The road opened into a football field–size, slightly overgrown clearing, a modest two-story log cabin with a green metal roof standing in its center. Solar panels lined the south side of the roof. A sizable metal shed sat about ten yards from the house. It looked large enough to house a pair of ATVs, possibly more. An exhaust vent poking through its sloped roofline suggested it might contain a generator.

“Pull up to the front porch,” he said, rolling his window down and motioning for the other Jeep to do the same.

He got out and approached the long porch, stopping short of the stairs and putting his hands on his hips. The rest of the team gathered around him.

“Looks self-contained,” said Valerie. “Kind of elaborate for some kind of Soviet-era weapons cache.”

“It was probably just a concrete cellar at one point,” said Felix. “More like an underground shelter than anything else.”

“A Pichugin upgrade,” said Oleg. “In the middle of Pennsylvania.”

“Yeah. And his proxy said we had access to more of these around the country, if needed, along with an unlimited travel budget. Whatever he’s up to here must be serious,” said Felix. “We need to keep that in mind moving forward. I’d like to be around to spend the money he’s paying us.”

He stepped onto the porch and unlatched the weather-sealed faux mailbox next to the door, revealing a touch pad and biometric scanner. Referencing the message sent to him less than an hour ago on his satellite phone, he entered a ten-digit code and waited for instructions. The screen asked him to press his index finger on his right hand against the scanner, followed by the thumb of his left hand. A new instruction appeared on the screen.

“Oksana. I need your thumb immediately,” he said.

The dark-haired operative smirked and flipped him the middle finger.

“The digital counter on the screen says you have seven seconds to press your right thumb against the scanner,” said Felix. “Six. Five.”

She scrambled up the porch and pressed her thumb against the glass, stopping the countdown at two seconds. A series of heavy-duty mechanical clicks came from the door, the screen now indicating they could proceed.

He patted her on the shoulder. “Thank you, Oksana. You can go back to making jokes now that we’re not going to be vaporized in an explosion.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” she said.

“That’s my job,” he said, grabbing the door handle and nudging the hefty door inward.

“Is it stuck?” she asked.

“No. It’s heavy like a vault door,” said Felix, reaching his hand inside. “And it must be five inches thick.”