“Your liaison with them is dead and they never finalized the deal to sell you this land. So your plan is dead in the water.”
Ketranovich’s smile fades. “Yes, that’s… unfortunate, but no matter. We will begin mining here in a couple of days regardless.”
Natalia takes a step forward, raising her gun, and shouts at me in Russian. She’s spitting her words out and I can see the venom in her dark, soulless eyes. I’m probably safe in assuming she’s not declaring her unrequited feelings for me…
I take a small step back, lifting my arms a bit higher, to emphasize I’m still unarmed.
“Hey, I don’t speak Communist, sorry,” I say.
Ketranovich turns to the other guy standing with him and gestures at Natalia with an impatient nod. The guy let’s go of his rifle so it hangs by its strap and walks over to her. He’s a little shorter than Ketranovich, but similar in build. He has buzz-cut blonde hair and blue eyes. He shouts something at Natalia and she turns to him — the anger still etched across her face. He places his hands on her shoulders and begins talking to her in Russian — his tone soothing, almost hypnotic.
I notice the soldiers at the back are looking at each other and shifting nervously back and forth, watching and muttering among themselves. I get the impression that Natalia’s the resident freak show, but everyone’s too afraid to say it out loud. Ketranovich himself looks on, but with far less concern than the rest.
The blonde guy is calming her down, but it’s interesting to see how she went from zero to psycho in the blink of an eye. This woman’s got some serious issues, and she’s definitely not the type of person I’d trust with an automatic weapon. But, hey — that’s just me.
“Forgive me,” says Ketranovich. “Little Natalia sometimes gets wound too tight. Her brother relaxes her.”
Her brother… that makes sense — he looks familiar because he bears a striking resemblance to Natalia. They might even be twins.
“Hey, I’m passing no judgment,” I say with a shrug. “I kill people for a living.”
He laughs again. “You are funny man, Adrian Hell. I like you. Would you consider joining our cause, maybe? We could use a soldier like you.”
“Thanks for the offer, Roman, my old friend, but I’m not a terrorist. I’m not going to let you profit from this land, and I’m not going to let you manufacture nuclear weapons. I will stop you.”
“I’m afraid you are, how you say, pissing in the wind, my friend. No one can stop what is already in motion. It’s a shame you won’t be around to see my plan come to fruition. It will be a whole new world.”
He points at me and everyone raises their rifles, cocking them and taking aim.
Oh, shit…
I breathe out heavily and close my eyes, content that whatever small plan I might’ve had didn’t work. I mentally prepare for a shower of bullets to rain into me. I suppose the blessing is that I won’t really feel anything after the first couple of rounds anyway…
Seconds pass that feel like hours.
I’m still alive…
I open one eye and look around.
Well, they’re all still there…
Hang on, what’s that noise?
I see Ketranovich looking up and I follow his gaze.
In the sky, a line of lights appears in the distance, heading toward us. The noise I can hear is the unmistakable sound of helicopters…
So, who have we here?
The soldiers look at each other, unsure how to react. Natalia and her brother stand close to Ketranovich, who hasn’t moved or said anything. He’s just staring at the night sky.
It only takes a few moments for the three black helicopters to reach us and hover overhead, forming a triangle above our little showdown. The noise is deafening and everyone, including me, has to shield their eyes against the dust that the rotor blades are kicking up.
Inside the helicopters are soldiers, all dressed in black with a red trim, aiming their guns at Dark Rain. There’s also a mounted mini-gun on one side, with a single soldier manning it, covering the whole area.
The chopper nearest to me drops lower and a rope ladder falls down, stopping a couple of feet from the ground next to me. I have no idea who they are but, let’s be honest, going with them can’t possibly end worse than if I stayed here with a bunch of psycho-Ruskies…
I step on the ladder and hook my left arm through the rungs.
I shout over to Ketranovich. “Hey, Colonel — you know what they say about people who piss into the wind: they always get their own back!” I flip him my middle finger. “Be seeing you soon, you Commie bastard!”
I smile as the helicopter climbs once again and we fly off, followed closely by the other two in a loose formation. I carefully make my way up the ladder, doing my best not to look down — I’m not a massive fan of heights.
One of the soldiers reaches down, extending their hand to help me up into the back of the chopper. I take it gladly and climb aboard as we race across the sky.
I look around at the expressionless faces all staring at me. I smile at them.
“My parents always told me not to get in cars with strangers,” I say. I get no reaction. “No?” I let out a low whistle. “Tough crowd.”
Well, these guys seem like a friendly bunch… I wonder who my new friends are?
18
The silence in the chopper is borderline awkward. I’m sitting in a seat flanked by two men with guns. I look around, trying to find out as much as I can about who these guys are, but I’ve got nothing. Their uniforms are devoid of markings, so I’ve no idea who they work for. I’m guessing they’re friendly… or, at least, not trying to kill me — but my spider sense is still tingling.
Outside, the other choppers peel away, flying off in different directions. We carry on straight for what feels like another ten minutes or so before I feel us begin our descent.
I can see landing lights below us and realize we’re setting down on the roof of a building. It’s dark and there’s minimal lighting, so I’m not sure what the building is, or even where I am.
Everyone files out and I jump down, flanked again by two armed men. There are five guys in total — one leading us across the roof, one on either side of me and two behind. Keeping low, we hurry over to a fire escape and walk down three flights of metal stairs.
We stop at a door on what I assume is the fourth floor of wherever we are — judging by the large sign on the wall next to it. The guy in front opens the door and holds it for the rest of us to go through.
We come out in a reception area of what I’m now certain of is a hospital. The familiar, sickly smell of disinfectant that you only ever get in a hospital stings my nostrils. It’s eerily quiet and our footfalls echo on the permanently waxed tiled floor. Nobody is offering any conversation and we’re just standing in a conspicuous huddle in the middle of the waiting area.
There’s a front desk on the right, with two corridors running away to the right on either side of it. There are two nurses busying themselves behind it. They look up curiously for a moment, but say nothing and soon resume their duties.
On the left, facing the desk is an array of chairs with two more corridors disappearing out of sight, mirroring the ones on the right.
“Wait here,” says the guy at the front. He walks off down the nearest corridor to us on the right, leaving me surrounded by the other four.
After a few minutes, the guy re-appears with another man I’ve not seen before. He’s wearing a nice navy blue suit, with his white shirt un-tucked and no tie. He has thick, dark hair parted to the side and is clean-shaven. I figure him for early forties. He heads straight for me, smiling. He extends his hand and, given the circumstances, I shake it firmly.