To Steal a March (Surviving the Fall 11)

There’s a brief silence accompanied by the steadily brightening glow of the end of a cigar, the appearance of a cloud of smoke and the dimming of the same glow.

“Your protection on this mission have been instructed to carry out a secondary, covert operation. However, given the nature of the mission and the isolation involved, I have reason to believe that some things may not go as planned. If, at any point in time, you should sense that your protection has decided to abandon their loyalty to their country, I am ordering you to treat them as hostile entities. You will dispatch them and carry on the mission on your own.”

“Sir? What… I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

A few papers are shuffled and the President passes over an envelope with Cyrillic lettering stamped on the front. Dr. Yermakov opens the envelope and reads the contents, his eyes growing wider with each paragraph. When he reaches the end he looks back over at the man across from him, unsure of what to say.

“Do you understand now?”

“Yes… yes, sir. I believe so. But… I’m not a special operative. Not like them. If they were to betray us, how would I overcome that?”

A thin smile passes over the other man’s lips. “I believe strongly in… motivation. Anything can be accomplished with the proper motivation.”

“Sir?”

Another long pause, another draw on the cigar and another cloud of smoke fills the air.

“You have a beautiful wife and son, Dr. Yermakov. They are here, in the base, yes?”

Dr. Yermakov nods slowly, not understanding what the President is saying. “Yes, sir… they are.”

“They are doing well? Well fed, well taken care of?”

“Of course, sir. We all are. I’m exceptionally grateful that you allowed our families to join us he—”

“I’m very, very glad that they are doing well. With so many people in a place like this, it’s astounding how things sometimes go wrong.” Another long draw on the cigar. “But I’m very glad that your family is doing well.”

Dr. Yermakov feels his heart twist, his stomach clench and all of the moisture in his mouth evaporate as he realizes what he is being told. “I…” he squeaks, clears his throat as his whole body trembles, nods and tries again. “I am glad too, sir. And yes. I… I’ll watch for anything.”

“Good.” Another smile passes over the President’s lips. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m certain things will go well, but just in case they don’t, make sure you retrieve the codes and get them back here, no matter the cost.”

“Of course, sir. I will.”

“Good. Now, I want you to report down to the armory. You and Dr. Belov will be going through a crash-course in survival and weapons training before the mission, just in case you do happen to end up in a situation where your protection become… indisposed.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do that right now.”

The President nods as Dr. Yermakov rises from his chair and hurries toward the door, trying to escape from the oppressive weight of the room as fast as his legs can carry him. He is stopped just before he reaches the door, though, as the man still seated in his chair speaks again.

“Oh, and Jacob?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do not fail me. Remember what’s at stake.”

“Yes, sir. I won’t.”