The Silent Man by Alex Berenson Read Free Book Online

every man carried a beast inside him.
    A few years back, a serial killer had worked his way through Chelyabinsk, killing dozens of prostitutes before one escaped from his truck and called the police. The killer—Grigory couldn’t recall his name, but he was an electrician, he’d strangled his victims with thick black cords—grinned his way through his trial, and when the judge asked him if he had anything to say, any apologies to offer, he shook his head. “You’re lucky you caught me, for I would have gone on forever,” he said. “You can’t imagine how it feels.”
    At this moment, Grigory thought he could.
     
     
     
    THE PHONE RANG. “They’re here. At the main gate.”
    “Thanks, Arkady.”
    Grigory grabbed his coat and the paperwork he would need, including the single sheet of paper that held the codes to unlock the warhead boxes. Easy, he told himself. No rush. The delivery was a minor break from routine, nothing more. He walked slowly to the security office. “Come on, Tajid. Enough pornos tonight. Let’s greet our visitors.”
    The first test. If Arkady raised a stink about the fact that Grigory had asked his cousin to be his partner on the delivery, they’d fail right away. But Grigory didn’t expect Arkady to object. He wouldn’t want to go himself, and sending old Marat into the cold would be callous. Sure enough, Arkady was feeding Tatu and hardly looked up.
    “Have fun, Tajid,” he said.
    “A real humanitarian, you are.” Tajid grabbed his coat and gloves and followed his cousin out.
    First test passed.
     
     
     
    OUTSIDE, the freezing wind hit Grigory full in the face. The snow was still falling, lightly now, covering the ground with a thin white rime.
    Grigory was wearing a heavy down jacket and a sweater and woolen gloves, but he hadn’t bothered with proper boots or a hat tonight, and the wind found his feet and face and attacked them. Human beings weren’t meant to live this way. Maybe for a year or two, but not decade after decade. Not their whole lives.
    Fortunately, the Volga started easily. Grigory had replaced the battery a few weeks before. Tajid and Grigory sat in silence for a moment, blowing on their hands, their breath filling the car. “No second thoughts, cousin?” Grigory said.
    “None. You?”
    “I’m not thinking at all.”
    “Probably that’s best.”
    Grigory put the Volga into gear and drove down the deserted avenue to the main gate. The convoy sat in a parking lot just inside the guard posts, the Ural trucks glowing under neon arc lights. The Volga looked like a toy beside the BTRs and Urals. Grigory parked beside the convoy and stepped out. A trim man wearing the single silver star of a major greeted him. Despite the cold, he wore only a thin wool coat and a hat with fur earflaps. He extended a hand.
    “Major Yuri Akilev.”
    “Grigory Farzadov. You’ve had a long trip.” Grigory’s heart was pounding, but his voice sounded normal.
    “The cards turn ugly and the bottles go dry,” Akilev said. “No reason to expect anything else.”
    “A man after my own heart,” Grigory said. “That’s it. A thousand years of history right there.”
    “Even so, I’d like to get my men inside.”
    Grigory pointed down the security fence at a squat two-story concrete building a few hundred yards away. “Our overflow barracks. You can send the BTRs and Tigers there while we unload.”
    “Is there food?”
    This major was a good commander, concerned about the welfare of his men, Grigory thought. “Not at this hour, but they’ll have hot showers and warm beds.”
    “That’ll do.”
    “But make sure you bring a couple of extra men with you to unload the crates.”
    Akilev passed along the order to his sergeant. A moment later, the armored personnel carriers and three of the Tigers rumbled off, leaving just Grigory’s Volga, the commander’s Tiger, and the four Urals that held the bombs.
    “Follow me.”
    Grigory stopped the Volga at the guard post that