Savage Recruit (Ryan Savage Thriller Series Book 8), стр. 46
His thighs conducted a mild burn, and he recalled the first time he had taken the bike to Olga’s. The declining route there was pleasant, and he had spent most of the time riding the brake. But the ride back was arduous and highlighted just how out of shape he was. Halfway back, he had slipped off the seat and walked the bike the rest of the way home. Now though, his thighs were used to it, toned and muscular.
Ten minutes after leaving the store, he caught the first glimpse of his chalet. He had what he thought was the best view on the mountain. There was only one home above him, another half kilometer farther up the road. But it was owned by a wealthy financier from Bonn and was visited no more than two or three times each year. From here, there were no trees on the side of the road to block his view of the valley. And what a view it was.
He got off the bike and walked it to the side entrance, where he propped it against a fir tree and removed his groceries. He took the stone steps up to the side entrance and went inside, whistling for the dog as he walked into the kitchen. He whistled again as he placed the milk in the fridge. “Ulche! I have beef jerky!”
No sound of the dog’s nails clicking on the floor, no jingle of his collar’s tags. Something wasn’t right. The dog was always underfoot.
He picked up the pack of jerky and started for the living room but stopped in the doorway when he saw the shadowy figure standing by the fireplace. He froze. The figure didn’t move. It was darker in this area of the house, and no lights were on. “What do you want? Take whatever you like.” A nightmarish dread descended upon him.
The response was monotone, lacking any emotion at all. “Have a seat, Simon.”
His throat tightened at the name, and his head suddenly felt lighter. He hadn’t heard that name in over three years. He was Lukas now. Lukas van Werkhoven.
“Take a seat.” The voice was commanding now, impatient.
Simon slowly crossed the floor and took a seat on his couch. The figure moved and sat on the armchair across from him. Simon could see him better now; his features were large and pronounced, a typical henchman coming to collect for his employer. His right hand gripped a pistol trained directly on Simon.
Simon’s next words stammered across trembling lips. “What—what do you want?”
“Simon Luganov, your expertise is needed once again.”
“No,” he answered. “No, I am done with all of that.” As he shook his head, his gaze caught something across the room. Near an end table, beneath the window, lay a small dark form. It was Ulche, his Scottish Terrier. “No...no...” he whimpered. “You killed my dog?”
“He was too loud. That’s how this goes.”
Simon closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. He had dreamed of this horrible moment a thousand times over. And now it was here. Now it was real. “How did you find me?”
“Your old friend Kathleen Rose. She gave you up.”
Simon’s eyes flicked open. He had expected to hear that the Russian government had been overly zealous in trying to find him. Or that a promotion seeker had remained dedicated to finding him as a favor to the higher-ups. But Kathleen giving him up? It was not possible. She was his friend. Not only had she made all the arrangements for him, but she had personally escorted him here. Other than two stateside administrators at Langley, no one else knew where he was.
“Kathleen?” he whispered.
“Let me ask you something,” the man said. “Why did you do it? Why did you leave at all? It is my understanding that you had a good thing going back in Russia.”
Simon owed this man no explanation. He was just the lackey, sent to pick up someone’s order. Still, he felt compelled to answer. If nothing else, now might be a good time to remind himself why he had defected.
“I worked in the nuclear research division of Rosatom, Russia’s State Atomic Energy Corporation. Through my research, I discovered a proprietary means of isolating certain isotopes and re-energizing their nuclei towards a more stable—”
“I don’t need all the science.”
Simon sighed. “My discoveries uncovered a new way of approaching nuclear energy, indicating less of a dependence on uranium. Additionally, the basic theory could carry a great deal of commercial applications as well, most of which could harm large populations if put in the wrong political or corporate hands. I tried to quit my division and move into academia, but they would not allow me to. Moscow knew the Pandora’s box I was close to opening, and they had the only key. In the end, I could not in good conscience continue the work I was doing. So I burned my research and corrupted the hard drives. Then I gave the United States a different kind of proprietary research I had in exchange for my freedom.”
The man shrugged. “Now would be a good time to dispose of your conscience. You won’t be needing it where I’m taking you. My employer has plans to make a great deal of money from the work you’re going to do for him.” A soft buzz filled the room. Simon’s captor reached into his pocket and brought out his phone. After looking at the screen, he said, “Don’t move,” and