Vital Force Read Free Page A

is my retirement.”
    Putting his arm around the Russian, Jake whispered, “It wasn’t your fault. They’ll see that.”
    Yuri shook his head. “They always find someone to blame for these things.”
    â€œEven so. You’ll have your pension.”
    â€œI could work at McDonald’s in Moscow. I’m sure they hire me.”
    Jake glanced about the smoky room, which was crowded mostly with off-duty soldiers and tungsten miners, still dressed in grubby denim overalls. The vodka had set his head spinning, but his old friend would need his counsel and companionship. Jake would have to switch to beer, though. He stopped a waitress and ordered a beer and another shot of vodka.
    â€œI don’t want beer, Jake,” Yuri said to him.
    â€œThat’s for me. No more vodka.”
    An hour passed. Patrons came and went, but the two of them continued their assault on the Khabarovsk alcohol supply.
    Yuri finally moved his chair closer to Jake, put his arm around his neck, and said, “I shouldn’t tell you this.” He hesitated as his eyes shifted about the room. “But I’m sure you already know this. My superiors know what happened to our missile.” He raised his bushy brows and smiled at Jake. It was the same smile he had displayed when Jake awoke in the back of the taxi a the Volgograd airport years ago-Yuri in civilian clothes then and extolling his virtues for saving Jake’s ass.
    When Yuri didn’t elaborate, Jake said, “And?”
    â€œAnd I think you know.” He pulled his arm from Jake, crossed both of them over his thick chest, and then leaned back in his chair.
    Jake had no idea what in the hell was going on. “I’m lost, Yuri. I think I’ve had too much to drink.”
    â€œYou know.” His voice resonated and brought stares from two young soldiers at the closest table.
    Shaking his head, Jake said, “No, I don’t.”
    â€œYour fucking plane.” This time Yuri whispered loudly, his words slurred.
    Jake wasn’t sure what in the hell he was talking about. But he was aware of the two soldiers, who were nowhere near their level of inebriation. “Let’s get some air, Yuri.”
    The large Russian started to his feet and his chair slipped out and crashed to the floor, but Yuri recovered before following the chair to the wooden surface.
    As the two of them got to the sidewalk, Jake realized that the February air had dipped down toward zero. The Russian leaned up against the brick building and lit a cigarette, bringing the tip to a bright orange.
    â€œWhat the hell you trying to tell me, Yuri?”
    â€œYou know.”
    â€œNo. I don’t.”
    The man considered him carefully, watching Jake’s facial expression. “You don’t know, my friend.” He sucked on the cigarette, let out a stream of smoke and said, “The stipulation to this test from the Americans was to observe the test from a plane over the Sea of Okhotsk. You know this much?”
    â€œNo. Remember, Yuri, you brought me into this. I have nothing to do with the U.S. government. I was here as an independent observer.”
    The Russian considered this.
    Jake was as confused as a child in a physics lecture. He had been living in Innsbruck, Austria, where he had been for the last few years running a private security firm, when he had gotten the call from Yuri, followed by a round-trip airline ticket from Munich to Vladivostok, Russia, and an expedited visa for his passport. Based on his past affiliation with the old CIA, he had been compelled to notify the Agency. But that was all he knew.
    â€œMy superiors,” Yuri said, “have been notified by your government that they shot down the missile. It was all a big joke to them. We make promise to cut our missiles with this new one, and they laugh at us. Spit in our face.” He took another hit on his cigarette, his eyes cutting deeply into Jake through the