”

Cole shook his head. “Officers and their toys.” He looked back at Bodrov. “What about micro jammers, do you have any of them?”

With a smile, Bodrov said, “You’re wearing them.”

“What, the phones?”

“Yes. What’s the point of going to all the trouble of making your phone untraceable when you can still be seen by the authorities and tracked that way? The best part is that they react only if you are being targeted. If not, they don’t emit any signal whatsoever.”

“What’s the point of that?”

“If we transmitted a signal all the time, our phones’ batteries would die in pretty short order,” explained Sheridan.

“He’s smarter than he looks,” said Bodrov.

“Ain’t that the truth, Vlad. You know, I’m going to do all my Christmas shopping with you from now on.”

Sheridan ignored the quip at his expense. “Can they be turned off manually?”

Bodrov nodded. “Yes. Tap the face of your watch two times to turn it off and three to turn it back on again. Yours is the master watch. If you turn yours off, your friend’s will go off as well.”

“How do we appear on the surveillance cameras?” queried Cole.

“With the older jammers you used to appear as a blur. But that can be tracked by a skilled technician. The devices you have are state of the art. When your faces are run through a computer database they will match the false identities I will be supplying you with shortly. Gentlemen, you will be hiding in plain sight.”

“Neat trick,” said Sheridan as he admired the watch on his wrist.

“What about pistols?” asked Cole. “You must have something that can get through the police security scanners without setting off the alarms.”