Vector

Chapter 14

Tuesday, October 19

6:30 p.m.

Curt turned onto Oceanview Lane. Although it wasn’t quite dark yet, he switched on his headlights because of the deep shadows within the confines of the narrow roadway. Just like the night before, there were multiple trash cans littering the pavement’s periphery. He pulled up alongside Yuri’s garage and cut both the lights and the engine.

“I’m happy with everything we’ve decided except the idea of giving this Commie a gun,” Steve said. “I have to tell you, I don’t like it.”

“What the hell choice do we have?” Curt complained. “I told you, he’s terrified of his brother-in-law. The guy threatened to kill him.”

“I know what you told me,” Steve said. “But as weird as Yuri’s been acting and the crazy stuff he’s been saying, like all that bullshit about this being a rootless culture, I tell you, I don’t like him having a gun. Especially not one of ours. What if he turns it on us?”

“He’s not going to turn it on us,” Curt said irritably. “For crissake, we’re the only friends he’s got. Besides, he probably couldn’t hit a barn from inside. And you’ve got your gun, right?”

“Of course,” Steve said.

“Well, I’ve got mine, too,” Curt said. “There’s no way you and I couldn’t handle one tubby little Russian. Come on! Let’s get this over with!”

The two men got out of the truck. They met at the front and started for Yuri’s door. Curt was carrying a brown paper bag.

“The main thing is we have to keep him working in the lab,” Curt said. “If it takes giving him a gun, so be it. We’re so close. We can’t let Operation Wolverine die on the vine because Yuri’s scared of his nigger brother-in-law.”

“But if he’s got a gun, he might be harder for the troops to handle,” Steve said.

Curt pulled his partner to a stop. “You think one Glock automatic is going to make a difference against a half dozen Kalashnikovs? Come on! Be serious!”

“I guess not,” Steve said.

“Of course not,” Curt said. “Right after we take possession of our part of the anthrax powder and get it safely back to the White Pride, we’ll send in the troops. Glock or no Glock, the mission will be over in five seconds. Hell, we’ll tell ’em to burn this freaking place down in the process.”

“Okay, you’re right,” Steve said. “I just want to be sure. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I don’t want him spraying anthrax around Central Park.”

“I feel the same,” Curt said. “Clearly it’s not a military objective like the Jacob Javits Federal Building.”

“And it bugged me when he was carrying on about how many more casualties his plan would cause than ours. I don’t buy it. Hell, the federal building’s HVAC vents outside. Not only are we going to knock out the entire building, the anthrax will spread around that whole section of the city.”

“Damn straight,” Curt said. “It’ll vector east toward the courthouses. I mean, is that not perfect or what?”

“It couldn’t be any better,” Steve agreed.

“Once we give the word to the troops, Yuri’s a dead man,” Curt said. “You know that. End of story.”

Steve nodded. They recommenced walking.

“I don’t see any lights on inside,” Curt said as they reached the door. He had to squint in the glare of an exterior carriage lamp mounted to the left of the jamb. “He better the hell be here!”

Curt pulled open the torn screen door and rapped loudly against the inner door. It opened almost immediately. Yuri peered out from the inner gloom.

“Thank goodness,” Yuri said with relief. “Come in!”

Curt and Steve filed past the Russian but found themselves in darkness, still momentarily blinded by the bright outdoor light.

“What the hell have you been doing in here?” Curt questioned. “I can’t see my hand in front of my face.”

“Sorry,” Yuri said as he scurried to turn on a lamp next to the couch. “I was afraid Connie’s brother might show up before you got here, and I wanted it to look like no one was home.”

“That’s better,” Curt said when he could see.

“Can I get you men some iced vodka?” Yuri asked.

“I think I’ll pass,” Curt said.

“Same with me,” Steve said.

“Did you bring the gun?” Yuri questioned.

“Sure, I got it,” Curt said. He held up the bag. “But let’s talk first.”

“Okay,” Yuri said. “Do you mind if I get some vodka for myself?”

“Not at all,” Curt said.

While Yuri went to the kitchen, Curt and Steve sat down. Curt took the couch while Steve sat in one of two straight-back chairs. They left the other for Yuri so that he would be more or less between them.

“It’s amazing to think of what’s going to come out of this trashy hellhole’s basement,” Curt whispered. “Just the thought of it gives me a rush.”

“I know what you mean,” Steve whispered back. “Like Christ being born in a stable, extraordinary things can come from lowly surroundings. This bioweapon is probably going to change the world.”

“Let’s content ourselves with saving the country,” Curt responded.

With glass in hand, Yuri joined the others. He sat down in the empty chair.

“What would you like to talk about?” Yuri asked. He took a sip of his drink and relished its taste. Despite some recent misgivings about his relationship with his guests, he was happy and relieved they were there.

“With all these unexpected problems that have been popping up, we’ve decided things have to be speeded up,” Curt said. “Like we told you last night, we’re worried about security. After talking about it all day, we’ve decided we want to schedule the event for Friday. So, we want our half of the anthrax powder Thursday night. That’s two days from now.”

“This is very sudden,” Yuri said. He was visibly shocked. The plan had been to wait until he had enough of the bioweapon before they’d plan the actual day of release.

“Maybe so,” Curt said. “But we feel strongly that this is the way it has to be.”

“It’s going to be difficult,” Yuri said. His eyes darted nervously back and forth between Curt and Steve. “Both laydowns need at least four or five pounds for maximum effect.”

“That means we want at least four and preferably five pounds Thursday night,” Curt said. “This is not a discussion. Am I making myself clear?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Yuri stammered.

“Just say, Fine, Curt: just come by and I’ll have it ready for you. You originally told us it would be sealed in clear plastic and look like large sausages. Is that still the case?”

“Yes,” Yuri said. He took a sip from his glass and his hand trembled.

“And it’s safe to handle in that form,” Curt said. “I mean without a hazmat suit.”

“Unless the plastic breaks,” Yuri said. “The sausages will be heat-sealed and their outsides will be decontaminated.”

“How tough is this plastic?” Curt asked. “Like if we happened to drop one of the sausages, would that be a problem?”

“I haven’t tested that,” Yuri admitted. “But I wouldn’t advise dropping it or sticking it with anything. Under ideal conditions each one of these sausages will be capable of killing up to a hundred thousand people.”

“How many pounds do you have now?” Curt asked.

“I’m sorry.” Yuri said.

“Last night you said you might have enough by the end of the week,” Curt reminded him. “So you must have an idea. I mean, Thursday night is pretty close to the end of the week.”

“I did another harvest this morning,” Yuri said. “I didn’t weigh it.”

“So you’re close,” Curt said.

“Yes, I’m close,” Yuri said. He nodded a few times as if agreeing with himself before taking a deep breath and exhaling through pursed lips. It was like he’d been under stress but was now able to relax. He gestured with his glass toward both Curt and Steve as if he was giving a toast and then took another, larger slug of his drink. He held the vodka in his mouth for a moment before swallowing as if it was fine wine.

“What about the second fermenter?” Steve asked. “Have you converted it to anthrax?”

“Yes, this morning,” Yuri said.

“How is it going?” Curt asked.

“Extremely well,” Yuri said. He managed a smile. “It’s growing much better than the Clostridium botulinum. In fact I was amazed when I checked just a few minutes before you arrived. I’ll be able to harvest an entire batch this evening.”

“We could steal you another fermenter tonight,” Steve suggested. “If that could help.”

“There’s no need,” Yuri said with a wave of his free hand. “Not with the second one running. Now that I’ve had a chance to think, I’m sure I’ll be able to make delivery Thursday night.”

“Really?” Curt questioned.

“Absolutely,” Yuri said.

“You weren’t so sure just a few moments ago,” Curt said.

“I wasn’t,” Yuri admitted. “Not until Steve reminded me of the second fermenter. With it running like it is, I’ll be able to have at least ten pounds, maybe even a bit more if I work nonstop.”

“Is there any reason you can’t do that?” Curt asked.

“No,” Yuri said. “I just won’t drive the cab.”

“There is one more thing we want you to do before tomorrow night,” Curt said.

Yuri’s face, which had recently assumed a smile, reverted to a troubled expression.

“Now, don’t get upset,” Curt said, noticing the change in Yuri’s demeanor. “This is an easy request: at least easy for you. I’d like you to write down how you’ve created this anthrax powder. Since you’ll be back in Russia, we’re going to have to find someone else if we want to stage an encore.”

Yuri’s smile returned. He nodded. “Sure, I can do that. In fact I’ll be happy to do it.”

“Perfect!” Curt said. He smiled to himself before picking up the paper bag from the couch and handing it across to Yuri. As Yuri accepted the parcel, Curt’s other hand slipped behind to grasp the butt of his own pistol nestled in its holster in the small of his back. Unbeknownst to Yuri, who was happily opening the package, Steve did the same with his gun.

Yuri lifted the automatic out by its barrel. Dropping the paper bag, he examined the gun closely. He hefted it. “It’s lightweight,” he said.

“It is,” Curt said. “It’s called a Glock. It’s a very good weapon. It’s the preferred handgun with the militias.”

“Is there anything particular that I should know about it?” Yuri said. He released the magazine catch and slipped it out. He glanced at the bullets and counted them.

“You just point it at your brother-in-law and pull the trigger,” Curt said. “The gun does the rest.”

Yuri laughed. He slipped his finger within the trigger guard and pointed the gun at his refrigerator. “Bang!” he said and jerked the gun as if it had recoiled. He laughed again before placing the gun on the coffee table.

Curt and Steve relaxed and sat back in their seats.

“There’s something else in the bag,” Curt said.

“There is?” Yuri questioned. He reached down and retrieved the package. He pulled out a cellophane bag that seemed to be filled with black hair. The corners of Yuri’s mouth drew up into a half smile. He thought it was some kind of joke. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s something we picked up in a costume store on the way over here,” Curt said. “It’s a beard.”

“What on earth for?” Yuri asked.

“It’s to make a point,” Curt said. “The gun is only for an absolute emergency. We don’t want you using it. Stay away from your brother-in-law and take your phone off the hook. Don’t talk to him. When you go out, make sure he’s not around and wear the stupid beard. If he happens to come around, don’t let him in. Just get rid of him. The problem is, that if you use the gun, it’ll bring the police, and if the police come here and start snooping around, Operation Wolverine goes down the toilet. If that happens, Steve and I and the PAA troops are going to be very unhappy. Am I making myself clear?”

“Don’t worry,” Yuri said with a wave of dismissal. “I’ll only use the gun to avoid being killed myself. It’s more to just make me feel safe.”

“That’s what I was hoping,” Curt said.

“After all,” Yuri added as he tore open the cellophane package, “Operation Wolverine is just as important to me as it is to you. The last thing I’d want to do is something that would interfere with it.”

Yuri pulled out the fake beard and held it up against his face. “How do I look?”

“Ridiculous,” Curt said.

Yuri laughed and put the cellophane and the beard back into the paper bag.

Curt stood up, and Steve and Yuri followed suit. Curt stuck out his hand and Yuri shook it enthusiastically.

“So what time Thursday night?” Curt asked.

“As you wish,” Yuri said. “It will be ready when you want.”

“Excellent,” Curt said. “We’ll come by sometime after dark. I’ll have a firefighter’s rabbit tool bag. It’s about twenty inches by ten and about ten high. It’s like a small duffel bag. Will that be big enough for the plastic sausages?”

“More than enough,” Yuri said. “The key thing is to make sure there are no sharp edges on the inside. In fact, I’ll give you a towel to roll them up in.”

“Sounds good,” Curt said. He gave a halfhearted military salute.

Self-consciously, Yuri returned the gesture.

Curt preceded Steve out the door. They could hear Yuri bolt it as they descended the front walk. Reaching the truck they climbed in their respective sides.

“So what was your take?” Curt questioned as he started the engine.

“I was encouraged,” Steve said. “At first when he acted so nervous I had my doubts. I thought he was going to try to give us a hard time about getting the anthrax or maybe argue we should do Central Park rather than the federal building.”

“I did, too,” Curt said. “But then it was like he suddenly saw the light and realized that Operation Wolverine had better be executed fast before something else goes wrong. Thank God we came out here and put pressure on him. I suppose we should have done it a week ago. But at the moment, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Operation Wolverine is going to happen, and come Friday all hell’s going to break loose here in the Big Apple.”

“I’m glad he’s decided to be cooperative, but he’s still one weird duck,” Steve said. “Did it make you nervous when he took the gun out?”

“A little,” Curt admitted. “But it was more because of what you’d said before we went in. I actually think the guy’s pathetic. Pretending to shoot the gun like that was so juvenile. And when he put that beard on, I almost cracked up.”

“I think it was a brilliant idea to ask him to write out how to make the anthrax powder,” Steve said.

“It was a touch of genius,” Curt said with a wry smile as he made the turn onto Ocean Avenue. “The idea just came to me like a bolt out of the heavens. If this all goes as well as I’m sure it will, we’ll probably want to make future strikes.”