The Backup Asset

…75

Moscow’s Ritz Carlton spa knew how to treat its VIP guests. Dimitrov and Myatlev found there exquisite spa treatments in the safety and privacy of dedicated rooms well-guarded by Myatlev’s ex-Spetsnaz bodyguards. Rose essential oils and a carefully balanced breeze of fresh air completed a quiet, relaxing atmosphere that both of them enjoyed deeply.

Two masseuses, wearing barely there bikinis, had just completed full body massages for the two guests, then disappeared without a word, leaving their clients happy and content. The men rested naked on warm marble slabs, their skin completely covered in massage oils. They chatted quietly, subdued by deep relaxation, almost dozing off at times.

“You need a lot more massage to deal away with that flab, Vitya,” Dimitrov laughed, pointing at Myatlev’s potbelly.

“This?” Myatlev asked, pinching his overflowing belly. “This is beyond redemption, my dear friend.” They both broke down with laughter.

Myatlev signaled his adjutant, Ivan, for some Perrier water with lime. He drank a full glass, then said, “The goodies are starting to come in, just as planned.”

“What do you have?” Dimitrov asked, his interest dissipating his relaxation.

“We have the technical notes for the laser cannon installation on mobile platforms. We have enough to know what we’re missing to be able to deploy such weapon systems ourselves.”

“What do we need?”

“Power. Our power source for our laser weapon is huge, and our engineers haven’t figured out how to miniaturize it, even with the information that’s been trickling in.”

“So what do you want to do, Vitya?”

“We need to get our hands on the power source schematics, as soon as possible, what else?” Myatlev smiled and winked, making Dimitrov laugh.

“Of course,” he replied laughing. “Research takes too fucking long.”

“I’ll send Karp to the field. He’s ready.”

They remained silent for a while, as their laughter died down and they both became engulfed in their own thoughts.

“You know what else I’d like to do?” Myatlev asked after a while.

“Mmm… What?” Dimitrov replied.

“I’d like to pay a little attention to the American ICBM sites. Rumors have it they’re a little rusty, old, and falling apart. I think it’s doable and worth checking out.”

“We’ve cleaned ours up,” Dimitrov said. “Most of them were bad, inoperable. I wonder if theirs are just as bad.”

“Twenty-five years is twenty-five years in both countries, Mishka. That’s a lot of neglect. But I’m thinking more than just seeing which ones are operable and which ones are not.”

“What?” Dimitrov asked, intrigued, and turned on his side to face Myatlev.

“I’m thinking by now they must know you’ve cleaned and prepared ours for action, right?”

Dimitrov nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Then they must be getting ready to clean theirs.”

“And?”

“And that means nuclear missiles moving from location to location, temporary nuclear test codes available for the right people, and so on. Tons of opportunity for us, Mishka.”

“You’re a twisted motherfucker! Genius! Let’s do that!” Dimitrov said, slapping him hard on the shoulder. “Glad you’re on our side!”