Just over the slight rise to the north was a hexagonal building, guarded on it’s vulnerable rear by three heavily armed, and armored, bunkers…

As Dr. Arensky was screwing a blue blinking cylinder into a pyramidal device the regular morning delivery from Arenska Pharmaceuticals pulled to a stop at the outer gate of the facility.

The outer gate was on a narrow causeway that led to the mainland. The hexagonal facility was on a small island in Astrakhan. The only way on and off were by helicopter, boat or across the narrow, kilometer and a half, causeway.

“Where’s the regular guy?” the guard asked, blinking. It was breezy as hell on this guard post and he’d been huddling in his unheated shack trying to survive until he saw the headlights. Being out in this whipping wind wasn’t his idea of fun, either.

“Drunk? Sick? Quit? I dunno,” the driver said, unpleasantly, handing over an Arenska ID and manifest stating that he was Ivan Sorvoso, Arenska Pharmaceuticals Employee Number 54820 and that Ivan Sorvoso, Arenska Pharmaceuticals Employee Number 54820, was the correct driver for the vehicle on this day for this load of biological chemicals, precursors and testing samples, inventory enclosed. “All I know is I got called at damned midnight for this shit. So I’d like to be done and gone as soon as possible.”

“Fine by me,” the guard said but studied the documentation carefully. He was new and motivated, which was why the old guys had stuck him on the outer guard shack. That way the little snot wouldn’t be grumbling all the time about them being asleep. He nodded after a moment’s careful perusal and handed the documents back. “All in order,” he said, stepping back into his guard-shack and pressing a solenoid to raise the heavy metal pole across the road.