Read Online Covert One 6 - The Moscow Vector by Robert Ludlum - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Ludlum
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CHEL—
TENHAM, UNITED KINGDOM-INFECTED. CONDITION:
DEAD.
YASHVILI, M., PRESIDENT, REPUBLIC OF GEORGIA—
INFECTED. CONDITION: TERMINAL.
SUNDQUIST, P., SENIOR POLITICAL ANALYST, CIA, LANG-LEY, U.S.A.-INFECTED. CONDITION: DEAD.
HAMILTON, J., MANAGER, A2 (RUSSIA GROUP), NSA, FORT MEADE, U.S.A.-INFECTED. CONDITION: TERMINAL.
The list of those now ill and dying or already dead ran on and on, more than thirty men and women in all. He read to the end with growing satisfaction. It had taken years of painstaking research to perfect the biological weapon called HYDRAthe ultimate, precision-guided silent killer. Months of preparation had gone into selecting targets for the first HYDRA variants and then finding ways to deliver them undetected to the chosen victims.
Months more had been spent in secretly acquiring the necessary materials to build each specialized variant of the weapon. At last, all of that intricate planning and dangerous work was coming to fruition.
In retrospect, he thought dispassionately, those preliminary tests in Moscow had been largely unnecessary, a waste of resources and a breach of operational security, but HYDRA’s creator had insisted on running them.
Controlled experiments in the sterile confines of a laboratory were no substi-tute for field tests on real people, he had said. Only by setting HYDRA loose on random targets could they be sure that other doctors and hospitals, those outside the secret, would not be able to detect his creation, or to cure those infected by it.
The man code-named Moscow One shook his head. Wulf Renke was brilliant, ruthless, and, as always, utterly determined to have his own way. In the end, those sponsoring the HYDRA Project had yielded to his will, eager to see for themselves that the weapon’s performance matched his extravagant claims. Well, it had, but only at the cost of alerting Doctors Kiryanov and Petrenko and sending them haring off to warn the West.
Then he shrugged. What did it really matter? Kiryanov and Petrenko were both dead. And soon the only Westerner with whom they had shared their fears would join them.
He reached out for his phone and dialed a local number.
A cold, clear voice answered on the first ring. “Well?”
“The first phase is largely complete,” the blond-haired man said quietly.
“Have you informed Ivanov?”
“I gave him a preliminary report late last night,” he confirmed. “Before he left to join Dudarev for the WINTER CROWN maneuvers. I’ll brief him more fully once he returns to Moscow.”
“I assume our friend from the Thirteenth Directorate was pleased?” the voice said.
“I suspect Alexei Ivanov would be far more pleased if he filled my shoes
or yours,” the man known as Moscow One said sardonically.
“No doubt,” the voice said. “Fortunately, his master is more sensible and more accommodating. Now, how soon can we begin the next phase? Our friends need to know when they can ramp up their military preparations.”
The blond-haired man checked the last status report on his computer screen, one sent by Wulf Renke himself. It would be best to confer personally with the scientist before deploying the next variants by courier. “I’ll need a plane out of Sheremetevo-2 later tonight.”
“I will arrange it.”
“Then I should be at the HYDRA lab early tomorrow morning.”
Chapter
Six
Prague
With his overnight bag and laptop slung over one shoulder, Smith pushed through a crowd of patrolmen and traffic wardens coming back to work from their midmorning coffee break. Cold air rushed in through the open front doors of the Konviktska station, bringing with it the cloying reek of gasoline and diesel fumes trapped in the Old Town’s maze of narrow streets.
Jon stepped outside onto the pavement and immediately felt the frigid Prague winter climate wrap itself around him. He stopped and blew on his hands, already regretting the loss of his leather jacket, torn and soaked beyond repair. Before signing
TENHAM, UNITED KINGDOM-INFECTED. CONDITION:
DEAD.
YASHVILI, M., PRESIDENT, REPUBLIC OF GEORGIA—
INFECTED. CONDITION: TERMINAL.
SUNDQUIST, P., SENIOR POLITICAL ANALYST, CIA, LANG-LEY, U.S.A.-INFECTED. CONDITION: DEAD.
HAMILTON, J., MANAGER, A2 (RUSSIA GROUP), NSA, FORT MEADE, U.S.A.-INFECTED. CONDITION: TERMINAL.
The list of those now ill and dying or already dead ran on and on, more than thirty men and women in all. He read to the end with growing satisfaction. It had taken years of painstaking research to perfect the biological weapon called HYDRAthe ultimate, precision-guided silent killer. Months of preparation had gone into selecting targets for the first HYDRA variants and then finding ways to deliver them undetected to the chosen victims.
Months more had been spent in secretly acquiring the necessary materials to build each specialized variant of the weapon. At last, all of that intricate planning and dangerous work was coming to fruition.
In retrospect, he thought dispassionately, those preliminary tests in Moscow had been largely unnecessary, a waste of resources and a breach of operational security, but HYDRA’s creator had insisted on running them.
Controlled experiments in the sterile confines of a laboratory were no substi-tute for field tests on real people, he had said. Only by setting HYDRA loose on random targets could they be sure that other doctors and hospitals, those outside the secret, would not be able to detect his creation, or to cure those infected by it.
The man code-named Moscow One shook his head. Wulf Renke was brilliant, ruthless, and, as always, utterly determined to have his own way. In the end, those sponsoring the HYDRA Project had yielded to his will, eager to see for themselves that the weapon’s performance matched his extravagant claims. Well, it had, but only at the cost of alerting Doctors Kiryanov and Petrenko and sending them haring off to warn the West.
Then he shrugged. What did it really matter? Kiryanov and Petrenko were both dead. And soon the only Westerner with whom they had shared their fears would join them.
He reached out for his phone and dialed a local number.
A cold, clear voice answered on the first ring. “Well?”
“The first phase is largely complete,” the blond-haired man said quietly.
“Have you informed Ivanov?”
“I gave him a preliminary report late last night,” he confirmed. “Before he left to join Dudarev for the WINTER CROWN maneuvers. I’ll brief him more fully once he returns to Moscow.”
“I assume our friend from the Thirteenth Directorate was pleased?” the voice said.
“I suspect Alexei Ivanov would be far more pleased if he filled my shoes
or yours,” the man known as Moscow One said sardonically.
“No doubt,” the voice said. “Fortunately, his master is more sensible and more accommodating. Now, how soon can we begin the next phase? Our friends need to know when they can ramp up their military preparations.”
The blond-haired man checked the last status report on his computer screen, one sent by Wulf Renke himself. It would be best to confer personally with the scientist before deploying the next variants by courier. “I’ll need a plane out of Sheremetevo-2 later tonight.”
“I will arrange it.”
“Then I should be at the HYDRA lab early tomorrow morning.”
Chapter
Six
Prague
With his overnight bag and laptop slung over one shoulder, Smith pushed through a crowd of patrolmen and traffic wardens coming back to work from their midmorning coffee break. Cold air rushed in through the open front doors of the Konviktska station, bringing with it the cloying reek of gasoline and diesel fumes trapped in the Old Town’s maze of narrow streets.
Jon stepped outside onto the pavement and immediately felt the frigid Prague winter climate wrap itself around him. He stopped and blew on his hands, already regretting the loss of his leather jacket, torn and soaked beyond repair. Before signing
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