Early that morning when they’d first headed out to the barn to start work, it had been before dawn and barely light. Now, nearly five hours later there was intense midmorning sun, which was already high enough in the sky to give a true inkling of its potential afternoon power, beating down on Viktor’s scalp through his thinning hair. Summer days were surprisingly warm in Essex Falls, reminding him of Siberia.
“It’s going to be another hot day,” he complained, running a hand over the top of his head as he preceded Nikolai up the beaten path that led from the barn’s side door to the main house. Although the Russians had been disappointed and surprised by the cultural isolation of Essex Falls, despite its location only two hundred miles north of New York City, they had been thrilled with their actual accommodations. The Bennet Estate, where they had been living, was comprised of a rather large, extraordinarily decorative, three-story, black Victorian Gothic house built in 1860 complete with all sorts of unique architectural details, a sizable traditional barn with multiple interior rooms in addition to a dozen horse stalls, and a third building mostly underground that they were told had been an icehouse. The main house was a unique combination of various wings, twelve bedrooms with en suite baths, multiple towers with actual access to their parapets, pointed arched windows and doors, steeply pitched slate roofs, and surrounded by a wide roofed porch with turned columns, where they had spent most of their free daylight hours. Adding to the estate’s allure, it was comfortably sitedfour miles from the center of town on a small lake in the middle of densely wooded acres. From the home’s veranda, the only other residence visible was a remarkably similar Victorian house across the lake that they were told had been built for the firstborn son of the person who built the house they were occupying.
“I might take a swim a bit later,” Nikolai responded to Viktor’s comment about the temperature.
“I’ll probably join you,” Viktor said.
They climbed the porch stairs and entered the house through the kitchen door, which had been the servants’ entrance years ago. The kitchen was huge with the original, woodburning stoves and ovens along with soapstone sinks and old iceboxes still in place, in addition to recently installed modern appliances and a large granite-topped island. The floor was wide planked oak, visibly worn in highly tracked areas.
“You head upstairs and wake the team,” Viktor said. “I’ll make us all another pot of coffee.”
“Fair enough,” Nikolai responded. He headed up the back, narrow servants’ stairs, filled with an urge to get the technicians up and on their way. If there was no problem and the appropriate yeast was available and didn’t need to be ordered, he was hoping that the fermenter could be charged up in the next couple of days, maybe even by Wednesday.
As he climbed he found himself wondering how exactly they were going to leave the country on their way back to Russia. He and Viktor hadn’t discussed the issue for weeks. Initially there had been thought they might risk flying out of New York, which they all would have preferred for a bit of a cultural rush, since none of them had ever visited the city, but that idea had faded when they receivedcoded messages from the GRU that there could be trouble when they tried to check in for a flight to Istanbul using their FSB-generated Netherlands passports. The fear was that the US immigration computers checked outgoing passengers’ entry details, which were nonexistent. What that meant was that they would most likely have to retrace their route back through Champlain, New York, to depart out of Montreal. Unfortunately, that route held no allure whatsoever. Still, the last thing any of them wanted to do was get in trouble with the US authorities, especially after being so damn careful not to do so during the nearly six weeks they’d been in Essex Falls.
Reaching the second floor, Nikolai headed toward Alexei Ivanov’s bedroom. Alexei was the microbiological technician, so obtaining the proper yeast and getting it quickly fell mostly on his shoulders. Besides, of the two technicians, Alexei was the more volatile and unpredictable, and Nikolai wanted to get the burden of waking him over with. As a sound sleeper, Alexei could at times be a bear to awaken.
When they had first arrived they had picked the bedrooms they wanted and all chose the second floor, where the rooms were larger than those on the third. They were decidedly cooler as well. Viktor had chosen what surely had been the master bedroom while Nikolai had picked an adjoining one that was nearly as large. Alexei, next in line, had picked a bedroom facing the lake. Dmitry, the youngest, had to be content with a view out the front of the house that looked over the parking area and the nearby, heavily forested mountains.
Opening Alexei’s door, Nikolai made his way in the semidarkness over to the heavy, velvet blackout drapes, and rapidly pulled them open. Bright sunlight reflecting off the lake flooded in,instantly filling the room. Simultaneously he loudly ordered: “Out of bed, Corporal! Your services are needed.”
“Kakogo cherta,” Alexei managed, sitting up in bed, his muscular torso partially hidden behind his forearms as he tried vainly to shield his eyes with the palms of his hands.
“Speak English!” Nikolai ordered, raising his voice. Ever since they had landed in Montreal, they had vowed to only speak English to avoid giving away their origins since all they knew in Dutch were a few simple phrases.
“Hell,” Alexei snapped in return, still trying to cover his face. “Close the damn drapes!”
“Not on your life,” Nikolai said. “It’s reveille! As I said, your services are needed.”
“What do you mean my ‘services are needed’?” Alexei fired back. “Aren’t we finally getting out of this hellhole today? Isn’t that what we decided at dinner last night?”
“There’s been a change of plans. Viktor believes it is appropriate to do a final harvest and release. He and I have been out in the lab preparing the expression vectors since fivea.m. Of course, that means we need another batch of yeast, and we need it now. You and Dmitry have to head back to Albany immediately and hope to hell they have it in stock.”
Alexei mumbled a string of curse words under his breath.
“I’m warning you. Only English!”
“Okay, but why the change of plans?”
“Because, as I said, Viktor thinks it is appropriate, and he’s in charge.”
“Shit!” Alexei voiced. “That means there could be trouble.”
“What are you talking about?” Nikolai asked hesitantly. “What do you mean ‘trouble’?”
“Last night’s paramilitary exercise with the Diehard Patriots ended up being a mild disaster.”
“I’m listening,” Nikolai said, feeling a stab of concern. This close to the end of the mission wasn’t the time for trouble.
“Ethan Jameson started the evening out acting weird, irrational and irritated, and it went downhill from there. Something had to be done.”
“What was troubling him?”
“The same thing that has troubled him for weeks, namely that you and Viktor never show up for the practice maneuvers, particularly the night operations. I warned you time and again that he was taking your absence personally. Last night toward the end of the training exercise he said he’d had enough and that today he wanted us gone from here. He then threatened if we didn’t do it, he’d have the Essex Falls police come out and force us off this property. He threatened to tell the police we’re not from the Netherlands despite what our passports say. And you know something…I believed him, and so did Dmitry. Ethan was beyond just making threats, which he’d been doing for weeks.”
“Good God!” Nikolai murmured. “Why didn’t you wake us when you got home and let us know about this? Why have you waited until now to tell me?”
“Because I took care of him, case closed,” Alexei said. He threw back the sheet and stood up. He was dressed only in undershorts. He began pulling on his casual clothes.
