Day of Wrath

Despite her skepticism, she had to admit that Chernavin made a better first impression than his subordinates. The lieutenant was short, an inch or so below her own five foot ten, but he was solidly built — carrying enough muscle to show that he did his own share of the grunt work out on the flight line. Closecropped brown hair topped a round, open, boyish face that proclaimed his youth. He also had a ready, infectious smile.

Chernavin took the chair Koniev indicated. His eyes took in Peter’s military uniform and widened. “You are American?” he asked in passable English.

After a quick glance at Koniev, Peter nodded. “Colonel Thorn, U.S. Army.” He indicated Helen. “And this is Special Agent Gray of the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

The Russian lieutenant grinned excitedly. “I am very glad to meet you, Colonel! And you, Miss Gray.”

Helen didn’t even try to conceal her surprise. “Really, Lieutenant?

Then you’re the first person I’ve run across here at Kandalaksha who’s happy to talk to us. Most of your subordinates seem to think we’re either spies or secret policemen.”

Chernavin’s open, friendly face clouded over. “Ah.” He shrugged.

“Then they are ignorant peasants. Their heads are still stuffed full of the old Cold War propaganda. They have not studied America and its marvels as I have.”

The young Russian brightened again. “I hope to visit your country one day, you see! So I am not afraid.”

“You do know we’re here to investigate your unit’s work on the An-32 that crashed eleven days ago?” Koniev cut in impatiently.

“You understand that, Lieutenant Chernavin?”

“Of course.”

Helen fought to keep her face impassive. The Russian Air Force lieutenant seemed blissfully unconcerned by their inquiry.

Why? She leaned forward. “It doesn’t bother you that an aircraft you worked on went down in the woods shortly after taking off from here-killing everyone on board?”

Chernavin lowered his gaze. “Oh, no. No. I did not mean that.” He looked up at Helen. “Of course, I am very, very sorry that all those people died. It is a great tragedy, naturally. A great tragedy.”

“A tragedy? Not an accident? Not a disaster?” Koniev said skeptically. “Explain that, Lieutenant.”

The young Russian officer spread his hands apart. “I only meant that, whatever caused the aircraft to go down, it had nothing to do with the work performed here at Kandalaksha.”

Helen smiled at Chernavin. If Koniev wanted to grab the tough guy spot in the good cop-bad cop routine, she would oblige. “You seem very sure of that, Lieutenant.”

He nodded emphatically. “Yes.”

“Why?” Koniev rapped out. “Why are you so sure, Chernavin?”

“Because Captain Grushtin handled the preflight check himself,” the Russian maintenance officer said confidently.

Grushtin? Helen glanced down at the maintenance records in front of her. She’d spent enough time in Russia to puzzle out the Cyrillic alphabet, and Koniev had scribbled a hasty translation of the Air Force technical terms and jargon. She looked up at the young Russian officer. “Just who is this Captain Grushtin, Lieutenant?”

For the first time, Chernavin seemed unsure of himself. “Captain Nikolai Grushtin is one of the chief maintenance officers on the base.”

His gaze swiveled from Helen to Koniev and back again. “He is a brilliant mechanic. Brilliant. So you see, that is why I am confident that this crash had nothing to do with our work here.”

Koniev slid his own copy of the An-32 maintenance log across the table toward the younger man. “If this Captain Grushtin performed the preflight check himself, Chernavin, perhaps you can tell me why he is not listed in this log. or anywhere else for that matter!”

Clearly surprised, the lieutenant stared down at the papers for a moment. Then he snapped his fingers and looked up. “Captain Grushtin is not listed because he was not officially assigned to supervise the ground crews on that day. The log would only show those of us on that morning’s flight line roster.”

Helen felt her heart rate quicken — aware that it was the same sensation she used to have on the Hostage Rescue Team firing range when the first real target popped up. She shook her head.

“So this Grushtin character just showed up unannounced and you let him handle the An-32 maintenance work?”

Chernavin nodded. “Of course. He is my superior officer.”

“And that didn’t seem strange to you?” she pressed further.

“No …” the Russian lieutenant said slowly. He tried to explain.

“The captain is a perfectionist and this was an important flight — one with so many foreigners aboard. I thought he just wanted to make certain the aircraft was readied according to his standards.”

I bet he did, Helen thought coldly. She sat back while Koniev took the ball.

“And you found nothing unusual in this-even after the plane crashed?”

The MVD major glowered across the table at Chernavin.

“Why was that, Lieutenant?”

The Russian Air Force officer reddened. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet Koniev’s glare. “Well, you see, I …”