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candles sitting on a wooden table.
    “Please do come in, you’re letting all of the heat out,” said a voice in the dark.
    Sheridan walked in and pulled the doors closed behind him. In a flash, the lights in the church came on, blinding him.
    “Don’t move a muscle or I will be forced to kill both of you!” threatened a man standing directly in front of Sheridan and Cole. In his hands was a military-issue assault rifle. He had thick black hair, which had been greased and combed back. His eyes were a dark blue. The man’s face was a crisscross of old scars. He was wearing a black leather jacket and dark gray pants.  
    “Morning, Vlad,” said Cole. “Glad to see that you haven’t lost your touch.”
    “What do you want, Alan?”
    “Me and Mister Sheridan are in need of your services.”
    Bodrov’s eyes lingered on Cole’s uniform. “Where’s your rank insignia?”
    “We dumped them along with some of our equipment when we abandoned ship.”
    “Abandoned ship?”
    “It’s a bit of a long story. Can we move now?”
    Bodrov lowered his rifle. “Yes, of course. I’m being a poor host. Please let me show you around.”
    “See, we’re good mates, Vlad and me,” Cole said to Sheridan.
    “Yeah, whatever you say, Sergeant.”
    They followed Bodrov down a narrow, winding stone staircase that led deep underground. As their host flicked on the lights, Sheridan and Cole saw just how enormous Bodrov’s operation was. Spread out before them was a vast subterranean warehouse that dwarfed the church built on top of it. It looked like he had enough weapons and equipment to supply a small army. There were rifles and small arms of all calibers still in their original shipping containers. Communication devices, scanners, computers, night-vision gear, and body armor were lying about everywhere.
    “My God, you weren’t kidding when you said he could get us anything.” said Sheridan when he saw all of the equipment.
    “Even I didn’t expect Vlad to have all this,” replied Cole, just as awestruck.
    “Before we begin,” said Bodrov, “how will you be paying?”
    “With these,” responded Cole, placing several gold bars on the table in front of him.
    Bodrov picked one up and smiled. “Alan, my services do not come cheap. I hope you have access to more than those few paltry gold pieces.”
    “I do, but I don’t have them on me. You’re going to have to trust me that you’ll get what you’re owed.”
    Bodrov broke out laughing. “Alan, if it were only you here I would throw you out into the night for wasting my time. However, your young friend has access to a lot of credits. Don’t you, Captain Michael Sheridan, son of Admiral Robert Sheridan?”
    Sheridan was surprised that Bodrov knew who he was. Then he remembered the outside speaker. Bodrov must have been watching them on a hidden camera and ran their faces through some illegally obtained facial recognition software. “Yeah, I can get you more credits if we need to.”
    “That depends on what you want, my young friend.”
    Cole said, “We need some new clothes, micro jammers for all makes and models of surveillance cameras, super-lightweight body armor, concealed weapons, comms gear, and new identification cards. We could also use several credit cards each with ten thousand credits on them.”
    Bodrov chuckled. “Is that all?”
      “That should do,” said Sheridan, wondering how much all of this was going to cost him.
    “And why do you need all of this rather expensive equipment?” pried the black marketer.
      “I’d tell you it’s none of your business but as we need your help, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
    “And what is that?”
    Cole grinned. “We’re here on orders from the commander of the fleet to kill a Kurgan operative and anyone else who may get in our way.”
    Bodrov shook his head. “Sure you are.”
    Cole looked over at Sheridan. “See, even when I tell the truth, people still don’t believe me.”
    “Maybe