“Yes, sir,” Alexandr said, and turned to head for his room.
Something did not feel right. He ascended the steel steps up to the long corridor where most of the men stayed. It was too quiet in the hallway and Alexandr hated the lonely sound of his boots on the cement floor, like a countdown to something awful that was coming. Far off he could hear male voices talking and something that sounded like an AM radio signal, or perhaps some form of white noise device. The scratchy sound reminded him of the excursion to Ice Station Wolfenstein, deep in the bowels of the station where soldiers were killing one another from cabin fever and confusion.
As he turned the corner he found his room door ajar. He stopped. Inside there was silence and nobody appeared to be in there, but his training had taught him not to take anything at face value. Slowly he pushed the door open all the way to make sure no-one was hiding behind it. Before him was a clear signal of how little the brigade trusted him. His entire room had been upturned and his bed linens ripped off to be searched. The whole place was in disarray.
Sure, Alexandr did not have much, but whatever he had in his room was thoroughly ransacked.
“Fucking dogs,” he whispered, his pale blue eyes searching from wall to wall for any suspicious evidence that could help him ascertain what they thought they would find. Before he exited toward the communal showers he shot a glance at the men in the far room where the white noise was now doused somewhat. They sat there, four in number, just staring at him. Tempted to curse them, he elected to play it down and simply ignored them as he walked in the opposite direction for the bathrooms.
While the tepid weak stream of water immersed him he prayed that no harm had come to Katya and Sergei while he was gone. If this was the level of trust the brigade had in him it was safe to assume that their farm might also have played host to a bit of pillaging in pursuit of the truth. Like a captive animal, kept at bay of retaliating, the brooding Russian plotted his next move. It would be foolish to confront Bern or Baudaux or any of the brutes here about their suspicions. Such a move would exacerbate things rapidly for him and both his friends. And should he escape and try to get Sergei and his wife away from here, it would only prove their reservations about his involvement.
When he was dry and dressed he returned to Bern’s office, where he found the large commander standing at the window, staring out over the horizon as he always did when he mulled things around.
“Captain?” Alexandr said from his door.
“Come in. Come in,” Bern said. “I trust you understand why we had to search your quarters, Alexandr. It was imperative we know your position on this matter as you came to us under very suspicious circumstances with a very powerful claim.”
“I understand,” the Russian agreed. He was dying for a few shots of vodka and the bottle of homebrew Bern kept on his table was doing him no favors.
“Have a drink,” Bern invited, his hand gesturing to the bottle he saw the Russian eyeing.
“Thank you,” Alexandr smiled and poured himself a glass. As he lifted the fire water to his lips he wondered if it was laced with poison, but he was not of the wary variety. Alexandr Arichenkov, the crazy Russian, would rather die an excruciating death at the taste of a good vodka than to pass up the chance in lieu of abstinence. Fortunately for him the drink was only poisonous in the way its makers intended and he could not help but groan happily at the burning chest he suffered as he swallowed it all down.
“May I ask, captain,” he said after he caught his breath, “what was damaged by the break-in?”
“Nothing,” was all Bern said. He waited a moment for dramatic pause, and then revealed the truth. “Nothing was damaged, but something was stolen from us. Something that is priceless and extremely hazardous to the world. What bothers me most is that only the Order of the Black Sun knew that we were in possession of it.”
“What is it, may I ask?” Alexandr asked.
Bern turned to him with a penetrating stare. It was a look, not of rage or frustration for his ignorance, but a look of unadulterated concern and resolute dread.
“A weapon. They stole a weapon that could devastate and destroy, governed by laws we have not even conquered yet,” he announced, reaching for the vodka and pouring a glass for each of them. “The intruders relieved us of it. They stole the Longinus.”
Chapter 12
Heathrow was abuzz with activity, even for three in the morning.
It would be some time before Nina and Sam could board the next flight home and they were contemplating booking a hotel room not to spend the time waiting in the blinding white lights of the terminal.
“I’ll go check when we’d have to be back here again. We’d have to get something to eat for one. I’m fucking starving,” Sam told Nina.
“You ate on the plane,” she reminded him.
Sam gave her the old schoolboy teaser look, “You call that food? No wonder you weigh next to nothing.”
With that he took off toward the ticket office, leaving her with her massive yak coat over her forearm and both their travel bags over her shoulders. Nina’s eyes felt thick and her mouth dry, but she felt better than she had over the last few weeks.
Almost home, she thought to herself, and her mouth pouted into a self-conscious smile. Reluctantly she allowed her smile to bloom, no matter what bystanders and passersby might think, because she felt like she had earned that grin, suffered for it. And she had just come out of twelve rounds with Death and she was still standing. Her big brown eyes trailed Sam’s well-shaped body, those broad shoulders lending his gait even more attitude than he already exhibited. Her smile lingered for him too.
For so long she was indecisive about Sam’s role in her life, but after Purdue’s last stunt she was certain that she was done dangling between the two jousting males. Owning Purdue’s affection did help her in more ways than she cared to admit. Just like her new admirer on the Russian/ Mongolian border, Purdue’s power and means benefitted her. How many times would she have been killed had it not been for Purdue’s resources and money or Bern’s mercy on account of her likeness to his late wife?
Her smile vanished at once.
From the international arrival area a woman emerged, one that looked hauntingly familiar. Nina perked up and backed into the corner formed by the protruding ledge of the coffee shop where she was waiting, hiding her countenance from the approaching lady. Practically holding her breath, Nina peeked around the edge to see where Sam was. He was just out of her line of sight and she could not warn him about the woman heading straight for him.
But to her relief the woman entered the sweet shop just short of the ticket office where Sam was throwing about his charms to the delight of the young ladies in their perfect uniforms.
“Jesus! Typical,” Nina frowned and bit her lip in vexation. Quickly she walked toward him, her face stern, and her stride a bit too wide as she tried to move faster than she could without drawing attention to herself.
She passed through the double glass doors into the office and bumped into Sam.
“Are you quite done?” she asked in an unashamedly catty way.
“Well, look here,” he marveled playfully, “another pretty lady. And it’s not even my birthday!”
The administration staff giggled, but Nina was dead serious.
“There is a woman following us, Sam.”
“Are you sure?” he asked sincerely, his eyes combing the people in close vicinity.