Chapter Seven
The elevator ride to the tower was a smooth one, once the EM scanner in the lower hallway had been bypassed. This late at night, she expected the staff on duty to be minimal. Still, long experience taught her that expectations rarely met reality. Waiting for the moment the elevator came to a half, Yelena cloaked, before the doors even began opening.
As soon as they did, and she caught a glimpse of what was beyond, she hastily hit the descend button, to close them again, flattening herself to the side of the elevator.
A tell-tale red beam of another EM scanner, plus a pair of exoskeleton-armoured security guards, with Tarvos logo on their suits. Each sported a pair of chainguns integrated into their robotic arms.
"What was that?" - one demanded, in a filtered voice through his helmet vocoder, as they both saw a seemingly empty elevator car stop, then close and descend again.
"Some kind of malfunction... ? Call it back up here... let's check it out." - the other muttered, stepping to the elevator doors and hitting the override call button.
A dozen metres down the shaft, Yelena felt the car stop, then reverse back upwards. She bit her lip, thinking quickly... before she spotted a maintenance hatch on the ceiling. It was quite a jump, but nothing her legs couldn't handle.
Please don't be locked...
She thought, as she decloaked, then hopped up, giving the hatch a measured punch, to pop it off it's seam. It made a noticable 'clink' sound, but she hoped the lift's movement would drown it out, from above. Grabbing the lip, she limberly pulled herself through the hatch opening, then fitted the cover back onto it.
Freezing in place atop of the car, she grabbed the framework, flattening herself prone, to avoid getting crushed by top of the shaft, as the elevator again came to a stop... with about 40 centimetres of space to spare. She felt like a sardine in a can, as she listened intently to the filtered voices of the two exoframe-armoured guards below. They spoke English, with a trace of South African accent.
A-ha! They must be part of the same outfit who is accompanying the shipment. So, they have basically taken control of the airport, to ensure security.
Briefly, she toyed with the idea of actually introducing herself to them, since technically, she was here on assignment to assist them. But somehow – she had a feeling her being up here in the tower, for no well-explained reason, when she was supposed to meet the shipment when it arrived to the airport in the morning, would be more then a little suspicious.
She shook her head to herself. No. For now, remaining completely unseen and unknown, was advantageous. She needed to find out which hangar the plane was in, then make contact with the Front's attack squad, to coordinate the hit, tomorrow. Which meant finding the departures manifest. After that, all she had to do was wait out until morning, and introduce herself to the shipment handlers, as per her official 'assignment', given to her by the Bratva boss.
"Nada. Must've been a glitch." - one of the two grunted dismissively, as they both stomped back to their posts, letting the elevator descend again.
Clinging to the side of the shaft, suspended in a spreadeagle posture between two girders, Yelena watched the car descend. The doors to the tower level were right below her. But given the guards and the scanner, she would need to find an alternate way in. She looked around. Nothing immediately obvious, aside from the doors... but the fact that the elevator had a maintenance hatch, suggested there might be a crawlway leading out of the shaft – somewhere.
She began climbing downwards, balancing the need for expediency, with being careful. The descent was not easy, as the handholds along the girders, and the continually moving cable of the elevator still in descent, made it treacherous. But her acrobatics and climbing skills were coming in handy, and where she slipped, her electrodynamic landing array would kick, in to slow her fall long enough for her to regain a hold. What made it worse however, was that the shaft itself was dark. One of the glaring flaws of her augmentation suite was the lack of low-light vision modes, or any kind of alternative-wavelength vision. Her ocular enhancements could zoom, sharpen, project a wireframe mesh of vectors and distances as required, in addition to the HUD, but the retinae themselves were natural. She was as blind as a bat in the dark, without external help. It was a conscious decision Yelena made, long ago. One that her... masters, allowed her to make, since her natural eyesight was so exceptionally good, that it was worth the tradeoff. But it was still human, and thus, darkness defeated it.
Reaching into her belt satchel for a pair of NV goggles was impossible at the moment, as she needed both hands for climbing. But the darkness also had it's advantages. Any crawlways leading out of the shaft, would by necessity have to be lit, to allow maintenance personnel to access the elevator for repairs. And that light would spill out, for her to notice.
~"Yelena? How you doing? I've just reached the train station... place is mostly ghosted. Good, too, because this armour is not exactly inconspicuous."~ - Irwine's tone manifested itself in her mind, through the Infolink.
~"I am... occupied. Do me a favour and talk to me in... fifteen or so minutes."~ - she replied, a bit tersely, closing the link. Now was not the time.
Climbing down another two dozen metres, she could finally spot a faint spillage of light, behind what looked like a perforated grating. She paused briefly, listening hard – sometimes these sorts of maintenance tunnels had sensors on them. Both she couldn't hear any subsonic frequencies.
She let go of the cable, in a controlled, assisted drop, to the section of framework next to the grate, landing with a soft 'clink' of her metallic feet. The grate was easy enough to remove off it's frame, allowing her to slip inside the tunnel, and replacing it behind her. As anticipated, the tunnel was lit, leading at a shallow diagonal angle, upwards. It was tall enough for her to crouch in. She consulted the layout, once more... if she was reading it right, this tunnel would take her somewhere just below the control room in the tower. Probably not directly – she did have to climb down a fair amount.
Before long, the tunnel ended in small chamber, filled with electrical equipment, and a ladder mounted on a wall, leading upward into a vertical tunnel. The tunnel also extended downward, for a considerable distance. It made her consider that maybe she could have bypassed the elevator alltogether, and just used this tunel. But as they say, hindsight was always clearer.
She was halfway up the ladder, when she began picking up faint subsonics... that soon resolved themselves into a soft whine, somewhere above.
Surveillance drone!
She thought, eyes narrowing, as she cloaked, anchoring herself to the ladder with both legs, drawing her pair of suppressed Zeniths. She had to take it out before it detected her... some of the more advanced models were even equipped with EM cameras, in which case her cloak wouldn't help her.
Up above, the device suddenly came into view, a small hexagonal object, hovering on a pair of tiny turbojets. It's red-eye camera swiveled downwards... before a pair of 10mm rounds perforated it, following a pair of understated pops, that seemed to echo quite a bit, in the narrow tunnel. The ruined drone dropped instantly, right towards Yelena. She hastily caught it, examining the markings. The device bore the same Tarvos logo, as she glimpsed on the exoframes of those two guards. She nodded to herself. They weren't taking any chances on the shipment.
Climbing the rest of the way up the ladder, she found herself in another cross-tunnel, leading to a narrow maintenance door at the end. She suspected that door would let her out on the control room level.
~"Control, Mantis here. Looks like Tarvos Security has taken over the control and admin areas of the airport, in preparation for the shipment's arrival. I did not realise they had this much pull, in Russia, to simply supplant the local law enforcement like this. China I would expect, as well as the West, but here?"~ - she reported in.
~"Remember, they are just another name for Belltower. And their orders come from above the Russian government. This shipment is too important to our enemies, to risk relying on state security. Now you see the long-term consequences of the Tyrants' elimination of Kontarsky. He was quite important in keeping the Illuminati influence out of the country."~ - Quinn's gravely tone manifested itself in her mind.
Scowling, Yelena nodded to herself.
~"Do you want me to escalate and eliminate? I counted two Tarvos heavies up here, and have disabled a surveillance drone. I will have a more complete picture of their complement once I fully recon the tower control areas."~ - she asked, a trace of... desire... seeping into her subvocalised question, even though she herself thought it was a bad idea.
But the patriot in her refused to simply let this slide. Aside from her conscience and her sense of self... other aspects of her long-suppressed personality were now manifesting themselves. Her hatred of her former masters, and their minions, was now supplanted by her sense of duty to her homeland.
In short, now that she had a moment to think about it – seeing those Tarvos mercs here, made her see... blood. Especially knowing what they used to call themselves. More duplicity. More... slipping through the cracks. Even AFTER what happened at Rifleman Bank. Even AFTER, the Hyron initiative was exposed, by Jensen. Even after eyewitness accounts, and inquests into Belltower's involvement. Almost unconsciously, Yelena's right fist clenched, in rage.
And in the end, all it takes, is for them to change the name, and grease some palms. What does it take, for the world to WAKE UP? WHAT?!
~"Negative! Stay focused on the assignment. Engage only to prevent exposure! So far we haven't picked up any increase in comms activity from the airport; I will take that as a sign you remain unnoticed. Tempting as it may be to clean them out of there, the longer you remain under the radar, the better. They may even cancel the shipment's arrival, if an alert gets out. Understood?" - Quinn's tone was hard, snapping her out of it.
~"Understood."~ - she signed off. But she knew it was the right call. Besides... if the intel on the shipment was true – she wouldn't have to wait too long, to indulge herself, once on that plane.
Indulge myself... no... no. NO! That is not me, anymore!
She reminded herself sternly, reaching up to fondle the pendant around her neck. Then she headed towards the maintenance door. But the rage... remained. Like a cold needle in her heart, serving as a reminder. It was these reminders, that were the worst part. Being here, so close to the enemy... knowing they were here, within reach – still up to their same old tricks. Tricks that she once - supported. Enabled. Assisted in. Perpetrated. Was an instrumental part of. The more she thought about it, the more it made her sick. They... triggered the weapon within her. Yelena realised she was slipping into a very dangerous frame of mind. One she managed to control, and manage, more or less, for the past three months. One tempered by her memories, regrets, and Irwine's presence, his affection, to ground her.
But right here, right now... realising it, and doing anything about it, were two entirely separate things. She could feel it. The demon within. Fire and ice. Fiery, vengeful fury and loathing, mixing with icy, detached resolve and determination. The purpose. The need, to kill. In the name of a different cause, true... but that need, was the same. She could see it. She could observe it, taking over. But she couldn't do anything about it.
They were the enemy. They worked, knowingly or not, for the people who destroyed her life. They had to die.
Her facial expression closed in on itself. Becoming that empty, hollow mask, as she opened the door, and cloaked herself. Segmenting... detaching, as the pair of karambit blades found their way from their forearm sheaths, to her hands.
Please... don't. Don't... flip that switch.
But it was too late.
Sankt Peterburg central train station...
Loitering in the shadows near the far end of the train platform, Irwine scowled to himself. This was going to be a long night.
The man was sweating slightly, which was quite an accomplishment in this cold, but the heavy winter jacket he wore over his combat armour, made him feel positively cooked. Now that he was finally out of sight of the few late-night passerby, and the scowling cop at the platform's entrance, he thought about taking it off. The fact it did a good job concealing both his sniper rifle and the sidearm, was just an added bonus.
He looked around first. There were no good vantage points immediately obvious. At least not – at the station itself. Looking down the Ligovsky Prospekt, there were several old-style Tzarist buildings lining the block. They were close enough to the station itself, and tall enough to give him a good view of every train arriving at the platform. And he imagined the yards behind each, would have stairs leading to balconies, which might provide a way to get atop one, without using the main entrances or getting seen by the intellicams mounted on the streetlights.
So the jacket had to stay on, for a while longer.
Ten minutes later, the man was peeking out a narrow but tall, half-opened window at the topmost floor of the middle one, concealed behind a pair of thick, patterned curtains. The attic-level living space he broke into, looked to be some kind of atelier, if the stacks of paintbrushes, frames, and several rolled-up canvases in the corner, were any indication. The owner was likely sleeping, in one of the apartments below.
Unless they suddenly get a middle-of-the-night inspiration to paint, I should be golden up here, for the night.
Irwine thought, finally having the luxury to slip out of the cursed jacket. He was right. From up here, he had a bird's eye view of the platform. Pulling back from the window just a bit, so as not to be easily visible from the street below, he settled comfortably in the darkened atelier, to wait, folding the jacket and using it as a padding, on one of the chairs he found. How long would the wait be... he had no idea. Yelena had said that the train was supposed to arrive sometime before morning. But, patience being one of the main traits of a sharpshooter, the man had a lot of experience, waiting. He glanced at his phone... two hours past midnight.
Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out and popped open a can of beer, taking a sip. Thinking about her.
He was tempted to contact her again, but from her tone of voice, she was probably in the middle of something where interruptions meant trouble. Even via subvocal channel like the Infolink, he knew how distracting a sudden communique could be. So he decided to maintain radio silence, until she contacted him.
One of the good things about control areas on top of a tower, accessible via only one elevator – the enemy didn't have any other way to get out. And precious few opportunities to raise an alarm, before she was onto them.
Rats in a maze.
Yelena reflected darkly, standing still in the middle of the main control room, a pair of night-shift airport staff on duty, pressing in horror to the wall. Her face was splattered with blood, more of it staining her new thermoptic armour.
None of it her own.
Two Tarvos Security corpses at her feet. One clutching a Sanction in his nerveless hands. The other with his weapon still over his shoulder. Dead eyes glazing beneath their helmets, blood gushing out of their necks. Another, a female one, lying slumped next to the far wall, a dark bloody patch on her uniform below the left-side chestplate of her combat armour. Three more, outside in the hallways. And the ruined remains of the two Exoframe-armoured guards, their suits fried with an EMP grenade, turning them into dead weight encasing the soft victims within, helpless to do anything against the wraith, materialising out of thin air. The same grenade did a good job in disabling the EM scanner that was supposed to be covering the two.
All together, it took less then two minutes. She didn't have to fire a shot. It was all done with a pair of blades, and a single EMP grenade. Most of them never even saw her coming, and those that did...
One should never be aware of the moment of their own death.
The woman took deep, meditative breaths, licking some of the blood that landed close to her lips. Then her dark gaze met the two staff.
"Ne ubivay menya! Pozhaluysta... U menya yest' sem'ya!" - one pleaded, face pale.
Yelena grimaced, shaking her head to herself, as she sheathed the blades. At least she had the presence of mind, to be selective with her targets. Not so long ago, that wouldn't have been the case.
Thank God, for small mercies.
She thought, hand briefly brushing the pendant, as the mask fell away, and some light returned to her gaze. But that is as far as it went. As far as the dead mercenaries at her feet were concerned – they were the enemy. Knowingly or not, they were on the wrong side.
Their mistake.
"YA ne ub'yu tebya, yesli ty ne dash' mne povoda. Prodolzhayte delat' svoyu rabotu, vy oba." - she addressed the two, stepping past them to access the computer terminal. It was locked with a password.
"Gde grafik otpravleniya?" - she turned to face the nearest one.
The woman blanched, stepping closer.
"YA... ya mogu razblokirovat' yego. Eto tam." - she stuttered, pointing at the computer. Nodding, Yelena moved away slightly, giving her room. Even so, the employee hesitated. As she got closer, Yelena noticed her hands were shaking.
Her expression softened slightly.
"YA ne sobirayus' prichinyat' tebe bol'. Vy ne odin iz nikh."
The woman nodded, taking a deep breath and accessing the computer. The other employee chose that moment to speak up.
"Oni prishli vchera. Net... nikakikh uvedomleniy. Prosto voshel i vzyal na sebya okhranu bashni. Nam skazali... eto iz-za kakogo-to vazhnogo... gruza v puti." - a trace of disgust in his tone, glancing at the corpses.
"Vy... pravitel'stvennyy agent?" - eyeing her.
Yelena nodded. It was as fair an assumption as any. And it actually appealed to her sense of patriotism.
"Ty mog skazat' eto. Chto yeshche vy znayete?" - she asked
The man shrugged.
"Nemnogo. Oni ne byli zainteresovany v otvetakh na voprosy. Nikto iz nikh dazhe ne govoril po-russki! No, vozmozhno, eto svyazano s tem samoletom, kotoryy prizemlilsya zdes' dva dnya nazad bez vklyuchennogo opoznavatel'nogo transpondera. Nam takzhe skazali ignorirovat' eto tozhe."
Nodding to herself, it made sense to Yelena. The plane would land without an ID transponder on, then would be stashed in some out-of-the-way hangar, awaiting the shipment's arrival.
"Gde seychas samolet?" - she asked him, even though she suspected he wouldn't know. Operations like this were very much done on a need-to-know basis.
"Bez ponyatiya. Veroyatno, odin iz otdalennykh angarov." - he confirmed the assumption, with another shrug.
The woman then caught her attention, pointing at the computer. It was unlocked. Yelena thanked her, and allowed her to return to her station.
After instructing the two, to continue giving all the proper all-clear messages to routine checks, and get back to their work directing oncoming air traffic, she turned her attention to the manifest.
~"Mantis, report. Did you get the plane's location?"~ - Quinn's tone echoed in her mind, a couple of minutes later.
~"Yes. Hangar 23. Looks to be near one of the service airstrips."~ - she replied, consulting the map.
~"Makes sense. They would want as little attention as possible. I'm relaying the information to the Front's assault squad. They will meet you near the sewer access tunnel there. Do you see it on the map?"~
~"Yes."~
~"Status on exposure? Have you been compromised?"~ - Quinn inquired.
~"Manageably. Eight less brainless monkeys in our enemies' army."~ - Yelena's tone was flat. No doubt he wouldn't be happy, but... she didn't care.
They needed to die. Or more to the point, she needed, to kill them. And the fact was, no alarm was sounded, and none of them had an opportunity to get a communique out. She was thorough, and professional about it.
There was a pause from the other end, before Quinn's subvocalised tone returned... sounding a bit strained.
~"Fedorova... you h-... fine. Whatever. I am not showing any increase in outgoing communications, and no security-breach alerts. You got lucky."~ - icily.
At this, the woman scowled hard, wiping some of the blood off her face.
~"I am not 'lucky', mister Quinn. I'm good at what I do. Luck is something I haven't had, for most of my life. Do you understand that?!"~ - she hissed, in a thinly-veiled snarl. Belatedly, she realised that she may have said that out loud, as one of the two staff looked at her briefly.
~"I do. Better then you might think."~ - the man's tone was hard, yet strangely... sympathetic, ~"And I also understand that personal demons are an excess baggage, on an assignment. I would suggest you keep that in mind, lest it compromises your efficiency."~
Yelena bit back a nasty retort. But she knew he was right.
~"Yes, sir."~ - closing the link.