Read Online Mine: The Arrival by Brett Battles - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brett Battles
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the same.
“Doctor, please,” his escort said.
“What’s going on?”
“A precautionary measure. If you can’t manage it, one of my men can help you.”
Not wanting to be manhandled, Kozakov lowered himself until he was almost totally hidden below the snow.
The leader tapped a button on his radio, sending off three beeps.
This was answered in kind.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then from somewhere behind them came quick bursts of automatic gunfire. Four to be exact, and then silence.
Fifteen seconds later, the radio emitted a long single beep.
“Okay, we’re good to go,” the leader said, standing up again.
As Kozakov rose, he couldn’t help but think the gunfire had come from the direction Adams and Washington’s car had been headed.
No, impossible. He was overthinking.
Unless…
Kozakov felt the blood drain from his face. Killing Washington, Adams, and the men in the front of the car would erase Kozakov’s trail into the mountains. No one would know where he’d been taken after he walked off the plane.
Numb, but not from cold, he remembered nothing of the rest of the hike until they reached a tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. One of the men unlocked a gate and closed it again after they’d all passed through. A few minutes later, they came to a large meadow surrounded by another chain-link fence.
Two spotlights popped on and shined on them as they approached a closed gate. Out of the darkness, several more soldiers appeared on the other side.
The leader of Kozakov’s group said, “Escort Alpha returning.”
“Welcome back, Alpha,” someone on the other side said as the gate swung open.
“What is this place?” Kozakov asked as they entered the meadow.
“You’ll be briefed inside,” the leader said.
“Inside?”
The man pointed toward the other end of the clearing, at what Kozakov now saw was a building next to a hill. As they neared, he realized it wasn’t next to a hill but under a portion of it. His escort guided him to the structure and pressed a button on the wall next to the door.
A moment later, a tinny voice came from a speaker mounted above the jamb. “Designation.”
“Five victor sierra seven zulu seven,” the leader said.
A brief pause, and then a buzz. The leader pushed the door open and he and Kozakov entered, leaving the other two outside.
The room they walked into held three desks, each occupied by a man in uniform. As Kozakov and his guide entered, the men stood, fingers hovering next to holstered pistols.
“Please stop where you are and remain there until instructed,” the nearest man said.
Apparently the order only applied to Kozakov, as his escort continued walking across the room and through the only other door.
At least the space was warm, Kozakov thought as he stretched his fingers to get his circulation going again.
In many ways, the place reminded him of the governmental offices back home—austere and uninviting. It certainly didn’t give off the impression of being someplace important.
Well, except for the remote location.
And the two barbed wire-topped fences.
And the guards staring at him, hands over guns.
When his escort returned, he was in the company of a man wearing a dark business suit. They stopped at one of the desks.
“File, please,” the suited man said in a pleasant unhurried voice.
The soldier stationed there used a key to open a drawer. He removed a file and handed it over.
The suited man walked over to Kozakov and held out a hand. “Welcome. My name is Dr. Leonard Durant.”
Kozakov left his own hand by his side.
With a sympathetic smile, Durant lowered his arm. “You’re frustrated. I understand that. Just like I’m sure you understand our need to ask a few questions to confirm that you really are who we think you are.”
Kozakov could hold his anger back no more. “Of course I do not understand! I do not know why I am here! I do not know who you are! And I do not know what is going
“Doctor, please,” his escort said.
“What’s going on?”
“A precautionary measure. If you can’t manage it, one of my men can help you.”
Not wanting to be manhandled, Kozakov lowered himself until he was almost totally hidden below the snow.
The leader tapped a button on his radio, sending off three beeps.
This was answered in kind.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then from somewhere behind them came quick bursts of automatic gunfire. Four to be exact, and then silence.
Fifteen seconds later, the radio emitted a long single beep.
“Okay, we’re good to go,” the leader said, standing up again.
As Kozakov rose, he couldn’t help but think the gunfire had come from the direction Adams and Washington’s car had been headed.
No, impossible. He was overthinking.
Unless…
Kozakov felt the blood drain from his face. Killing Washington, Adams, and the men in the front of the car would erase Kozakov’s trail into the mountains. No one would know where he’d been taken after he walked off the plane.
Numb, but not from cold, he remembered nothing of the rest of the hike until they reached a tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. One of the men unlocked a gate and closed it again after they’d all passed through. A few minutes later, they came to a large meadow surrounded by another chain-link fence.
Two spotlights popped on and shined on them as they approached a closed gate. Out of the darkness, several more soldiers appeared on the other side.
The leader of Kozakov’s group said, “Escort Alpha returning.”
“Welcome back, Alpha,” someone on the other side said as the gate swung open.
“What is this place?” Kozakov asked as they entered the meadow.
“You’ll be briefed inside,” the leader said.
“Inside?”
The man pointed toward the other end of the clearing, at what Kozakov now saw was a building next to a hill. As they neared, he realized it wasn’t next to a hill but under a portion of it. His escort guided him to the structure and pressed a button on the wall next to the door.
A moment later, a tinny voice came from a speaker mounted above the jamb. “Designation.”
“Five victor sierra seven zulu seven,” the leader said.
A brief pause, and then a buzz. The leader pushed the door open and he and Kozakov entered, leaving the other two outside.
The room they walked into held three desks, each occupied by a man in uniform. As Kozakov and his guide entered, the men stood, fingers hovering next to holstered pistols.
“Please stop where you are and remain there until instructed,” the nearest man said.
Apparently the order only applied to Kozakov, as his escort continued walking across the room and through the only other door.
At least the space was warm, Kozakov thought as he stretched his fingers to get his circulation going again.
In many ways, the place reminded him of the governmental offices back home—austere and uninviting. It certainly didn’t give off the impression of being someplace important.
Well, except for the remote location.
And the two barbed wire-topped fences.
And the guards staring at him, hands over guns.
When his escort returned, he was in the company of a man wearing a dark business suit. They stopped at one of the desks.
“File, please,” the suited man said in a pleasant unhurried voice.
The soldier stationed there used a key to open a drawer. He removed a file and handed it over.
The suited man walked over to Kozakov and held out a hand. “Welcome. My name is Dr. Leonard Durant.”
Kozakov left his own hand by his side.
With a sympathetic smile, Durant lowered his arm. “You’re frustrated. I understand that. Just like I’m sure you understand our need to ask a few questions to confirm that you really are who we think you are.”
Kozakov could hold his anger back no more. “Of course I do not understand! I do not know why I am here! I do not know who you are! And I do not know what is going
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