by Rik Stone
Her contact stood proudly next to a shiny, black Anadol Devrim sedan, appearing blissfully unaware of what was going on under the shine; the rot that had worked its way into the sills or the pieces of rubber threshed from the tires. It was a wreck, but he stood with his elbow, which looked uncomfortably high, on the roof while holding the stance of a movie star. Anna cringed. Instinctively, she hadn’t liked him when they first met. She hadn’t trusted him then and felt no more inclined to do so now. Dropping his arm, he put his hands in his pockets and thrust his hips forward as if he were about to urinate. She shook her head in dismay while raising her eyebrows, and moved towards him.
“Ah, Miss Anna, it’s so nice to see you again. But you look different. Are you alright? You appear to be overheating? Is it cold in Russia?” He stepped up and pushed a sweaty hand into hers.
She pushed out her bottom lip and exhaled a breath up and over her face. “Cold … yes, I suppose that’s one description.”
He stood too close and she was reminded of the body odor she had found so distasteful the last time she was here.
“Can I get your luggage?” he asked.
“No, this is all I have. I don’t intend staying too long,” she lied. Because of her distrust, she would have him drop her in Icmeler, from where she would walk along the coastal path to the marina and meet Yuri and Mehmet.
Batur shrugged and went to the car. “Will you sit in the front with me?” he asked hopefully. “It will be cooler.”
True, it would be more comfortable in the front, but the thought of being next to him made her shiver. “No, I’m fine in the back.”
Miserably, he held the door open. She got in and made herself as comfortable as was possible on the sunken back seat of the old banger and settled for the forty kilometers or so of rough, winding road to Icmeler. As the car pulled off, she checked through the back window to make sure no one followed, but the only thing she saw trailing them was a deep blue cloud of smoke from the car’s exhaust. She smiled and leaned back, luxuriated in thoughts of Jez. How would he be coping in the Siberian waste? As good an operative as he was, she was glad he hadn’t come along. She wanted him by her side, of course, but it had been clear he hadn’t yet returned to physical or mental strength, whatever he might have thought. Compared to the soldier he had been, his mind had dulled through lack of fieldwork.
She warmed as thoughts drifted to their parting. That alone was worth the wrench of separation and one area in which he had made a full recovery. The fiery passion of their goodbyes had been draining. So much so, she could live on the memory for some time to come. The smile that was already fixed on her face changed to a broad grin. Then guilt heaved in her chest, remembering how she’d pretended to be shot when walking by his side towards Minsk railway station. Because of it, he became wanted for her murder as well as the flesh trafficking operation Otto Mitrokhin had been running. And then what did she do? She deserted him – left him to it. He was on the run with no way of proving his innocence. Michel had convinced her that putting Jez’s back against the wall, stripping him of everything he held dear, was the only way to bring the problem to a satisfactory conclusion. When Jez came out of the coma and was told of the ruse, he had agreed it was the right thing to do – but that only made her feel worse.
“Ahead,” Batur said, softly cutting into her thoughts.
Anna leaned forward to look over Batur’s shoulder – a blue and white car with the word ‘Polis’ written on the side stood fender to boot with a black sedan. A police sergeant and a uniformed officer stood with two rather square men who were similar in shape but of considerably different heights. They stood with their backs to Anna. They both wore black suits, maybe detectives. But whatever they were and whatever was happening couldn’t be of interest to her. A fleeting thought made her question why Batur had even bothered to mention their presence. She was still making a mental assessment when the sergeant stepped out onto the road and waved them down. Her stomach knotted and apprehension filled her. The blockade was only a couple of kilometers from where Yuri and Mehmet had blown up one of Ozel’s nightclubs.
“Keep going,” Anna said, but Batur pulled the car over behind the blue and white, and got out.
“Out of the car, please, miss,” the sergeant demanded of Anna.
“Would you like to explain what this is about first?”
His face hardened. “No, I fucking wouldn’t. Get out of the car or we will have to come in and drag you out.”
The tone was vicious. Normally she’d take a stand, but – she got out.
“I’m Sergeant Kudret. This is one of my officers,” he said, pointing to the other uniform. “This is an official blockade, and that is all you need to know. So, what is your name and why are you visiting Turkey?”
How did he know she didn’t live here? Worriedly, Anna took her passport from the small bag clipped to her waist and handed it to Kudret.
“That’s who I am, but I don’t have to tell you anything about why I’m here.”
“Oh, you don’t?”
“No, I don’t. I’m working out of the Russian Embassy and travel under diplomatic status.”
Kudret laughed. “I see, very well.” He turned to the driver. “Batur, you’re finished here … On your way.”
He nodded and jumped into the car as quickly as his rather ungainly little legs would take him. Anna watched the vehicle pull away and silently cursed the little man, no longer wondering how Kudret knew who she was. She was taken by surprise again when Kudret threw a punch that glanced off her cheek. The sting burned and she felt slightly disoriented. Her natural instincts told her to fight back and when the uniform with Kudret stepped forward to take a hold on her, she moved in a half-step towards him and made a straight-fingered assault. The strike was high and two of her long fingernails tore into his left eye. The officer dropped to his knees, screaming and clutching at his face. His earsplitting wail blocked out all sound, so she failed to hear whoever it was that crept up behind her and covered her nose and mouth with a cloth. Chloroform! She struggled to breathe. She didn’t have the strength to release herself, so she relaxed. When the assailant took the weight of her body, she lashed out with hands and feet. Kudret was standing in front of her and had to arch his body to dodge a kick. But whoever it was holding her was unnaturally strong – it had to be the bigger of the two suits – and her kicking eventually slowed, the resolve in her mind turning to chaos as she drifted. Her arms fell limply by her sides as if a puppeteer had cut the strings and then a veil of darkness clouded her brain.
Chapter 9
Anna’s eyelids flickered as she tried focusing through dulled vision. Where was she? Her mouth was parched, her head pounding, colors swirled and shapes danced, but she couldn’t draw meaning from it. Then the truth hit her and she wished she could crawl back to wherever her mind had just come from. Her arms were stretched out in crucifixion and her body suspended above the ground. The white, fitted blouse she had worn so neatly was ripped open to the waist and smeared with blood. Her bra hung down by her sides, cut through the centre. Hurt throbbed and shock came on seeing her breasts. The mounds of flesh had been fitted with steel bands that were tightened close to her chest.
Self pity jarred her spirit.
“Hgnn,” she whimpered, as she stared at blue veins protruding from purple flesh. Her nipples stood out like mauve spikes and a trickle of blood had spilled from under the steel bands and dried to her ribcage. She attempted to straighten a leg and stretched just enough that her toes touched the floor, but for that her shoulder joints paid the toll. “Hgnn,” she cried. And then pain and anxiety jumped her mind to awareness, and sanity returned. Get a grip … Anger, let anger have its head … Let the training take command.
There had been occasions in her career when she had been subjected to horrendous conditions – by her own people. All part of the training. Think of those times. Worse than this: in training they had put a sack over her head, walked her about all day to disorient he
r mind, weaken her spirit, no food, minimal water. They had spun her around until she was dizzy, kicked and punched her. And how often had they used barbiturates to depress her system, to break her in order to strengthen her resolve? She’d become hardened to it all. Bastards as they might be, these people were amateurs next to her trainers. So they want to break her? Okay, let them try, she’d been there before. She lifted her head. The room was dimmed, but she was above ground level; a boarded window allowed shafts of spiraling sunlight to squeeze through the slits. Tiny flying bugs held in sunbeams appeared to be trying to break free from an invisible force field.
How long had she hung there? There was no way of telling, but it had to have been some hours. The cast from the sun was low and fired crimson laser beams: evening or early morning, it depended on which direction the room was facing. That’s it, continue to rationalize; her arms were strapped to a wooden yoke and her body dangled above the floor, but that knowledge wouldn’t give her the strength to pull herself up and break free. Face it, she told herself, for the meantime you’re helpless.
The sound of voices spilled over from outside. The door handle was depressed. The talking continued and the door pushed fully open. False light rushed in to fill the room.
“Ah, Anna, at last you’re awake. I thought I heard you crying.”
Anna flinched and hatred filled her soul. Sergeant Kudret.
“Borislav, she’s awake!” he shouted.
The smaller of the two suits from the roadblock came in and then the bigger man followed. The expression on the big man’s face made him look a little slow-witted. Anna decided that, if she should somehow get free, even with his bulk, he would be the easiest to take down and could be left until last.
“Good,” the smaller man said. “I haven’t much time. You may have already guessed when the sergeant shouted; I am Borislav.” He grinned. “Right, Anna, enough with the introductions. Of course it will be clear to you why you were taken down, but you must be wondering what it is we want that we keep you alive.”
The accent, the name Borislav, he was speaking Turkish, but he was Russian. Anna tried to speak but as her jaw opened her tongue clacked as it dryly released itself from the roof of her mouth.
“Give her water, Anton,” Borislav said in Russian. “She can’t tell us anything if she can’t talk.”
The big suit, Anton, brought a glass of water and surprised Anna when he smiled gently and gingerly offered it up to her lips. It was warm and tasted stale, but she sipped greedily before demanding her rights.
“I’m on a diplomatic mission here in Turkey and you have no right holding me,” she said.
“Tsk! We don’t have time for cat and mouse, Anna. I’m returning to Russia soon and need to get this sorted, so please … just answer the questions properly.”
“I demand diplomatic imm–”
Kudret punched her in the stomach. Anna blew hard, winded by the unexpected assault. Before she could catch her breath, he’d taken a nipple between thumb and index finger and twisted it cruelly. Hurt pulsated, but she steeled herself. Taking her mind to a different plain, she looked past Kudret and stared defiantly into Borislav’s eyes.
“I really don’t have the time for this,” he sighed.
She winced under Kudret’s pressure, but refused to make a sound.
“Tell me three things,” Borislav said, “and I will release you from your torment.”
The diplomatic immunity angle wasn’t working, so she made to concede. She would fall back on lying. “What is it you think I can tell you?” she stuttered resignedly.
“First, you should know that your colleagues in the Siberian Gulag have been terminated. We know General Petrichova is behind them, but we need their real identities to complete the loop.”
The news felled her. That meant Jez would be dead, too. In the passing of a moment, the inner cavities of her heart were overcome by a dark coldness. She gulped, felt she might gag. But then automatic survival dropped a curtain in her mind, separated emotion from reality. Think of the training. Her resolve regained strength. She didn’t know how, but they knew about the Gulag. That, however, didn’t mean anything else they were saying was true. Weaken a prisoner with meaningful lies. Tell them anything that might destroy their inner core. And that’s what he was doing now; he was lying. Defiance filled her.
Borislav seemed to read her thoughts and shook his head. “Second, I need to know the identities of the two men out in the Urals. They’re dead also, but it cleans things up for you to tell me.”
That was a mistake. The words came as music to her ears. Jez and Pavel were alive. She had no doubt. If the camp really was attacked and the two men hadn’t yet returned, there was no way anybody would get the better of Pavel’s Arctic experience.
Again, Borislav seemed to read her mind and hurried past the question to make his third demand. “Finally, who have you come to meet in Icmeler and why?”
Kudret let go of her nipple and she sighed with relief, clamped her mouth closed, and let her head drop. As far as she was concerned this little chat was over. Now she knew what he wanted, she would take some time to think of a plausible story. Stop listening and ignore any pain they might inflict. Think of a tale. Repeat it in your head as a mantra. Believe it. Borislav gently slapped Kudret’s upper arm and they disappeared behind her. Kudret came back, grinning close up into her face. She had come up with half a tale to tell them so she allowed a moment to listen.
“Warm up the crystals, Anton,” Kudret said. The smell of petrol was followed by the wheel of a cigarette lighter scratching the flint. “There, that shouldn’t take long.” He moved his face close to hers. “Anna, you will eventually answer Borislav’s questions, so you could save yourself from some of the pain. The man you hurt at the road block, he was my partner and has been my best friend for as long as I can remember.”
Anna raised her eyebrows, tilted her head, and widened her eyes as if to say, ‘That’s life.’
“It’s okay you are flippant now because soon you will be my best friend. You’re perfectly stacked for my tastes and when I’m finished with you, you will be begging for me to fuck you. And it will all begin after you’ve given the answers to Borislav’s questions.” He licked her cheek before looking beyond her and over to the Russians. “Is that stuff ready yet?”
“Yes, just about.”
“Your comrades are preparing me a potion. A potion that makes a woman love a man no matter what she might think of him – Heroin. As soon as Anton has finished dissolving it into the silver paper you’ll have your first taste, and not long after that you’ll be mine.”
At first shocked because she knew she couldn’t fight such a drug, she realized that it would take more than a few hours for him to get her into a state of compliance and Borislav said he was in a hurry. She had to believe it was another trick, that they were trying to weaken her spirit before using whatever chemical they did have.
Kudret disappeared behind her. Hands came around her body and cupped her breasts. “Nice,” he said. Releasing the hold, he swept his hands down her sides, over her hips, stopping at the hem of her skirt. His hand ran up the inside of her thigh, but was halted when Anton said, “The liquid’s ready.”
Kudret eased her skirt up as far as the tight material allowed and reached out a hand to take the syringe from Anton, then changed his mind. “Just a minute,” he said, and left the room. He came back in with a small table. “Don’t want to spill any. Put it on there,” he said, standing the table next to where Anna hung.
Anton placed the cup-shaped silver paper on a saucer and put it on the table. Anna stared nervously, absorbing the situation. They had just made another mistake. The fluid was clear, same as heroin, but there was just too much of the stuff. If they injected that into her it would surely kill her, and they didn’t want that to happen yet. Also, it didn’t look hot. The vapors should have been rising, otherwise how would addicts chase the dragon? No, it wasn’t heroin. Her guess was Sodium Amatol. T
hey were trying to frighten her by telling her it was heroin to help the truth drug take quicker effect.
Kudret put a hand on her upper thigh to steady her. The hyperemic needle pierced her flesh and she felt the fluid force its way into her thigh muscle – not vein – not heroin. Her face involuntarily distorted and the objects before her deformed, as if she were looking at them through thick, clear jelly.
A voice gurgled. “Give it a minute.”
This was definitely not heroin as Kudret had threatened. Truth drugs had been practiced on her before. She knew the feel, the affect. She went with the flow, let her head drop and her face relax. She allowed the sedation to take its affect without fighting it. Her mind became confused, but she clung on. She was a trained soldier. She knew how to overcome. She knew how to keep control.
Kudret fired his lighter up close to her face. The smell of petrol rose. A spark burnt her cheek as he pushed up her head and pulled at her eyelid, moving the flame across her eye. “She’s ready,” he said.
Borislav came forward and spoke softly. “Why are you here in Turkey, Anna? What is your mission?”
Keep control. Stay in command. “I’m meeting a man in Icmeler,” she said, almost dribbling the words from her lips. “My boss is interested in taking over the drug business there.” Keep believing the story is true.
