Free Moscow Machination by Ian Maxwell Page A

and the Intelligence Chief out on the field?”
    “Guess they
took it personally.”
    “Shit.
That’s serious shit.”
    “Yeah, nothing
good comes out of stalking cats.”
    After a
few seconds the President asked, “So, will the Chinese go after Pyongyang now?”
    “Nah. The
young leadership was clashing with their old school intelligence Chief. It was
just a matter of time….”
    “If you
say so… What about the tiger, is it safe?”
    “Yes. She is
being sent to Pyongyang as we speak… on a luxury train. That brat probably
thinks a selfie with a Siberian is cool…”
    The
President lifted a finger to the waiting Otto and her guards to hang on a bit
longer.
    “Ok. Whats
our move Sergey? Do we even want the tiger back?”
    “Our Pyongyang
envoy, Dimitroff is one of the best. We will let him play.”
    “Alright,
Sergey, keep me posted.”
     
     
     
    Otto extended
an arm into the fireplace and felt around. Then he did a little tap, tap
causing the bottom to give away exposing a 3x3ft square shaft. The shaft was
lined with a good looking iron ladder. Otto yielded left as Mika and the
President took a look. It was just a black square hole. Nothing more to it.
    “Are you sure
this is the way to your bunker?” checked the President.
    “Yes Madam
President,” replied Otto, his enthusiasm rising by the tick.
    “So who
goes first?” asked Mika fearing the answer. Exploring underground caves in
search of the ‘ultimate weapon’ wasn’t something he looked forward to.
    “Me of
course,” cried Otto. “I go in first. President next. Then the three of you.”
    “Oh. Okay.
That sounds fine. But let me just switch places with the President.” Suggested
Mika.
    “Mika, how
long do you think we can be away, without raising alarms?”
    “Madam, its
1.45 now. We clocked in at 12.30 so that should give us three, three and a half
hours.”
    An excited
Anna Petrova clapped her hands, “Alright gentlemen let’s get this party
started.”
    Otto
Fuchs, Mika the guard, President Petrova, the other guards Vlad and Marat all
descended down the fireplace. Their mission: to find this weapon that Otto had
been blathering about.
     
     
     
    Fifty feet
into the abyss, they hit a small landing. Upon further review it was just big
room with no doors or windows. “In the old times we called this Rest Point 1.
To catch your breath. Ten minutes, we move again,” said Otto.
    “Otto we
are fine. Let’s get going. I don’t have all day for your antics,” chided the
President.
    “Sure
madam. Follow me to the eastern wall.” The group headed by Otto went to a bare
white-ish wall. Otto felt up the wall and touched something. The wall slid away
and exposed a shiny metal door with a vertical slit down the middle.
    “Madam, I
present to you….”
    “An elevator?”
    “Yes of
course.”
    As Otto
depressed the down button, the elevator opened with a traditional chime. Like many
of its contemporaries, it was shiny steel on the inside, no pansy mirrors, an
emergency phone, and just two buttons on the panel that read ‘0’ and ‘1’. It was
certified to carry twelve.
    Otto hit
‘0’ and said “We should be out in four minutes.”
    “Four
minutes? How far does your rat hole go?” asked a petrified Vlad.
    “Oh it’s
pretty, pretty deep. But don’t worry, its air conditioned and we got
entertainment too.”
    “What
kind?” asked the President.
    As the
elevator tumbled down, Jon Bon Jovi’s Livin’ on a Prayer began playing. But
instead of playing the whole song, it kept repeating “…we are half way
there…”
    Four
minutes later the piper and his followers exited into a dazzling underground
metro station.
    Trains whizzed
in and out as busy crowds scurried along. “Jeez this don’t look like Moscow …” said
Marat the guard.
    “No,”
confirmed Otto, who looked like the cat that barbecued canaries.
    “So where are
we?” asked the President.
    Mika
muttered something under his breath.
    “Whats
that Mika?”