A trained but out-of-work secretary, she was still kicking herself for accepting the offer of “a good job in Europe.” That was a well known ploy that slavers used to capture females. But the con, and that was the only way to put it, had been well laid. She had been awaiting death when the Keldara showed up. She’d been hired while still on the mission to handle the burgeoning administrative details of the Kildar and stayed around ever since. The pay was good, the living conditions excellent and it wasn’t like she had to worry about slavers. “I’ll put in a call to Chatham for a plane big enough to handle two teams and support staff. And I’ll coordinate with the BCIS for entry of the teams and their equipment.”

“I’ll go as well,” Dr. Tolegen Arensky said. “If you’ll have me.”

The Russian WMD specialist, short, round with balding black hair, was a recent addition to the team. He’d been picked up during the previous mission after having been forced to betray the Russians and smuggle out samples of weaponized smallpox. He’d stayed on because he was also a trained physician and, well, not particularly welcome in Russia at the moment.

“With it being WMD, hell yeah!” Adams said.

“Okay,” Nielson said. “You go break it to the Kildar. When you get his okay, I’ll call Pierson.”

“We taking Katya?” Vanner asked. “And has anyone seen J?”

“Two very good questions,” Nielson replied, smiling grimly. “You’re not him, are you?”

“Katya!”

Martya Dzintas wasn’t happy to be knocking on the girl’s door. But the noise was disrupting class.

Martya was fifteen, a harem girl and proud of it. She had been raised on a small farm not far from the caravanserai and at fourteen she’d been sold by her parents to a group of Chechens. She didn’t hold it against her parents; being “sent to town” was just one of those things. Not only did the Chechens have guns and a serious interest in buying the beautiful fourteen-year old, her parents needed the money.