An Unbeaten Man by Rielly Brendan;

Author:Rielly, Brendan; [Rielly, Brendan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down East Books
Published: 2015-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Thirty-seven

Moscow

Longfellow hung up and joined Melissa at the window of their dilapidated hotel room on Ylitsa Obraztsova, looking out on an old bus station that had been converted into a modern art gallery on Moscow’s northern side. A rickety metal scaffolding enveloped the Zolotaya Ptitsa, or Golden Bird, creaking and groaning in the wind, waiting for the workers’ return, a possibility the exasperated desk clerk had placed somewhere between remote and laughable. Traffic was light on the Obraztsova at this midday hour.

“See anything?” he asked.

“Nothing. I think we’re clean.”

“The desk clerk didn’t bat an eye when we handed him the passports Grisha’s friend procured for us,” Longfellow said. “Do you think the NSA would send bulletins out for us?”

“No, they wouldn’t publicize the problem,” Melissa replied. “Even if they did, it’s doubtful they’d reach a dive like this one.”

She cracked her neck and rubbed red eyes.

“What did you find out?”

“They got Grisha away. He’s awake and mad as hell. He’s going after Akhmetalin.”

“That’s not smart,” Melissa said.

“He thinks Akhematalin may be our best link to Michael’s family. He told us to focus on finding Michael.”

Melissa examined the mottled bedspread, then the stained chair, before deciding to remain standing.

“Which brings us back to our conversation on the way here,” she said. “Michael has probably finished the culture, which means we’re out of time. No one has successfully attacked the Saudi oil infrastructure. It can’t be done, and if they catch him, they’ll kill him.”

“I’m not ready to sign off on this yet,” Longfellow protested as the phone rang again. “What do you have, Jigger?”

“I analyzed the best targets in the Saudi oil infrastructure for the insertion of McKeon’s microbes, like you asked,” Jigger replied, a little breathlessly. “There are thousands of targets, hundreds that you might call prime.”

“But?”

“But, setting aside security concerns, there’s one spot that would give maximum effect; one spot with significant reserves and where nearly three-quarters of all Saudi crude oil is stabilized.”

“Abqaiq,” Longfellow breathed, dropping onto the bedspread in despair.

“Right, Abqaiq,” Jigger continued. “If they could insert the microbes at Abqaiq, they could contaminate Abqaiq’s billions of barrels of reserves, but, more importantly, they could contaminate all oil processed at that facility. And, if it spread through the pipelines to the other fields, they could destroy virtually all of Saudi Arabia’s oil. But . . .”

“But Abqaiq is a death sentence,” Longfellow finished.

“It’s the most secure facility in the entire Saudi oil infrastructure. And it’s not like they could just blast through the gates. They need up-close and personal access to insert the culture, and nobody gets that.”

“Thanks, Jigger,” Longfellow said, ending the call. He let the phone slip through his fingers onto the bed then covered his eyes. Melissa remained silent for several long moments before sitting next to her former mentor.

“Don’t talk to me about our country’s national interests, Melissa,” he warned through his hands. “I don’t give a shit right now.”

“I won’t,” she said quietly.

“This is personal.”

“I know.”

“If I make the call, The Global Group will kill Milla and Katya.

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