Free Psychic Warrior by Bob Mayer

papers were under the control of the Mafia and printed lies. She was one of the seven major chiefs in the Moscow Mafia. She had gotten where she was by being smart and by being farsighted. And that vision told her they were milking the cow to death. Even the Russian people, dulled as they were by centuries of oppression and hardship, could not bear up under the weight of such crime much longer. The last time it had gotten this bad, there had been a revolution in the midst of a world war and three quarters of a century of Communism. But there were other cows to be milked, beyond Russia's borders, and that was where her sight was aimed.
    The woman adjusted her bifocals as she scanned the documents that Barsk had gotten from Colonel Seogky.
    "This is exactly what we wanted," she said.
    "But-" Barsk was surprised. "But that talks of something old, decades old. I don't-"
    "Do you think I would have sent you on a wild-goose chase?"
    Barsk straightened. "No, Oma." The word was the Russian familiar for grandmother, and the woman behind the highly polished desk was indeed related in that way to Barsk. But she was called that by all in her inner circle, a sign of respect in the Russian matriarchal society; and in the dark and brutal world of the Russian Mafia, it was a word spoken with deep respect and fear.
    Oma held the papers up. "Do you think that whatever killed Colonel Seogky would have done so if these were worthless? Or given up Dmitri to you?"
    Barsk shook his head. "No, Oma."
    Oma sighed. "Grandson, I have tried to teach you, but you are thickheaded. You must understand that where there is smoke, there is fire. None of those things would have happened if these papers were not very important. The GRU turned Dmitri and there was a reason for that."
    "You knew about Dmitri?" Barsk asked.
    Oma looked over the rim of her glasses. "Of course. But he was your responsibility."
    "He could have killed me!" Barsk objected.
    "He could have. It was a risk but I felt it was a good learning point for you. One cannot learn from words. Experience is the best teacher. If one does not survive the experience, then that is also best."
    Barsk bowed his head to hide his anger. "Yes, Oma."
    She turned to a specific page. "This is what we want. The phased-displacement generator."
    "What is it, Oma?"
    "Part of a very powerful weapon in the right hands."
    "Part of?" Dmitri asked.
    Oma put the papers down on the desk. "What do you think it was that attacked Seogky and killed Dmitri?"
    Barsk swallowed. "I don't know, Oma."
    The old woman smiled, revealing steel-capped teeth, ruining the matronly image. "You've thought about it on the drive back here. Tell me your best guess."
    "A devil-a Chyort as Seogky said-such as my mother used to tell me about," Barsk said.
    "A Chyort?" Oma did not laugh. "Your mother was a good woman but prone to flights of fancy. I kept her well insulated from the real world. However, you are not far off." She tapped the papers with a finger. "These give information about the location of a piece of a weapon that will give us power beyond anything you can imagine. I want you to prepare a mission to the site listed in these papers and recover the phased-displacement generator."
    Barsk had already been reprimanded once. He knew better than to risk twice, even though he knew the difficulty in executing what she had just ordered. "Yes, Oma."
    "This is very important, Barsk," Oma said. "I will give you more than enough support to accomplish this."
    "Yes, Oma."
    "I will send Leksi with you. Listen to him."
    Barsk's jaw tightened. Leksi was his grandmother's chief assassin. A man with no soul. Barsk had seen and dealt much death, but every time he was in Leksi's presence he felt a chill in his heart. "Yes, Oma."
    She interlaced her fingers on her lap as she sat back in the deeply padded leather chair. "Barsk, you must understand some things. You thought you were going after information that would lead you to nuclear weapons, did you