I pray that I shall be home soon. It should not be much longer. I have done all that has been asked of me, and there is no longer any need for me to be here. My contribution is made. Other men can continue the work from here.
The letter seemed to end abruptly there. Beneath those paragraphs, it looked as though a new, separate letter began. The handwriting was the same but the color of the ink had changed and the writing was wilder, shakier, as if the letter had been dashed off in a great hurry.
Darling Sabine,
If you receive this, rejoice — it means that I have escaped that terrible place and am on my way home to you!
I am about to embark on a desperate voyage. There are others who are working here against their will, brilliant men whose families were threatened should they refuse to comply. Tonight we shall steal a submarine and strike out for South America, where I shall attempt to post this letter. We may not succeed. We may be shot, we may end up at the bottom of the ocean, we may be arrested the moment we set foot on Argentinean soil — but by God, we will have tried. We cannot do the things that they are asking us to do. I believe that I was put in this world to cure diseases, not create them. Other men may have their price for such things, but I do not.
If you receive this but I never make it home, know that I died with your image in my mind, your name on my lips and joy in my heart because you were mine. I hope that when you tell Frederic of me, you will speak of a man who finally found the courage to oppose that which he knew to be wrong. Guide him, my love, and teach him to be a man of honor and bravery.
I must go now. My hands shake, but not with fear. If I tremble now, it is at the prospect of finally coming home. May God hold you in his keeping and see me safely back to you.
Your own forever,
K
When he had finished reading the letters, Sam stared at them for some time without blinking or seeing. In his mind's eye he pictured Karl Witzinger, perhaps occupying this very room, lying on the bunk and wishing for nothing more than to be home with the woman he loved.
They had a life planned, Karl and Sabine, he thought. They were building something together, and then… I know the end of the story, for him at least. He didn't make it home. She got a letter saying he was dead. I wonder how he died. How she coped. Fuck, I wonder what they were asking him to do here that was so bad he needed to escape. What did he think was worse than working in a concentration camp — was he working on biological weapons? God… I wonder what they were trying to do in this place. Will we ever even begin to figure it out?
Chapter 23
Alexandr turned around, or at least turned as far as he could in the tight space, to look at Nina and Fatima. He raised a finger to his lips, but it was hardly necessary. Both women were well aware of the need for silence, especially at this point in their journey. Nina in particular wished that he would skip the dramatic gesture and just get on with leading them through the vents. It was dark and cramped and she was fighting the urge to have a proper claustrophobic meltdown.
When Alexandr had suggested that they use the air vents to get back into the labs, Nina had laughed. Despite the gravity of their situation, she found the idea of the three of them scrambling through the ventilation system like action heroes irresistibly funny — especially considering her fear of enclosed spaces. It was only when Alexandr dragged the chest of drawers over to the back wall, climbed on top of them and began unscrewing the vent cover that she realized that he was entirely serious.
She had protested then, saying that he must be mad and that there was no way it would work outside of a movie. But Alexandr had insisted that there was no other way of getting past the soldiers — unless Nina and Fatima were prepared to entertain the idea of killing them, which they were not. Nina did not even want to think about how Alexandr would have attempted to kill the PMCs. If there was anything worse than being trapped in an enclosed space with a crazy guide, it was being trapped in an enclosed space with a homicidal one.
Inch by inch they crawled right over the top of the PMCs at the end of the corridor. The first problem they ran into was the vent dropping away steeply, plunging downward to serve the other levels. Alexandr peered down into the darkness, muttering something to himself. Then he wriggled a hand down to his pocket and pulled out a tiny obsidian pebble. Carefully he released it and cocked his head to listen as it fell. Just on the edge of hearing, there was a tiny scraping sound wherever the stone touched the metal.
At the back of the line, Nina heard Fatima gasp then try to stifle it. Nina raised her head just far enough to see Alexandr's feet tipping up and disappearing into the black hole. Neither woman breathed. Then seconds later, they heard the soft, barely audible sound of Alexandr's laugh floating back to them. A sharp intake of breath from Fatima, then she also vanished into the darkness.
Nina dragged herself forward on her forearms and stared down the shaft. She felt her breathing becoming ragged and short. Adrenaline surged through her veins. All she wanted was to claw at the sheet metal and rip her way out into the cool open air of the corridors. She would take her chances with the soldiers, she would fight her way out if she had to, she would—
Then the vision of the silent ice station peopled only by skeletons flashed through her mind, and she realized that she had no choice. I feel like I'm going to die in here, she thought. I have no idea how I could plunge head-first down this pipe and not die. But if I don't do this, none of us are making it out of here… Forcing herself to take a few deep breaths, she inched toward the edge. She reached down and felt the drop, and suddenly she realized that it was not completely vertical. It fell away at just enough of an incline that she would have some control over the descent. Nina gritted her teeth and hauled herself into the chute.
"It's a long drop," Alexandr whispered, staring down through the gap left by the ceiling tile he had just removed. "If I can get to the other side I can lower you down part of the way. Wait there."
Jamming his limbs precariously against the walls of the metal tunnel, he clambered over to the other side of the hole and maneuvered himself around so that he was face to face with Fatima. "Here," he said, holding out his hands to her. "Take my wrists. Bend your knees when you hit the floor."
Fatima did as she was told, wriggling herself into position over the hole then letting Alexandr lower her as far as he could before she dropped. As soon as Fatima was out of sight, Nina charged forward as best she could in an army crawl, spurred on by the prospect of being in a room rather than a tunnel. She grabbed his wrists and let gravity take her, collapsing gratefully onto the floor as her shaking knees refused to hold her up. A moment later she heard Alexandr drop down behind her.
"I'll get the lights," Fatima whispered. "They're right over here."
"No lights!" Alexandr hissed. "They're bound to be patrolling. We need to work as far back within the room as we can, and with just the flashlights. Come with me — and stay down."
Crouched low, they scurried over to the workbench and sheltered behind it, letting its solid mass conceal them from the eyes of any PMC who might pass the glass door.
"This is going to be impossible," Fatima sighed. "How am I supposed to do anything if I can't access the bench?"
"It's only temporary," Alexandr reassured her. "I will figure out something to do with the window."
"Ok, we'll get to work in the meantime," said Nina, grabbing the pile of notebooks. "Are we in the right lab for the blood samples?"