agent answered. “I am under the Main Intelligence Directorate.”
As soon as he heard it, Mikhail closed his eyes and lowered his pistol. The Main Intelligence Directorate. Spetsnaz GRU. They sent him an elite covert agent. Looking up again, Mikhail simply asked, “Why?”
“You are not an idiot—“
“Why?” Mikhail shouted sharply. Along the wall, Nina flinched.
The stare Nikolai gave him was soulless and cold. When he answered, his voice was unwavering. “You already know.”
Hemingway and his Green Berets listened in silence.
Yes, Mikhail knew. And for all practical purposes, so did the Americans now—or at least, they knew something was suspect. That was enough to force the issue into the spotlight.
The conversation Mikhail knew he was about to have went against everything he’d believed in prior to the mission. About countering the Americans and keeping them at arm’s distance. About not trusting them. But now, what choice did he have but to address this? Hemingway was no fool. In revealing himself, by necessity or not, Nikolai had essentially shown the Americans the Soviet Union’s hand. Like it or not, believe in it or not, it was time to explain. The Americans were onto them. What choice did Mikhail have? And so he faced Hemingway.
“There was concern among our higher ranks that you would betray us. The fear was that you would kill us once the mission was finished, then use the technology in this vessel to lay siege to the world, as you did with Japan. Only by surviving you could we hold your country accountable.” He glanced at Nikolai. “And he was sent to give us an advantage.” If the Green Berets made their move to kill the Soviets, chances were they wouldn’t have started with the medic. That would have given Nikolai time to react.
Quietly, Nikolai spoke. “They sent two of us. Vikhrov was my partner.”
Yuri Vikhrov. Their engineer. The two lowest-ranking officers on the Soviet side of the mission had both been covert agents. Mikhail shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Obviously,” Nikolai said, “things did not go as planned.”
“What exactly were you gonna do to ensure your survival?” one of the Green Berets asked. “Kill us once the ship was secure?”
Nikolai eyed him coldly. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
The Green Beret lunged toward Nikolai. Mikhail stepped between them before contact could be made. “This is not the time!” He eyed the Green Beret’s name tag: Reed. “Listen, Reed, you have to understand our position.”
Face twisted in a scowl, Reed pushed himself away. “Yeah, I bet you’d like us to understand your position—“
“Corporal,” said Hemingway.
“—so the moment our back is turned you—”
“Corporal!”
Going silent, Reed looked back at his captain.
Hemingway’s expression was stoic. “Were we in their shoes, we’d have been ordered to do the same thing.” He stepped between both his soldiers, then looked at Mikhail. “I can assure you our orders weren’t to eliminate you at any point in this operation. From one man to another, I give you my word. What else do I need to give you for us to continue this operation?”
For Mikhail, nothing. That Hemingway was playing peacemaker was enough. There was no way for Mikhail to know if the Green Beret’s words were truthful, but that didn’t matter now anyway. The two sides needed each other to survive. If treachery needed to be dealt with, it’d be dealt with later. “As far as I’m concerned, the Cold War just ended.” It was a statement he didn’t fully believe. But what else could he say?
“That’s good to hear,” said Hemingway.
Back to business. “What is your other soldier’s name?” He motioned to the Green Beret watching the hall.
“Sparks. Both men are corporals.”
Nodding, Mikhail said, “I have Sevastian Tyannikov, my senior lieutenant, and Miss Nina Andrianova, sniper specialist.” That they had been working together without bothering
As soon as he heard it, Mikhail closed his eyes and lowered his pistol. The Main Intelligence Directorate. Spetsnaz GRU. They sent him an elite covert agent. Looking up again, Mikhail simply asked, “Why?”
“You are not an idiot—“
“Why?” Mikhail shouted sharply. Along the wall, Nina flinched.
The stare Nikolai gave him was soulless and cold. When he answered, his voice was unwavering. “You already know.”
Hemingway and his Green Berets listened in silence.
Yes, Mikhail knew. And for all practical purposes, so did the Americans now—or at least, they knew something was suspect. That was enough to force the issue into the spotlight.
The conversation Mikhail knew he was about to have went against everything he’d believed in prior to the mission. About countering the Americans and keeping them at arm’s distance. About not trusting them. But now, what choice did he have but to address this? Hemingway was no fool. In revealing himself, by necessity or not, Nikolai had essentially shown the Americans the Soviet Union’s hand. Like it or not, believe in it or not, it was time to explain. The Americans were onto them. What choice did Mikhail have? And so he faced Hemingway.
“There was concern among our higher ranks that you would betray us. The fear was that you would kill us once the mission was finished, then use the technology in this vessel to lay siege to the world, as you did with Japan. Only by surviving you could we hold your country accountable.” He glanced at Nikolai. “And he was sent to give us an advantage.” If the Green Berets made their move to kill the Soviets, chances were they wouldn’t have started with the medic. That would have given Nikolai time to react.
Quietly, Nikolai spoke. “They sent two of us. Vikhrov was my partner.”
Yuri Vikhrov. Their engineer. The two lowest-ranking officers on the Soviet side of the mission had both been covert agents. Mikhail shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Obviously,” Nikolai said, “things did not go as planned.”
“What exactly were you gonna do to ensure your survival?” one of the Green Berets asked. “Kill us once the ship was secure?”
Nikolai eyed him coldly. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
The Green Beret lunged toward Nikolai. Mikhail stepped between them before contact could be made. “This is not the time!” He eyed the Green Beret’s name tag: Reed. “Listen, Reed, you have to understand our position.”
Face twisted in a scowl, Reed pushed himself away. “Yeah, I bet you’d like us to understand your position—“
“Corporal,” said Hemingway.
“—so the moment our back is turned you—”
“Corporal!”
Going silent, Reed looked back at his captain.
Hemingway’s expression was stoic. “Were we in their shoes, we’d have been ordered to do the same thing.” He stepped between both his soldiers, then looked at Mikhail. “I can assure you our orders weren’t to eliminate you at any point in this operation. From one man to another, I give you my word. What else do I need to give you for us to continue this operation?”
For Mikhail, nothing. That Hemingway was playing peacemaker was enough. There was no way for Mikhail to know if the Green Beret’s words were truthful, but that didn’t matter now anyway. The two sides needed each other to survive. If treachery needed to be dealt with, it’d be dealt with later. “As far as I’m concerned, the Cold War just ended.” It was a statement he didn’t fully believe. But what else could he say?
“That’s good to hear,” said Hemingway.
Back to business. “What is your other soldier’s name?” He motioned to the Green Beret watching the hall.
“Sparks. Both men are corporals.”
Nodding, Mikhail said, “I have Sevastian Tyannikov, my senior lieutenant, and Miss Nina Andrianova, sniper specialist.” That they had been working together without bothering
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