Sheeeeeeee-Hshaaaaawww.
Thump! On the back of the helmet. A roundhouse kick had just removed his hard hat. He knew what was next, and crouched forward and down. Two lightning high kicks went over his head, swirling the mist into tiny eddies. But Stone was low. The dark figure emerged, as Stone pushed from his haunches and hit him in the midriff to put him on his back.
It didn’t work out. The man had crashed backwards into something, and managed to regain his footing.
Stone stayed low and wrenched off the breathing mask. The man had grabbed Stone’s hair and was trying to dash his head against a bony knee, but he’d have to do better than that.
‘Surprised to see me, Ethan Stone?’ Stone knew those high kicks, and that lean, hard midriff. The voice confirmed it. Ekstrom.
‘You’re losing your touch Ekstrom,’ said Stone. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t like surprises?’ Stone again used his legs. Grabbed Ekstrom by the thighs and pushed up, hoisting him into the air, crashing his head into the rock of the ceiling. Rocky flakes came away and thwacked onto the side of the Machine. Ekstrom crashed down onto the cylinder, knocking it backwards. It fell onto the low-loading platform of its transporter truck. Rolled forwards, but then stuck in place.
‘That’ll be your gun, Ekstrom, stuck to the side of the thing, stopping it rolling away. There. You knew it would come in useful.’
‘Not my weapon, Stone. Do you think I'd use that Chinese piece of shit,’ replied Ekstrom. Cool, in spite of everything.
Stone was above Ekstrom. He still had hold of him. Had him on his back. He was close to Ekstrom’s face, holding his arms back. It was close-in wrestling, ju-jitsu style. Ekstrom couldn’t strike, could barely move. Stone couldn’t strike either, but most opponents panic in this situation. They try to break out, or strike back. Usually they move their arms or twist their heads. It opens the neck to a choke position where they can be subdued. Even an attempt to get up would show the back of Ekstrom’s neck to Stone, and invite an arm bar across the throat.
But Ekstrom was not usual. He was no panicker. He talked. He liked to talk, Ekstrom. Usually about himself.
‘I heard the whole thing, Stone. Back in the hangar on the island, when I was helping Semyonov into those plastic underpants. I got your whole story about the Machine. It’s quite an invention isn’t it?’ he said with his accented English. ‘See what you can get by being nice to people? Zhang sent me in there to tend to the sick. Very useful being on Semyonov’s medical team.’
‘You got to wear a mask and a hairnet. You’d like that.’
Ekstrom was talking for a reason, not just to taunt. What was he up to? ‘Amazing what you get to hear, when you’re tending to Mr Semyonov. Quite an invention, that Machine,’ said Ekstrom with some relish. ‘How much do you think it will fetch to the highest bidder? America, China, Russia — they’ll all be ready to talk.’
What was he doing, spouting this bullshit? They were face-to-face, breath-to-breath, Stone with his arms pinning Ekstrom’s to his sides and his elbow poised over Ekstrom’s throat for when his chance came.
‘The Machine’s locked, Ekstrom. You won’t get a thing out of it.’
‘Of course. But the key is sitting in a wheelchair right above us. He’s an interesting man, Semyonov. Very motivated by one thing. He’ll do anything to see that his invention doesn’t go to waste. He’s already defected once. I don’t think loyalty is his strong point, Stone. Do you?’
Stone saw too late what Ekstrom was doing. He was distracting Stone while he edged into a stronger position. Stone tried to pull him back, but Ekstrom edged his shoulders over once more. He was almost there. Stone tried to pull Ekstrom’s whole body over with his knee, but he was too late. He was a good fighter, Ekstrom. Intelligent, completely cool. And a nice use of distraction. Ekstrom was nudging his shoulder under the cylinder of the Machine, lying on its side. Its weight of a hundred kilos was jammed only against Ekstrom’s gun. If the cylinder bumped over the gun it would roll away. Ekstrom’s shoulder nudged again. Stone’s arms were on Ekstrom’s. He was powerless to stop it. There it went. A hundred kilograms of cylinder rolled over the gun, and jumped off the end of the transporter, gathering speed, bumping over the gun as it rolled. The power cable ran after it and then — slam!
Pain screamed through Stone’s ankle as the transformer fell forward onto it, yanked over by the power cable. The ankle was broken for sure.
Ekstrom was out, standing right above Stone, half-visible in the freezing mist. Stone turned onto his back. It was a poor option, but the only option. Ekstrom had no weapon, and he would find it tough to engage a man lying horizontal. Broken ankle or not.
If he bent to try and throttle him, Stone would drag him back into the ju-jitsu, and Ekstrom had already lost out on that one. If Ekstrom tried to kick, Stone could grab him or throw him.
The Swede prowled around above him. ‘If you won’t fight, I guess I leave you here. I think I’ll win the race back to the shaft,’ he said. Which was true. It’s exactly what Ekstrom ought to do.
‘Without the Machine? OK. Good luck,’ said Stone. ‘Think about it Ekstrom. You need to power it down. Otherwise how do you get it in the cage? Or out? The magnets are too strong.’ Ekstrom said nothing. That only happened when he was nervous. ‘And forgive me for stating the obvious, but the power line ain’t gonna reach all the way to the surface. You need to power down, and you need t he sequence from me.’
‘OK,’ said Ekstrom, tensely. ‘A deal. You tell me how to power down, and I let you live.’
‘Come on, Ekstrom. That’s lame even for you.’ said Stone, smiling into the swelling, piercing pain of his ankle. He wondered if it was dislocated. ‘You’ll have to send me up in the cage. Then I’ll tell you how to do it by phone. After all, I’m not much use with this ankle.’
Stone didn’t expect that to work, but it might provoke some anger, which was a start.
‘I have a better idea,’ shouted Ekstrom, standing over him. ‘You like to get me angry. But you won’t like me when I’m angry!’ He wasn’t angry. He was still thinking, and he wanted to give Stone something to think about too. Ekstrom grabbed Stone by both ankles and dragged him from under the gear and off the transporter. Stone roared in pain. He wondered if he’d pass out. Stone needed to be cool, to think. But he couldn’t think, he couldn’t hear. He felt himself hauled through waves of pain towards the bottom of the slope. Ekstrom, stopped, smiled at him, and callously twisted the broken ankle over.
‘This is the point of most pain, I think. Anatomy 101.’
Stone roared again as the pain overwhelmed him. He knew what Ekstrom was doing, but couldn’t fight back. Ekstrom twisted him so Stone was lying on his front, then took a strap from his breathing set, tied Stone’s hands and left him lying on his back.
‘A good place I think,’ said Ekstrom. ‘Now, you will tell me how to power down the Machine. Otherwise I go up the hill, and I take the brake from the transport truck, which will roll down the hill, with all its load, and collide with the crown of your head.’ He tapped Stone on the top of the head. ‘Your skull is thick, for sure, Stone. But not thick enough. You are killed in a tragic accident. You see, Stone. I like accidents. Even Semyonov can’t object to accidents. He’s an honest man, Semyonov, but he is desperate for his Machine. He will work with anyone to get it out. Even you. And if you have an accident, he works with me. He won’t ask too many questions. About as many questions as he asked about Carslake’s death, I should think.’