Russian Doomsday Page 16

  “Thank you for thinking about me.” He leaned over and kissed her head again.

  “I’m glad you got the gun. Just so much violence out there, all I want is for you to be safe.”

  “I know honey, and thank you for getting the targets for me. I’m really getting good.” He grinned at her.

  “Well, just keep the boys away from it. And don’t let them near it when you put it in the safe. I just don’t like it around them.”

  “You know I’m always careful. I hope it wasn’t stretching the budget with the bugout bag.”

  Christy supplemented their income with her work on computer graphics. She designed book covers and magazine covers, and was able to work from home. She also sold their milk and eggs to locals, who appreciated the fresh organic milk and eggs. They weren’t rich, but they were very happy. He’d never before thought he’d live this kind of wonderful life.

  “Trust me, I got everything on sale. If not Black Friday sales, other sales. You know me,” she sniggered.

  He grinned at her.

  Jackson came to them with his creation. “Look, Daddy, look what I made.”

  “Wow, a tiger! That is terrific.”

  “Look at mine too, Daddy,” Jacob cried, running to the couch.

  “Wow, you boys sure can build something fantastic.” He grinned and hugged each boy.

  He’d grown up in a dysfunctional home with ambivalent parents. They were so wrapped up in their own lives and miseries that Harley had fallen to the wayside. He’d never felt loved until he’d met Christy. He’d needed some pamphlets done and had gone to her for the design work. She’d had a small office in Rowland back then.

  It had been love at first sight; at least, for him. She’d loved him and given him what he’d needed to feel whole. He’d never looked back. She’d made his life richer with her common-sense love and care. He could not imagine life without her.

  As shown by the gift of the bugout bag, she had his safety uppermost in her mind. Since he’d begun to pay more attention to the world situation, he really appreciated the gift. He wondered if most Americans were like him, in a fog when it came to the world around them?

  Washington, D.C., 22 December 2018

  Hamish shuffled papers as he spoke on the secure line. “An accident? Do you know what kind of accident?”

  “It was in the housing section. Mermaid indicated that it’s unclear if it was mechanical or explosion,” said the voice on the other end of the call.

  “It means they’re in production. If it was the housing on the nuclear reactor chamber, I guess we’d know about it,” Hamish said, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut. He was tired and needed a break.

  “Production may have stopped if equipment was damaged severely enough. That would slow them down,” the voice said.

  “It also might mean there is a saboteur at work. It isn’t us. We can’t get that close, though I wish we could. Mermaid has come through wonderfully. This is good news,” Hamish said, a smile stretched across his tired face.

  “I’d say so. It may be MI6. I know they have assets over there. It wouldn’t surprise me,” the voice said. Hamish could hear the humor even across the encryption.

  “Thank God we aren’t the only ones worried about POSEIDON. I’d hate to think we were alone in this. I’m sure China and Israel have assets involved too. If our intel is correct, they do. The Russians are at least hampered for the time being. Hopefully Mermaid will send us more. Thank you for the SITREP. Have a good Christmas if I don’t hear from you sooner. OUT,” Hamish said, and hung up.

  Hamish leaned back and blew out a long breath. It was good news and bad news. An accident meant that they were shut down, but it also meant they were actively working on POSEIDON. It bought time. But time for what? Was Russia planning to enable POSEIDON for launch? Was Orlov’s visit in April a sham to make the U.S. lower their guard?

  The diplomats and secretaries were checking calendars and finding a reason to be in Washington during that time. No one wanted to be left out. These kinds of meetings were high profile, and everyone wanted a piece of the pie. There was always a lot of glad handing and deal making.

  So many questions and very few answers. At least Mermaid had given them a clue: POSEIDON was moving ahead. So what were they planning? Planning for the future? Planning for long term? Planning a show of force? Perhaps he’d speak with his contact at MI6, James Kilian.

  He and Kilian had a pretty close working relationship and were willing to share a little bit more intel than what was normal. In this day and age, both men felt it prudent to share, though it was usually kept between themselves. James was reliable and Hamish trusted him. He’d met the man briefly on a visit and had liked him.

  Maybe, combining intel, they could get a clearer picture. He didn’t like it when he didn’t know the answers. Or the questions, for that matter. With their combined efforts, they had stopped many terrorist incidents on both sides of the pond. They did more between them than they could going through normal channels. This issue warranted aggressive pro-action.

  Maryville, MO, 15 January 2019

  Pike pushed the cart around the store. He planned to make dinner to celebrate; he’d gotten two houses under contract. Expensive houses, they were, and he could just envision the hefty commissions. He was happy, and really proud of himself. He thought with a pang of Johnny and Bev. He stopped in front of the wine section to read labels.

  “Can I help you?” a store assistant asked.

  “Sure, I guess. I’m making chicken parmesan and I wanted a good wine to go with that. What would you suggest?” He had no clue and figured anything would go, but since the woman was asking, he figured he’d let her choose.

  “I would suggest this nice Montepulciano, I think it would pair very well with the chicken and red sauce. Or perhaps this Italian Barbera? You can’t go wrong with either one,” she said, smiling.

  Pike smiled back. “I think I’ll go with the Barbera, thank you.”

  “Great choice, and my pleasure.”

  He placed the bottle in the cart and moved on. Going over to the cheeses, he picked out a ball of soft mozzarella for the caprese salad. He’d already got small cherry tomatoes and basil. After he picked out a good olive oil, he went to the bread section. He didn’t know how to make bread, so figured he’d get a nice crusty loaf.

  He wasn’t the best cook, but he could follow directions. Once everything he needed was in the cart, he headed to the check out. Standing in the cereal aisle was Ned from work.

  “Hey Ned! How are you doing today?”

  The old man looked startled to see him, then grinned. “I’m good, I’ve not seen you at work much. Everything okay?”

  “Oh sure, I got on at another job, remember, as a realtor? I told you.”

  “Oh that’s right. Just haven’t seen you much at work is all.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be in day after tomorrow,” Pike grinned.

  “Okay, young man. Look forward to seeing you there.”

  “I’ll talk to you later, Ned, take care,” he said, and pushed on past.

  He wondered at Ned. the man seemed to have forgotten. He hoped it was nothing to worry about.

  Arriving home, he broke out all the pots and pans. He wished he could have made the bread homemade – Joy had given them lessons about making bread, making homemade starter yeast. They had experimented with making rolls in a cast iron Dutch oven. The outsides always looked great, but the insides were half raw. Joy had laughed and said it was a process.

  “Yeah, we sure need to work on this,” Margo had said about their first several attempts.

  Tonight was too important to Pike, though, and he wanted nice bread, not burnt mush.

  Pike was checking on the chicken in the oven when he heard the door. Margo walked in, her brow arching up at the chaos.

  He grinned. “I made a sale! Actually two sales, both with huge commissions.”

  “Oh my gosh, Pike, I’m so prou
d of you. Wow, that is amazing.”

  “Thanks. I figured I’d make us a special dinner. Chicken parmesan, caprese salad, some nice wine, and bread.”

  “Did you make the bread?” she laughed.

  Pike could feel his face going red, but laughed. “No, hell no. I wanted to enjoy dinner tonight.”

  Sayer had promised to help build an outside wood oven come early spring, maybe in late March. They could then make pizzas and perfect their bread-making skills.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “No, you go relax. I’ve got this. The wine is on the counter if you want to open it.”

  “Oh, heck yeah. I could use some. I also picked up another twenty pounds of rice. It’s out in the car, I’ll go get it later.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get it. I’ll put it in the pantry until we can break it down.”

  They’d managed to accumulate over six hundred pounds of dried beans, nine hundred pounds of rice, six hundred pounds of pastas and sugars, spices, salt, pepper, dried onion, dried garlic, powdered milk, and freeze-dried vegetables.

  “Thanks. Where’s Binx?”

  “He’s out looking around the lake. I let him out when I got home. I tried calling him back in, but I think he found something out there,” he laughed.

  “Geez, I hope he doesn’t try to bring it into the house. Ewww.”

  Margo went to the door and called. A moment later, the small dog came trotting in, a satisfied look on his face. Pike heard Margo tsk at him and looked over. His paws were wet and muddy. Pike handed her some paper towels and she squatted down and wiped Binx down.

  “I think he likes life in the woods, Margo. He never wants to come in.”

  “Yeah, just hope he doesn’t wander off too far.”

  “He shouldn’t. He seems happy with his own domain.”

  “I picked up some pineapple as well. I want to try to dehydrate that. The broccoli did good, so I figure I’ll try the pineapple, then maybe bananas,” Margo said, coming into the kitchen to wash her hands. “That really smells good, Pike.”

  “Thanks. I think you have to soak the bananas in lemon juice before you put them in the dehydrator, I think that stops them from turning brown.”

  “Yeah, I guess that would be pretty unappetizing.”

  “If I have any cherry tomatoes left, we can try dehydrating them,” he suggested.

  “Sure. I think we have a few more veggies on the verge of yuck. I’m going to go take a shower. Thank you again for making dinner, and congratulations, Pike. I’m really proud of you.”

  He could feel his face flushing and his heart pounding. He smiled and watched her disappear into her room.

  He shook his head, thinking about when he’d first received her message about the article. It almost seemed a lifetime away. They were doing well, and with Joy and Sayer’s help they’d increased their supplies tenfold. They’d been working hard, making decisions that would provide for an uncertain future.

  The one thing they’d been low on till recently was meats, and both he and Margo were cutting coupons to buy meats. They’d even started adding spices to the meat before they canned it.

  “Look, if we want a Mexican meal, we don’t have to worry about most of the spices because we put cumin, garlic powder, onion powder and some pepper flakes and boom, you have a nice spicy meat,” she’d said.

  Their basement was quickly filling up with canned beef, chicken, pork, and even bacon. Margo had tried her hand at canning butter as well, as Joy had mentioned they’d need fats in their diets. She had also canned several containers of vegetable shortening.

  “It can’t hurt,” she’d smiled. “I’m just re-canning it into an airtight glass container.” Pike was smart enough to leave it in her capable hands.

  Pike went over to the fireplace and added a couple more logs to the fire. As he stood, it struck him. The cabin was no longer just a refuge, a place to live in an apocalypse. It was a home, a real home. He and Margo had been flirting with each other recently. He was hoping to change that tonight.

  After dinner, they sat on the couch watching TV, replete after the meal and celebratory drink. Pike looked over at Margo. Her face was beautiful, her skin a delicate rich creamed coffee hue. She was exquisitely fine boned, her hands delicate. She was so very strong, and more than capable of handling an apocalypse. He knew that what he felt for her now was more than a high-school crush. He loved her deeply. He knew she cared for him, but still she waited. Southern girls aren’t forward, or at least, some weren’t. She was a Southern girl.

  He reached his hand over and took her smaller one into his, then pulled her unresisting toward him, into his arms. He watched her hazel eyes. Half closed, sensual, not sleepy. He slid a hand up her neck and cupped the back of her head, leaned in and kissed her, gently at first, then with more passion as she responded. He felt like the luckiest man on Earth, pending apocalypse or not.

  “I love you, Margo. I think I always have.”

  “I love you too, Pike. I know you’ve cared about me for years,” she chuckled.

  “Really? I was trying so hard to hide it.”

  Topeka, Kansas, 15 January 2018

  Dalton pulled up outside the hospital. He was due for his appointment in ten minutes and was about to head inside when he saw that man once more, still intoning his doomsday message to anyone who’d listen. Since the first time he’d seen him, Dalton had been watching the news. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. The same blustering bullshit from North Korea, Iraq, and something about some torpedo from Russia. Nothing that wasn’t already out there for years now.

  Dalton shook his head. He felt bad, and it was cold as hell out today. The man had a coat on and even a hat, but no gloves. At least he’d cleaned himself up a bit, which Dalton was glad to see. Then the man looked over at him and his eyes bore into Dalton’s. The hair rose on his arms and he felt a prickle of apprehension.

  The man lifted a finger, pointed at Dalton, and mouthed something over and over. Dalton looked hard, trying to understand what the man was saying. Then he understood. Run for your life, run for your life.

  Washington, D.C., 28 February 2019

  Hamish was receiving conflicting reports. Mermaid said the processing plant had shut down its housing for the nuclear reactor, yet Kilian seemed to suggest that production had stalled for a time, but had picked up again.

  He picked up the phone and dialed. Caroline Jenson wasn’t happy with the reports and neither was Hamish. He needed to get to the bottom of this, and fast. He didn’t want to get on Jenson’s shit list, and he was on the fast track there if he didn’t get on top of things.

  “My contacts are giving me inconsistent information on the housing situation,” the voice on the other end said.

  “Then we need to tap into our other assets on the ground. We can’t rely solely on Mermaid. I need to get some clarification asap. This thing can go sideways quick, and we’re on the losing end. Make it happen,” Hamish said, then hung up the secure line.

  Moscow, Russia, 28 February 2019

  Dina was frustrated. She’d been getting plenty of intel from Borin’s pillow talk, but none had been about POSEIDON. She didn’t know if he was doing this on purpose, which meant he knew she was an operative, or if nothing was proceeding since the accident. Her main mission was to report on POSEIDON, yet there was almost nothing.

  She knew her superiors were as frustrated with her as she was with Borin, but there was no way she could ask him point blank. All she could do was pass on all intel, hoping that at some point she’d get lucky and he’d say something.

  She also had another big problem: she was pregnant, and she didn’t know what to do. She knew Alexei didn’t have any children. What would he say if she told him? She was only four weeks along, but she knew that, at some point, she would have to tell him. She could get an abortion, but she knew that word would get back to him. She supposed she could tell him and see how he reacted. She wanted to keep the baby. If it was a
boy, she would name him Gregg, her one and only true love, childish though it was. She didn’t want to be tied to Borin.

  She looked at the clock and sighed heavily. He would be over shortly. She’d already bathed and perfumed up – he liked her squeaky clean. A fastidious man. It would be tricky, telling him she was pregnant. If he were to get angry, he could drop her and that would end the likelihood of her ever gathering any more intel.

  Perhaps she would wait a while longer. she didn’t think she would start showing for a couple more months. She hoped. It was a delicate balance.

  Hamburg, IA, 28 February 2018

  Kalvin and Mikey sat in Kalvin’s truck, waiting. They were on a job. He’d heard that the house had some huge TVs, really nice flat screens, and that the home owners weren’t around for a few days. Kalvin had let Mikey know, calling him on the burner phone, and he’d been hot to go for it.

  He was worried. He’d heard Mikey bragging about Julia, that he’d kept her a couple days. He’d never done that before. He’d also let slip that he’d kept her handcuffed. Mikey was getting out of control. It wasn’t up to Kalvin to monitor Mikey, but letting him spiral wasn’t an option.

  “Mikey, I wanted to talk to you, you know, about you and your ladies. Dude, I don’t care what you do, but I think maybe you might be going too far.”

  Mikey looked at Kalvin. He smiled, but it didn’t go to his eyes. It was dark out, but the moon was shining on Mikey’s face. Kalvin knew Mikey was pissed, but he had to say it. He didn’t want to be an accessory to murder or a serial killer.

  “Look, Mikey. I’ve known you all my life. You’re starting to escalate and I’m just worried you’ll get mixed up into something that you won’t be able to talk yourself out of. Your business is your business. I don’t want to overstep. Just sayin’.”

  Mikey let out a long, low breath. He looked out the window at the house they were going to rob. He was quiet for a long moment. He didn’t look back at Kalvin. “I hear ya, yeah, I guess I might be a little over the line. You’ll not hear any more about it. Will that do?”