Black Flagged Redux

Chapter 31





3:03 PM

MS Tallink Superstar

Tallin, Estonia





Anatoly Reznikov walked into the bar and took a seat at a small booth nestled against the window of the ferry's highest lounge. He glanced out of the window at the city of Tallin, which had taken on a gray pallor from the oppressive rain clouds hovering above the city. Tallin was an ugly city from this vantage point, nothing but a sea of colorless office buildings, punctuated by several shiny mirrored high-rises that represented Tallin's downtown area. He glanced at the other side of the lounge and could see vestiges of Tallin's Old Town. Towering church spires, byzantine-style domes and the red shingled roofs of ancient medieval buildings. He craned his neck slightly and saw a few of the Old Town's intact watchtowers. No wonder this side of the ship hadn't been crowded.

He settled into his seat on the two-thousand-passenger ferry, which looked more like a cruise ship, and signaled for the waitress that stood inside the bar, scanning the lounge's patrons for anyone suspicious. He ordered a double vodka, straight, from the attractive, bored-looking blonde waitress and turned his attention back to the industrial wasteland out his window. He'd love to poison this city, too. He didn't know why, but staring out into the city, he felt powerful, like he held the fate of the entire city in his hands. He had experienced the same feeling last night, right before he had left the hotel in St. Petersburg.

Staring out at St. Isaac Square from an expensive suite at the Ambassador Hotel, he drank the bottle of Rodnik vodka acquired in Nizhny Novgorod and monitored the situation in Monchegorsk via news media and internet sources. He knew sticking around Russia was a major risk for him, but he had taken precautions. He had undergone a series of minor cosmetic surgeries over the past five years, designed to alter his appearance enough that even his closest college friends wouldn't recognize him on first inspection. He had finished with these surgeries two years ago and purchased an expensive set of Russian identity papers. For the right price, everything was for sale in Russia.

Once media sources confirmed that Highway M18 had been closed by the army, he knew the virus had been successful. His elation lasted a few seconds, before an angry desire to acquire more of the virus hijacked him. He had the power to destroy entire cities, but had sold himself short with the terrorists. He should have insisted on taking more for himself, but his position with them had been precarious. He felt lucky to have escaped. They could have shot him at the site, but since he insisted on leaving immediately with the first encapsulated batches, they were forced to pretend that he was free to go. They couldn't afford any problems with the remaining laboratory staff at the time, since they were critical to the preparation of the remaining capsules.

A small shudder brought his thoughts back to the ferry, followed by three short blasts on the ship's horn, which were muffled by the lounge's thick glass windows. He watched as the city started to move out of his view and barely noticed the drink placed on his table. The ferry would take him to Helsinki, where he would take the next available flight to Stockholm. If the Stockholm address didn't provide results, he would move on to Copenhagen, then Germany. Eventually, he would find more of his virus. He had a notebook filled with addresses, all provided by careless, arrogant conversations in his laboratory.