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Azarov resisted the urge to glance right. She was buried at the edge of the clearing, next to a man he’d inadvertently killed in a training session six years ago. It was a pleasant spot, with a view of the ocean and particularly vibrant flowering trees. Not that either of the two had cared much about the wonders of nature, but he felt obligated to do what he could to honor their memories.
“Is that it?” Heis probed. “Is it Olga?”
“Yes,” he responded, but it wasn’t true. It wasn’t Olga and it wasn’t the heat. It was everything else.
Anxious to change the subject, Azarov pointed to a pistol lying next to Heis’s computer. “What’s that?”
The man glared at him for a few seconds more but then decided to drop the subject of his pupil’s mental state for the time being. “A new weapon for you to try. Nadia is quite proud of it.”
Azarov picked up the gun and turned it over in his hands.
“It’s a full two centimeters shorter than what you’re using now. That should increase the speed of your draw significantly. Your current weapon takes too long to clear its holster. Also, the integrated silencer is three millimeters smaller in diameter.”
“Does it still perform?”
“Better, in fact. She’s reduced sound output by one decibel.”
Azarov aimed at the five-meter target. “May I fire it?”
“Of course.”
Heis was right. The report was noticeably duller. Balance was better. Accuracy and recoil were unchanged.
“It’s quite light.”
“Almost a twenty percent reduction in loaded weight,” Heis agreed.
“Drawbacks?”
“It can use standard nine-millimeter rounds, but to get the full benefits, it needs custom ammunition.”
“Durability?”
“If you use the recommended ammunition, she estimates that you’ll be able to fire two thousand rounds before you start to see a degradation in performance. With commercially available rounds, service life will be cut in half.”
“How much?”
“Seventeen thousand euros. Rounds are another eight euros each.”
Azarov stared down at the weapon. Mitch Rapp still used a Glock 19 with an AAC Ti-RANT 9S suppressor. A reasonably accurate and reliable weapon. A bit loud and long, but it had the benefit of being extremely common.
“I’ll take three. And a thousand rounds.”
“I’ll pass that on. Now let’s get into the gym. I have you scheduled for a brief strength workout before your swim.”
As they walked, Heis lectured him on the need to push harder, to go deeper. The drug regimen created a situation where his mind no longer understood the full capabilities of his body. He needed to learn to break through the limitations his subconscious was imposing on him.
Azarov was barely listening. His mind was consumed by Mitch Rapp. How would he perform on Heis’s tests? Could he and his technologically unremarkable Glock have achieved one hundred percent accuracy? In all likelihood, yes. But how quickly could he have completed the run? In his youth, he had been exceptionally fast. The X-rays Azarov had been provided, though, showed a new reality. Years of damage that had left him with thickening scar tissue and thinning cartilage. Would he be able—
“Grisha! Are you listening to me?”
Azarov smiled and bowed his head respectfully. “Every word, Linus. Every word.”
CHAPTER 27
NEAR BHAKKAR
PAKISTAN
