by P. W. Child
“I realize that our methods must be a shock to you . . .” he started coyly, but Nina was fed-up listening to all these self-righteous types apologize obligingly. To her they were all just terrorists with manners, thugs with big bank accounts and, on all accounts, just political bullies like the rest of the rotten hierarchy.
“No, actually. I’m used to being treated like shit by people who have bigger guns,” she retorted harshly. Her face was a mess, but Bern could see that she was a great beauty. He watched her baleful glance at the Frenchman, but he ignored it. After all, she had reason to hate Baudaux.
“Your boyfriend is in the infirmary. He suffered a mild concussion, but he will be okay,” Bern reported, hoping that the good news would please her. But he did not know Dr. Nina Gould.
“He is not my boyfriend. I’m just fucking him,” she said coldly. “Jesus, I’d kill for a cigarette.”
The captain was visibly shocked by her reaction, but he attempted a weak smile and immediately offered her one of his cigarettes. By her base response Nina had hoped to distance herself from Sam so that they would not bother to use them against each other. If she could persuade them that she was in no way emotionally attached to Sam they could not hurt him to sway her, should that be their agenda.
“Oh, good, then,” Bern said as he lit Nina’s fag, “Baudaux, kill the journalist.”
“Oui,” Baudaux barked, and promptly left the office.
Nina’s heart stopped. Were they testing her? Or did she just compose Sam’s funeral dirge? She played it cool, dragging hard on her cigarette.
“Now, if you please, doctor, I would like to know why you and your colleagues traveled all this way to come and see us if you were not sent?” he asked her. He lit his own smoke and waited calmly for her reply. Nina could not help but contemplate Sam’s fate, but she could not lead on that they were close at any costs.
“Listen, Captain Bern, we are fugitives. Like you, we had a nasty brush with the Order of the Black Sun and it kind of left a shitty taste in our mouths. They frowned on our choice not to affiliate with them or become pets. In fact, we had a very close call very recently and we were forced to seek you out, because you were the only alternative to a slow death,” she hissed. Her face was still swollen and the awful welt on her right cheek was turning yellow at the edges. The whites of Nina’s eyes were a map of red veins and the bags under her eyes attested to her lack of sleep.
Bern nodded contemplatively and took time to suck at his cigarette before speaking again.
“Mr. Arichenkov tells us that you were going to bring us Renata, but . . . you . . . lost her?”
“So to speak,” Nina inadvertently scoffed, thinking of how Purdue betrayed their trust and threw in his lot with the council by spiriting Renata away at the last minute.
“How do you mean, ‘so to speak,’ Dr. Gould?” the stern leader asked in a calm tone that carried some serious malice in it. She knew she would have to present them with something without giving away her closeness with Sam or Purdue—a most trying navigation, even for a sharp girl like her.
“Um, well, we were on our way—Mr. Arichenkov, Mr. Cleave, and me . . .” she said, omitting Purdue deliberately, “to deliver Renata to you in exchange for joining you in our fight to bring the Black Sun down once and for all.”
“Now get to the place where you lost Renata. Please,” Bern coaxed, but she detected a brooding impatience in his soft tone, the tranquility of which would not last much longer.
“In the mad chase, pursued by her peers, of course, we were involved in a car accident, Captain Bern,” she recounted thoughtfully, hoping the simplicity of the incident would be sufficient reason for them to have lost Renata.
He raised one eyebrow, almost looking amused.
“And when we came to, she was gone. We supposed that her people—those who pursued us, reclaimed her,” she added, thinking of Sam and if he was at that moment being killed.
“And they just did not put a bullet in each of your heads to make sure? They did not recapture those of you still alive?” he asked with a certain trait of military trained cynicism. He leaned forward on the desk and cocked his head with a malicious bob, “That is precisely what I would have done. And I was part of the Black Sun once. I know full well how they operate, Dr. Gould, and I know they would not have swooped up Renata and left you breathing.”
For once, Nina was speechless. Even her cunning could not save her with a plausible alternative to the story.
Is Sam still alive? she thought, wishing desperately that she did not call the wrong man’s bluff.
“Dr. Gould, please don’t test my civility. I have a talent for detecting bullshit and you are feeding me bullshit,” he said in a cold politeness that made Nina’s skin crawl under her oversized sweater. “Now, one last time, how is it that you and your friends came out alive?”
“We had help from an inside man,” she said quickly, meaning Purdue, but she stopped short of identifying him. This Bern was, from what she could gather as far as sizing people up, not an unreasonable man, but in his eyes she could tell that he was of the species “not-to-be-fucked-with”; genus ”bad death” and only a fool would wiggle that thorn. She was remarkably quick with her answer, and hoped she could utter other helpful sentences off the bat without fucking up or getting herself killed. As far as she knew, Alexandr, and now Sam, might well already be dead, so she would benefit from being forthcoming to the only allies they still had.
“An inside man?” Bern asked. “Anyone I know?”
“We didn’t even know,” she answered. Technically I am not lying, baby Jesus. We did not know he was in league with the council until then, she prayed in her mind, hoping she would be favored by whatever god could hear her thoughts. Nina had not reverted back to her Sunday school thoughts since she defected from the church crowd as a teenager, but until now she had no need to pray for her life. She could almost hear Sam chuckling at her pathetic attempts at pleasing some deity and mocking her all the way home for it.
“Hmm,” the robust leader sat thinking, running her story through his cerebral fact-checking system. “And this . . . unknown . . . man snuck away Renata while making sure the pursuers did not come to your vehicle to check if you were dead?”
“Aye,” she said, still covering all bases in her head as she replied.
He smiled in amusement and flattered her, “It’s a stretch, Dr. Gould. It’s spread very thinly, that one. But I’ll buy it . . . for now.”
Nina visibly sighed in relief. Suddenly the large commandant lunged over the table and shoved his hand hard into Nina’s hair, clenching hard and pulling her violently forward to him. She shrieked in panic and he pushed his face painfully against her sore cheek.
“But if I find out you fucking lied to me, I’ll feed your leftovers to my men, after I personally fuck you raw. Are we clear, Dr. Gould?” Bern hissed against her face. Nina felt her heart stop and she almost collapsed in fear. All she could do was nod.
She never saw that coming. Now she was certain Sam was dead. If the Brigade Apostate were such psychotic beasts, they would definitely not be acquainted with mercy or restraint. For a while she sat, dumbfounded. So much for the ill treatment of female captives, she thought, and she hoped to God she did not accidentally say it out loud.
“Tell Baudaux to bring in the other two!” he shouted to the post at the gate. He stood on the far side of the room, looking out at the horizon again. Nina’s head was bowed, but her eyes shot up to look at him. Bern seemed contrite when he turned around, “I . . . apologies would be redundant, I suppose. It is too late to try and be nice, but . . . I do feel bad about that, so . . . sorry.”
“That’s okay,” she forced out, her words almost inaudible.
“No, really. I have . . .” he had difficulty in speaking, humiliated by his own conduct, “I have an anger problem. I get frustrated when people lie to me. Truly, Dr. Gould, I do not normally hurt women. That is a special sin I am saving for someone special.”
Nina wanted to hate him as much as she hated Baudaux, but she simply could not. In a strange way she knew he was sincere and instead found that she understood his frustration all too well. As a matter of fact, this was precisely her predicament with Purdue. Much as she wanted to love him, no matter how she understood that he was flamboyant and loved danger, she just felt like kicking him in the bollocks most of the time. Her furious temper had been known to erupt senselessly too, when she was lied to, and Purdue was the man who detonated that bomb without fail.
“I understand. Really, I do,” she said plainly, numb with shock. Bern noted the change in her voice. It was crude and real this time. When she said she understood his rage, she was being dead honest.
“Now, that I believe, Dr. Gould. I will try to be as fair as possible in my judgment,” he assured her. Like the shadows retreated from the rising sun, his demeanor switched back to the evenhanded commander she had been introduced to. Before Nina could figure out what he meant by “judgment” the gates opened and she saw Sam and Alexandr.
They were a little roughed up, but over all they looked all right. Alexandr looked weary and absent. Sam was still suffering from the blow he got on the forehead and his right hand was bandaged. Both men looked solemn at the sight of Nina’s injuries. Anger hid behind submission, but she knew that it was only for the greater good that they did not lash out at the thug who hurt her.
Bern gestured for the two men to take a seat. They were both restrained by PlastiCuffs behind their backs, unlike Nina, who was free.
“Now that I have had a word with all three of you, I have decided not to kill you. But—”
“There is a catch,” Alexandr sighed without looking at Bern. His head hung despairingly, his yellow-gray hair a mess.
“Of course there is a catch, Mr. Arichenkov,” Bern replied, sounding almost surprised at Alexandr’s obvious remark. “You want refuge. I want Renata.”
All three looked at him in disbelief.
“Captain, there is no way we can arrest her again,” Alexandr started.
“Without your inside man, yes, I know,” Bern said.
Sam and Alexandr stared at Nina, but she shrugged and shook her head.
“Therefore I am keeping someone here for surety,” Bern added. “The others, to prove their loyalty, will have to bring me Renata, alive. To show you what a gracious host I am, I will allow you to choose who stays behind with the Strenkovs.”
Sam, Alexandr, and Nina gasped.
“Oh, relax!” Bern threw his head back dramatically as he paced. “They don’t know they are targets. Safely in their cottage! My men are on point, ready to strike at my order. You have exactly one month to be back here with what I want.”
Sam looked at Nina. She mouthed, “We’re fucked.”
Alexandr nodded in agreement.
Chapter 8
Unlike the unfortunate prisoners who did not appease the commanders of the brigade, Sam, Nina, and Alexandr had the privilege of eating with the members that night. Around a huge bonfire in the middle of the chiseled rock roof of the fortress everybody sat talking. Built into the walls were several booths for guards to watch the perimeter at all times, while the obvious watchtowers that stood on each corner of a cardinal direction were vacant.
“Smart,” Alexandr said, observing the tactical trickery.
“Aye,” Sam agreed, biting deep into a large rib he clutched in his hands like a caveman.
“I’ve realized that to deal with these people—just like those other people—you have to constantly think past what you see, or else they will catch you off guard every time,” Nina remarked accurately. She sat next to Sam, holding a piece of freshly baked bread between her fingers and breaking it off to dip into her soup.
“So you are staying here—are you sure, Alexandr?” Nina asked with a lot of concern, although she would not want anyone else but Sam to go with her to Edinburgh. If they had to find Renata, the best place to start would be Purdue. She knew he would surface if she went to Wrichtishousis and broke protocol.
“I have to. I have to be near my childhood friends. If they are going to get shot, I’ll be sure to take at least half these bastards with me,” he said, and raised his newly stolen canteen in a toast.
“You daft Russian!” Nina laughed. “Was it full when you acquired it?”
“It was,” the alcoholic Russian bragged, “but it is just about empty now!”
“Is it the same stuff Katya fed us?” Sam asked, pulling a hideous face in reminiscence of the vile moonshine he was given during the poker game.
“Da! Made in this very region. Only Siberia makes it better than here, my friends. Why do you think nothing grows in Russia? All the grasses die when you spill your Samogon!” he laughed like a proud maniac.
Across from the tall flames Nina could see Bern. He merely gazed into the fire as if he watched a tale play out inside it. His icy blue eyes could almost extinguish the blaze in front of him and she felt a twinge of sympathy for the attractive commandant. He was off duty now, one of the other leaders taking reign for this night. Nobody spoke to him and he was fine with that. At his boots was his empty plate and he scooped it up just before one of the ridgeback dogs got to his scraps. It was then that his eyes met Nina’s.
She wanted to look away, but she could not. He wanted to erase her memory of the threats he made to her when he lost his cool, but he knew he would never be able to. Unbeknown to Bern, Nina found the threat of being “fucked raw” by such a strong and handsome German not altogether repulsive, but she could never let him know that.
From the incessant hollering and babbling, music faded in. Just as Nina had expected, the music was typically Russian in melody with its upbeat tempo that made her envisage a group of Cossacks hopping out from nowhere in a line to form a circle. She could not deny that the atmosphere here was wonderful, safe and merry, although she definitely could not imagine that a few hours before. After Bern spoke to them in the main office, the three were sent to have hot showers, they were given clean clothing (more in keeping with the local flavor), and they were allowed a meal and one night’s rest before their departure.
In the meantime Alexandr would be treated as a fundamental level member of the Brigade Apostate until his friends should provoke the management to believe their application was a charade. Then he and the Strenkov couple would be summarily executed.
Bern stared at Nina with an odd longing that made her uncomfortable. Next to her Sam was talking to Alexandr about the layout of the area all the way up to Novosibirsk, to make sure they navigated the country correctly. She heard Sam’s voice, but the mesmerizing look of the commander made her body flush with immense desire she could not explain. Finally he rose from his seat, plate in hand, and went to what the men affectionately called the galley.
Feeling compelled to speak to him in a private capacity, Nina excused herself and followed Bern. She descended the steps to the short offshoot corridor where the kitchen was and, as she entered, he was coming out. Her plate slammed against his body and shattered on the ground.
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” she said, and collected the pieces.
“Not a problem, Dr. Gould.” He sank down next to the small beauty, helping her, but his eyes never left her face. She could feel his stare and felt that familiar heat rush through her. When they had gathered all the big shards, they stepped into the galley to dispose of the broken plate.
“I have to ask,” she said in an uncharacteristically self-conscious way.
“Yes?” he waited, as he brushed the excess chunks of soupy bread from his shirt.
Nina sank her face in embarrassment at the mess, but he only smiled.
“I have to know something . . . personal,” she hesitated.
“Absolutely. Whatever you wish,” he replied courteously.
“Really?” she accidentally spilled her thoughts again. “Um, okay. I might be mistaken on this, captain, but you have been leering at me a bit too much. Am I just imagi
ning it?”
Nina could not believe her eyes. The man blushed. It made her feel even more like an asshole to put him on the spot like that.
But then again, he did tell you in no uncertain terms that he would copulate with you as punishment, so don’t feel too bad for him, her inner voice dictated.
“It’s just that . . . you . . .” he struggled to reveal any vulnerability, so talking about the things the historian asked of him was nearly impossible. “You remind me of my late wife, Dr. Gould.”
Okay, now you can feel like a right asshole.
Before she could say anything more, he continued, “She looked almost exactly like you. Only her hair was down to the small of her back and her eyebrows were not as . . . as . . . groomed, as yours,” he explained. “She even behaved like you.”
“I’m so sorry, captain. I feel shitty for asking.”
“Call me Ludwig, please, Nina. I don’t want to get to know you, but we are beyond formalities and I believe those who have exchanged threats should at least be afforded the grace of first names, yes?” he smiled modestly.
“I agree fully, Ludwig,” Nina chuckled. “Ludwig. That is the last name I would have associated with you.”
“What can I say? My mother had a thing for Beethoven. Thank God she didn’t enjoy Engelbert Humperdinck!” he shrugged, pouring their drinks.
Nina squealed with laughter, imagining the stern commander of the meanest brutes this side of the Caspian Sea with a name like Engelbert.
“I have to concede! Ludwig is at least classical and legendary,” she sniggered.
“Come, let’s go back out. I don’t want Mr. Cleave to think I am moving in on his turf,” he told Nina, and placed his hand gently on her back to usher her out of the kitchen.
Chapter 9
It was freezing over the Altay Mountains. Only the guards were still mumbling under their breath, sharing cigarette lighters, and whispering about all kinds of local lore, the new visitors and their agenda, and some even wagered on the validity of Alexandr’s claim about Renata.
