Petko Dimitrov walk's to the Secretary of Premier Katz Office, he ask's. May I see the premier tell him I have something to show him that is important to see. She respond Da Lieutenant Commander wait here. She Walk to the Premier office and Knock's at the door of the office.
Commissar Mendel walked out of a side door, grabbing the Lt. Commander by the arm and steering him towards another office, well away from the political office.
Mendel didn't say a word as they wound through corridors in the Kremlin, down into the basements, moving away from the nice paneled rooms towards somewhere colder, dank... that smelled like must.
Mendel gestured to a pair of guards to open a door, and he thrust the Lt. Commander into the small, barren, concrete room.
"Wait here, and someone will see you soon," Mendel stated. Vowing to increase security on the Kremlin so that only those with the appropriate clearance and rank could get so close to the Premier.
For a few moments, there was nothing that could be heard.
Gradually, Dimitrov became aware of a dripping of water somewhere in the hallway behind the steel door, slightly rusted along the edges. It was a monotonous, unchanging "drip... drip.... drip." It was slow, slower than Dimitrov's heart was beating at the moment. And then he became aware of another noise. Another beat. There was his heart, beating; there was that slow dripping; and there was a flat, sharp noise. It was the noise of heavy footfalls, slowly coming this way. They continued at a slow pace, their noise of boots on old concrete becoming gradually clearer and clearer. Just when Dimitrov expected someone to open the door, or somehow appear, they stopped short.
There was silence for a moment, and then a metallic, grating "click."
Dimitrov became aware that, in the shadows at the other end of the room, there was another door. It was opening, slowly, its rusty bottom grating against the concrete painfully. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted into the room a second before the odor of must and decay seeped in, previously held behind the door that Dimitrov could hear opening - and barely see, in the shadows at the other end of this small, dank room.
The door was swung open wide, and a hunched figure moved toward the Dimitrov. The orange speck of light distinctive of a lit cigarette was visible, and it moved from a position at the figure's hip to one near his mouth as he moved slowly toward the dim, sickly circle of light that the single flickering fluorescent fixture afforded. This man took a draw of it and then flicked the cigarette away, into the light. It burned there for a second...
... Before it was stamped out by this man's rather large, worn boot. Dimitrov looked back up at this man quickly. This man was wearing a simple uniform - essentially unadorned in any way - underneath the battered greatcoat that hung loosely on his shoulders. His face was thin, drawn; and his eyes seemed decidedly cold. He was not actually all that impressive to behold, and Dimitrov relaxed a bit. He could not, however, shake the feeling that he'd seen this man before, and that he should be very afraid. It was nagging at the back of his mind.
"So, Petko..." this man - also known as His Watchful Eye, and that was all he needed to be known by - said slowly, smiling. His wrinkled face morphed itself into something almost grandfather-like, though it retained its almost predatory gaze, "... why do you need to see the Premier?" He said this in such a way that it was simple, to the point, not unkind, and completely terrifying.
Petko Raises and Draw's out a Data Disk. Give this to the premier sir it concerns one of the largest Project of the Coalition. Hand's Over Data Disk. Give my regards to the premier. And to add I know I have no clearance so what are we going to do now sir.
His Watchful Eye received the disk and stuffed it in his pocket disinterestedly. "This will... get to our Premier," he said rather noncommittally, turning around. He began to move slowly from the room, his deliberate footsteps clacking on the slightly decomposing concrete with a cracking sound. He placed a hand on the door, which, left ajar, let in a rather cold and musty draft. It almost made Dimitrov want to shiver and sneeze at the same time. "And as for you, Petko," he began to say, looking back, "Good Commissar Mendel will be back for you soon." This man walked away and closed the door behind him with a grating "thunk." His footsteps could be heard receding down the dark hall, into the abyss from which he had originally come.
Dimitrov's heart was beating in his ears. Gradually, as the footsteps dropped from his hearing, it slowed, and he became aware of the water dripping once again, and the slight electric buzz of the fluorescent light above his head. Nothing else but the cold, musty damp.
He had a feeling that "soon" might be anything but.
Captain Alvarez stood in the doorway to the cell, looking surprised.
"What are you doing here Hermano?" He asked, his head was covered by a heavy fur cap with a dark brim, and his leather coat was firmly done up against the chill. "I know it is easy to get lost in the tunnels, but you should have used your TAC-link or something, asked for someone to come get you."
He gestured, "Andale, Senor Dimitrov, before the rats start eating your frost bitten toes." He fished through his pockets for a flask of tequila, taking a long swig against the cold and shaking his head as he followed the Lt. Commander from the depths of the city.
"You should come to me if you have intelligence, holmes, I am your senior officer, and you know how... locco the Commissariat gets when you try to go around the chain of command. Best to keep your head down, si? that way it doesn't randomly detach itself and roll on the floor..."
Da Comrade Capitan I have a Spare file some were on the Botev He walk's out of the room If you wanted tell me. He Blow's his Hand's Mind giving me a shot of that tekila sir?
Alvarez glanced at the flask, shrugged and handed it over to the Lt. Commander.
"It puts diesel in the tank, holmes," Alvarez folded his arms across his chest. "So I take it these files, esse, they relate to the Redemption retro-fit? The Du Gaulle, si?"
Alvarez accepted his flask back, tucking it away into a fold of his coat. "Si, well that is a matter for the Intelligence Services. You are a line officer, go back out there, gather more data and report back, si? We need to find independent engineers who might be able to make some sense of the mechanics of Gallic technology."
He clapped the younger man on the shoulder, setting off back towards the city and away from the Botev. Troubled at how desperate they were... The difficulties of trying to repair and maintain such a large vessel were tricky at best, now that Dimitriov had attracted the attention of His Watchful Eye, things were even more dangerous if they failed.