The security man tapped a screen on the second tier of monitors. "There, comrade Colonel."
Rushenko squinted. Two men were moving down the corridor. No sooner had he laid eyes on them than they vanished from sight. A pointing finger directed his gaze to another monitor that picked them up as they walked into an ambush.
The ambush consisted of two Spetsnaz kneeling at either side of the corridor terminus.
Rushenko smiled grimly. "They will not get past the outer ring alive."
"They should not have gotten into the outer ring in the first place," the security chief said tightly.
"Where are their weapons?" Rushenko asked suddenly.
"They have none."
And Rushenko lifted an eyebrow thick as a woolly caterpillar. "What is wrong with this camera?"
"Nothing."
"Their faces are two blurs."
The security chief adjusted the monitor. Try as he might, the faces of the interlopers couldn't be clarified, though other details were quite sharp.
"It does not matter," Rushenko grunted. "They will be dead soon."
The faceless duo slipped up the corridor. The camera showed the two commandos lying in ambush, prepared to whip their weapons around the corner and spray the stainless-steel corridor in a withering cross fire.
"All that will be left is blood and bio-matter for disposal," the security chief agreed.
As the moment of truth neared, Colonel Rushenko and his security chief involuntarily tensed. The two strange ones walked along casually, as if entering a cafeteria. Had they no inkling of the danger? Or did they imagine this would be an easy penetration?
The instant the two commandos jerked around their positions, Rushenko breathed, "Now!"
The AKs erupted, spewing a cross fire, back and forth, back and forth, so that a ball bouncing randomly down the corridor would have been shot to pieces.
Unfortunately the exact moment of truth was the same moment the pair jumped over the kneeling commandos. They landed in perfect synchronization, on one foot only, while the other kicked backward with studied viciousness. Both feet caught an unwary commando at the back of his head.
And both commandos crumpled atop their quieting weapons. One fallen hero managed a last defiant trigger squeeze. Unfortunately all he got for his trouble was a burst through the soft tissues under his own chin, which made his face fall off like hard frosting from old cake.
The two interlopers vanished around another corner like a pair of blur-featured ghosts.
"Why are there only two?" Rushenko queried suddenly.
"Perhaps," the security chief returned thickly, "two are all that is necessary."
"Seal the passage."
"Da. " A finger depressed a stud, and bulkhead doors dropped down on either end of approach corridor 4. They were almost into the middle ring. It was too dangerous to allow them to penetrate farther.
"It is done," said the security chief.
"Let them suffocate for lack of air."
A switch was thrown. Pumps began sucking up the corridor's already stuffy air.
The two seemed to understand their plight without consultation. They were very good. Just watching them, Rushenko realized they were trained agents.
"These are not mafiya, " he muttered.
"FSK?"
"If so, they are men who are worthy of Shield. Their loss is regrettable."
The intruders were at the inner steel door, touching it with their fingers, as if taking the metal's temperature.
The corridor was miked. The security chief turned up the volume.
He got an exchange of unfamiliar words.
"What language is that?"
Colonel Rushenko shook his head. It was not Russian. Nor American English. It was strange. The last thing he expected was a foreign agent. For if the Kremlin did not suspect the existence of Shield, what other nation could acquire that forbidden knowledge?
"I have changed my mind," he said. "They must be interrogated before liquidation. Open the inner door."
Before the order could be executed, the taller of the two punched the door at a point at the level of his head. The door rung out like a badly tuned gong. The entire installation shook for the briefest of moments.
It was very disquieting. A human fist should not affect steel that way.
Then, as the door shivered in the aftermath of the blow-clearly shivered-the tall one struck it again.
It jumped clear of its frame as if a great electronic magnet had repelled it.
"I am witnessing the impossible!" Rushenko blurted.
"I am activating the next line of defense, comrade Colonel."
The next line of defense was deadly in its simplicity.
Floor vents began leaking kerosene, with its unmistakable odor. The ceiling water sprinklers suddenly ignited like upside-down hurricane lanterns.
One began to drop sparks. Soon, they were all dropping rags of flame that touched the steel floor without consequence. But the kerosene was spreading now ....
Grabbing the microphone, Colonel Rushenko barked into it. "If you wish to live, throw up your hands in surrender!"
The two ignored his voice.
Rushenko turned to his security aide. "Is this getting through?"
"Da. Perhaps they do not speak Russian at all."
"Then what would be their purpose in penetrating this installation?"
"Perhaps they are lost tourists?"
Colonel Rushenko tried English next. He never finished his warning.
The two began turning off the ceiling lamps by the simple expedient of leaping up and squeezing the sprinklers shut. It was miraculous in its sheer simplicity. One went to one end of the corridor. The other stationed himself at its opposite end.
Methodically they reached up and took hold of each steel aperture in turn. The audible crunk of the metal surrendering to their crushing grips came back through the sound system.
Meeting in the middle, they closed off the last dripping flames just as the kerosene pool began meeting in the middle.
Nimbly, they leaped over these until they reached the innermost door. This time the shorter of the two breached the barrier. His method was to spin in place and lash out a foot that sent the door screaming from its frame to bang on the floor.
"They are not human," the security chief of Shield gasped.
"They are human," insisted Colonel Rushenko. "They merely require special deaths before they will consent to die."
"You no longer desire them alive?"
"I desire them very much alive. But I am no fool. They are unconquerable. We must concentrate on proving them not to be unkillable."
"The next corridor is a dead end," the security chief said.
"Thank you for that information," a squeaky voice said in perfect if old-fashioned Russian.
"Damn you! You left the connection open!" Rushenko roared as the two took the right branch, not the left.
"This is not good," the security chief said, cutting off the circuit. "That branch will take them to the inner circle."
Rushenko stood unmoving for nearly a minute, his dark Kazakh features working. "It was Korean," he muttered.
"What?"
"They spoke Korean," he said bitterly. "I should have known who they were before. But now I know. We must abandon this installation."
"We have countermeasures remaining in inventory."
"I am a fool. If these two have knowledge of us, however slim and imperfect, others do, too. We must evacuate. Give the command."
"Yes, comrade Colonel," said the shaking security chief as he broke a key from a neck chain and inserted it into a panel. He turned it with a harsh twist.
A Maxon blared over and over.
"Come," said Colonel Rushenko, tearing from the room.
Racing deeper into the Shield installation, he returned to his office. The paper-strewn desk stood as it had before, its red light going bap-bap-bap-bap like a spitting thing.
Reaching into a desk drawer, Rushenko found a catch and yanked it. The desk lifted mechanically and rolled aside, disclosing a concrete well and immaculate pine steps going down into shadow.