Day of Wrath

The younger man inclined his head. “I’m Inspector Raminsky, with customs. I’ve just received your papers from Harbormaster Cherga. I came down as soon as I could.”

Reichardt frowned. What the devil was this? He’d already dealt with the clerks in customs yesterday. This Raminsky looked like potential trouble — probably fresh out of university and still full of energy and inflated self-importance. A young pup, then, and one too inexperienced to know when not to bark.

Carefully masking his displeasure, Reichardt calmly asked, “How can I help you, Inspector?”

“Well, Mr. Peterhof, as soon as I saw the, ah, nature of your cargo, I knew it would have to be personally inspected.”

Reichardt’s first impulse was to dismiss him; then he reconsidered.

Compliance would attract less suspicion. He called over the head longshoreman, a bearlike man in greasy coveralls.

“Very well. Which crate did you wish to examine, Mr. Raminsky?”

Reichardt gestured toward the truck currently being unloaded and two others that waited behind it with their engines idling.

Raminsky, obviously pleased at being given a choice, pointed to the remaining crate on the first truck in line. “That one.”

Reichardt nodded his agreement and then issued orders to the head longshoreman. “All right, Vasily. Open it up for the inspector.”’ The crates were standard Russian Air Force issue. They were designed to allow inspection without being totally dismantled, but it still required care to open the end panel. After several minutes of prying with a crowbar, the panel fell to the ground with a loud, metallic clang.

Raminsky stepped forward and shined a flashlight inside, revealing a bright, concave, metal surface with the center curving into a dark hole. The official shifted his beam slightly, illuminating the turbine wheel at the center.

“This appears to be a jet engine,” remarked Raminsky skeptically.

“Of course,” Reichardt snorted. “It is a Saturn AL-21 turbojet engine.”

He tapped the bundle of documents he still held in one hand.

“Just as stated on these custom forms. Forms which I must point out have already been signed by your own Minister Fedorov.”

If he was impressed, Raminsky hid it well. Instead he merely raised an eyebrow and examined the sizable cargo crate more carefully. It was seven meters long, two meters high, and three meters wide — just large enough to allow a man to squeeze alongside the engine, although the internal bracing required careful movements. Undaunted, the inspector took off his overcoat and crawled inside.

Reichardt resisted the urge to pace or look at his watch while the Russian tapped the jet engine’s metal skin and peered into tight spaces. Finally, the customs man clambered out, almost tripping on the brace and catching himself just in time.

After shaking himself off and retrieving his overcoat and paperwork, Raminsky looked the papers over again. He shook his head and announced, “There is no final destination marked on this export form, Mr. Peterhof.”

Reichardt eyed him coldly, his patience finally wearing thin.

“I am aware of that, Inspector. The reasons for that are explained in the authorization letter from the Ministry of Defense. But again, this has already been approved by your own ministry in Moscow.”

Without looking up, Raminsky pressed the matter. “Nevertheless, it is highly unusual not to specify a destination. I may have to reconfirm this authorization with the ministry.”

Reichardt decided he’d allowed the loading to be delayed long enough.

He stepped close to the young man and spoke quietly, but menacingly.

“The destination of these engines is the business of my company, the Ministry of Defense, and no one else’s.”

The change in Reichardt’s tone caused Raminsky to look up with a startled expression on his face.

“You have heard of my employer before?” Reichardt demanded.

Reluctantly, Raminsky nodded.

Arms Export, Inc. was a major player in one of the fastest growing sectors of the post-communist economy — arms sales.

Arms specialized in buying surplus Russian weapons and military spare parts at significant discounts and then reselling them to various Third World countries. Several prominent former Russian military leaders served on the Arrus board, along with a number of influential Americans and Europeans. From time to time, some of Moscow’s new tabloids darkly hinted that substantial Arms funds often flowed freely into certain government officials’ personal bank accounts in exchange for a free hand inside the Russian armed forces. But nothing had ever been proven.

Satisfied that he had gotten the impudent fool’s complete attention, Reichardt continued. “These are matters for the State, and the State has promises to keep.”

The German paused. “It is not in your best interest to interfere with those promises, Inspector.” He glanced away from Raminsky and motioned to two members of his security team who were observing the exchange.

They closed in on either side.

Raminsky saw them and paled slightly.