“You are right, my dear,” he said. “And your strength and power emasculated me in ways I never realized were possible.” He circled her like a tiger about to pounce on his prey. “I knew that I could never become a whole man until I could defeat you.”
He stepped toward her and swung, his hand darting out quickly. But it was not quick enough for she easily swatted his fist to the side before slamming the palm of her hand into his chest sending him sailing backward to land on his rear and sliding across the floor. Mikhail gripped his chest with both hands as he tried to regain his breath. He knew he was lucky that no ribs had been broken.
“You are not strong enough to beat me,” she laughed. “Even in my weakened state, from the sleep deprivation and torture you no doubt ordered yourself.”
She began to slowly move toward him. “You are a pathetic little man,” she said. “Nothing but a bully who is so weak, he is losing to a girl for the second time.”
“Weak?” he asked with a bit of a cough as he forced himself back to his feet. “Could a weak man have beaten Alexi?” he asked as a wicked grin spread across his face.
“What?” Alena shouted. She had not seen her brother since returning to Russia though she had asked about him many times.
“I killed him,” Mikhail smirked.
“Lies!” Brygida cried.
“Killed him, myself,” Mikhail sneered.
Brygida lost control. She snapped, much in the same way she snapped the day her husband was murdered by the Nazi stormtroopers, face down in the snow. The image of a wolf going for the throat of its prey shot through her mind and she leapt at Mikhail. She was going to kill him this time, and then kill everyone of his men, one-by-one.
She sprinted toward Mikhail and reached him before he had a chance to move. Everything slowed down for her. Just as it had in Poland so many years ago. Her arm reared back and she brought her hand forward toward the throat. She was stronger now than in 1940. When her hand hit Mikhail’s throat it would likely crush his windpipe and he would fall dead at her feet.
He raised his hands to defend himself, but it would not matter. His feeble arms would do little to slow the blow that was coming his way. But then something odd happened. It was as if ice magically appeared from the palms of his hands. As if it had been created from the air. A sheet two inches thick stood between his body and her hand. Her hand slammed into the ice and shattered it into a thousand pieces.
Brygida howled in pain as she took a step back, holding her hand. It hurt badly. But it was not broken. She turned toward him again and as she did so, felt a ball of ice slam into her cheek. She saw another flying at her face and was barely able to duck beneath it. Then another came and she blocked it.
What was happening? How was he doing this?
“You are not the only one with special abilities,” he sneered. “With the help of the former-Nazi scientists we have developed the ability to change a person’s genetics to give them all sorts of super powers.”
Mikhail hurled another ice-ball at her, then another and another. She slapped them out of the way as she rushed toward him. He lowered his hand and blasted the ground just in front of her feet. Her boot stepped onto ice and her foot slipped out from under her. She fell down hard, and before she could move Mikhail began to pelt her with ice-balls.
“Enough of this,” Axel muttered under his breath. Alena watched as he began to glow blue. She knew what that meant. He was about to fry Mikhail with a bolt of energy from his chest. Suddenly, Axel felt the butt of a rifle slam into the back of his head and he almost lost consciousness. The power evaporated from him immediately.
Brygida was taking quite a beating. Like scores of baseballs slamming into her body. Somehow she forced herself back to her feet. Mikhail stopped. She turned to face him, her face bruised and beaten.
“And I haven’t even attained my god status yet,” Mikhail informed her. “But I am a merciful god,” he smiled. “Bow down before me and worship your god and I will let you live. You and your children.”
“You will never succeed,” Brygida said. “Even if we die. You will never become a god.”
“And why is that?” Mikhail asked.
“Because the true God, the God of my people, the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, is a jealous God. And he does not like others pretending to be him.” With that she leapt forward and slammed her boots into his chest knocking him backward onto the ground.
Brygida jumped on top of him before he could move. She punched him again and again. His face was bloody and the blood covered her shirt as well. But then he grabbed her arms tightly in each of his hands. Her eyes popped wide as her mouth flung open. Her skin began to turn blue as ice shot through her veins. Just mere second passed before Brygida became as stiff as a board as she was frozen completely solid.
“No!” Alena shouted. “Let her go!”
“Mom!” Axel whimpered through his groggy vision as he still tried to recover from the rifle butt to the head.
Two soldiers rushed to Mikhail and helped him remove the frozen Valkyrie from atop him. Mikhail stood and turned to Alena and Axel. He looked down at Brygida’s frozen body and then back at them. A boastful grin spread across his face.
“You are a monster!” Alena shrieked at him.
“Do not worry,” he said. “I needed to kill her, to prove to myself that I could. But I have no intention of killing you.”
“You might as well, you bastard!” Alena screamed. “Because if I ever get out of these chains, I am going to slice your head clean off your neck!”
Mikhail’s grin turned into a frown as he slowly crossed the room to stand before Alena. He watched the tears pouring out of her eyes and down her cheeks, her face red hot with rage.
“No, Alena, you will not kill me,” he said as he crouched down to be eye level with her. “For when you see me coming in all of my glory, transformed to a perfect being transcending all of humanity, you will both fall on your faces, worshiping me.”
“Mom was right,” Axel sneered as his head slowly cleared. “You are insane.”
Mikhail straightened and turned to face Axel. “Of course it sounds insane,” he replied. “But you shall see. Soon enough. And you will beg my forgiveness. And do not worry my children. I will grant it, and you will both proclaim, what a merciful god I am.”
“Well get on with it then!” Alena shouted. “I’m tired of hearing about it. Let’s see it. Transform.”
Mikhail cackled. “Soon, my darling,” he said. “But not yet, and not here. It’s at a secret military installation in Alaska,” he chuckled. “And we…” But his words were cut off by the sounds of helicopter blades. He stopped speaking and looked toward the door. A few breaths later a soldier rushed in, panic etched on his face.
“What is going on?” Mikhail demanded in Russian.
“Helicopters, sir,” the soldier replied, also in Russian. “Lots of them!”
“Soviet?” Mikhail asked in disbelief.
“Yes, sir?” the soldier replied.
“But who?” Mikhail asked. Then he heard Alena laughing behind him and he turned his head to face her.
“If I had to guess, I’d say it's probably the GRU,” she said. She enjoyed seeing the panic that spread across Mikhail’s face.
He had good reason to worry. The GRU was the Soviet Union’s military intelligence, and a bitter rival of the KGB. Mikhail had no friends and certainly no pull with the GRU.
“What are they doing here?” he asked.
“I sent a message to Brygida’s old friend General Utkin, the current head of the GRU, as soon as she was arrested,” Alena said. “Sent him our location, and told him I feared something was wrong.”
Mikhail suddenly saw everything he had planned begin to escape him, all because of this girl! “You stupid…” he shouted angrily at her, but the hanger doors began to open, cutting him off. Mikhail turned to his men and pointed angrily at the doors that were opening.
“Kill them!” he shouted, meaning
the GRU troops that were beginning to come into view.
“But sir…” one began to protest, clearly not comfortable with having a shootout with fellow Soviet soldiers.
Mikhail let loose with a string of curses in Russian. He glanced at Axel and Alena and then turned and fled as quickly as he could, away from them, through doors in the back.
As the hanger doors opened, Alena watched General Utkin step into the building. “General!” she shouted and she noticed a look of shock spread over his face.
“What is going on?” he demanded as the soldiers who had been guarding Axel and Alena slowly backed away, attempting to distance themselves from the events that had taken place.
“Uncuff them immediately!” the general snapped in Russian and one of the soldiers moved quickly to do so.
Alena darted to Brygida’s frozen body as soon as she had been released from her cuffs. Axel was a few seconds behind her. Her body was ice cold. Her eyes stared blankly into nothing. They were filled with fear and pain.
“I barely even got to know her,” Axel whispered as tears dripped from his eyes.
“She was the best mother a child could ever hope for,” Alena said. “She was so full of love.” Alena’s first instinct was to weep over the woman who had been like her mother. To scream and wail, mourning not only Brygida’s death, but also Alexi’s. But then she remembered Mikhail and her sadness turned to rage. Intense, white hot rage.
Alena stood and darted after the villain. She blew through the double doors before sliding to a stop, unsure which way he had gone. Outside! The word blasted in her head and she ascended some steps before bolting out of the doors leading to the outside. There she saw a helicopter already flying away. She was too late. He had escaped.
“No matter,” she muttered to herself. “We’ll catch him.” After all, where could he go?
Alena returned to where she had left the others and found Axel still crouched over his mother, holding her cold hand in his. Utkin stood behind him staring down at the Valkyrie. He looked up when Alena entered the room.
“What in the world is going on Alena?” he asked in Russian.
Alena stopped and stared at him, trying to determine where to start. “Mikhail Petrov is a traitor,” she said at last. “He killed Comrade Valkyrie and is plotting with Nazis to do something I am still unclear about.”
“To destroy the world,” Axel said in Russian. Alena stared down at him, shocked that he spoke her language. “I know more than I let on,” he smiled.
General Utkin was confused and dismayed. He shook his head as he tried to process everything.
“I need to talk to my people in the United States,” Axel said in Russian.
Utkin pondered the request for a long moment. “We can get you in touch with them through diplomatic channels once we return to Moscow,” he offered.
“No,” Axel said. “There is no time for that.”
The general opened his mouth to tell Axel there was no other way, but Alena spoke first.
“He is right, Comrade,” she said. “Mikhail and the Nazi International must be stopped. And they must be stopped now, or they might kill us all.”
Utkin looked at Axel, then at Alena and then finally at the Valkyrie, lying frozen on the floor. He turned to some soldiers. “Move her our of here,” he commanded. “And with respect. This is the Valkyrie. She is a war hero.”
“Yes, Comrade,” the men said as they moved toward Brygida’s body.
Utkin turned back to Alena and Axel. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter 19
Washington, D.C.
Ian stood in the West Wing of the White House. The meeting with the President seeking retroactive clearance for his team’s mission had been successful. Not only that, but the President had even authorized a battalion of Army Rangers to reinforce the platoon of Green Berets already on the ground. He wanted to nip this threat in the bud.
Convincing the President that the threat was real had been easy. Much easier than Ian had expected. It was almost as if the President and his cabinet had already been made aware of the threat posed by Mr. X, and just needed to know the location. Ian found that to be quite interesting indeed.
Ian was waiting for word from the FBI Director. The FBI was sending a team with Ian to return to the CSOS headquarters. Much to Ian’s dismay the President had ordered any and all CSOS records to be seized and all operatives to be detained, interrogated, and investigated.
“This is a constitutional crisis like we have never seen,” the President had told the men meeting with him in the Oval Office. “I don’t want to screw this up. And I swear if one whisper of any of this leaks to the press, I will have every one of your asses!”
As Ian waited he heard a young White House staffer call his name.
“Director Johnson,” the young man said nervously.
“Yes?” Ian asked.
“I have a call for you.”
“Alright,” Ian replied. He strolled over to staffer and accepted the handset.
“It’s Ian,” he said, expecting to hear the FBI Director’s voice on the other end.
“Director Johnson?” came a thick Russian accent.
Ian’s eyes went wide with surprise as he slipped his palm over the mouthpiece of the receiver.
“Who is this?” he asked the staffer.
“The Soviet Embassy,” the young man said.
Ian’s mouth dropped open.
“Yes, this is Director Johnson,” Ian replied.
“Director, my name is Colonel Boris Carlov,” the Russian said. “I am the military attache to the Soviet Embassy in Washington.”
“What can I do for you Colonel?” Ian asked quite perplexed.
“I have an important call for you,” the colonel said. “My assistant is going to patch you through.”
“Thank…” Ian began but he was cut off by a familiar voice on the other line.
“Ian,” Axel said.
“Axel, thank God you’re alive!” Ian said gleefully. “We were…” he began but Axel cut him off.
“Be quiet and listen!” Axel snapped. He had no time for pleasantries. “Mr. X is really Arnulf’s son.”
“Yes, we know,” Ian replied. “Didn’t Tom and Dawn tell you that?”
“What are you talking about?” Axel asked, frustrated by the conversation. “I’m in Siberia, how could I have spoken to Tom and Dawn?”
“Siberia?” Ian asked confused. “That can’t be. Dawn said you were being held at a secret military installation in Alaska. She was very very sure about it!”
“Alaska?” Axel asked. Then he remembered Mikhail mentioning a base in Alaska where he and Mr. X were planning something.
“Yes, Alaska,” Ian replied. “I’m standing in the White House right now. The President just authorized the team to rescue you and stop Mr. X at a base in Alaska.
There was a pause.
“Axel are there?” Ian asked.
“Yeah,” Axel said. “Listen, I need the coordinates for this secret base.”
“Sure, that’s easy,” Ian said.
“And I need you to go back and talk to the President again.”
“About what?” Ian asked.
“I need to clear a plane flying in from Siberia,” Axel said.
“What kind of plane?” Ian asked.
“A GRU plane,” Axel replied.
“What?” Ian said in disbelief. “GRU? Are you crazy?”
“Ian, you’ve got to,” Axel replied, “because that’s the only way we’re going to be able to get to Alaska to save Tom, Dawn, and Rolf.”
“What do you mean?” Ian asked.
“I mean, the team is walking right into a trap!”
***
Dawn used the key card she had taken from the single inept sentry, and the large steel blast doors opened wide revealing a deserted hallway, illuminated by fluorescent lights. Dawn glanced back at Tom, Colonel Smith, Rolf and the platoon of Green Berets that were wit
h them. “Well, that was easy,” she said brightly.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Tom replied suspiciously. He then turned to Colonel Smith. “Ready?”
Smith nodded. “I’ll send a fire team to lead the way,” he said.
“Alright,” Tom agreed. “I’ll follow them and Rolf can follow me. Everyone else stay behind Rolf.”
“Roger that,” Smith replied before motioning for a fire team to move up. The four man team stepped into the hallway and began slowly and deliberately moving forward, their rifles at the ready.
Tom turned to Dawn. “Any direction?” he asked.
Dawn smiled. “There is only straight,” she replied.
“Straight it is,” Tom said before following the Green Berets, his M-16 rifle held at the ready.
A team of soldiers remained outside to cover the rear as the others moved inside. The door remained open.
The four man fire team kept moving further and further along the hall, which they presumed meant they were moving deeper and deeper into the mountain, until they eventually came to the end, where stood a single elevator. The Green Berets stared at their own reflections staring back at them from the shiny metal doors as Tom stepped forward.
Tom glanced at the single button with an arrow pointing down. “Well I guess we only have one choice gentlemen,” he told the Berets as he pressed the button causing it to illuminate with a dull orange glow.
“Elevator straight to Hell?” one Beret asked jokingly.
“Going down,” laughed another.
These men were battle hardened Special Forces, scared of very little, but Tom could tell from their banter, that getting onto an elevator made them uneasy. They were trying to hide it behind jokes, but elevators could easily be turned into death traps.
Tom turned to Dawn. “Can you see what’s down there?” he asked hoping she could use her psychic abilities to ensure the coast was clear, so that they wouldn’t step off the elevator and into an ambush.
Dawn squeezed her eyes closed. “Just more hallway,” she said as they opened again.
Tom turned back to the Berets. “No fire and damnation yet, boys,” he smiled. “But we’re sure to encounter the devil sooner or later.” The Berets laughed at that. Just then the elevator doors slid open with a ding. Five rifles were pointed at the empty car.
The International Page 13