by Alex Archer
Annja nodded. “Fine, fine. Whatever.” She rested her hand on the wheel lock of the door leading out of the arena. “Just let me get the hell out of here already, would you? Gregor’s body is starting to smell for some reason.”
“That’s due to some of the chemicals we pumped into him to accelerate his reaction time and thought processes. They’re probably just leaking from his orifices and his wounds.”
“Wherever they’re leaking from, it’s really beginning to stink down here,” Annja said.
Dzerchenko and Tupolov smiled.
Annja heard a hiss and turned around.
At the far end of the arena, she could see grill-work high up on the wall. A faint yellow gas was seeping out of it.
She spun around. “What the hell is that?”
Dzerchenko’s smile widened. “Just a little security for Tupolov and me.”
Annja shook her head. This was getting ridiculous. “I told you that I would agree to answer your questions. There’s no need for any gas.”
“What if you try something on us? After all, you’ve still got your sword.”
Annja hefted her blade. How she wanted to cut them both open. Instead, she frowned again. “I thought you wanted to ask me questions about it. Isn’t it better if I have it available for you?”
“We’d prefer you put it away.”
Annja smiled. “Turn the gas off.”
Tupolov shook his head. “Not yet.”
Annja glanced back at the grates. More of the yellow gas floated into the arena. Already she was starting to feel faint and somewhat woozy. Why would Tupolov and Dzerchenko want to gas her when they needed her to answer questions?
It didn’t make sense.
Annja clenched her jaw. Those bastards weren’t going to ask her questions at all. It had been a stall tactic in order to get the gas ready to pump in. They don’t care one little bit about what I can do, Annja thought.
They want to turn me into another Gregor. Only better. One equipped with a sword.
Annja looked up at the window. She held up her sword and pointed at them. “This isn’t going to work. I know what you’re up to. I won’t let you do it to me like you did to Gregor.”
Dzerchenko and Tupolov just laughed and pointed at the yellow gas rapidly filling up the arena area.
Annja turned and looked back at the grates.
I have got to get out of here before it’s too late.
Otherwise both Bob and I will die.
35
The gas continued to seep into the arena. Annja wasn’t sure what kind of gas it was, but she knew for sure it was beginning to affect her. She tried to keep herself higher than the gas, which seemed to hover at about waist level.
Once it knocks me out, they’ll drain the room and then come in and get me, Annja thought. After that, I’m the guinea pig I never wanted to be.
She glared up at Dzerchenko and Tupolov. They were engaged in conversation and not looking at her. How many times have they done something like this? she wondered. It’s already old hat to them.
The thought of all the other people they’d probably killed made Annja sick. If not for me and Bob, I have to find some way to avenge their deaths at least.
Was she just being silly? Since when did she feel the need to avenge people she’d never even met before? It was a weird feeling that came over her.
What, am I channeling Joan of Arc now, too?
Annja frowned. The gas. It had to be the gas. The yellow mist was floating higher now, roughly on the same level as her stomach.
She hefted the sword. I wonder if this blade can shatter glass?
Annja moved farther back into the arena. Dzerchenko and Tupolov still paid her no mind.
She grinned. That’s right. You boys just keep on about your business and don’t mind me. As far as you know or care, I’ll be unconscious soon enough.
Annja judged the distance and the angle. It just might work.
But what about me? How am I going to get up there to escape?
The viewing platform stood about ten feet above the arena area. And there was no way Annja could leap that high on her own.
Her head swam.
I have to try, she thought. I have to try to jump it. And if I fail, then at least I might take one of those sick bastards with me.
She backed up some more and turned the sword so it sat in her hand like a spear. I hope my aim is decent.
Annja aimed the tip of the sword right at the space between Dzerchenko and Tupolov. With any luck, she might rip them both apart. And if the sword penetrated the glass, then there might be a chance the gas would dissipate through the break.
Annja shook her head. It’s the only option I’ve got.
She took one more step back, then jogged forward and hurled her sword.
As the sword rocketed toward the window, Dzerchenko and Tupolov suddenly saw the movement out of the corners of their eyes. As if in slow motion, they both turned. Annja saw the looks of surprise dash across their faces and she smiled.
Dzerchenko and Tupolov might have been ingesting stem-cell shakes, but their reaction to the sword looked incredibly slow to Annja. Dzerchenko started to move forward and bumped into Tupolov, who had turned to run in the opposite direction.
The tip of the sword impacted the glass.
Annja heard the crash as it shattered through, piercing and sending zigzag fault lines scoring through the rest of the viewing-window panel.
But the sword didn’t stop there. It kept moving through the glass and in the next instant, it ripped into Tupolov’s body from behind, shish-kabobing him as the tip jutted out of his chest.
He screamed once and then fell silent.
Annja wasn’t through. She took a running start at the wall, trying to generate momentum as she did so. As she moved, the yellow gas churned in her wake.
Annja hit the base of the wall and drove herself up, taking another step off the wall as if she was running up it vertically.
She reached up and grabbed the ledge.
She grabbed with her other hand and then pulled herself up and into the laboratory.
Dzerchenko had been knocked off his feet when Tupolov took the sword in his chest. Bob was nowhere to be seen.
Tupolov was definitely dead. Annja grabbed her sword and ripped it out of his body. Then she went over and hauled Dzerchenko up by his lapels and thrust the sword blade under his chin.
“Turn off the gas!” she screamed.
He nodded, already coughing as some of the gas leaked into the laboratory. Annja watched as he punched some buttons on a control panel and then leaned back against it, coughing some more.
“Where is he?” she said.
“Who?”
“Bob.”
Dzerchenko pointed at Tupolov. “You killed him in cold blood.”
Annja nodded. “And you should remember that. I’ll do the same thing to you unless you do exactly what I tell you to do.”
“Why did you kill him?”
“You would have killed me,” Annja said.
Dzerchenko shook his head. “It wasn’t about killing you. It was about using your talents to enhance our experiments. You would have truly been the unstoppable soldier we’ve always dreamed of creating.”
Annja shook her head. “I’m no one’s soldier.”
Dzerchenko spit a stream of blood out of his mouth. “Bah, another idealist who thinks she doesn’t have to stand for anything.”
“The only thing I’m interested in standing for right now is my life and the life of my friend Bob.”
Dzerchenko nodded. “Yes, yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear.” He eyed her. “But tell me something. Do you really think you’ll get away with this?”
Annja frowned. “Get away with what? I just want to leave.”
“Yes, but it’s really not that easy, now, is it?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well, obviously, Bob is in need of medical care. And there’s really not a doctor ar
ound these parts for miles. The closest hospital is back in Magadan.” He grinned. “You’re a long way from rescuing Bob, my dear.”
“Stop calling me that,” Annja said.
Dzerchenko shrugged. “As you wish.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s back in the holding room. He’s fine right now, but as I’ve already warned you, moving him would be a grave mistake.”
“So what would you have me do—leave him here?”
Dzerchenko coughed once and spit a bit more blood. “I doubt very much you’d entrust him to me. Unless I’m mistaken.”
Annja shook her head. “You’re not.”
“So, your option is to either move him and watch him die, or leave him here while you go get help. Quite the choice.”
Annja looked at him. “What is it you want, Dzerchenko?”
“I want amnesty, of course. I don’t want to be tied to this fiasco. Tupolov is dead—let him take the fall for it.”
“Wow, I’m in awe of your loyalty.”
Dzerchenko waved her off. “Please. We always knew it might come to this. And we were prepared to do what was necessary to ensure our own survival. We had to make sure we weren’t prosecuted for what we’ve done here.”
“But I thought you said you had help from higher-ups. Surely they wouldn’t allow you to get into trouble,” Annja said mockingly.
Dzerchenko pushed himself off the control console and took a step around Tupolov’s body. He bent and patted Tupolov on the head before looking back up at Annja. “Our backers aren’t the people who are overtly in power. Nor would they be willing to expose themselves for the sake of two doctors. They’re interested in results, not in controversy.”
“I see.”
Dzerchenko sighed and then stood back up. “We are something of a deniability, if you get my meaning.”
“I do. But that doesn’t make your life any easier.”
“No. It does not.”
Annja looked around. There was a lot that could implicate both of the scientists. “So, what now?”
“I propose something of a truce,” Dzerchenko said.
Annja smiled. “You’re kidding me.”
“I assure you, my dear—” Dzerchenko caught himself. “Sorry. I assure you there is nothing humorous about my proposal. At the end of the day, I must be a pragmatist, as I’ve said before.”
“And ensure your own survival,” Annja said.
“Exactly.”
“So how does this work? I leave you here with Bob? I go get help? Then what? You disappear or something?”
Dzerchenko took a breath and let it out slowly. “Actually, I think I’d probably be fine right where I am. I think I can go right back to playing the role of Father Jakob, the poor, unaware soul who had a network under his feet and never knew it.”
“Oh, come on. You really think anyone will fall for that?”
Dzerchenko smiled. “Never overestimate the intelligence of the average person, Annja. They are more gullible than most people would admit.”
“So, Tupolov takes the fall?”
“Yes. He will be seen as the main instigator of this mess.”
Annja pointed at the computers. “They’ll shut all this down. Confiscate the entire setup.”
“Perhaps. But I will get more equipment.”
“And you’ll continue to do what you’ve been doing.”
Dzerchenko smiled. “Would you believe me if I told you I’d be a good boy now?”
“Definitely not.”
He laughed. “Then I won’t insult your intelligence.”
Annja hefted her sword. “What guarantee do I have that you won’t kill Bob as soon as I leave?”
“Why would I?”
“Spite?”
Dzerchenko shook his head. “I have no reason to kill Bob. And I’m more than content with fading away for the time being. You go. I’ll look after Bob while you’re gone. When you get help and are on your way back, simply call me on my cell phone and let me know so I can extricate myself from this.”
“And resume your role as the village priest.”
Dzerchenko spread his arms. “These poor people, they need all the spiritual guidance I can offer.”
Annja frowned. “The Bible. You ever read that book, Dzerchenko?”
“Of course. My role demands I am well versed in it.”
“Any of it ever stick with you?”
He laughed. “Not one silly word of it.”
“You’re a real man of God.”
Dzerchenko leaned closer. “I’m a real man of myself, Annja.”
Annja didn’t like it. She hated making a deal with Dzerchenko, but she needed his expert help to take care of Bob. A serious gunshot wound wasn’t something she could afford to take lightly, even if he’d already been patched up. One small misstep could reopen the wound and Bob could bleed to death. Annja was determined not to see him die twice. Especially after losing Gregor.
“I need a minute with Bob before I go,” she said.
Dzerchenko lit up like a bad aluminum Christmas tree. “I take it we have ourselves a deal?”
“Yes.”
Dzerchenko held out his hand. “Care to make it official?”
Annja seriously thought about cutting his hand off, but resisted the urge. Instead, she simply looked at him. “If you double-cross me, I will slice all the skin from your body and roll you in salt.”
Dzerchenko merely grinned. “That actually sounds like it might be fun.”
36
“You’re leaving me here?” The look in Bob’s eyes made Annja’s heart ache. She could tell it was taking all his strength to maintain his sanity.
“Your wound is too critical to try and get you out of here myself. It could tear open the sutures, and you’d bleed out before we got out of the village. I can’t have that.” She took his hand. “I saw you die once already. I’m not going through that ordeal again.”
He sighed. “And the psycho doctor?”
“He says he’ll take care of you.”
Bob smirked. “You believe him?”
“I don’t have much choice. I’m kind of stuck here.”
“What’s he get out of the deal?”
“Amnesty. His partner, the one I killed, takes the fall for all of this stuff, and he plays up the role of the victim in it.”
Bob frowned and cleared his throat. “The poor village priest caught up in the middle of some horrible experiment. Tidy. He’ll come out looking none the worse. Meanwhile, all sorts of people are dead.”
Annja slid her parka on. “It’s the best solution to the problem we’re facing here.”
“It’s not a solution at all. That guy will get off and be free to keep doing what he’s been doing. More people will die.” Bob sighed. “I’d almost rather you killed him now and not worry about me.”
“I can’t do that,” Annja said.
“Kill him or leave me?”
Annja smiled. “Leave you, pal. I’m getting you out of this situation intact. I swear it.”
Bob nodded. “Where is he now?”
“Cleaning up the place so there’s no evidence tying him to this. I don’t know. Hell, he could be getting back into his priest robes for all I know.”
“Don’t be long,” Bob whispered.
Annja squeezed his hand. “I won’t. I promise. I’ll be back as soon as I can get some real medical help to transport you back to Magadan.”
Bob’s eyes shone in the dim light. Annja gave him one last squeeze and turned away.
Back in the laboratory, Dzerchenko had indeed changed back into his robes. Annja shook her head. As a priest, he looked utterly disarming and kindly. But she knew what he really was—a monster of the worst magnitude.
“I’m leaving.”
“So I see.”
Annja thumbed over her back. “You keep an eye on him. Both eyes. And you’d better make sure he’s good to go. As soon as I get back, I’m getting him the hell out of here.”
&nb
sp; Dzerchenko smiled. “I still know how to take care of people, Annja.”
“Yeah, I know. You did a good job patching him up. Just make sure he stays that way. You’re his guardian angel now. And if you screw that up, you won’t like what I do to you.”
Annja turned and left the laboratory. She quickly traversed a dimly lit tunnel to the set of stairs that led to the kitchen of the church. Annja stood in the doorway looking at the dim gray light of dawn just starting to peek into the church. The old lingering scent of incense hung in the air, and Annja took a deep breath.
Please keep him safe.
She ducked down the center aisle and then opened the front door. A breeze blew into her, but the air felt warmer than it had overnight. For the first time in a couple of days, Annja could see clear sky overhead. A break from all of the snow would be a welcome change. She headed down the main street of the village. She needed a truck or a car, something she could use to drive back to Magadan and get help.
She looked around. Most of the village looked to be one giant snowdrift. And even though there was no more snow falling, the wind blew the light, fluffy flakes up like a desert dust, clouding her vision. Annja could see piles of snow, but couldn’t figure out if any vehicles lay beneath them.
She needed help.
A thin plume of smoke wafted out of a stovepipe by the café. The windows were fogged up. Annja smiled. The cook might help her if she asked.
She knocked on the door and waited. Another brisk breeze sent a puff of snow into her face. She felt it melt and the ice-cold water run down her face.
On the other side of the door, she could hear the clicks of a bolt being thrown back. There was a grunt and then the door swung open.
A blast of hot air belted Annja like a right cross. She leaned back and then smiled. “Good morning.”
The cook recognized her and smiled. She stepped back and invited Annja inside.
Annja stepped in and looked around. No one else was in the café. The tables were all set. The cook rested her hands on her hips and smiled broadly. “Da?”
Annja frowned. Communicating was going to be a challenge. “I need a car. Or a truck.”
