by Dirk Patton
Slowly, Igor stood and, after scanning the surrounding area, worked his coat open and reached inside for a rough scarf. After slinging his rifle down his back, he reached up and grasped an eave.
Slowly, he pulled himself onto the snow-covered roof, pausing and listening as soon as he was off the ground. Other than another bark from a dog far to the north, silence. An inch at a time, he wormed his way toward the peak. The snow was deep and hampered his movements, but he made steady progress. His biggest concern was not alerting the occupants to his presence by moving carelessly and creating a sound. But he also worried about the roof collapsing beneath his weight.
He was on his belly, spreading the pressure across as much of the surface as possible in hopes the crudely built shack wouldn’t collapse beneath him. It took several long minutes to reach his destination, the rusting pipe that served as a chimney. Smoke curled out of it, climbing a few feet into the sub-zero air before settling back and wreathing the home at ground level. Heat from the metal had kept a small circle surrounding the flue free of snow and ice. Pausing, he took another look around before reaching up and stuffing his balled-up scarf into the pipe.
Moving somewhat faster, he slithered down the front of the roof and peeked over the edge, spotting the door. As cautiously as possible, he swung around and dropped to the ground with hardly a sound. Certainly nothing that would be heard more than a very short distance away.
Drawing his knife, he put his back against the wall to the side of the entrance. It wasn’t long before he heard the faint sounds of a man coughing from the interior. There was a string of muted curses in Russian, then the door was yanked open and the old man he’d spoken with rushed out, turning to look up at the chimney pipe.
Igor went into motion the instant the door moved, lunging forward and wrapping an arm around the man’s neck. There was an instant of resistance, but the struggles ceased when he held the blade in front of his face and rested the ice-cold steel against his cheek.
“Inside,” Igor mumbled in Russian.
Together, they moved through the open door, which Igor gently closed with his foot. In the middle of the room, an ancient, cast iron stove squatted on the floor, a rusting and dented pipe running to the ceiling. Smoke billowed from around its closed door and with only two small candles providing light, it was next to impossible to see more than a few feet.
“Where is she?” Igor hissed in the old man’s ear as he pulled him along.
His guess about the number of rooms had been right. The main room, where they were, and another space created by a blanket hanging from the ceiling. The old man didn’t answer and Igor clamped down tighter with his arm as he moved forward. With his prisoner shielding his body, he shoved through, coming up short when he saw Irina’s uncle lying on a dirty, straw mattress. He was bound at the ankles with his hands pulled behind his back.
Smoky air followed them through the curtain, but Igor ignored it despite the burning in his eyes and throat. Spinning the old man around, he slammed him against the wall and pressed the tip of his knife against his neck with enough pressure to draw a trickle of blood.
“Where is she?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“Irkutsk,” the man gasped, blinking rapidly as tears from the smoke streamed down his face.
“Why is he here?” Igor asked.
“I knew the guards would come looking,” he said, voice rough in the hazy air. “I give him to them, they give me things.”
Igor nodded in understanding, but worry for Irina fueled his anger.
“Who took her to Irkutsk?”
The old man stared back at him, not wanting to answer.
“Who?” Igor hissed, moving the knife until the bloody tip was in the old man’s line of sight.
“Bratva,” he finally answered.
Igor cursed and shoved his face closer.
“Why?” he asked, though he was afraid he knew the answer.
“You know why,” the old man said, then had to pause and cough. The smoke was getting thicker. “They supply women to the guards.”
“Why did they leave him with you instead of killing him? He’s just deadweight to them.”
The man stared back for a moment, then his eyes slid away from Igor’s angry countenance.
“You help them, don’t you?” Igor asked when no answer was forthcoming.
The man still didn’t answer and seemed unable to meet his accuser’s gaze. Igor clenched his jaw tightly, muscles along the side of his face popping out. Glancing to the side, he met Shevchenko’s eyes. The man nodded. Turning back to the front, Igor looked into the old man’s eyes for a beat, then shifted the blade and stabbed up into his chest, piercing his heart.
Stepping away, he let the corpse drop to the floor and bent over Shevchenko, quickly cutting his bonds with the bloody knife. Sitting up, the older man pulled a filthy rag from around his lower face that had been used as a gag, then accepted Igor’s help to get to his feet.
“We didn’t know who they were,” he gasped, pulling his coat up to filter the air he was breathing.
“Stay close,” Igor said, turning and leading the way to the door.
The two men exited the building, Igor leading the way and making sure they weren’t going to run into any of the other villagers. Everyone had apparently returned to bed and they were able to slip around the house and disappear into the forest. Strickland covered their backs until they were in the concealment of the trees, then hurried to meet up with them.
“The target?” he asked Igor, glancing at Shevchenko before turning toward the north in response to a not so distant bark.
“Da,” Igor said, pointing south and leading the way.
“Where’s the girl?” the SEAL asked.
“Bratva took her,” Igor growled. “We go to Irkutsk.”
“What the hell’s Bratva?”
“Mafiya. Russian mafia,” Shevchenko answered when Igor didn’t.
Strickland nodded and didn’t say anything else as he fell into rear guard position.
41
We jumped when a strident alarm suddenly blared from speakers mounted in the ceiling. A moment later, all the lights that had been turned off for the night popped on, flooding the hall in brilliance.
“Better go,” I said, stepping out of the alcove and heading away from the Emergency Department.
I turned the corner, going in the direction the two nurses had come from. Hopefully, there was a café ahead that kept coffee going for the night shift. If there was, I was willing to take a chance that it would have a door we could use to exit the building. After all, there had to be more than one smoker that worked in the hospital and they all couldn’t be sneaking into the stairwells.
The corridor ended in a T-intersection, a large sign on the wall directly to our front pointing the way. To the right was radiology, a cantina to the left. We were moving fast, but not running when I rounded the turn and ran directly into a man wearing coveralls. He was about half my size and bounced off my chest to carom against the wall before ending up on his ass in the middle of the floor.
I was about to keep going and ignore him, but the wad of keys hanging from his belt had jingled loudly when he’d gone down. Taking a closer look, I realized he was part of the maintenance staff, which meant he probably had a key for every door in the building and would almost certainly know the layout like the back of his hand. If there was anyone that could get us out quickly, it was him.
Reaching down to help him to his feet, I looked at his face for the first time and realized he was an aborigine. Probably half the age of the old man who’d been polishing the floor upstairs. Our eyes met and his mouth fell open in surprise, then the expression morphed to fear and he began trying to scramble away on his back. Taking a big step, I bent, grabbed his upper arm and hauled him to his feet. He shrank away, panting like he’d just run an Olympic sprint.
“How do we get out of the building?” I asked, not releasing my hold on his arm.
He st
ared at me, mouth still open, then looked at Lucas and Rachel.
“Don’t take me!”
He whispered as if afraid to speak too loudly, his accent vaguely Australian but not one I’d heard before.
“An exit! Where’s the closest one?”
I shook his arm to pull his attention back onto me. He looked at me again, terror in his eyes. What the hell?
“I won’t hurt you,” I said, trying to sound calm despite the adrenaline pounding in my veins. “Just show us the way out.”
“Please! Don’t take me to Baralku!” he said, trying to break free.
He was strong. Stronger than he looked. The arm I held was solid muscle beneath the sleeve of his coveralls. But he didn’t fight. Only tried to pull away. I squeezed hard enough to make him wince in pain and glared at him.
“All I want is a way out,” I said. “Get us to a door and you’re free to go.”
He stared at me, eyes large with fear. From around the corner behind us I heard the sound of running feet. Heavy boots. Had to be a police response team.
“Now!” I hissed.
I shoved my face close to his and caught the smell of fear coming off him as he recoiled in horror. Whatever had him so spooked, maybe I could use it to my advantage.
“Help us, or I will take you! Understand?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, almost comically if he wasn’t so filled with terror. After a long moment, he nodded his head and seemed to gather himself before looking over his shoulder.
“The cantina,” he said in a shaky voice. “We can go through the kitchen. Out the delivery door.”
“Show me!” I said, not about to release his arm.
I might have longer legs than this guy, but I had a feeling he’d run like a rabbit if I let go. Keeping a tight grip, I walked beside him and we hurried down the hall. As we moved, he put as much space between our bodies as possible, frequently shooting frightened glances at me. Occasionally he would glance behind at Rachel, but seemed uninterested in Lucas.
“What are you so afraid of?” I asked as we made another turn, following the signs to the cantina.
He shook his head rapidly, as if trying to flush something out of his ears.
“He thinks you’re dead,” Lucas said when it was obvious the aborigine wasn’t going to answer.
The man gasped when Lucas spoke, looking over his shoulder and slowing. I yanked hard on his arm to keep him moving, but the comment had stunned me.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Baralku is the island of the dead in aborigine mythology.
I looked at my friend, but now wasn’t the time to have this discussion. We’d reached the cantina and moved quickly to the swinging door that opened into the back. Pushing through, I glanced around and drew my weapon. Strangely, the man I was forcing to help us seemed completely unconcerned when he saw the pistol.
The kitchen was like any other commercial food prep area I’d ever seen. Cramped. Shiny floors and lots of stainless steel counters. We navigated the maze, passed through a curtain of wide strips of clear plastic hung from the ceiling, then came to a stop in front of a large, rollup door.
“Open it, and you’re free to go,” I said to the man.
I released his arm, but not before I positioned myself to stop him from bolting. He snatched the keys from his belt, then fumbled through the ring until finding one that fit the lock. It opened with a click and I tested it, satisfied when the panel shifted up a few inches.
“Lucas,” I said, tilting my head at the man I’d terrorized.
Lucas took his arm, led him to a nearby iron pipe that ran from floor to ceiling, then used the second set of handcuffs to secure him. We didn’t need him to dash off and find the cops the instant we stepped outside.
I raised the door a few more inches then lowered myself to the floor and peered out into a dark delivery bay. Twisting, I looked as far in each direction as I could, but the only view I had was of a concrete wall that screened the area from public view. Two large dumpsters were shoved against it, far to the left and that was all that was visible.
Standing, I grabbed the handle and pulled the door up, keeping my hand in place while Rachel, then Lucas, slipped through. I started to follow, but turned back at the last moment to face the man who’d helped us.
“You think I’m dead?” I asked, feeling a little foolish.
He bounced his head up and down.
“I was told about you by my grandmother. I always thought it was rubbish meant to scare small children. But you and the woman. You… you’re real!”
He moved his free hand close to the manacled one and made the same sign of spiritual protection the old man upstairs had when he’d seen me.
“How do you know? What do you see?” I asked.
“Your soul,” he said in a whisper.
I looked at him for a beat, then ducked through and rolled the door closed behind me. Lucas was already halfway to end of the bay where it opened out into the parking lot, but Rachel was waiting for me.
“What did you ask him?”
“Asked him what he saw,” I said quietly as we hurried to catch up with Lucas.
“And?”
“He said he saw our souls.”
“What?” Rachel asked, fear briefly flashing across her face.
I shrugged and kept us moving.
“Do you think…”
I cut her off with a raised hand. This was neither the time nor place for a conversation about our souls and who might or might not have seen them. As crazy as that sounded. Right now, we had to get the hell out of here before enough cops showed up to lock down the entire area.
42
“Got a vehicle?” Lucas asked when we came to a stop next to him.
He was at the end of the tall concrete wall, leaning out and peering around the corner. I stuck my head out as well, sighing when I saw police lights flashing at several different locations.
“Yeah,” I said. “Main visitor’s lot.”
“Where the hell’s that?”
I took a moment to orient myself, finally spotting a distant sign that pointed the way to the Emergency Department entrance.
“That way,” I said, pointing. “Beyond the sign and around the building to the right.”
Even though the ambulance bay was screened from sight by the building, the reflections of multiple red and blue flashing lights lit the night in that direction. There had to already be a hell of a lot of police cars that had arrived. As we watched, two more approached with light bars strobing in the darkness. They were coming from the same direction I had earlier, tires squealing in protest as they whipped into the drive and screeched to a stop.
“Not good,” Lucas mumbled. “Can we abandon it and find another?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Dog’s in it, and a good supply of weapons we may need. Those were Russians in the elevator, if you didn’t notice, and they were probably there to kill you. Fuckers ain’t gonna stop.”
“I’ll go,” Rachel said, drawing our attention. “They won’t be as likely to be worried about a woman by herself. I’ll walk down the street then cut across the parking lot. You two head over there and I’ll pick you up.”
She was pointing at a distant strip mall, if that’s what they’re called in Australia, that sat at the corner of where the road by the hospital intersected with a main boulevard. It was probably half a mile away and I could see the bright lights of what seemed to be a gas station or convenience store.
“Not a good idea,” I said. “The Russians could be in the parking lot, waiting for us. You’d be on your own.”
“You really think they’re going to stick around after all this?” she asked.
“I think they don’t give a fuck,” I said. “They’ve got the locals by the balls. What’s the worst that could happen? They get busted and inconvenienced until someone from the PM’s office calls the cops and tells them to kick ‘em loose?”
“Okay, fine,�
� Rachel said. “How else do you think we’re going to stroll past all those cops without someone asking questions?”
“More coming,” Lucas said. “Better decide quick, because they’re going to start locking down the entire area and we’ll never get out of here.”
“Look, they won’t recognize me,” Rachel said, taking my arm. “Even if they did see me, I’m dressed like I work here. They won’t realize I was with you.”
She had a point and so did Lucas. We were fast running out of time.
“Go,” I said.
Rachel gave me a smile and hurried around the corner, heading for the sidewalk on the far edge of the large delivery area. I watched her for a few seconds, then Lucas and I stepped out of cover, heading in the opposite direction. Glancing to the side, I pointed at Lucas’s head when I saw how visible the white bandages were.
“That holding your brains in?”
“Piss off,” he said, but reached up and unwound the gauze.
It was too dark for me to get a good look at the wound beneath, but I could tell the bullet had carved a deep furrow in the side of his head. He stuffed the dressing in his pocket and we kept moving, resisting the impulse to hurry. The only thing that would draw the cops’ attention more than two men out for a stroll immediately after a shooting was two men hurrying to leave the area.
“Next time, don’t forget to duck,” I said.
Lucas gave me a look but apparently didn’t have a good response. By this time, we’d reached the sidewalk that bordered the hospital grounds. It was broad with a strip of green grass to the side, dotted regularly with ornamental shrubs. There were evenly spaced decorative light poles that cast broad swaths of illumination.
“Let’s cross,” I said, nodding at the far side of the road as I stepped off the curb.
Across the street was a series of low buildings that looked like medical offices. There were few lights on the exterior of the buildings and there weren’t any that brightened the sidewalk. Both of us moved with our heads on swivels, ready to disappear into the darker office area if a police car started in our direction.
