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section7mfu2015-07-14 08:59 am
"The Little Diomede Affair" Chapter 6~ for PicFic Tuesday July 14th
Links to:
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Part 2-Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5
The prompt:
After staring at the blond Russian, the hiring agent finally spoke.“You’ll do,” He was a typical feathered lackey, with seemingly no room in his head for an intelligent thought.
Kuryakin was surprised at the ease with which he was hired. There seemed to be no interest in his background, so at this point it was unnecessary for him to repeat his cover story. Illya initially stood in front of the desk belonging to the man in charge, hat in hand, trying to look like he was desperate for work.
Compared to Ivy’s home, this trailer where THRUSH had set up business was the lap of luxury, fully carpeted, though there was a large roll of carpet laying unused, off to one side. There were several kerosene heaters burning away. The walls had to be insulated, given how cozy it felt. There was a coffee maker, a small refrigerator whirring away as well. They did like their creature comforts.
It seemed they were only concerned with his skills. No filling out of paperwork and he was told he’d be paid in cash once a month. The rate per hour was well above the minimum wage, for that reason it was a wonder not many others had not been attracted to Diomede. Had it not been for the remoteness of the location and difficult to get to, more men in search of work might have arrived here.
“What exactly will I be doing?” Illya asked.
“For now, carpentry.” He snapped his fingers at the other man sitting in the room. “Take Mr. Denning to…”
“Dezhnev, my name is Nicholaí Dezhnev,” Illya corrected him.
“Whatever. Take Mr. Dezhnev to the shed to start work.”
“Again may I ask what it is I will be doing?”
“You’ll be cutting and assembling wooden supports. The exact dimensions of which will be supplied to you, along with the necessary tools. Now does that answer your question?”
“But…”
“You want the job or not buddy?”
“Yes I do, and thank you for the clarification.” This was too easy, and that made Illya more wary than usual. He was already on edge, but now felt the need to maintain an even higher state of alertness, especially if he were to make it down into the belly of the beast that was the silo.
The shed he was led to was filled with lumber, mostly four by fours and heavy plywood. Though there was a large supply of railroad ties as well. Such abundance would have been a boon to the locals, even the scraps, but he was told no one was to touch a thing.
The shed was only a stone’s through from the backside of the silo, allowing him to watch people as they entered and left. The door was surprisingly left unguarded, though he had no idea if there was one just inside.
As he’d been told, there were instructions giving measurements at precisely how these wooden supports were to be cut and measured. Once he’d assembled a few he knew exactly what they were for... there had to be a lot of them to use in tunnels cut into the permafrost as the ground could consist of many substrate materials, including bedrock, sediment, organic matter, water or ice.
There could very easily be a collapse if the temperatures within the tunnels increased, causing thawing.
Though the shack was unheated, Illya found himself needing to remove his heavy jacket and hat as the work was warming him up.
The work was tiring as he had only hand saws, hammers and nails with which to work. No power tools such as a circular saw, that would have made make the job much quicker to do.
No one ever said THRUSH was an organization of smart people, though they themselves thought they were.
It was pure elbow grease that was needed on the Russian’s part and even though he was in good physical condition, the repetitive motion of the hand saw and use of certain muscles left him sore and tired.
He would be glad to get back to Ivy’s and eat a good meal, as the last time he’d eaten was breakfast. There were no lunch breaks; he was expected to keep working until dusk. There were no arrangements for lighting in the shed either, for which he was thankful as Illya had no desire to work into the night.
Once his shift was over he checked in at the office to punch his time card and left, heading back to Ivy’s house. Other than his sore muscles and back, at least he had accomplished his surveillance of the entry to the silo.
Tomorrow he would make his move to get inside, since no one supervised him at the shed and workers only came to pick up the finished supports every two hours. That was it, the window of opportunity he had to work with and he planned to make the best of it.
He knocked at Ivy’s door as a courtesy. It was still her house after all and he was greeted by her with a big smile.
“You’ve all right. I’m glad.” She waved him inside. “You’re just in time for supper. It’s nice and hot. I figured you’d be pretty hungry as I’m presuming you got hired?”
Illya removed his coat, hat and gloves; Ivy taking them and hanging them on a hook on the wall.
He followed her into the kitchen. “Yes, they have me doing carpentry work at present in a shed. I have to admit, it was pretty tiring. Tomorrow will loosen up my sore muscles, I am sure. Hmm, something smells good, and yes I am starving. No lunch.”
“Oh I forgot to pack you one. I’m sorry. Tomorrow you’ll have food I promise. Now sit, relax a minute,” she poured him a hot cup of tea while she readied his plate.
She piled the food on, a healthy portion of stew meat with potatoes and carrots. There was a plateful of hot biscuits and butter.
“That ought to do you to start,” she smiled.” You need to put some meat on those bones of yours.”
She prepared a plate for herself and sat across from him at the kitchen table.
Illya refrained from eating until she was ready and after bowing her head in thanks, she looked at him. He was no ordinary worker, this one had manners and was raised right. She sensed something was different about Nicholaí, but refrained from judgement until she got to know him a little better.
Illya dug in, practically inhaling his meal.” This is delicious. What is the meat, may I ask?”
“Polar bear. Oki, my friend who owns the native shop shot it not too long ago and gave me some of the meat. He said the bear was injured, maybe by an orca so he said it was a gift from the spirits to the bear that his life was ended quickly, and his meat would go to feel the people. We don’t get bear meat that often so it’s a treat.”
She noticed his plate was nearly empty. “Help yourself to more. I made extra.”
“No, thank you. I would not want to presume.’
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ivy got up and took the pot from the stove, ladeling a large second helping onto his plate.
“Now eat. You’ll need it for tomorrow. Working in the cold needs a lot of fuel for your body. I’ll slice up some of the meat and make you a couple of sandwiches for tomorrow and give you a thermos full of hot tea.”
“Ivy I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality. Here, before I forget, let me pay you the rent for the month.” Illya pulled out his wallet and handed her one hundred forty in twenty dollar bills.
“Nicholaí this is too much. I told you three dollars a day.”
“I am eating your food and it will cost you fuel to run a second heater, please do not argue with me?”
The look in his blue eyes told her just to go along with him. Again it struck her there was something odd about her new tenant. If he were hard pressed looking for work as he first let on to be, then why was he being so generous with his cash? The strangers only paid their workers once a month so that couldn’t be it. Something just didn’t add up but still she said nothing.
“Oki said it was a good omen, me taking you in. He’s the village shaman and believes in those sort of things. He says the spirit lights in the sky told him, said one of the lights was hovering over my house.”
“Spirit lights? Do you really believe that is what they are?” Illya had seen some of these lights in the sky while traveling to Diomede, and he’d heard locals talking about them and thinking they were responsible for people disappearing. Back in New York such lights were called UFO’s, though Kuryakin hardly believed they were spacecraft piloted by little green men as said by some.
“We’ve been seeing a lot of them lately, come to think of it, they started showing up when the strangers came. Gee I wonder if there’s any correlation?” Ivy shrugged it off. “I don’t believe they’re spirits like Oki does...I think they’re just a natural phenomenon like the aurora borealis.”
Illya nodded his agreement with her. He liked his lady; she was intelligent and a survivor in this harsh environment. She was doing good by teaching the children and helping her community.
They chatted a bit more, with Ivy saying it looked like snow was coming. Nicholaí agreed with her, telling her how his babushka had taught him as a child to predict the weather. The air had a different smell to it when snow was on the way, everything was different...the clouds, how animals behaved.
Ivy smiled at hearing that. She decided she liked Nicholaí Semyonovich, even though some things about him didn’t add up.
Illya helped her clear the table and do the dishes, then bid her goodnight as his aching muscles were longing for sleep.
The effort it took as he slowly climbed the stairs to his room told how tired he really was, but that would change tomorrow when he made it down into the silo. Once he got the lay of the land, he’d return to set his charges. That was his plan for now.
He changed into an old pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt; slipping into his bed with a sigh. Illya pulled the layers of blankets about him, forcing himself to not fall asleep just yet. He needed to go over his plans in his head, making sure they were sensible. He’d need his Special, communicator and a mini transmitter dish he could use to send any images he took with a special camera lense embedded in his communicator. The explosives he’d brought with him could wait for now.
The curtains to his window were open and he could see snowflakes beginning to fall; that made him smile. He used to lay in his bed as a child in the dacha back home, watching the snow fall outside. It was so cold the windows would eventually frost over; still he was nice and snug in his feather bed after his mother had tucked him in under the covers.
His thoughts came back to the present as the wind whistled. Though there was a heater to warm the place, it was still chilly as the house was poorly insulated. He rolled to his side, finally letting sleep take him.
After a good night’s rest Illya washed himself as best he could using the basin in his room. The ice cold water was a reminder of his not so distant past; there was never hot water when he was growing up in the orphanage, nor in his assigned quarters as a student and finally as an agent for GRU. Hell, he was lucky there was enough food to eat...
After dressing, he trotted downstairs, finding Ivy in the kitchen.
“Sit. Breakfast is ready.”
“How did you know…?”
“I’m up early and I could hear you walking around. Used to drive my brother crazy, I guess it was like intuition. Anyway, I have to get ready for school; the kids get there early enough. I usually bring some extra peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the ones who don’t have enough to eat.”
“That is very kind of you Ivy.” He dug into the large bowl of oatmeal she’d made, smiling as there were some sultanas in it. He sipped a large mug of tea, relishing its warmth.
“How could I not do it? This is our home and we help each other. Speaking of help, I have a feeling...that’s why you’re here. I thought about it and maybe Oki is right, you’re coming is a good omen.”
“Hmm,” Illya smiled.” I have never been called that before. He put on his outerwear and before heading out the door Ivy handed him a small canvas bag, in it was his lunch. “Your sandwich and thermos; there’s some dried apricots wrapped in wax paper… I’ll see you at suppertime. We’re having opilio crab with seasoned rice, and nice hot seafood chowder.”
“Thank you Ivy, sounds wonderful. May you have a good day with the children.”
He closed the door behind himself, taking a deep breath before heading off to the shed. A light layer of snow covered the ground and he listened as it crunched beneath his feet. It was his habit to tread lightly, but he still needed to move carefully as the path was uneven and with the snow, it could be slippery to walk upon it.
He arrived at his destination and after getting his tools out, he set to work making the next batch of supports. Right on time, the Thrushies arrived to pick them up, and that was his cue. He had a two hour window to get into the silo to survey the situation, get out and back to make more supports. That batch would be a bit short so he’d need an excuse. He’d worry about that when it happened.
Illya left the shed, thankful it had begun to snow again and it acted to give him a bit of cover. It might also drive people indoors so no one would be out and about to see him.
He walked down the makeshift stairs that had been made from bits of rock, and carefully approached the door with his Special drawn but held out of sight.
Taking hold of the handle he slowly opened the door, peeking around it before entering. The coast was clear.
There was an incandescent lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, part of a strand of lights that illuminated the way down a flight of wooden stairs.
He stepped inside, holding his gun at the ready now and descended the stairs, hoping nothing would creak. As he went lower there was more lights and that was when he saw it.
There was a large silver rocket below, with three workmen toiling their way around it.
Illya quickly pulled his communicator and snapped a photo of it with his new camera. His head jerked as he heard the sound of footsteps coming up towards him.
Hurrying up the stairs and out of the silo, he carefully climbed the crude stone steps outside and returned to the shed. There he quickly set up his mini satellite dish, and prepared to send the image to headquarters in New York.
“Open Channel D.”
“Yes Mr. Kuryakin," Wavely responded. "I was beginning to become concerned as your report is late. What news have you?”
“Sir, I must be brief. I made it down into what was presumed a missile silo here. What I surmised was correct, though it is a restricted area I was able to take a photograph of a missile installed there. I am sending you the image via satellite.”
“Very good Mr. Kuryakin. I will expect your next communication in a timely fashion then?”
“Yes sir,”Illya sighed. “Kuryakin out.” Though Mr. Waverly liked things to be so, it wasn’t always possible to check-in on schedule. THRUSH had a way of interfering with one’s communications more often than not.
Illya stashed his equipment and got back to the task at hand of building yet more supports. When the Thrushies arrived they were armed and that made him a little concerned. They immediately commented on the fact he didn’t have enough supports completed.
“I umm, hit my hand with my hammer and umm, it was a bit swollen so I had to ice it for a while. It is fine now.”Illya wiggled his fingers to demonstrate that fact.
“You nail benders are all the same,” one of them remarked.
Kuryakin had never heard that term before but he dared not question what it meant. He was supposed to be a carpenter and should be aware of such a name, no doubt meant to be something derogatory.
“Well here’s your chance to take a break. Mr. Wynn, the man who hired you, said you stated you were good with machinery. Where’d you learn to work with equipment?”
“I was machinist in Navy.”
“Which Navy?
“Soviet, of course,” Illya stated, his face remaining completely deadpan.
“Oh so you're a dyed in the wool commie...comrade.”
“And what of it?” Illya asked, being a little belligerent.”Do you not have an engineer on site…” Illya bit his tongue hoping he hadn’t said too much, maybe sounding too smart for his own good.
“Our guy is off to the mainland. So you good with machinery or not?”
“Depends on the machinery.”
“Can you fix a generator?”
“I can try. Where is it?”
“Down there but we’re going to check with the boss first.”
“If it helps...my family defected from Soviet Union to escape communism. Came here to America to be free.”
The Thrush guards look at each other with a snicker.
Fifteen minutes later one of them returned with the okay, presumably from Popsuy.
“Follow me,” the goon in charge ordered.
This could either be a boon to Kuryakin or a big problem. Ivy warned that people who went down there didn’t come back, and he hoped he wouldn’t be one of them.
He walked between his two escorts through the entrance, but only one of them guided him down the stairs; he couldn’t help but glance at the rocket when it became visible.
“Keep your eyes to yourself,” He was jabbed in the back with a rifle barrel.
They went lower and lower until they were deep into the bedrock permafrost. In a large cavern there was a good sized generator with a hose that ran from it beneath the stairs they had just descended to vent the exhaust. Plugged into the generator was a piece of equipment that looked like a compressor, used no doubt to pump air into a tunnel that ran from the cavern.
The generator sputtered, making the string of bulbs that were the only source of light down there, dim and flicker.
“That’s what it keeps doing. Can you fix it?”
“I should be able to, but I will need some tools.”
“Aw crap, the guard groaned. “The tool box is on the upper level...look you just stay put while I go get it. I’ll be right back.”
“You got it,” Illya saluted.
As soon as the man was out of sight he headed down the crudely carved tunnel, seeing many of the the wooden supports he’d made. Those interspersed with the railroad ties kept the whole thing from coming down, though there were definite signs of the permafrost thawing out. The warmer air being pumped in by the compressor was probably contributing to that the most.
Holding a mini-flashlight he had tucked in his back pocket, he crept forward, hearing voices as the tunnel came to an end. It opened into another large cavern, this one filled with laboratory equipment. Two men in lab coats were complaining about the lights and he listened as their voices trailed off; they’d gone down another tunnel. When he no longer could hear them he quickly moved into the cavern.
Not making head nor tail of what was in the many beakers, he finally located a notebook. Flipping it open, Illya began to read, to his astonishment. ”Bozhe moy,so this is their scheme.” He hadn’t expected this at all..
When he’d seen enough he decided it was time to get right back to the generator and that’s when it happened.
Illya felt a sharp blow to the back of his head and he dropped to his knees. His vision began to blur as he teetered. but before losing consciousness the last image he saw was the smiling face of Viktor Popsuy standing over him.CHAPTER 7
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I like that bit about Thrush being not nearly as bright as they think they are - typical feathered lackey is good.
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I was lucky enough to see the northern lights over Lake Huron in Michigan. I'll never forget it. Like nothing I will ever see again. Beautiful!
Another chapter soon?
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Glad you liked the chapter, but don't bite your nails too much. Next chapter isn't until Tuesday and I think lots more chapters left.
Thanks for catching up and commenting.