Death in Siberia
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The Cold War is dead but Russia's ambitions continue to rage...The Kremlin is holding its leading nuclear physicist prisoner at a military facility above the Arctic Circle. The reason? Professor Kryuchkov's ground-breaking discovery could save the world...and destroy Russia's economy. Former KGB agent Anna Resnikov is sent from America to confirm or deny rumours of Kryuchkov's breakthrough. But the physicist has already taken action. And when police detective Alexei Petrov discovers the formula hidden on a corpse, he is desperate to decipher its meaning. Following Anna Resnikov to the Arctic city of Norilsk, their linked fates end in a thrilling, terrifying climax in the icy wastes of Russia's northernmost territories...
all Russian exports. They account for around half of the Federal State budget. A one dollar decrease in the price of oil on the world markets means a one per cent reduction in Russia’s GDP. And, of course, a similar increase results in the opposite.’ She stretched out her leg again, so that both were straight out and flat to the floor of the choom. ‘Without oil and gas, Russia would be a truly Third World country. It would disintegrate as a world power. It couldn’t afford its Space projects or
been laid up for the winter when the river was partially iced, but they looked as if they’d been discarded decades ago and left to rot beneath the aluminium smog of Krasnoyarsk. In most cases, however, the ships’ engines were kept in surprisingly good working order – she could hear them now – thanks to the necessity of eking out everything that could be summoned from machinery and man combined. Many of the ships were over a hundred years old. The river water on which they operated didn’t have
I – that she wasn’t who she said she was, that’s all, so her name was doubtless false too.’ ‘Maybe she was just hiding from her husband,’ Petrov ventured. ‘That would be reason enough to conceal who she was. Maybe her husband is a violent man, maybe he tried to kill her.’ ‘She looked like she could kill ten husbands,’ Demidova replied dismissively. ‘And the foreigner too?’ Petrov asked. ‘You think she killed him?’ ‘No. Not the foreigner, not that Zhenya and I believe, anyway.’ She paused.
that recruits to the SVR were being encouraged to use photographs of her for target practice at the Balashiha headquarters. Not for the first time in the past few hours she considered the existence of her photograph on Ivan’s mobile phone. Maybe – and the inevitable thought came to her without reluctance or even pause – she would now have to kill Ivan, destroy him and his mobile phone along with him. But when she came out from behind the few houses, she saw that the two men hadn’t followed her
earlier, the old man was dying, in a deer-hide tent just as he had lived. It was the second day in June and the sun had already been up since 4 o’clock. With his mind in neutral, he was aware now, through the poisonous yellow smoke that belched from Krasnoyarsk’s smokestacks twenty-four hours a day, that the sun was illuminating the half-dead, polluted city with a dull haze, as if through gauze. He was aware too that the city spread out to the east of where he stood, towards the sun – known as