Free Death Wave by Stephen Coonts Page B

other thing, too. If this was supposed to be her working outfit, she was going to have a hell of a time hiding any SIGINT devices inside—to say nothing of her P226.

5
     
    ILYA AKULININ
MORGUE, RUSSIAN MILITARY HOSPITAL
DUSHANBE, TAJIKISTAN
WEDNESDAY, 1925 HOURS LOCAL TIME
     
Oh, God, no,” Masha said, taking several halting steps backward.
“What’s the matter?” Akulinin passed the radiation counter over the Chinese man’s body. There was no response—or very little. A few clicks that might represent normal background radiation, but nothing like the hiss of static that the other two had shown, even on his hands.
So … this one had stayed back while the other two had gotten their hands dirty. Had he been the one in charge? Or had he just not been involved with the actual transfer of radioactive materials?
“The radiation on those two …”
“Don’t worry,” Akulinin told her. “It’s not enough to make you sick or anything.” I just hope the Art Room knows its stuff , he added to himself.
“You don’t understand,” she said. She looked desperate, and scared. “Those men who were here a few minutes ago, Vasilyev …”
“What about them?”
“They’re FSB! That means they’re part of an antiterror unit, or maybe nuclear security, and they were after these three.”
“Yeah … so …”
“So I’m not stupid , Ilya! Those two people were handling nuclear material of some sort, and they’re mafiya ! That one”—she pointed at the Chinese man—“if he’s involved, this must be big. International. Big enough, even, to bring in the American CIA?”
She was quick on the uptake.
He indicated the gray-eyed corpse, “This guy was a mafiya middleman,” Akulinin told her. “We think he was selling stolen mini nukes to an Islamic extremist group, maybe al-Qaeda, maybe someone else, a Pakistani terror organization. I don’t know why the Chinese guy is here.”
“Don’t you understand? Vasilyev will be back soon with a technician to check the bodies for radiation. They’re not going want to let word of this get out. Stolen nuclear weapons? That makes the Moscow government look very bad. If they think I know too much, they … they’re not going to let me go!”
“It’s okay, Masha,” Akulinin said. He was thinking fast. It was a breach of operational security, but in for a penny—
“It is not okay!”
“Look, you said you were trying to get back to the States, right? Maybe I can help.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Really? That would be—”
“I’m going to need to clear some stuff with my superiors, but at the very least we can get you out of here .”
The immediate problem was how. Dean and Akulinin were supposed to exfiltrate across the border into Afghanistan when their part of the op was over. Bringing along a civilian woman they’d just happened to pick up along the way was definitely not a part of the plan.
“People who get on the bad side of the FSB,” she said, “they … they disappear.”
Akulinin nodded. The Federalnaya Sluzhba Bezopasnosti had a bad rep both for being thoroughly corrupt and for being unnecessarily brutal in the prosecution of their duties. Most Russian civilians were terrified of them, and with good reason. There were reports of mafiya extortionists within the FSB shaking down small business owners, of ex-military and ex-KGB thugs kidnapping people and holding them for ransom.
“I know,” he said. “That’s not going to happen to you. I promise you.” He stooped over and reattached the radiation counter to his ankle. “Listen, have you tried the American Embassy here in Dushanbe? I’d think they could help you.”
“No. My parents surrendered their American citizenship when they came here … and mine, too. And I would need money, lots of money, for a plane ticket, and proof I had relatives or a job in America.” She shook her head. “They wouldn’t help me.”
“It depends on who you talk to, Masha. I have … friends. They should be able to