Free Edge of Apocalypse by Tim Lahaye, Craig Parshall

after?" Zimler asked. "The mailman?"
    "Well...the bigger problem lies in the delivery system."
    "I would have to concur. I assume you are calling because you have agreed to the price?"
    "Yes."
    "And the other terms as well?"
    "Yes, yes," the voice on the other end replied.
    "Then we have an understanding," Zimler concluded. "However, if at any point in the future you fail to make the correct deposits in the designated accounts at the proper times, I will immediately discontinue our relationship."
    "Yes. We understand that. When will you begin your work? My superior would like to have the technology in his hands as soon as possible."
    "Certain events have already been put in motion," the Algerian assured.
    "You know," the man on the line offered, "we have chosen you because of your...well...your reputation."
    "Of course."
    "Please, don't fail us."
    "You needn't concern yourself about that," Zimler stated confidently. "I'm not about to compromise my reputation."
    With that, Zimler ended the conversation.
    Twenty five minutes later, the Algerian rode the hotel's mirrored elevator down two flights to the fourth floor. He waited until the hallways were clear before making his way to room 417, which he knew was unoccupied. From his right pants pocket he pulled out a pair of latex gloves and put them on. From his left pocket he took out a magnetic programming device, similar in size to a standard deck of playing cards. Zimler then extracted a blank hotel room card key from the magnetic box and inserted it into the room's door lock.
    Nothing.
    He then slid the electronic card key back into the device and punched in a new code using the numeric pad on top of the box. He tried the key again.
    The door opened.
    Zimler smiled, entered the empty room, and closed the door securely behind him.
    And waited.
    Yergi Banica was clearly nervous--and it wasn't simply because he was running a few minutes late. Having already parked his car on the north side of the Piata Revolutiei as instructed, he quickly made his way across the square toward the hotel. His mind was on euros--ten thousand of them to be exact. His job, teaching political science at the Romanian University of Craiova, paid little, barely enough for him to get by in his small apartment with his much younger new wife. Personally, he didn't mind the close quarters, but he knew Elena aspired to better things.
    Yergi was of average size and, although not unattractive, had added those few extra pounds that come with age. He knew he was lucky to have found his beautiful Elena, lucky that she found him interesting, lucky that she had agreed to marry him. He knew about her unsavory background, but he didn't care and never talked about it with her. And he was well aware that his luck could end if his financial situation remained unchanged. But as luck would have it, his finances were about to improve.
    A year earlier, Yergi had been approached by a Russian student in one of his political science classes. The student was friendly, bright, and engaged in his studies, but that was just a ruse. In reality, the young man wanted to know if the professor would be interested in earning a little extra money. All Yergi would have to do is slip him some details about the political persuasions of some of the more radical professors and wealthy students on campus. Yergi was old enough to have lived through the KGB and their successor, the secret Russian Federal Security Bureau. So he knew what they were asking of him; to be their informant. He really wouldn't be hurting anyone, he rationalized, just passing along little innocent bits of information. Besides, the extra money would come in handy.
    As an unintentional side effect, this new arrangement actually brought Yergi a newfound sense of confidence. Always trying to impress his wife's younger friends, he'd let it slip a few times after several drinks that he was a man who knew things, a man with connections. He might have even jokingly referred to