“It means those missing letters could be the same ones.”
She and Yuri returned their attention to the screen. There were onlythirty-three letters in the Cyrillic alphabet. It didn’t take long to test her theory. The answer was found in the alphabet’s second letter.
Seichan tapped at the screen and replaced the question marks with the Cyrillic letterbe.
She glanced to Yuri, who nodded in agreement.
She showed the two at the table.
Kowalski shrugged. “Still looksabsurdnyyto me.”
“What is it?” Monk asked. “You and Yuri clearly know something.”
“This spells out BELVMB,” Seichan explained. “A military acronym for theBelomorskaya Voyenno Morskaya Baza.”
“Which is what?” Kowalski asked, wincing as Monk inserted an IV catheter.
“The Red Banner White Sea Naval Base,” Seichan answered.
“A huge place,” Yuri added. “Up in Severodvinsk to the north.”
Monk started the transfusion. “How can we be sure that’s the right spot?”
It was a fair question.
On the phone, Seichan pulled up a map of the Arkhangelsk Oblast, where the base was located. She read aloud about the base’s facilities: the dozens of submarines, the thousands of Arctic-trained troops, the hundreds of ice-hardened ships and equipment.
Seichan despaired. “The base’s commander is a decorated naval officer named Captain Sergei Turov. If the others have been taken there—”
Kowalski jerked straighter, nearly pulling out his catheter. “Wait.Turov? I heard that name come up during the exchange. Thought it was just a Russian word.” He stared over at her. “Then that’s gotta be the place, right?”
Seichan nodded. She withdrew the veiled apostolnik from where she had tucked it away. It had been severely wrinkled after choking out the guardsman at the mansion. She had done her best to smooth it out to wear on the way back to the hotel, and no one had commented on it—proofyet again that few people took notice of nuns, especially here, where they were as common as crows in a cornfield.
Let’s hope that continues.
She pulled the cloth veil over her head.
“Where are you going?” Monk asked her.
She pointed to the window, toward the Trinity Lavra. “You need to finish patching Kowalski up. I’m going to take your place over at the tower.”
Earlier, Monk had already bandaged her small bullet graze. The bloodstain hardly showed where it had soaked through the black wool of her clerical dress.
She turned and headed toward the door. “If we want to rescue the others, someone needs to light a fire under Gray’s ass.”
25
May 12, 9:45A.M. MSK
Trinity Lavra of St. Sergius, Russian Federation
“It’s getting warmer,” Jason commented from the front of the group.
As they all filed down the never-ending staircase, Gray had noted the same. He wiped his damp brow. His ankle throbbed with every step.
Ivan the Terrible must have buried his library deep—if it’s even down here.
Continuing the descent, Gray kept near the back of the group. He stuck close to Yelagin. The elderly bishop breathed hard, leaning heavily on his staff, picking his way down. Perspiration sheeted his face, both from the exertion and from the heat.
