Quota 0/391 - 24 days left to start the next quota
Victor had never been to Russia before, and he was already regretting getting off the plane.
'What do you mean 'it's warmer than usual for this time of year'?' he complained, shivering. His teeth were chattering every second from the cold. Things might have been bearable if he'd had a warm coat on his back, but he didn't.
Victor couldn't even speak up about it, because Vladimir Duglynov had unbuttoned part of his shirt to cool off.
'Damn these Russians...' Victor muttered, rubbing his arms to try to warm himself.
He was now convinced that vodka was giving them some kind of superhuman resistance to the cold. Maybe it was also a matter of different genes, but Victor preferred his own idea about the power of "holy vodka."
'At worst, the vodka is probably running in their DNA, so it's basically the same thing,' he thought as he finally got into a sedan.
Vladimir took the driver's seat after asking Olivia to sit in front next to him.
The other three sat in the back with enough space to play a game of golf.
The vehicles set off and left the airport, again passing through a secured gate. Vladimir and Olivia started chatting in the front in a language Victor guessed was from Eastern Europe, Russian, Kazakh? He had no way to tell and was too preoccupied by something else.
"A-CHOO!"
He'd caught a cold. Vladimir hadn't bothered to turn on the heat, and he'd even switched on the ventilated seats so he wouldn't sweat. As a result, Victor never stood a chance.
It only took Russia a few minutes to give him a welcoming cold.
At least Shirley was next to him, offering tissues throughout the ride.
They arrived at the hotel, heated from floor to ceiling, but it was already too late. Victor didn't know how long he would be sick, but he was sure it would last for the entire quota.
If the New York branch of the hotel looked luxurious and elegant, the Lille one simple and modern, then its Russian counterpart had a historical, rustic feel. Its red brick roof and white wooden-framed windows looked to be a few centuries old.
Inside, though, it was much like the other two branches Victor had visited, as if branch managers could do whatever they liked with the exterior but had to keep the interiors standardized.
Victor wasn't going to complain, at least he'd be sleeping in a bed instead of an igloo.
Still sneezing nonstop, he followed Vladimir, who guided them to his office. Vladimir only started talking after the four of them had settled into chairs, and he himself had straddled on a chair pulled over from behind his desk.
"**I only have a few requests for the duration of your stay with us, comrades. We're just a few hundred kilometers from the Chinese border, so if you could avoid crossing it with tanks or missile launchers, that'd be appreciated. As for the far end of the tundra, you have my permission to blow up whatever you like. Nothing grows out there anyway, and no one will notice the damage before you leave. Speaking of weapons, Olivia and I reached an agreement on the way here. Her Mongolian contact will deliver all the armaments a few dozen kilometers northeast of our lovely city. Under these special circumstances, the authorities have agreed to turn a blind eye, in exchange for anything you don't end up using during your stay. If you have special wishes or requests, feel free to come by my office to discuss them. Nathaniel, your packages arrived this morning and are waiting at reception.**"
"A-CHOO!"
Victor was the last one to stand up, making sure to shake their host's hand before leaving. Once back downstairs, Nathaniel picked up a large black case at the reception desk. It was big enough to hold a rocket launcher, though Victor had no idea what was inside.
Nathaniel had been handling drones and all sorts of gadgets so far, which was too broad for Victor to guess. Futhermore, he clearly didn't intend to reveal anything, keeping the case close to him. Victor and the others were curious, but none of them bothered to ask.
They'd find out soon enough, away from prying eyes.
'Time to check out our new ride,' Victor thought as they left the hotel.
This time, waiting at the bottom of the steps wasn't a military truck but a perfectly ordinary car. Shirley must not have been authorized to drive her new vehicle through the city streets. That only delayed the inevitable, because they were about to see it soon enough.
A few minutes later, they were out of the city, and after another half hour, the road had turned into barely navigable terrain.
Shirley seemed prepared, because she stopped the car. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.
The scenery around them was unlike anything Victor had ever seen, half pine and birch forest, half swamp. No sign of the typical snow one might expect in this part of the world, but it would likely arrive in the days to come.
While Victor had thought about a vehicle coming up the rough track ahead, he heard the heavy rumble of an engine to their right, except there was nothing there but a birch forest on a small hill.
That still didn't stop a vehicle from suddenly emerging over the hilltop.
It looked like a monstrous version of their old HUMVEE, customized for the harsh Siberian terrain. It stood nearly three meters tall, with a van-like compartment at the back for living space. But the most striking feature was the gigantic bumper up front, capable of plowing straight through a birch forest without a second thought. Several tons of truck hurtling downhill flattened every tree in its path without the slightest effort to avoid them.
'Looks like a salesman trying to show off his product,' Victor thought, watching the scene unfold from the window.
In about ten seconds, the vehicle, now covered in leaves, pulled up beside their car. Two men got out of the cab and walked over to Shirley. They looked like twins, same pale skin, same black beanie, and the same Adidas tracksuit.
The first handed her the keys while the second took a phone from his pocket. Much to Victor's disappointment, who had pictured an epic showdown with a briefcase full of money, Shirley didn't whip out any such thing.
They were simply there to deliver the keys and the payment had already been arranged.
After the two men left in a car that must have been waiting on standby, the rest of the group got out to examine their new vehicle.
Beyond its huge bumper, which they'd just seen in action, the rear of the vehicle had also undergone modifications.
It was about ten meters long, so Victor felt like he was standing next to a small truck, but more importantly, the interior had been converted for living: several beds, a small kitchen, and even a table for meals.
'I guess we're gonna sleep here for the whole quota,' Victor thought.
There was one more surprise: a trailer at the back. In which under a blue tarp, were hiding four snowmobiles, several jerry cans of fuel, and all the tools needed for any repair work.
There were also crates Victor guessed contained survival rations, water, and enough medicine for their three-day expedition.
'All we need now is the weapons delivery and a place to park this beast,' Victor thought, glancing at Shirley to see what she had in mind.
She'd planned everything, namely, to leave it here. Victor couldn't see why she was so confident, but she wore the knowing smile of someone who had it all figured out. Maybe the shady look of the truck plus its hefty mass was enough to scare off any thieves, or maybe she'd struck a deal with Vladimir for extra security.
Victor had no idea. They simply drove back to Blagoveshchensk, leaving the monstrous vehicle behind. They'd return in a few days anyway, since they would need it to head into the depths of Siberia.
As they neared the end of their return trip, Shirley agreed to make a small detour at the group's request. She parked the car in an alley beside the hotel, in front of a Russian pharmacy. But the ground-floor shop wasn't what interested them, it was the discreet apartment upstairs.
On the mailbox was written "Maria Popova," one of the most common Russian names for a woman, but it was actually the local branch of the company, based here in Blagoveshchensk.
They climbed the stairs and rang the doorbell. Nathaniel pushed the door open when he noticed it wasn't locked. Inside, it looked nothing like an apartment: a large desk sat just a few steps from the entrance, making it seem as if the rest of the apartment was blocked off.
Behind the desk sat a young blonde woman with pale skin. She might really have been named Maria Popova, but they knew her by another name: Rend.
As soon as they walked in, she began speaking to them in Russian.
"**Welcome to Russia. I hope your trip went well.**"
Everyone turned to Olivia, their designated interpreter. She waited a few seconds before replying, speaking slowly and with a pronounced accent.
"**Thank you. We're here to get the date and location of our quota.**"
Rend seemed to have been expecting their visit, because she pulled a small slip of paper out of one of her desk drawers.
The details were in Cyrillic, so only Olivia could read them. They would have plenty of time to go over everything back at the hotel.
"**Goodbye, and good luck,**" Rend said, gesturing for them to leave.
They had what they'd come for and could now head out. After bowing slightly to thank her, Victor and the others headed back to the car.
Back at the hotel, the group gathered at a table in the restaurant. There were only a few other people around, most of them sipping coffee or tea with pastries, waiting for dinner. While Victor's mouth watered at that sight, Nathaniel pulled a tablet out of his coat. Following Olivia's instructions, he entered some coordinates and brought up a 3D map of the area.
Their target lay almost 150 kilometers from any town, a small island in the middle of a frozen lake. As for the date, their quota would start in six days.
As a bad omen, an alert suddenly flashed on Nathaniel's tablet: a blizzard was forecast to hit in eight days, and there was no way they'd avoid the coming storm.