“Then it should be done as soon as possible,” Frolov stated as if on cue.
“What are you talking about?”
“Aralsk-7 must be shut down again. It is the only site belonging to the dead water project within our reach, so we must attack it.”
“Air strikes performed against a sovereign country will cost you dearly,” Asiyah warned. “It won’t go unpunished.”
“Not at all. Military action against Kazakhstan is out of the question. But I don’t want to destroy the complex. I am planning to capture it.”
Asiyah laughed. “I cannot believe it. It’s a suicide mission.”
“Is it, really? I suppose the facility is heavily guarded?”
“Adequately. Security forces are kept to a minimum due to secrecy — but there is enough firepower to repel any attack.”
Frolov smiled.
“We’ll see. And you, my dear Asiyah, will be able to see for yourself. On location.”
Asiyah’s eyes grew wide.
“You will accompany the assault team,” Frolov continued. “After all, you know your way around the place, and they will need someone to guide them.”
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Eugene said.
“I’m in no mood for merriment. Soon you won’t be either — because you’re going along, too.”
Frolov crackled with ill-hidden satisfaction.
“You will also lead the group to take over the base. If I remember correctly, you have the required anti-terrorist training—and experience. You are an expert in NBC Defence, so your knowledge is crucial to the mission on hand. You have also proved your capability to overcome the most daunting obstacles as evidenced by you sitting here in front of me.” Frolov paused. “And of course, when the actual operation starts, you will be a bit more motivated than anyone — with your brother still staying aboard the New Star.”
“You’ll keep my brother hostage?”
“I would not employ so crude a term… Hostage? I prefer to call Constantine my guest. But if you insist… Let’s just say that your brother’s freedom will depend on your own success.”
“You can’t be doing this…” Asiyah whispered in disbelief.
Frolov shrugged.
“In the end, is that not what each of you wanted? Eugene will get back to reunite with Constantine. And you, Asiyah, will get your revenge.”
18
In his cabin, Eugene sat on the edge of the bed, staring ahead listlessly. Behind him, Constantine was leaning against the wooden wall paneling. They both appreciated being near each other after so many months. The experience was bittersweet, poisoned by the new horrors facing them. The silence between them was now more comforting than the agonizing words.
“Please,” Constantine repeated quietly. “You must understand.”
“Don’t start it again. I will have none of it.”
An ember of an argument had been smoldering between them for the last couple of hours. It did not break out openly because neither brother would allow it to ruin their reunion. But their disagreement became impossible to contain as they brooded over it. Each of them perceived the impeding point of no return.
“I beg you, Gene. Don’t do it. You can’t let Frolov have his way. Look at what he’s done to us!”
“It’s not about Frolov! It’s about putting an end to all this!”
“By getting yourself killed? It’s madness!”
“There is no other way out.” Eugene rose to his feet and faced his brother. “What is the alternative? At best, the two of us will be charged with multiple murders and go through hell for the rest of our lives. And Asiyah will go back to her father to be killed. Have you thought about her, brother?”
Constantine threw up his hands. “Do you think she can stand any chance in there? Storming the base?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll do everything to protect her. I’m willing to take the shot. Siding with the lesser evil. Frolov can have his way. But I’ll be damned if I let Timur Kasymov have his.”
Another heavy silence fell.
“They will kill you,” Constantine murmured. “If you die, I will never forgive myself.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me,” Eugene retorted.
“My God! You sound just like him… You always thought our father betrayed us when he left… but you used the same words he said when mother begged him to stay!”
This realization gripped Eugene numbly.
He stormed out of the cabin — to keep a cool head and stop the damage of the clash from escalating beyond repair.
And to escape the truth of Constantine’s words — his chilling analogy.
He walked out to the deck and headed aft. At the stern, he found Asiyah watching a patrol boat that followed the New Star’s wake in the distance. The boat had taken them to the yacht, Sokolov reckoned, and now it was making sure they stayed aboard.
“They’ve taken every precaution, haven’t they?” he said.
“God knows I wouldn’t ever think of jumping overboard again.” Asiyah sighed. “I guess you despise me, but no more than I despise myself now.”
“No,” he objected. “You’re wrong. I care about you. More than ever.”
His own candor surprised him, but he felt he was right to say it.
“Even after you learned that I had been hiding my involvement?”
“Back in Zhukovsky, you said that your father had to be stopped. It was the truth. The truth which still stands. Nothing has changed. I promised you to get you through this nightmare, and I will. You have nothing to feel guilty about, and I hope I don’t, either — no matter how much Frolov wants us to believe otherwise. We haven’t failed each other. We’re still together.”
She looked at him with affection, his words convincing.
“Thank you. I feared that you wouldn’t understand. I…” Her voice trailed off. “My father made it look like I was fully behind his plans. All the lies, the paperwork, the finances — everything was done on my behalf. And then I was used blindly to participate in the research, until it was too late to stop him when I discovered his real intentions.”
Sokolov was pained to see Asiyah tormenting herself when in fact she had been in the complete control of a monster who had abused and enslaved his own daughter, a girl powerless to fight back or disobey. And yet, she was carrying the responsibility for the actions of a madman, feeling that she had done too little to prevent it.
“The CIA would have made sure your father succeeded, regardless of your part, Asiyah.”
“The CIA played a much lesser role than it might appear. It wasn’t really a case of the CIA controlling my father. Quite the opposite — he was controlling them. The Renaissance project came about by way of a man named Clayton Richter. He was the CEO of Seton Industries, a huge American company that had construction interests in Kazakhstan. He established strong ties with my father as his company was rebuilding the capital’s infrastructure. But Richter was also a CIA agent. What Richter really wanted to get was a stake in the Caspian oil reserves. Father would not let him into the Caspian unless he received access to a top-level research project. The military use of water structure had always stayed on the back burner even inside DARPA, considered too far-fetched to yield any significant results. So they let my father into it, albeit cautiously. Seton Industries unofficially received first option to develop the Caspian oil beds as soon as all territorial disputes ended. And my father took on the Renaissance project with unparalleled enthusiasm. He contracted Seton to rebuild the Aralsk base covertly. It was my father who financed the water structure research all over the world, including the U.S. — not the American government. And the money he spent on it was insane. The CIA believed they still had full control… but when the first positive results came, father crossed his CIA partners. He severed all the ties — literally. Clayton Richter was killed.”