Combat Machines. Don Pendleton
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Now Andreja frowned. “The Russian Ministry of Health wishes to adopt children from our country to raise in yours?”
Utkin spread his hands again. “That is pretty much the idea.”
“But why our children? Surely your country has orphans of its own that need homes?”
A brief smile flitted across the doctor’s thin lips. “Your concern for my people is touching. While it is true that there are parentless children in our country, they often have mitigating circumstances that already impact their early development for good or ill. For the purposes of this extended study, we wish to find infants with absolutely no previous attachments to people or places. Blank slates, if you will pardon the expression. They will be very well cared for and have everything they need provided. They will receive a first-rate education, access to the best health care and a structured environment that will, hopefully, allow them to grow up to reach their full potential.”
“And you believe that you are taking these children from a negative situation and placing them into a more positive situation in your own country?”
He nodded. “Miss Tomić, I am aware of the circumstances under which the children in your facility were conceived. I know what kind of life they have to look forward to without intervention from somewhere—wards of the state, with mothers that reject them and unknown fathers. Shuttled from state facility to perhaps a foster home to another facility, never receiving the care and education they so desperately need—and which we are willing to provide.” He leaned forward and smiled, the expression lighting up his severe expression. “You need help here. We are willing to help. Please...let us help you.”
It was that last part that finally removed Andreja’s resistance—the feeling that he truly cared about what would happen to these children. “Why don’t we take a walk into the ward, and you can have a look at the babies?”
“I would like nothing more,” he replied as he rose to his feet.
Andreja walked with him out of her office and across the foyer to the double doors. She gently pushed them open and peeked inside.
Luka and Nenad were busy among the more than three dozen cribs, efficiently changing diapers. The rustling of their clothes and of the cloth diapers was the only sound in the room. None of the infants made a sound.
Dr. Utkin nodded pleasantly to her assistants, then focused on the four rows of children, ranging in age from six to eighteen months. He began walking up and down the rows, leaning over to examine this child or that.
A shell arced overhead with a scream, then detonated close enough to rattle the windows. Even then, not a single baby uttered a sound.
“I have heard of this, da?” Utkin asked. “Since the children do not get comforted when they cry, they learn to not cry, as it does them no good.”
“I’m afraid so,” Andreja replied.
“It sounds cruel, but this actually works better for our program,” Utkin said, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked. “We will be examining their ability to form relationships later on in life, after having those needs withheld as infants. It is said that the brain develops differently under such adverse conditions, and we will find out if that is so, and how it manifests later on...”
He turned to see the grim expression on Andreja’s face and reached out to touch her shoulder. “Of course, I did not mean that you and these young ladies are responsible for their development. You are doing all that you can, of course.”
“Yes...it is not easy,” she replied. “We should continue your tour.”
“Yes, of course.” Utkin walked up and down every aisle, looking at each child. At length, he came to the end of his inspection. “Are there any more?”
“No, thank heaven.”
“Very well. I have made my selections.” Utkin began walking up and down the aisles again, stopping briefly at a dozen cribs, each one just long enough for Andreja to note which one it was before he moved on to the next. In just a few minutes, the tall, lean scientist had chosen more than a quarter of her current children.
“Very well. They can be ready for travel by this afternoon.” Andreja cleared her throat. “I assume that you have brought the necessary supplies? We cannot spare anything to send with you.”
Utkin nodded. “I understand. We brought all that is necessary for their safe and healthy journey back to Russia. After all, they represent a substantial investment on the part of the motherland. It would be terrible if something happened to them before they arrived in their new home.”
“Well, while Luka and Nenad are preparing the children, you and I can head back to my office and begin the paperwork for all this. Twelve sets. I’m afraid you’re going to be here awhile.”
“That’s quite all right,” Utkin said with a smile. “I want to make sure everything goes smoothly for them from this point forward.”
* * *
FOUR HOURS LATER, with the paperwork completed and the dozen babies safely loaded into infant seats secured inside the truck, Utkin extended his hand to Andreja, which she took.
“Thank you for your assistance. Given the circumstances, I’m so very pleased that it went as easily as it did.”
“And thank you, Doctor. I certainly hope that you will be able to give them a better life. Although I would like to know how your experiment turns out, I will be content just knowing that they escaped this place.”
The doctor nodded. “Yes, together we have saved twelve lives today. They and I owe you our thanks.”
“No, it is you who has our thanks. They are the recipients of your generous offer, and I know they will do well by it.”
Utkin nodded even as he checked his watch. “I’m afraid, however, that we must be going. It will be difficult enough moving through the checkpoints, and exiting the country with twelve infant children that I didn’t have upon my arrival, we probably won’t get out of the country for a week with all the paperwork that will have to be examined.”
Andreja smiled and nodded. “Of course. Go with God, and safe travels.”
“Thank you.”
With that, the doctor climbed into the passenger seat of the truck as the driver started it up.
“Get what you came for?” the driver, Utkin’s assistant and bodyguard, asked around a cigarette he lit.
Utkin glanced back over his cargo, the twelve children sitting silently in their car seats. Any trace of the kindly social scientist had disappeared the moment he’d gotten into the vehicle. Now he regarded the children coldly, dispassionately, as if they were rats in a cage.
“Oh, yes, Dimitri,” he murmured. “They will do perfectly.” He turned to face the front of the vehicle again. “You radioed in the coordinates, yes?”
The driver nodded. “As requested. In fact, they should be reducing that building to rubble right...about...now.”
“Yes, with all records lost as a result of an unfortunate accident.” Utkin grinned, a wolfish smile with no humor in it whatsoever. “You are very fortunate, Dimitri. Not many people get to witness history being made firsthand.”
The other man grunted, jetting smoke out of his nose.
“Yes, for you see, the new vanguard of Russia’s soldiers is beginning today.” Utkin swept an arm back to encompass the dozen children. “And these will be the first of many.”
Ground Forces of the Russian
Federation Headquarters
Moscow,