Amazon Roulette

by C. M. Gleason

  Marina and Eli approached the only door in sight—although she was certain there must be several other entrances and exits—and it opened on its own.

  A lone man stepped out, and Marina’s breath caught in spite of herself.

  Roman Aleksandrov. Her father.

  He was handsome for his age and stood without stooping, with power and confidence, in loose linen trousers and a dark brown shirt that buttoned down the center. His shaved head was smooth and well shaped. He’d grown a neatly trimmed beard and mustache in the Van Dyke style, and though it was more gray than dark, it made him appear younger than his seven decades.

  This was the first time she’d seen him in five years.

  The first time she’d seen him since she learned he was her true father.

  She wondered again whether he knew the truth.

  He stood there, waiting silently, expectantly, openly—like a parent welcoming home the prodigal child. Their eyes met, and though she felt a shock of connection, and a jolt of apprehension mixed with anticipation, she didn’t allow herself to show any emotion. Her stride remained smooth and purposeful as she helped Eli along.

  When she was close enough to be heard, she spoke. “Roman, I need your help. We’ve been exposed to the cuprobeus bacteria and need treatment. You can see that my friend is already showing the ill effects.”

  Her father showed no surprise at her words. “You, however, are not.” There was challenge and perhaps a bit of relief in his voice.

  She didn’t acknowledge his truth. Instead, she reached for Eli's glove and yanked it off. Then, ignoring Roman’s swift, shocked intake of breath, she curled the fingers of both hands around the beginnings of the rash on Eli's strong, sturdy one, weaving their digits together before he could pull away, and looked at her father. “But I will soon.”

  “Marina,” Eli hissed, yanking his hand from hers. He staggered a little with the force of his movement, a testament to his growing weakness combined with the exertion of their journey.

  The leap of horror in Roman’s eyes had faded. Yet his reaction had already confirmed what Marina suspected—and feared. That the infection could be spread from person to person merely by skin contact. “Come inside, then, Mariska. And bring your companion as well.”

  The interior of the building was just as acutely different from its exterior as the interior of the cold, sleek mountain hideaway had been. Though Marina had expected nothing less, she could not completely hide her amazement as she took in the details of her surroundings.

  Once inside the entrance, she found herself on a wide ledge that overlooked a submerged chamber that could only be a laboratory. The ledge, which had a sturdy Plexiglas railing, ran around a circular space in eight chunks. Each chunk, or side, had at least one door on it. At the joints of the two ledges at ten o’clock and two o’clock, corridors led away from the octagonal hub of the building. At four o’clock and eight o’clock, a flight of metal stairs led down into the lab, which was outfitted with stainless steel tables, cabinets, a bank of computers and monitors, large video screens, and an array of tools and electronics. She saw a microscope that rivaled Sanchez’s, as well as several other unfamiliar devices.

  Five people wearing the loose linen trousers of the regular Skaladeska uniform, but topped with white tunics instead of undyed ones, were working in the lab below. None of them seemed to notice the new arrivals as they went about their business.

  Marina felt Eli sway against her, and she turned toward him in alarm. In the last twenty minutes, he’d become much weaker. Now he looked even paler under his brown skin, and sweatier, and his breathing had become shallow and quick. She spun to Roman, and found him standing just behind her. “He needs help now.”

  To her relief, her father didn’t argue. “Nora,” Roman called down. “They’ve arrived.”

  So apparently none of this was a surprise to him. Marina wondered who’d communicated their imminent arrival and its purpose—Varden, Fridkov, or Bellhane. Not that it mattered…but perhaps it did.

  Roman had edged nearer, as if he wanted to be as close to her as possible, then gestured to the nearest stairway.

  “Take my arm,” she told Eli when he tried to navigate on his own.

  “I’m…all right,” he muttered—then ruined it all by stumbling as he took the first step.

  “Stubborn. Stick with me, and I’ll make sure you get to see a whole slew of live bu—beetles,” she corrected herself. He laughed weakly, then began to cough so hard, he almost toppled off the next step.

  She took his arm as he grabbed the handrail, and they began their descent. Roman followed, and Marina heard him murmuring behind her. She glanced back and saw he was speaking into an electronic wristband, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  When they were halfway to the bottom, Nora appeared at the base of the stairs. An attractive woman in her late sixties, she was slender and quick, with cropped corn-silk hair and intelligent brown eyes. She moved efficiently to assist Marina.

  “You can save him,” she said to the older woman. “There is a cure. Varden told me.”

  “He’s progressed quite far,” Nora said as they reached the bottom and she looked at Eli with a critical eye. Marina noticed she was wearing gloves and that a surgical face mask rested around her throat, ready to be pulled up and into place.

  “Mariska, if you would come with me.” Roman gestured with a graceful hand as Nora began to lead Eli toward a walkway beneath the balcony. The center of the lab gave way to a row of rooms on one wall, a corridor on another, and a large, glassed-in chamber on a third.

  “No.” Marina was firm, and she slid her arm around Eli's waist. “I’m staying with him.”

  “That’s not necessary—”

  She paused and turned to glare at her father. “The last time I came to you, you nearly had my companion murdered. You separated us and kept me prisoner and tortured him. That will not happen this time.” And although she didn’t say it, the unspoken words rested between them: And if you want my cooperation, if you want me, you will agree.

  There was a pause. Then, “Very well.” Roman gave a brief nod to Nora, and she began to walk again.

  “You didn’t mention anything…about torture,” muttered Eli as he staggered against Marina. “Think I’ll need…something else…to make up…for that. Sweeten…the pot. MacNeil…be…damned.”

  She flashed a look up at him, and saw he was grimacing in a sort of smile. Thank goodness he still had his sense of humor, even though his face was damp and drawn. “We can negotiate on that later, Sanchez. I’m not sure I want to get any closer unless I’m wearing a hazmat suit.”

  He laughed and it turned into a harsh, racking cough that necessitated them to pause while he tried to retain his balance. When the attack subsided, it was time for Nora to be the recipient of Marina’s dark look. “How much further? He needs treatment now.”

  “Here,” said the older woman, pushing open a door.

  The place was outfitted like a hospital room, with one glassed-in wall, and immediately Marina felt slightly more optimistic. Eli was deteriorating before her eyes, jokes notwithstanding, and if he went into sudden cardiac arrest, she didn’t know whether they could save him. When would it be too late, past the point of no return?

  But this room appeared ready for any medical needs, and she was relieved to find a white-coated person, capped and masked, working at a sleek stainless steel station. Marina saw syringes, test tubes, and a small device that looked like a spray bottle attached to a large canister.

  As they came into the clinic, the capped and masked person—doctor, nurse, tech; Marina had no idea what the man’s role was—moved into action. He and Nora exchanged few words as they eased Eli onto the bed. Masks were yanked up over faces, and Marina and Roman were each given gowns, masks, and gloves.

  Roman spoke to Nora, brief and low, and they both looked at Marina, who was in the process of snapping on her gloves.

  “Wait for that,” Nora told her
. “You’ve been exposed as well? Sit here.”

  After that, everything moved quickly. Two other personnel came into the chamber, also gowned, masked, and gloved, and a flurry of activity—controlled, efficient, and smooth—filled the space. Marina didn’t see much of what was happening to Eli, for no sooner had she taken a seat than Nora was examining her hands with her own gloved ones.

  She turned away, still blocking Marina’s view of Eli and the techs working with him. She heard something that sounded like a spray of water, then a hiss, just before Nora turned back. She was holding a syringe with dark red fluid in it.

  It was at that moment Marina realized how much blind trust, how much leverage she assumed from her relationship with her father and grandfather. She tensed, ready to push the needle away, and Nora stopped and stepped back. She murmured something to Roman, who looked at Marina, then back at Nora. Then, stiff and reluctant, he turned and strode from the chamber.

  The door closed behind him with a dull thud, and moments later Marina saw him appear on the other side of the glass wall, in an adjoining room. He stripped off his gloves, mask, and gown.

  “You do not trust me. Yet you came here, to us.” Nora looked at Marina steadily. “I’ve done you no harm in the past, and will do none now. You have my word, on the sacred life of Gaia. Now please…allow me to treat you. Your grandfather is coming and he wishes to see you.”

  Their gazes held. Marina looked into those brown eyes and saw earnestness as well as frightening intelligence. The only other time she and Nora had been alone was when the older woman visited her in the room where she’d been held captive in Siberia. Then, Nora had given her information she hadn’t needed to give—information that ultimately assisted Marina and Gabe escape, and helped Marina to better understand Roman.

  She had no real reason to trust Nora, and yet she had no reason to distrust her.

  “Very well.” Marina held out her arm for the needle.

  As the slender cannula slid into her skin, another, more unpleasant realization struck her. Marina might have no reason to fear for her own life…but the same could not be said for Eli Sanchez.

  For all she knew, the Skaladeskas could kill him—or allow him to die—and blame it on the bacteria.

  And she would never know the truth.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “So Marina Alexander went off with the Skaladeskas.” Helen’s voice was carefully neutral. “After calling Rue Varden. And she took Eli Sanchez with her. And you let Varden walk.”

  Gabe shot her a dark look. He had no response that wouldn’t sound weak or desperate. Or furious. Which was what he was. Maybe a little confused, too. But mostly furious. “At the very least, we must be concerned with Sanchez’s safe return.”

  Helen lifted a brow. “Is that it? You’d let her go?”

  “Not…necessarily.” Gabe resisted the urge to get up and pace her small office. The door was closed, of course, and there wasn’t enough room to take more than five steps in either direction.

  There was, however, a crystal paperweight on Helen’s desk that might make a satisfying crash if he flung it…somewhere.

  Eyeing him warily, Helen picked up the paperweight and slid it into one of the desk drawers. “If you had been exposed to the bacteria—they’re calling it the cuprobeus bacteria, do I have that right?—what would you do? If you knew you were going to die without treatment, what would you do? Would you go where you knew there was a way to be treated, or would you take your chances here, waiting for the CDC to fumble around? Maybe she had a valid reason—at least in her mind.”

  “Why are you defending her all of a sudden? For days you’ve been trying to convince me Marina is in bed with the Skalas, and now that we have clear evidence of it, you’re being…”

  “Reasonable?” She settled back in her seat and folded her hands over the button of her teal jacket. A wide gold band glinted on one of her thumbs, but not, he had noticed, on a ring finger. “Tell me something, MacNeil. How much of this is personal? Are you that much in love with her that you can’t discern reality?”

  He glared at her. “That’s inappropriate.”

  She lifted her eyebrow again, but remained irritatingly silent as she watched him.

  “All right then, hell yes, it’s a little personal,” he said from between gritted teeth. “Personal enough that it pisses me off she’s been lying to me about being in touch with the Skaladeskas and Rue Varden.”

  “Understandable. I’m in your camp there. But we’re going to check her cell phone records, and her laptop—both of which she conveniently left behind, which is interesting in and of itself—and see what sort of communication has been going on. I have to be honest, MacNeil,” she said, sitting upright again, elbows on her desk. “If I were in her shoes, and I knew how to get a cure for me—and don’t forget, for Dr. Sanchez too; and I suspect that would be the driving factor for her—I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d be gone. I’d do what needed to be done to save his life.”

  Hell. That was what Marina always said, wasn’t it? I always go back. If someone needs me, I always go back.

  This was the ultimate definition of going back—back to her roots, back to her terrorist family, back to the place from which she’d barely escaped.

  The first time he met her, she’d come out of a cave rescue after nearly dying because of that very credo. And when they were escaping from the Skaladeska hideout, across the cold Siberian lake, she went back to save her drowning father…even though Marina was—still was—terrified of drowning herself.

  “Right. All right.” He nodded. He felt slightly better, as if the arguments he’d made privately to himself were now validated by someone else. “But she could have contacted me first.”

  Helen quirked that damn brow again. “And you would have said, ‘All right, be off with you, go with God’?” Her expression was saying, MacNeil, you’re smarter than this. You know better than this.

  But she didn’t actually say it, for which he was immensely grateful. For the first time, Gabe felt sympathy for Colin Bergstrom and his personal ties to the Skaladeska mess. It was hell trying to keep personal baggage from influencing your professional life—especially when they were entwined.

  “Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Helen said briskly, “let’s get our strategy in line. Fortunately for you, you and I are the only ones who know you had a terrorist in your custody and allowed him to walk—”

  “Suspected terrorist,” he growled. “And as Varden pointed out, we have no valid charges to bring against him personally.”

  Helen’s lips flattened. “Give me a chance. I’ll find some.”

  “He doesn’t want Marina with the Skalas any more than we do.”

  “Don’t you find that curious?”

  “Of course I do. But I believe him. And that means we’re on the same side in that, at least. I also believe he did what he could to make sure we escaped from Siberia five years ago. He could have killed me, but he didn’t. And Marina believes he gave her certain information that made it easier for us to get away.”

  “So what did Varden tell you that will actually help us?” Helen said. “Anything? It sounds to me as if he is merely protecting himself, while playing both sides.”

  “He wouldn’t tell me—claimed he couldn’t, didn’t know for certain—where they were going.”

  Helen’s expression spoke for itself, and Gabe rushed to defend his decision. “Look, he made it clear that if I didn’t release him, take what information he chose to give me, then Marina—and the rest of us—would be in more danger. If the Skalas learned he was detained, they’ll cut him off. But with him being free to communicate with his home base, he could do more to help Marina and Sanchez. He wants both of them out of there as soon as possible. I believe that. And I didn’t have any other reason to hold him, Helen. There was nothing—”

  “You could have put him in a cell and let him stew for a bit. I’d’ve liked a chance at him, too.”

  “We’re on a t
ime crunch for Marina and Sanchez to get treatment. I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. And don’t forget, Varden’s a doctor. He knows how to treat the cuprobeus bacteria. But he needs to have access to the antibiotic…which is not here.”

  “And if he was going to get it, he is going to need access to the Skaladeskas.” Helen seemed to contemplate this then accept it. “All right, I guess what’s done is done. Can’t say I’d have made the same choices, MacNeil, but you generally know what you’re doing.”

  “Generally?”

  “Unless you’re sleeping with the woman involved.” She gave him a level look. Outraged, he opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. “Sophie Ratachoux.”

  He shut up. She had him there.

  And, damn. Between Sophie—who’d been one of his colleagues—and Marina, well, maybe he wasn’t as balls-out clearheaded as he should be. And maybe that was why Bergstrom had ended up in a desk job inside; he didn’t trust himself out in the field anymore. Thoroughly irritated, Gabe fixed Helen with a look. It was his turn to ruffle someone’s feathers. “Not when I was sleeping with you.”

  She lifted her chin, but he saw the faint wash of pink on her cheeks. “Yes, you were amazingly clearheaded during our affair. That tells me everything I need to know.”

  By the time Gabe caught up to how his comment had backfired—and “affair” was such a superficial word for what they’d had—Helen had changed the subject. “So we have a blackout caused by a bunch of copper bugs, a deadly bacteria that keeps cropping up and could potentially go wide, an infected civilian consultant and entomologist who are in the custody of the terrorists responsible for it, a missing CEO…where do we go from here? The CDC is already working on an antidote to the bacteria—I sent them everything we have, and so far we’ve been able to keep it out of the news.”

  Gabe nodded. “Right. Inez is working on the jump drive we found in Siberia, cross-referencing the data and list of names on there with every event, meeting, consortium, election, whatever, to see if there’s any place a number of those people will be at the same time. There’s got to be something else in the works besides that power outage. It wasn’t enough damage to anyone or any industry.”