BooksBarbecue
Back The Asset
Chapters (86)
  1. Foreword
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. Afterword

Sofia held her breath. Vasily’s record was problematic to say the least. It seemed he’d taken part in every campus demonstration there was while in university. It had all been thoroughly investigated during the vetting process, but there was still a risk it could come back and bite them on the ass.

“Doesn’t he look familiar?” Yevchenko said, turning to his officers.

Sofia stole a glance at Vasily.

“You ever been on TV?” Yevchenko said.

Vasily didn’t respond.

“Yeah,” Yevchenko said. “I know you. You’re that fighter. You beat Conor McGregor.”

The officers began to laugh.

“Very funny,” Vasily said.

“Khabib,” Yevchenko said grinning. He was very pleased with himself. “Khabib Nurmagomedov. The face, not the hair. Do you see it?” he said to his officers.

The officers nodded. They were very amused.

Sofia had no clue what they were talking about, but it seemed the tension was lifting.

“How about some tea?” she said, nodding to her secretary.

The general and his men took seats and Sofia breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’d like to see you in a papakha,” Yevchenko said.

Vasily let out a brief chuckle.

“The sideburns,” Yevchenko added.

Sofia shook her head. She knew what a papakha was, the hat worn by shepherds in Vasily’s region, but she wasn’t getting the joke.

“Am I missing something?” she said.

“He’s teasing me,” Vasily said.

“I see,” she said, looking from him to Yevchenko.

“He’s all right,” Yevchenko said. “I read his file. He’s lucky he’s from Dagestan and not Chechnya.”

Sofia’s secretary brought in a tray of tea and Sofia began to pour.

“So,” Yevchenko said, adding sugar to his cup, “Sibirskaya Yazva. What have we got?”

Sofia and Vasily sat down. Sibirskaya Yazva, Siberian Ulcer. It was the traditional name for anthrax.

This was the moment Sofia had been dreading since the first day the GRU approached her.

“I guess we all thought those years were behind us,” she said.

Yevchenko smiled. “Some things never change.”

She nodded.

“I trust your team is progressing on schedule.”

“Well,” Sofia said, “I think what we’ve achieved will speak for itself.”

“The bacillus from the mammoths?”

“Yes, sir. The bacillus.”

“And it’s ready for delivery?”

“Delivery, sir?”

“We’re not just here to talk science, doctor. We’re here for a weapon.”

“Yes, of course, sir. But …”.

“But nothing, Sofia. The General Staff has ordered me to begin production.”