Unto The Breach Read online

  "All the way to the ground," Vanner said with a sigh.

  "It's fun," Adams said. "You'll love it. Oh, prebreathing sucks and I imagine that the DZ is probably going to be a little small. Then there's all the problems of where, exactly, ground level is and winds in mountains and . . . Actually, it's going to suck. Glad it's you and not me."

  "We gonna try to use any special weapons or techniques on this?" Vanner asked, ignoring the master chief. "With the support we're getting we could probably get anything from the U.S. government."

  "I don't think so," Mike said after a moment's thought. "Trying to integrate special weapons at this point would really set us back. Let's go with conventional approach. But, out of interest, what were you talking about?"

  "There are some interesting sound weapons that are being developed," Nielson said. "And the new thermobaric system the Marines are using."

  "Too much overkill on that for this mission," Adams said. "Those things are used for flattening houses."

  "Be useful for interdiction," Mike said. "But it takes coordination from what I've read. You have to penetrate the wall of the structure with a standard rocket round and then put the thermobaric through the hole. That is if you don't have a window as a target."

  "How fast can we get some?" Adams asked. "I can set a few of the Keldara to training on them. Run everybody through, but Shota's shown a real knack for the Carl. Which is good given how big it is."

  "I'll check into it," Nielson said, making another note.

  "First thing is to call all the troops in," Mike said.

  "Already done," Nielson said. "It will take about another day for Team Padrek to get back to pickup points."

  "Get with the Georgian military," Mike said. "I'd rather that they not get back worn out from humping. See if you can get helicopter support to pick them all up."

  "Will do," Nielson said, making a note.

  "Call General Umarov," Mike said, referring to the Georgian military chief of staff. "I don't want any petty bullshit getting in the way. He should be up on this, if he's not, wake him up."

  "Will do," Nielson said.

  "Vanner, we need to get the insertion of Katya as a high priority."

  "Will do," Vanner said. "You're seriously planning on inserting me?"

  "I'll even let you have a weapon," Mike said, grinning. "Set up the insertion on Katya as soon as we get the data dump from Chechnik and you run through it."

  "Will do," Vanner said. "Does Katya know she's being inserted?"

  "That's my next meeting," Mike admitted, grimacing.

  Chapter Eleven

  "You wanted to see me, Kildar?"

  Katya was, if anything, more beautiful than Anastasia and in the same mold, blonde, blue-eyed with a slight Tartar tilt. Great tits and a fine ass, delicious lilt to her voice and hips that swayed in a way that was truly extraordinary. The blue eyes could look as innocent as a child's but she had long before discovered that Mike saw right through her. So the eyes he looked into, now, were as cold and dead as a shark's.

  "I need another insertion mission," Mike said, waving her to a chair. He'd considered doing some chitchat but it usually was pointless with Katya. "Into the Pankisi. The vig is fifty thousand dollars. We need eyes on the ground."

  "One hundred," Katya said. "Up front."

  "Ten up front," Mike said. "Sixty on completion. If you do as well as Albania, a forty bonus. You did a damned good job in Albania. If you sit on your ass and just feed us intel, seventy total."

  "I nearly got my ass shot off in Albania," Katya said, scornfully. "Your perfectly planned mission was a disaster. And all for a whore."

  "No mission survives contact with the enemy . . ."

  Katya had revealed a very definite chip on her shoulder over the Albanian op. As she put it: "Nobody ever came to rescue me." She'd been horribly abused in the process of being broken in as a hooker. Whether that had caused her current mental condition or if it had been there before, she was now as sociopathic as anyone Mike had ever met. And she actively enjoyed killing people, especially men.

  To make matters worse, in preparation for the Balkans op the U.S. government had offered some very advanced "upgrades," upgrades that even their own agents had been unwilling to have installed. Katya was now, arguably, the first generation of a sort of science fiction super-assassin. She had an internal system to dump combat chemicals that sped up her reactions and caused a "slow-time" effect, video and audio connections built right into her brain and poison glands connected to her long, and sharp, nails.

  Mike, and all the rest of the men in the house, were now absolutely unwilling to sleep with her. Not that Katya cared; she found the situation amusing.

  "How am I supposed to penetrate Chechan units?"

  "Try to figure out a way," Mike said with a shrug. "Be your usual helpful self."

  At that, Katya let loose one of the few real laughs Mike had heard out of her. She was about as helpful in the harem as a snake, which was why Mike had been spreading her around to keep her busy. When she was busy, and interested, she wasn't nearly the problem she was when bored. But she was never really "helpful." She'd do a job until she mastered it to her satisfaction and then start causing problems. Vanner pulled her out of intercept after she started calling up the Chechens she was supposed to be monitoring and taunting them.

  Mike sometimes thought that her natural spot was psychological operations. Or maybe the Mafia. Hopefully "Jay" would be able to ensure her functionality at the very least.

  "Very well," Katya said, still chortling. "I will go into the lion's den, again. And for the bonus I will try to be very helpful. I'm going to need you to get me some more 'medications.' I used up most of my stores in Albania."

  "Will do," Mike said. "Can I ask you a question? You're still hanging around. I'm, frankly, surprised. Why?"

  "Because I am learning much here," Katya said, cold again. "From Anastasia I am learning languages, accounting, business. From Vanner I am learning electronics, computers and programming. He has even shown me some hacking and I am working hard on that; I like it very much. From you and Adams I learn combat skills, yes? Now there is Jay, who is teaching me so many new skills. When I feel there is nothing left to learn, then I will leave. But in the meantime, you feed me and keep a roof over my head while I learn. You even continue to pay me a stipend. And then there are these occasional 'jobs' which pay quite well. Why should I leave? Yet."

  "The usual goes," Mike pointed out. "If you're burned, we'll try to extract you. Try rather hard I'll add. We owe you that. You may not consider yourself part of the team, but I do. But if you burn us . . ."

  "Run far and fast," Katya said, smiling coldly. "This, also, I am learning. How to run far and fast."

  "Come," Mike said at a knock on the door of his office.

  He looked up from his computer screen, rubbing his eyes and frowning. He was doing more reading than doing these days and it was killing his eyes. He was afraid he was going to need glasses soon.

  The man who came through the door was dressed like any of the Keldara, if a bit short for one. One of the older guys, not one of the ones on the teams. Gray-shot beard and mustache, getting the "beer gut" that some of the older Keldara had. But when Mike rapidly ran a file of the faces of the Keldara, he couldn't place him to save his life. He figured he'd play that off. It wasn't like he could remember all the Keldara.

  "You know," Jay said, walking over and flopping onto the chair in front of the desk, "if I was an assassin you'd be so dead right now. You've got lousy security."

  "I'll keep that in mind," Mike replied, leaning back and trying not to let his surprise show. "Good trip?"

  "Fair," Jay said. "First class as far as Prague. It got a little rougher after that."

  "I can imagine," Mike said. "Can I show you around or do you already have the whole place mapped out?"

  "I will say that your security on whatever is in the basements is better than getting to your office," Jay replied. "Doors ar
e solid and the guys you've got on them weren't fooled. I've seen the rest. Nice harem quarters. Who's the blonde?"

  "Well, the basement is where your shop will be," Mike said. "So maybe I ought to show that to you. And depending on which, the blonde is your sole 'employee.'–"

  "Oh, great," Jay replied. "If ever I saw one stone psychopathic bitch of a killer . . ."

  "That would be Katya," Mike said with a laugh. "You can handle that, right?"

  "Oh, yeah," the intel specialist said. "I like psychopathic bitches. It describes every girlfriend I've ever had."

  "Intel room here," Mike said, nodding at the Keldara guards. They were regarding Jay with puzzlement in their eyes. They did know every single Keldara. "Commo room across the hall. Headquarters in a larger room at the end. Other way there are four more or less empty rooms and two sub-levels. There are two remaining really good apartments upstairs, although the view is of the mountain. Pick which mountain view you prefer."

  "Any problem with getting one down here?" Jay asked, walking down the corridor and opening up one of the doors of the "more or less empty" rooms. More or less empty because they still had some left-over trash from the Soviet occupation. "An apartment I mean?"

  "I don't think so," Mike said. "Kind of . . . claustrophobic."

  "Yeah, but very secure," Jay replied, opening up another door. "Can I get better doors and locks?"

  "Your budget," Mike said.

  "What's the sub-basement like?"

  "There's a reason we call it the dungeons."

  "I'll stay here."

  "Come on in the intel shop," Mike said, opening up the door. The door was soundproofed and the corridor immediately filled with the sound of printers and computers running at max.

  "Vanner, this is Jay," Mike said, waving the sergeant over. "Just . . . Jay."

  "It's actually just an initial," Jay said, shaking Vanner's hand. "Just the letter."

  "Very James Bond," Vanner replied, warily. "You're the humint guy."

  "–'Spy' works," Jay said. "And I checked you out. You have a very good rep."

  "Thanks," Vanner said. "Can I ask with whom?"

  "Admiral Kinnison. We've got history."

  "How's his dog?" Vanner said, nodding.

  "Cat," Jay replied. "Ginger tabby named Halsey. Died. Cancer. About six months ago. And JC was in a car wreck with her kids. They all made it but she got really banged up. Grandkids were okay. Well, Bobby broke his arm but I signed the cast and he was grinning at the time. Jim's had a bad year. You should write him. I'll give you his e-mail address."

  "Thanks," Vanner said, blinking.

  "We straight?"

  "Straight."

  "Jim said you were good with micro. I'm a gadget guy when I can use them. Are you going to have time?"

  "Some," Vanner admitted. "If it's really complicated, we might have to shop it. I've got two sources."

  "I've got more than two," Jay said. "But I'd prefer to keep it in-house. We'll manage. I ran across a new microwave design . . ."

  "I'll just go tell Anastasia that we're going to have a guest," Mike said. "She'll take care of your housekeeping arrangements. Daria handles budget, I'll speak to her as well."

  "Thank you," Jay replied. "What would you like me to do next?"

  "Just hang out," Mike said. "We've got a mission in the planning stages. Vanner's going to be very busy. You're going to have to develop and do most of your tasking on your own. But that's why I hired you."

  "What about the blonde?"

  "Katya will be on the mission," Mike replied. "I'd bring you in on it but it's a snap-kick. I don't see an insert point for you."

  "Understood," Jay said. "Well, I'll just pick Vanner's brain for a bit until Anastasia's up to speed and then start with my self-tasking. I'd like to talk to Katya about her mission, if you're okay on the need-to-know."

  "Works," Mike replied. "Just ensure she's got her mission face on when she's out the door. Vanner, as far as I'm concerned, Jay has choice on his need-to-know. If you have issues, bring them up with me."

  "You're very trusting," Jay said, frowning slightly.

  "You were vetted by good people," Mike replied. "I can't, won't unless something comes up, second-guess that. In for a penny and all that. So . . . if you are afraid something will be compromised, don't ask."

  "Yes, Kildar," Jay said. That smile again.

  "Who's the visitor?" Nielson asked as Mike was headed to his office. "The Mother Savina came in asking me who he was."

  "That was Jay," Mike replied. "You found him. I almost want to say 'You keep him.' The guy gives me the creeps. I'm pretty sure I still don't know what he actually looks like. If he burns us, there's nobody really there."

  "He's as good as they come," Nielson pointed out. "And very much a patriot. As long as we don't screw the U.S. . . ."

  "Let's hope we never have to," Mike said. "I'd prefer not to myself. You were just asking about him?"

  "No," the colonel said. "I just got word. A Colonel Erkin Chechnik, Russian Army, is on his way to see us. I was told you know him."

  "I do," Mike said, shaking his head. "Russian spook. Pretty good. Pretty much Pierson's equivalent; briefs the president on Russian black ops. He's probably going to brief us on the Russian side."

  "More or less what I guessed," Nielson said. "So . . . You wanna talk?"

  "About what?" Mike asked.

  "Gretchen," Nielson said, raising an eyebrow. "And you. And Kiril."

  "How about just saying I didn't like this entire Kardane thing from the beginning," Mike said, shrugging. "I've got it handled. I'm not going to do a King David on Kiril, I'm not going to lay another hand on Gretchen."

  "And you are . . . where in there?" Nielson asked.

  "How about 'I'm not going to lay another hand on Gretchen, damnit to hell'?" Mike said, grimacing.

  "Been there," Nielson said. "Prior to my wife dying I had some . . . encounters with other ladies. All by agreement with my wife. The agreement was I could screw around as much as I liked, as long as I didn't fall in love. And then . . ."

  "You fell in love," Mike said, sitting down and listening.

  "I did indeed, laddy," Nielson said, leaning back in his chair. "Lady named Sharon. Very much a lady. I was to be her first. Very strange circumstances. I actually passed on the honor. She later found other men, none of them particularly good for her. We eventually lost touch, half by purpose. But . . . She's still there in my heart. And Gretchen?"

  "It fucking sucks," Mike said. "I've been married but I never felt this way about a girl, ever. I never believed in love at first sight and it wasn't even that. It . . . I don't know. It just snuck up on me."

  "And clobbered you over the head," Nielson said, nodding. "That is the reality far more than 'love at first sight.' A friend, a companion, someone you knew casually and then one day . . . Wham! All of a sudden, they're something different. Any idea how Gretchen feels about the situation?"

  "Not sure," Mike admitted. "The Kardane girls . . . generally have a pretty good time. But it was an unusual encounter in both directions. I haven't really spoken to her since and . . ."

  "And you're the Kildar," the colonel said. "Big attraction right there. It would be hard to be sure what she actually thinks. I'm not sure that even if she was as honest as she could be that it would be clear what she really thinks. For General Kildar's Ears Only, I think that Kardane is a damned bad idea. I haven't said anything but . . . you don't screw the wives or girlfriends of your subordinates. Period. The Keldara take a different tack on that but . . . It's just been a damned bad idea. This is only one of a dozen reasons why."

  "Thought of all that," Mike said with a sigh. "But right now we have other things to think about. The whole thing with Gretchen, and the Kardane, needs to be tabled for the time being. Bigger fish to fry."

  "Such as the Russian," Nielson said. "I'm surprised that he's coming in person. No read at all on why?"

  "Only that it can't be good. I've never seen
Chechnik turn up when things are going well."

  "Erkin, what a pleasant surprise."

  Mike hadn't seen Colonel Chechnik in about a year, not since the Paris mission. But he hadn't changed much. The Russian intel officer was short and broad as a house. Also somewhat ugly or at least unintelligent looking. He looked more like a member of an Olympic wrestling team than a highly qualified intel officer. Mike was sure that he'd used that to his advantage more than once.

  "Mikhail," the colonel boomed, clasping Mike close and kissing him on both cheeks. "Or should I call you Kildar, now?"