Jason was about to say something else when he heard water running in the kitchen.
"I thought the generator was off," he said.
"Doesn't run the water," Adrian explained. "There's an artesian well up on the hill, feeds water down a pipe by gravity."
Maria came in from the kitchen, carrying a platter of sliced bread, sausage, and cheese. She placed it on the table and returned for a pitcher of water.
"Would you like some?" she asked Eglov.
He scowled. "Eat sausage that contains meat, steal nourishment from the death of defenseless animals?" He looked slightly ill at the thought. "No."
Jason got up slowly and went to the table as Maria continued in the same tone she might have used had their captors been invited houseguests. "You will have some cheese, then? I expect when the police arrive, you will not get a chance to eat again for quite a while."
What the hell was she doing, trying to get them killed ahead of time? Jason's eyes met Adrian's and then looked away.
"Police?" Eglov scoffed. "Do not make yourself look foolish!"
She shrugged. "Your disbelief does not change the facts. We were to meet them here."
In one step the Russian was beside her. He gave her face a slap that could be heard across the room. She staggered backward and almost fell. Jason lunged forward, only to be prodded in the chest by one of the other men's AK-47.
"Stupid cow!" Eglov snarled. "You think I would believe such a childish trick? The police will arrive only to find your bodies."
She wiped a hand across her mouth. "Stupid or not, they are coming."
She was staring at Jason.
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he had to assume she had done something in the kitchen.
Then it hit him. As a volcanologist, she would be familiar with gases other than the ethylene. He had an idea what was coming.
He nodded imperceptibly at Adrian. "She's right, Eglov. The place will be swarming with cops anytime now."
Adrian's expression turned from bewildered to knowing. He gingerly got out of his chair and, back to the empty fireplace, inspected the food selection. Without looking at Jason, he shrugged, then put a finger to his temple. The two gestures meant something akin to, I'm not sure what you mean but I understand, the silent signs that acknowledged that action of some unknown type was at hand.
There was an explosion in the kitchen, followed by what could have been gunshots.
"In here!" Maria yelled. "We are here!"
The two armed men reacted by swiveling around to point their weapons at the anticipated incursion of gun-wielding police. The distraction lasted only a second at most.
But it was enough.
Leaning backward, Adrian reached behind his head and brought both hands down with the claymore, the huge two-handed sword that hung over the mantel. So swift was the blow, the light gleaming from the hand-forged steel appeared as a single arc. A fraction of a second too late, the closest man swung his AK-47 to bear, only to have the blade sever his shoulder from his body. Arm and weapon clattered to the floor in a geyser of blood.
Jason ducked under the barrel of another rifle whipping back toward him, his shoulder throwing the muzzle upward as a burst of shots plowed into the ceiling. There was a downpour of plaster dust. Jason grabbed for the armed man's gun as the other hand stretched for the gunman's throat.
Intentionally or by chance, Jason's intended victim stumbled or stepped backward out of reach, leaving Jason staring at the leveled mouth of the AK-47 and the gleeful eyes of his victorious opponent.
Jason fully expected to die.
Instead, the man seemed to shift his shoulders slightly as his eyeballs rolled upward as though trying to see into the back of his own head. His knees buckled slowly as he sank to the floor and fell facedown. The knife used to slice the sausage protruded from between his shoulder blades. Behind him stood Maria, her blood-soaked hands clasped over her mouth.
She could not tear her eyes from the man sprawled before her. "Oh, my God, oh, my God," she whispered.
Then she spun, took a step, and vomited.
She shook off Jason's consoling arms. "Oh, my God," she repeated, "I've killed a man…"
She bolted for the bedroom. Jason could hear her retching.
"An' what aboot him?" Adrian asked, his sword pushed against Eglov's stomach. "It'd be a pleasure to slice him up like so much pickled herring."
"Do what you will," Eglov sneered. "It cannot be worse than suffering at the hands of Russian police."
"Letting him go doesn't make a lot of sense," Jason said.
Eglov was looking at him without fear. "There is a deal to be had here. My organization could use men such as yourselves."
Jason snorted. "Swell. I'd be afraid to sleep, afraid I'd wake up with a knife between my shoulders. No, thanks. It isn't my thing."
Eglov's eyes narrowed, making them appear even more slanted. "You are a fool if you think you can kill me and not pay for it. I command a virtual army of loyal followers."
Eglov's megalomania was becoming tiresome.
"I say we put th' man's disciples to th' test," Adrian said, gesturing to the gore-drenched floor. "Bit of a bother explainin' all this t' th' local constabulary if we turn 'im over to 'em."
"My cause will survive to see the capitalist-industrial complex crumble."
Jason literally saw red as a wave of rage surged through his consciousness.
For Laurin.
For Paco.
For three thousand Americans killed on a warm, clear September morning.
For the victims of all zealots who advanced their causes by killing innocents.
He nodded slowly. "For once, Eglov, you are not calling the shots." He ripped off the Russian's shirt. "We'll see how long the viper survives without a head."
Eglov watched with growing consternation as Jason began tearing the shirt into strips. "So, you will kill me."
Jason nodded. "Your lieutenants will have an opportunity to struggle on without you."
Eglov abandoned any pretext of unconcern. "What are you doing?"
Jason gave him a malicious smile. "Things are a little different when you are the one about to die, aren't they, Eglov? This time you're not slitting the throat of some unarmed fisherman or lumberjack. Makes you a little uncomfortable, doesn't it?"
"You are a fool to pass up the money you could make working for me, even more of a fool to bring the wrath of my followers down upon you."
Jason ignored him. Using the strips to bind the Russian hand and foot, Jason slung him over his shoulder. "Open the door for me, will you?"
Adrian did as he was asked. "But what…?"
"We'll send our pal Eglov to meet his much-loved natural world in fitting style."
Jason headed for the back of the house.
Adrian and Eglov guessed what Jason had in mind at about the same time.
"Surely you're not…?" Eglov said.
What false confidence Eglov had left vanished as he began to howl for mercy in English and Russian.
"Surely you would not kill a fellow human this way!"
"You'd rather I cut your throat?" Jason said, shifting the burden of the man's weight. "You're getting about as much of a chance as you gave your victims. Besides, letting nature's own creatures take care of you seems… well, appropriate."
The pigs grunted in anticipation.
As Jason returned to the house, the squeals of delight were becoming louder than the anguished screams.
Maria, pale and haggard, was leaning against the bedroom doorway. "I saw what you did."
"Fitting end, I thought," Jason commented. "By the way, brilliant move, mixing water with the dry ice."
"Huh?" Adrian asked.
Jason explained. "Carbon dioxide, when mixed in confinement with water, forms a gas. When the gas has no more room into which to expand, it explodes its confinement-in this case, the water bottles. Like gunshots."