“Thanks for leaving us out here in the goddamn dark,” Curt snapped.
“Sorry,” Yuri said. He pulled the door shut behind him. “Things are just coming to a head with Connie.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Curt demanded.
“She didn’t get the toxin until late,” Yuri explained. He started toward the garage. “She’s just starting to have symptoms.”
“But you’re sure she’s going to check out,” Curt said. He followed Yuri while Steve went around to get into the Wouton truck.
“That’s my guess,” Yuri said. He opened the side door to the garage.
“Wait a second!” Curt said. He grabbed Yuri’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “At this point there’s no room for guessing. Any screw up could undermine this whole operation. I’m only interested in sureties.”
“I gave her enough stuff to kill everybody in Brooklyn,” Yuri shot back. “Is that good enough for you? Give me a break!”
Yuri and Curt glared at each other for a moment in the dark shadows beneath the eaves of the garage.
“I want to make sure you truly understand the need for security,” Curt spat. “This whole mess with your mystery wife has us as nervous as hell.”
“I’m taking care of it like we agreed,” Yuri retorted.
“I hope so,” Curt said. “The fact of the matter is, we cannot take any chances from here on out. Earlier tonight I mentioned we’d had an infiltrator in the People’s Aryan Army. Brad Cassidy. What I didn’t say was that he was working for the FBI.”
“Oh no!” Yuri moaned. “What tipped them off?”
“Nothing about Operation Wolverine,” Curt said. “We believe they’re concerned about our militia in general. Since none of the troops have even the slightest inkling about the big plan, we’re not directly at risk. The bureau must have picked up something from Steve’s contacting other militias on the Internet on behalf of the PAA. But the point is, we’ve got to be extremely careful. And the sooner we launch the operation the better.”
“My feelings exactly,” Yuri said.
“Have you thought any more about switching the second fermenter to anthrax?”
“I’m going to do it as soon as I have time,” Yuri said. “Probably tomorrow. As soon as this Connie business is over and done.”
“Good,” Curt said. “Now let’s get this pest control truck off the street before someone sees the damn thing. I’m sure your neighbors would begin to wonder what kind of pests we’re dealing with in the middle of the night.”
Yuri snapped on the light before entering the garage. He skirted around the back of his taxicab. As soon as he had the rollaway door up, Steve pulled the Wouton pickup inside. Yuri closed the door behind him and locked it.
Curt stepped around to the back of the vehicle. He unhooked the edge of the tarp and folded it back to reveal the apparatus sitting in the truck’s bed. “Do you recognize this thing?” he asked Yuri.
“Not specifically,” Yuri admitted. “But those orange things look like spray nozzles.”
“Bingo!” Curt said. He reached over and gave the piece of machinery a pat. “It’s a Power Row Crop Duster. Whatever powder you’re using goes into this hopper.” Curt pointed out the component just as the Wouton driver had done that summer.
“So the agent doesn’t have to be mixed with fluid?” Yuri questioned. His face had lit up like a young boy with a Christmas bike.
“Nope,” Curt responded. “Powder in and powder out, and I’ll tell you, it’s one wicked little engine. We were told the fan in there is capable of putting out a thousand cubic feet of air a minute. The amount of powder you want in that thousand cubic feet can be varied by the dial on the metering device.”
“It’s perfect,” Yuri said. He was impressed. It was better than he’d hoped.
“I’m glad you approve,” Curt said. “I don’t mind telling you it took a bit of work and a lot of aggravation getting this thing. Now it’s up to you to come through with your end of the bargain.”
“I’m working on it,” Yuri promised. “Have no fear!”
“I hope so,” Curt said.
They shook hands before stepping back out into the night. The two Americans climbed into their truck. Yuri stood by the side of the road.
“Let’s talk again tomorrow,” Curt said. “We’ll be interested in how the rest of the evening goes as far as your wife is concerned.”
“Okay,” Yuri said. He waved as Curt started his engine and drove off.
Yuri stood for a moment watching the Dodge Ram’s taillights until they disappeared where Oceanview Lane butted into Oceanview Avenue. He was still tired, but he felt better than he had all day. Uncertainties that had been plaguing him earlier had vanished. He knew in his gut that Operation Wolverine was imminently to come to pass as planned. He even allowed himself a half smile as he realized that soon he would stand in the company of other great Soviet patriots, even some of the greatest from the Great Patriotic War.
A gust of wind rustled dead leaves in the alley and caused Yuri’s torn screen door to bang repeatedly against its jamb. The noise yanked Yuri back to the present reality. There was still work to be done before the great event, and the immediate concern was Connie.
Hurrying back inside, Yuri went to his wife’s door. He paused for a moment to listen. All he could hear was the TV. Slowly he opened the door, unsure of what he’d see.
Connie had not moved, but her color had changed drastically. Her skin had taken on a dark mauve tint, particularly her lips.
Yuri advanced to the bed.
“Connie?” Yuri called. He jiggled her shoulder. She didn’t move. He picked up her arm. It was flaccid. He let it fall back to the bed. Leaning down, he put his ear next to her mouth. It was only in that way that he could tell she was breathing, although just barely. He grasped her wrist. He could feel a pulse, but it was rapid and weak.
He straightened up. He wondered if it was time to call emergency or if he should wait a little longer. It was a hard decision, because he didn’t want her waking up when she was given oxygen in the emergency room. If that happened she might be able to tell the doctors and nurses the progression of her symptoms. At the same time, Yuri felt it would be best if she was still alive when she got to the hospital. He reasoned there would be fewer questions about why she hadn’t been brought in sooner.
Yuri turned on the bedside light before pulling open her right eye. Her pupil was widely dilated and fixed. As far as he was concerned, that meant it was time to call emergency.
Returning to the kitchen, Yuri used the wall phone. He tried to sound as distraught as possible, claiming he’d found his wife passed out and hardly breathing. He described her color as dusky and said that she’d been wheezing earlier in the evening. He gave the address and was told an ambulance would be there as soon as possible.
Returning to the bedroom, Yuri looked down at his wife. It was then he started to worry about the swollen left eye. He didn’t want anyone to suspect domestic abuse, since it might lead to suspicions of foul play. He reasoned that he could say that she’d fallen, but he was worried it would be unconvincing, since she was lying in bed. Glancing through the open bathroom door gave him an idea.
Going around to the opposite side of the bed, Yuri tried to get Connie into a sitting position. Unfortunately her sheer bulk and weight made it extremely difficult, especially since her body was completely limp. Instead he rolled her slightly onto-her left side facing away from him and got his arms under her armpits. Putting one foot on the edge of the mat tress, he succeeded in slowly dragging her toward him. But then disaster struck.
Just when Yuri had managed to get Connie’s torso clear of the bed, the throw rug he was standing on slid out from under him. Yuri fell onto his back and Connie rolled over on top of him, knocking the wind out of him so that he was unable to breathe.