Free Brass Monkey: A James Acton Thriller Book #2 by J Robert Kennedy Page B

and the doors slid slowly open. Dymovsky stepped out and checked the sign in front indicating 315 was to the left. Three doors down they found the room.
    Dymovsky decided speed was the safest course of action. He drew his weapon and Ivan did the same. He stepped back, then rammed the door with his shoulder, splintering the lock and sending the door flying open. He fell into the room, but regained his balance, and gun drawn, stormed inside.
    “Moscow Police, nobody move!” he yelled to what turned out to be an empty room.
    “Are we too late?” asked Ivan.
    Dymovsky raised his finger for silence. The sound of a shower came from the other side of the room’s lone interior door. They took up positions on either side, then Dymovsky gripped the doorknob, and slowly turned it. He pushed the door open and they both burst into the small bathroom. He stepped toward the shower and yanked the curtain aside, his weapon extended in front of him.
    The woman on the other side yelped in surprise, her hand flying to her chest.
    “Agent Dymovsky, Prosecutor-General’s Office,” he said, raising his badge. “And you are Anya Kushchenko.”
    She turned to face him, placing both hands on her hips as the water drenched her naked body. “More questions?”
    Dymovsky couldn’t help but stare. He reached blindly past his gawking younger partner and snatched a towel off the nearby rack. He handed it to her. “Yes, more questions.”
    She didn’t take the towel for a moment. Finally she reached down and turned off the shower, then wiped the beaded water off her body. She ran her hands over each opposite arm, then down her chest and over her breasts, all the while staring at Dymovsky. Dymovsky met her stare, knowing she was trying to make him uncomfortable. It was working, but he wouldn’t let it show. He tossed her the towel and snapped his fingers. “Hurry up, we haven’t got all day.”

 
     
     
    Southeast District Police Headquarters, Kashirskoye Street, Moscow
    Interrogation Room 1
     
    Dymovsky stared at Anya through the two way mirror as he waited to be connected to the Minister in charge of his investigation. He had only met the man once, when he was given this assignment. “Find the missile, no matter what the cost.” Simple, concise. In the old days that would have meant a lot more than it did now, but with the swing back to the old days over the past few years, he had a lot more leeway than he was willing to take. He was part of the new Russia. He was twelve when the Soviet Union had collapsed, so he had no memory of it. He had survived the chaos afterward, and had vowed to help clean it up so Russia could take its place on the world stage as a free, democratic, strong country. Well, they were barely free, barely democratic, and if it weren’t for the price of oil and an aging nuclear stockpile, hardly strong.
    And the last thing Russia needed now was a rogue ex-army colonel with an American nuke, selling it on the open market, and then having that weapon used in some terrorist attack. The Americans would immediately go public, blaming the Russians, and with the way Russian luck seemed lately, it might just get sold to the Chechnyans, and used on Moscow.
    There was a click on his cellphone as a phone on the other end picked up. “This is Silayev, speak.”
    “Sir, this is Agent Dymovsky.”
    “Da, what is it?”
    “I found one of Trubitsin’s men, and it appears they are connected to Ms. Kushchenko somehow. I have picked her up—”
    “You did what?” Uh oh. The voice didn’t sound at all pleased.
    “I believe she knows where Trubitsin is.”
    A grunt, then, “What makes you think that?”
    “She told me so.”
    This time there was silence for a few moments. “She told you so?” repeated the Minister, saying each word as if a sentence of their own.
    “Yes, sir, she says she knows where Trubitsin and his men will be, but—”
    “Yes?”
    “Well, sir, she wants to make a deal.”
    “Of course she does.”