“He is a liar, komandir!”
“You call me a liar, suka?” Strelok says trying to move his shoulder close enough to his nose to wipe off the blood. “I just happen to keep a lie detector in that cupboard over there. Looks like a Geiger counter and is one actually. Captain, take a measurement of the money on the table and then of Dasha’s purse. If the Geiger doesn’t tick higher, she can call me a liar.”
Suddenly, Agent Fedorka’s pretty face turns pale. She quickly fishes her wallet from her bag and tosses it to the floor, stepping away from it.
“Don’t worry, dorogaya, it’s not even remotely dangerous. Captain Maksimenko, why does your agent take me for a complete idiot?”
Agent Fedorka gives him a murderous glare but Maksimenko shows her out of the room.
“We’ll need to have a chat about this later, Fedorka. Go, get yourself patched up in the operation car,” he tells her. “On behalf of a grateful Motherland, thank you for your sacrifice.”
Maksimenko turns to the two commandos.
“And you, Vlasov — wipe that grin off your face or I’ll get you posted to the Exclusion Zone for the rest of your contract time!”
“Yest, komandir!” the apparently senior Spetsnaz quickly replies.
“Release him. I’ll handle Strelok myself from here on. Wait for me outside.”
With one of his hands held to his still bleeding nose, Strelok sways to the bathroom and splashes water to his face. Keeping a close eye on him and with one hand on his holstered Fort-15 pistol out of precaution, Maksimenko reaches for a towel lying on the bed. Before tossing it to Strelok, he smells at it.
“Envy by Gucci,” he says deeply inhaling the scent emanating from the fabric, “and a bit of moist pussy. Excellent mix.”
“You bet,” Strelok replies, sobbing and wiping more blood from his broken nose.
“Does she really suck in… performing her duty?”
“What’s your guess?”
“You lucky bastard. Did you really beat her?”
Strelok bows his head, shunning the captain’s eye.
“You’re one lucky son of a bitch, Strelok. Had this happened with her off duty you’d be worried about more than just a broken nose. Fedorka has a black belt in kyokushinkai karate—”
“That explains her sporty body. Good God, one has to love those thighs!”
“—and what kind of jerk have you become to beat women, anyway?”
“I only hook up with girls who have a hang for it. She was begging for it, I’m not kidding!”
“Strelok, Strelok… what happened to the Marked One?”
Strelok looks into the tiny bathroom mirror and closes his eyes.
“If you had been where I’ve been and seen what I’ve seen, you would know. First thing I remember from the Zone is somebody saying over me ’at least death would have saved him from the dreams’. It didn’t. I am tired. My body is worn out. My soul is tired and worn out. I lost myself to the Zone or the Zone has lost me, I don’t know anymore.”
“Boo-hoo,” Maksimenko says and mimics a sob.
Strelok laments on. “Sometimes I just want to explode from all the pain eating me up inside. Especially at night when I find myself alone. Sometimes that designer stuff you feed me helps me to contain it. But sometimes — I just explode.” He stares at his bloody hand and then makes a fist. “Sometimes I just get into a frenzy. I’ve become a Zone myself with my own emissions. Dasha was right — I’m all fucked up!”
“The radiation on those bank notes—” Maksimenko starts asking but Strelok finishes his sentence.
“—was a nice trick, huh?”
“Strelok, Strelok. You sly dog.”
Drying up more blood with the towel, the Stalker repeats his earlier question. “What am I charged with?”
“Nothing, apart from being a once great guy who became a failure.”
“Guilty as charged. Kill me now, save your Service the efforts and me the dreams.”
“Maybe tomorrow. Today you’re still needed.”
“No charges then?”
“Stop asking that stupid question.”
“Than what was all this overkill about?”
“You were difficult to find. Besides, I have to lubricate my field skills — they are a little rusty after two years in the Big Land. Sorry about your nose.”
“I think it was Dasha who broke it, eventually—damn, does it hurt—what’s her real name, anyway?”
“Never mind.”
“Suits her well.” Strelok sniffs on his nose. “You got something for me?”
With an ear to ear smile, Maksimenko fishes a vial from his pocket. Strelok greedily reaches for it but Maksimenko keeps it away from him.
“First things first, Marked One.”
“Let me guess—once more, the SBU lost some super-important documents and I’m to get them from a mutant-infested secret lab?”
“No.”
“Sidorovich being infected by a deadly virus? Please do tell me it happened. I won’t move as much as my little toe to find his antidote.”
“The trader’s doing well.”
“Another of your invincible Spetsnaz squads got stuck in an anomaly field?”
“That did happen recently but Lieutenant Priboi took care of the situation. You know, the new commander at Cordon.”
“Preventing Freedom and Duty from slaughtering each other, let’s say by sniping their latest commanders?”
“Yesterday’s joke ain’t funny today.”
“Damn, too bad. Last night I was dreaming about an upgraded Vintorez rifle. Long scope, integrated silencer and all. Then perhaps I’m to help you find someone? A Stalker knowing too much and up to no good?” Wiping blood from his nose doesn’t prevent Strelok from giving Maksimenko a grin. “Like myself?”
Maksimenko takes a white paper box from his breast pocket. “Want a cigarillo?”
“Since when do you smoke cigarillos?”
“Recently.” Maksimenko ignites a match and lights up a cigarillo. “Cohibas are above my pay grade but I got myself a box of Mini Silvers.”
“Stinks like a snork’s fart.”
“Your den smells weird anyway. Want one or not?”
“Very much, thanks. Now, could you remind me why I am actually running such errands for you?”
“An unlimited supply of designer-made painkillers, lots of money and the Motherland’s eternal gratitude.”
“You can add a new nose to that… shit, that black belt bitch devastated it. Anyway, who are we after this time?”
Maksimenko shows him the photograph he got from Colonel Kruchelnikov. Seeing it, Strelok chokes on the smoke and breaks out in a heavy coughing rush.
“Is that a joke?” he eventually asks, still coughing.
Maksimenko shows him the vial once more. “Do we have a deal or not?”
Strelok leans over the sink with fresh blood gushing from his nose. “I can’t believe you want me to be in this.”
“Yes or no, Strelok!”
Strelok stares at the vial and bows his head. Maksimenko lets the drug fall into Strelok’s outstretched, almost begging palm.
“Good doggie. I knew we could count on you to bag Tarasov,” he says with satisfaction as he watches Strelok taking two pills of the designer painkiller right away and flushing them down with water from the tap.
The Stalker looks up from the sink and looks into Captain Maksimenko’s eye. “Please don’t say I’m going to the New Zone.”
With his remaining eye narrowed, Captain Maksimenko’s look resembles that of a shrewd fox.
“There’s no need for that,” he says blowing a smoke ring. “Tarasov will come to you. You’ll be the bait, Strelok. Where’s your PDA? I want you to send him a message.”