—Oh dear. Scream, or not. It doesn’t matter. You are in my power now. So think about that and behave accordingl—
Fuck.
What did I do? I didn’t think. My hand just… flew. One right hook to the jaw and Beria crumpled to the floor like a wet towel. I’m glad I knocked that little rat’s lights out but I’m in trouble now, serious trouble.
It’s getting hot in here. Think, Mia. Beria’s not going to stay unconscious forever. The right move is to kill this piece of shit, him and everyone in here. Survive at all costs. We can be out of Russia by morning. That’s what I should do, but I won’t. I don’t want to kill anyone anymore, not unless I have to. I’ll lose everything. Billie. My research. I’ll lose myself.
Don’t draw attention to yourself. That’s also a rule…. Assassinating the highest-ranking military officer in the Soviet Union is probably not the best way to keep a low profile. Beria will be mad but he’ll get over it. I mean, the man has other fish to fry. I can continue my work, see my project through to the end. I can see Billie. That’s the plan. The little rat gets to live. I get to walk out the front door, hopefully.
Here we go. Open the office doors, no one’s here. That corridor seemed much shorter when I came in. I’ll trace my steps back. I don’t want to get lost in the house and walk in on an MGB poker game…. Dining room is clear….
One of the goons is in the lobby. Smile, Mia. Big smile. He’s not doing anything. I think this might just w—He’s reaching for something! There’s nowhere to run but the way I came in, nothing to duck behind. Flowers? He’s handing me a bouquet. Why on earth would he give me a bouquet?
Consent? Any girl who walks out of here is a threat to Beria. But if they accept a bouquet, it will be that much harder for them to claim it wasn’t consensual. All right, I’ll take your stupid flowers.
—Thank you for the bouquet.
More smiling. He’s opening the door for me. I wonder what happens if you refuse to t—
—IT’S NOT A BOUQUET! IT’S A WREATH! MAY IT ROT ON YOUR GRAVE!
Shit. That was Beria. I need to not be here right now. The MGB asshole is closing the door. I guess he’s not afraid to turn his back on an unarmed girl. Bad call. He’s only five feet away but that should be enough to get some momentum. Elbow up. Slam his face into the door. Bam! Left arm around his neck, grab his pistol with the right.
Where’s Beria? Good. He ran when he saw me grab the gun. Deep breath. I’m burning hot but I’m in control. Take a couple of steps back and open the door. Let’s see what’s out there.
One more MGB at the bottom of the steps. One reading in the car. I’ll use the guard I’m choke-holding as a shield. He’s getting harder to move, he must be coming about. I’m pushing against his back as hard as I can. I can’t see a thing now but we should hit the stairs right about…
*TAK*
*TAK*
Gunshots. Shit. My human shield just took two to the chest. He’ll go limp soon and I can’t shoot back while I’m holding him. This asshole must weigh close to two hundred pounds. I need to cover some distance before I drop him. Damn, he’s heavy! PUSH, MIA! PUSH!
Guard number two is right beside me now, raising his gun hand. His arm is thirty degrees ahead of me, but he’ll aim for my chest before he pulls the trigger. I have a smaller arc to cover if I aim for his foot.
*TAK*
His hand dropped. His whole body’s bending in pain. The foot is a complex machine: twenty-six bones, loads of muscles and ligaments. A hundred things send pain signals at once when a piece of metal shatters them at the speed of sound. I’ve got the tip of my gun on his head.
*TAK*
So much for not killing anyone. Where is the last one? Is he still in the car? No, the car door’s open. Where the hell is he? To hell with him, I’ll just take the car….
Crap. The keys are gone. I can’t leave on foot; we’re in the middle of nowhere. They’ll have two hundred men combing through these woods in twenty minutes. The good news is he doesn’t have a gun or he’d have used it by now. I’ll put my head to the ground, see if he’s hiding anywhere.
Oh yeah, I see your ugly black boots behind the limo, asshole. You better have the keys on you or I—Wait… I don’t need his keys. The limo keys are in a bowl in the lobby. He’s closer to the door but he won’t see me until I run by him. RUN!
Now he sees me. The door’s still open but he’s… right behind me. Up the stairs and—
—AAAAAGH!
He’s got me by the hair! I’m in midair staring at the ceiling. This is going to hurt.
The gun! I dropped it when I hit the ground. Where is it? Ugh. Asshole stepped on my hand. GET UP, MIA!
He’s found the gun. He’s on one knee, picking it up. Fight or flee? He’ll shoot me in the back if I go for the door. The suit of armor! That ugly thing is holding a sword. I just hope that thing’s real. Yes. The sword weighs about four pounds. The center of percussion should be about two feet from the hilt. If I swing hard enough, it should remove a head. The gun’s in his hand now. One! Big! SWING!
Gotcha….
Beria’s back at the end of the corridor, staring at his headless henchman on the ground. Do I kill him now? I’ll never see Billie again if we have to leave Moscow. Screw him. I’m not giving up everything I care about for this jerk. I’ll just throw the sword down and give him a nice wiggly hand wave.
I’ve got the keys. Time to go.
41
Night Train
I shouldn’t have told Mother. I should have just kept my mouth shut and went on with my life. Best I can do now is stare at the window, eat my cereal and Butterbrot while she tells me we have to move.
—We have to move, Mia.
Here we go.
—…
—We have to pack our things and get out of Russia. Tonight.
I probably can’t ignore her all morning. Deep breath.
—I’m not going anywhere, Mother. Not after all the work I put in. And we need milk. This one’s gone bad.
—Perhaps I need to remind you of recent events. You just killed three people, inside the house of Stalin’s right-hand man. You did it right in front of him, and you let him live.
—I let him live precisely so we wouldn’t have to move! That was the whole point.
—You are not thinking straight.
Maybe not. But I’m still not going anywhere.
—He doesn’t know who I am, Mother. He’s the only one who’s seen my face. What’s he going to do? Knock on every door in Moscow himself on the off chance I’ll open the door? Besides, what would he arrest me for? I don’t think Beria will want to draw attention to his extracurricular activities.
—I think you gravely underestimate the lengths to which a man will go to reclaim his pride.
—Oh, Mother. That’s what he does all day, every day. He’ll arrest a couple more people, torture them a little longer. If that doesn’t do it, he’ll find himself a revolution he can crush. Trust me, he’ll be back to his old self in no time.
—I will not take that chance, Mia, not with the Tracker closing in on us. We have to move.
This again.
—Enough about the Tracker, Mother! He’s…
—He is what? A myth? Do you truly believe our ancestors were killed by a figment of their imagination?
—No, Mother. I don’t. But I won’t give up everything because of him. I’m sorry. Fuck him.
—MIA! The Tracker will slaughter us if he gets the chance.
—So will any number of people. There’s evil everywhere, plenty of it. World War II is barely over and they’re at it again in Korea. Five years, Mother. That’s how long they waited before sending more people to die for nothing. Sixty million dead wasn’t enough, apparently.