But the clinic required a pile of cash. Klara Fedorovna drew a good salary at Gradbank but she did not have that kind of money. In fact, she was penniless now as in the recent years she had been spending everything on her son. Somehow, Atlas’s agents had found out about her problems and offered Samsonov’s assistant the necessary means.
“Poor woman.” Nina was really sorry for her.
“Yes,” responded Samsonov. “But why didn’t she tell me anything? Ah, Klara…”
“How is she now?” asked Nina.
“She’s in hospital. It’s all right, she’s going to be looked after there. And I sent Stas off to Switzerland yesterday. They say, there is hope…”
Nina saw how hard it was for Samsonov to even speak of that.
“What kind of documents were those?” she asked.
“They were pretty important documents, but they did not cause any big damage after all,” answered Samsonov. “It appears we’ve really worked a solid project – it can’t be undermined by such spy attacks. We owe that to you, Nina.”
But Nina was in no mood to listen to compliments.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“Now their only hope is to remove me from the picture by hook or by crook. It must be done today so that early tomorrow morning my first vice can withdraw our tender under some pretext. They tried shooting me this morning but hit Sinitsin instead.”
Nina was horrified: “So you are what – sitting here waiting for them to come and kill you?”
“Well, I don’t mean to be anybody’s sitting duck… Kolya and I were just talking things over – trying to figure out what to do.”
“But there is police after all!” Nina cried out. “Call the police!”
“Don’t be absurd, Nina. Police is useless…”
“Well, thank God, you have your own guards. I saw two of them on my way here.”
Samsonov and Kolya exchanged glances.
“Yeah, that’s the question: which way are those two going to shoot when it comes to action?”
Samsonov cut himself short: “All right, Nina, I’ve told you everything, and now I beg you to leave. Don’t worry about me – I’ll get out of this mess somehow. And… Thank you for everything.”
But Nina was not about to leave – she was set on staying with her man to the end, whatever it might be.
She braced herself to argue with Samsonov, but the matter decided itself in a different way.
“It’s too late, Pavel Mikhailovich,” said Kolya.
He had cleaned and assembled his gun and was now standing by the window, peeping through the Venetian blinds down at the parking lot.
“Those two jeeps are new – they’ve just arrived.”
Samsonov came up to the window and took a peep.
“Did someone get out of them?”
“Not yet.”
Kolya tucked the gun under his belt and covered it with the flap of his jacket.
“That’s it, Pavel Mikhailovich, we have to go.”
“But how? Every exit is held in sights by a sniper.”
“I got an idea. Wait a minute, I’m going to do some recon – we need to know what our brave guards are up to.”
Kolya left but was back almost immediately.
“The guards are not there. The fun is about to start. We have to leave – now.”
They left the office, and Kolya led them to an elevator – not the big, passenger one, but a service elevator used to lift food stuffs to the directorate cafeteria. That elevator was not designed for people; they were barely able to get into it, bending painfully.
The elevator took them down to the basement where technical services were quartered. Through a dimly lit corridor, they came out onto an iron spiral staircase which took them further down, into a completely dark space that smelled of gasoline and machine oil.
“Where are we?” asked Samsonov.
“It’s the garage for the service staff. I guess, you’ve never been down here before, Pavel Mikhailovich,” responded Kolya’s voice which had a trace of irony to it.
“No lights. Careful. Follow me,” Kolya commanded.
In a minute, he brought them to a car which on closer examination turned out to be a Volga.
“Whose is that?” asked Samsonov.
“Mine. Get in.” responded Kolya.
They got into the car trying not to slam the doors.
Kolya turned the ignition key. The engine purred softly, but under the softness, power could be felt as if it were a Ferrari rather than a Volga.
With headlights off, Kolya pulled the car out of the parking bay and drove somewhere. Although Nina’s eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dark so she could discern the contours of the cars, it was still a mystery to her how Kolya could make his way.
They drove up to a wall against which some barrels were piled up.
“There’s an emergency exit here. It’s long been out of use, but chances are it’s usable. Let’s risk it. Only we need to go very quiet.”
The men got out of the car and started moving the barrels trying not to make noise. Soon the emergency gate was cleared.
Kolya produced an oil-can and oiled the hinges. Then he used a pry bar to unfasten the lock. The gate opened noiselessly.
It was night outside. About forty meters away, a noisy avenue lay which the bank faced with its front. The distant street lights barely dissipated the darkness of a narrow side alley cluttered with trash cans and stacks of boxes.
Kolya surveyed the alley.
“It’s all right, we’ll make it.”
In the car, Kolya handed the gun to Samsonov and instructed Nina to lie down on the back seat and never lift her head. Nina obeyed.
“Well, then, let’s go,” said Kolya.
The Volga glided into the alley noiselessly, turned around and headed to where the lights of the avenue were shining. Miraculously, Kolya managed to keep clear of all the boxes and trash cans.
At the end of the alley, Kolya paused and did some idle gassing to warm up the engine.
“Now. Hold on!” he said finally and pressed the gas pedal into the floor to the limit while turning the steering wheel abruptly.
Roaring and screeching, the car tore out onto the avenue.
Nina, who was lying in the back, was alternately pressed into the seat and tossed about fiercely.
Kolya cast a glance in the rear view mirror.
“Damn, they are quick.”
Nina rose. Two black jeeps had pulled out of the bank parking lot and rushed after them.
“Head down!” Kolya yelled.
Nina ducked. Almost immediately there was a shock, and the rear window above her head exploded littering her with broken glass.
Samsonov turned around. “Are you all right, Nina?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Nina replied, shaking broken glass out of her hair. “What was that? They what – shot at us?”
“You bet,” responded Kolya.
“Nina, I beg you – don’t get up!” shouted Samsonov.
He stuck out of the window and extended his gun-holding hand. A shot banged.
Nina was lying on the back seat obediently, trying not to distract the men. She was unworried; something told her that neither she nor Samsonov were in for any harm. Quite the reverse, she had the feeling that something very good was happening to them.
Kolya was spinning the steering wheel sharply, stepping hard on the accelerator. Nina heard the screech of the other cars’ brakes, and the indignant honking of the horns. The Volga was jumping from one lane to another violating all the norms of the drivers’ code.
Kolya looked in the mirror.
“No, we’re not losing them this way. Some good drivers, those are… But they’re in for a surprise.”
After a short while, Kolya made a sudden ninety-degree turn and darted out of the avenue on an impossible trajectory.
They were tearing along a narrow street in some built-up area now. Up in the window, Nina could see the façades of brick buildings flit by.
Then Kolya slowed down and turned sharply but carefully. The car plunged into total darkness. Nina raised her head. They were driving under an arc in some old house. The arc was so narrow that the Volga barely cleared the walls and actually scraped against them a couple of times despite all of Kolya’s skill.