‘You’ve gone gaga!’ said the redhead. Why’d you do that? You’ve locked yourself in a room with your assassin.’
‘I decided against,’ I said, slowly as I recovered my puff. I could feel the key digging into my buttock. ‘Trying to run away.’
‘I suppose I can go out the window?’ the redhead said, and went over to look. ‘Or, well that’s quite a drop. I suppose I can just kick the door down.’
‘You could easily kick the door down.’
‘Why did you lock us in?’ he asked.
‘I thought it would be more fun,’ I said, ‘the other way around.’
‘What’s the other way around?’
‘Me. Chasing you.’
‘That’s more like it,’ he said, smiling broadly at the absurdity of the situation. ‘That’s the spirit that beat the Nazis! You’re an old man. Unarmed. Walking three paces exhausts you. I’m a young, fit, KGB operative with a gun. I’ve killed dozens of people healthier than you. But you’re the one chasing me! That is indeed the way to think of it. That’s a better way to go.’ He tucked his pistol back into his holster and beckoned. ‘Come on then! Come get me!’
‘When you say,’ I said, reaching over for the bedside cabinet, ‘that I am unarmed…’
I pulled out the Geiger counter.
Immediately he drew his gun again and held it two-handed, pointed straight at my head. ‘Put that down,’ he said.
‘It’s not a gun,’ I said. ‘It’s a Geiger counter.’
There was a pause. ‘Geiger-M̈ller tube,’ said the redhead; but he kept the gun trained on me.
‘Here’s a funny thing,’ I told him. ‘The American President? His name is Reagan. You know what that means, in English? A literal translation into Russian would be President Laser Pistol. Isn’t that funny?’
I pointed the tube at my own chest.
‘Stop!’ he barked. ‘Is that a laser pistol? You said Geiger counter. Is it a laser pistol, though?’
‘Tch! And where would I get hold of a laser pistol?’
‘You and I both know where,’ he retorted quickly. ‘Who knows what weaponry they might dispose of, when it’s no longer useful to them?’
This barely wrongfooted me. It might have given me pause, if I hadn’t been so tired. I pushed on. ‘Well if it’s a laser pistol,’ I said, settling the end of its plastic muzzle over the exact centre of my chest, ‘and I pull this trigger, then I’ll do your job for you. On the other hand, if it’s a Geiger counter, all that will happen is that you’ll discover how radioactive I am.’
I could see the fox-like process of calculation flicker in his eyes. He was starting to work out what I had done. He glanced over to the door. Then he took a step towards me, and then stopped. ‘You’ve locked me in,’ he said, in a low voice.
‘It’s not a question of me escaping from you,’ I told him.
‘You’re bluffing,’ he said. ‘Bluffing is what you are doing.’
‘Shall we see? Shall I press the button?’
‘Bluffing,’ he said.
‘You know how one of these works?’
‘Go on,’ he instructed.
I pushed the test button, and the counter crackled and trilled to life. For long seconds he stood there, listening to the malign static interference sizzle and sizzle. Eventually he spoke. ‘You’ve been here more than a week.’
I turned the machine off.
‘If you’re that radioactive,’ he said, backing against the window. ‘You’d have died long ago.’
‘Are you concerned about my health?’ I asked. ‘Or your own?’
He swallowed. ‘Is it them?’ he said.
‘It’d be better for my purpose if you came over here,’ I told him. ‘Get a fuller dose. Put a pillow over my mouth, and lean over me. Get a proper coating.’
‘Did they make you immune, somehow, to radiation? Is that why you’re still alive?’
‘Never mind that. Are you immune to radioactivity, comrade? That’s the question.’ I was gathering my strength after my exertion; such strength as I had. ‘Because if you are, then feel free to stay here as long as you like. But if not—’ I breathed in, and out. ‘If not, then I’d advise you to get out as soon as possible. Really, there’s no time to lose. Every second increases your cancer risk.’
‘Christ,’ he said. ‘You’re white hot. Christ you’re a fucking bomb.’ He pulled the window open and peered out. Presumably he thought: too far to jump, because he turned back to face me, and this was the first moment since his arrival in my room that I felt hope flicker in my brain. There was a panic in his eyes.
‘That hairdo,’ I said. ‘You towel it dry after showering? That’ll start falling out now, of course. Bright side: you won’t have to bother about it anymore. No more tiresome washing or drying your hair. You can skip that whole portion of the morning routine. Think of the time you’ll save.’
He raised his pistol at me, and then lowered it. ‘Give me the key,’ he said.
‘As for that,’ I said. ‘Your options are: to get me to vomit it up. Or perhaps cut me open for it. You have a knife?’
‘Give me the fucking—’ He aimed the gun at me again. Then he reholstered it.
‘Just cut me open and rummage around. Of course, it’ll significantly increase your dose. But if you stay here too long then—’ I started coughing at this moment, on account of all the talking I was doing and the dryness of my throat. But it succeeded in increasing the panic in the redhead’s face. I took a sip from the glass of water beside my bed.
The redhead bolted suddenly for the door, and heaved with all his strength on the handle. ‘Give me the key or I’ll blow your alien brains onto the wall!’ he shouted.
‘My alien brains?’ I said. ‘I have to assume you’re going to shoot me whatever happens.’ I was fingering the Geiger counter in my lap. ‘So your threat is hardly an incentive.’
He began kicking at the door. He was wearing comfortable leather loafers. ‘Army boots would be more useful for that, comrade,’ I told him.
He kicked, and kicked again. ‘Bastard!’ he grunted. ‘Bastard!’
‘You do not seem to be making much of a dent.’
He spun round and, once more, drew his pistol on me. ‘I’ll at least finish you off,’ he told me.
‘All right, all right,’ I said, calmly. ‘Hold on a moment. I’ll give you the key! I’ll cough it back up! I’ll even wipe it on the bedclothes, to remove as much of my highly radioactive saliva as I can manage.’
It did not suit his face for his eyes to be as wide open as they were. He looked disconcerting. He levelled the pistol at my head, and then with a moan of frustration he span and fired into the door once, twice, and then a third time. The noise of the pistol was very great, and it struck my inner ear like a crashing blow, leaving me with a high, pure singsong note. There was the stench of burnt powder. I shook my head ponderously, and the whine vanished from my ear.
The redhead aimed another kick at the punctured door, and kicked right through it. Now he was compelled to hop on one foot, for the other had become snagged through the woodwork. He almost fell backwards, and then he pulled the foot free, and did a little staggery dance. He swore.