Diana's Disciples

by Eddy Will

It was Maria Koshkova.

  “Hi,” Styx said, stifling the impulse of hurling accusations.

  “How’s it going, babe,” Maria said. Nothing sounded like it should anymore. Everything had a double meaning. What did Maria really want to know? Have you spotted my surveillance team that has been monitoring you rather clumsily? Have you looked at my phone this morning and found the digital photo of a dead man?

  “I miss you,” Styx said, the lie coming easy.

  “I miss you too,” Maria said. Miss you as in I want to see you, or miss you as in I cannot keep an eye on you? Styx’s mind was reeling.

  “How is your day going?” Maria said, after a pause.

  “I went for a walk by the Thames. It was refreshing,” Styx said. ‘But you probably already knew that,’ she thought.

  “In the rain? You are crazy,” Maria said.

  ‘Not as crazy as you sending Skinny Man and Trench Coat Man to keep tabs on me,’ Styx thought. “Sometimes I like the rain. It clears the mind and helps my creative process,” Styx said.

  “What are you doing later tonight?” Maria said. “Maybe you can come over?”

  It was the question that Styx had dreaded, because she knew that any excuse would sound suspicious. She was trapped. And, yet, she was excited at the prospect of seeing Maria. It was not easy to put out the fires of passion for Maria Koshkova.

  “I would like that,” Styx said. “When?”

  “I have a dinner meeting but should be done around ten or eleven. I’ll make it quick.”

  “Cool. Call me when you are on the way.”

  “You are hot,” Maria said and hung up.

  Styx stared at the phone. Would she be able to separate her desire for Maria from the fear and repulsion she felt? She had no choice. She had to go along, play her part. And use the time to find an exit strategy without drawing the wrath of her murdering lover.

  She crossed to the window.

  The man in the tan trench coat stood in the entrance across the street.

  Chapter 37

  Carpathian Mountains, Romania, August 3, 2012, 4:22 PM

  Anna Jaeger had crossed half the distance on her way to the cascading waterfall on the far end of the valley. Grey clouds had darkened the sky and the first drops fell on her face. Tall pine trees had given way to open meadows, the grass knee-deep. A stream snaked its way through the grassy field. Anna had been scooping water with a cupped hand, when she saw the small rabbit upwind. Anna slowed her movements and studied the animal. It was feeding on the edge of the stream and from time to time would jerk up its head, smelling the wind for the scent of danger. The creature had not noticed Anna, yet. Anna crouched and slowly moved closer. She had no specific plan, she was moving on an impulse. But as she inched her way closer, the thought of killing the small animal took shape. She was not hungry, but she would be soon. The handful of power bars would not give her the strength she needed. So, this was the time to try her hand at hunting.

  Anna crept along the edge of the stream, hiding in the tall grass and thick brush, focusing hard on moving silently without disturbing the growth or stepping on a branch. When she had cut the distance to the animal in half, she dropped to one knee and hooked the nook of an arrow into the bowstring.

  The rabbit looked up, turning its head in her direction, the nose wiggling as it smelled for danger. Anna froze in place and held her breath. The rabbit resumed its feeding, dropping the head. Anna raised the bow and pulled back on the string. She took careful aim, exhaled slowly and shot the arrow at the rabbit some ten yards away. The arrow punched into the ground a foot from the animal, dirt exploding in a violent puff. The arrow bounced off the ground and disappeared into the tall grass. The rabbit had vanished before the arrow had.

  “Wow,” Anna mumbled. It was the first time that she had taken aim at an animal with the intent to kill. She had missed, but she had tried. She was happy that the rabbit got away, but she had also felt exhilaration. She had tapped a prehistoric instinct and she wanted to try again. She laid up another arrow as she crossed the stream in search for the lost projectile. She entered the tall grass, the bow at the ready. She found the arrow, but not the rabbit. She had to learn quickly, if she wanted to have a chance to evade Remington and his hunting rifle. Though she had failed to catch the rabbit, she felt a glimmer of hope.

  The rain fell harder, washing away Anna’s fragile glimmer of optimism. Falling into a run, she headed for the tree line at the end of the vast meadow. She ran a straight line for the trees seeking shelter from the falling rain. As she kicked through the grass, rabbits chased up in her path, racing away in a zigzag line. She reached the forest and slowed her pace, catching her breath. Thick trunks rose high to the sky, tree tops lush with foliage, affording her some shelter from the rain. The forest was wilder than previous stretches. A storm had caused a great number of trees to fall. Some were fully covered by ground brush, grabbing on to the dead bark and feeding of the rotting wood. Others had crashed against standing trees creating awkward, jagged angles with long vines hanging from branches like curtains from a rod. The thick canopy not only blocked much of the rain, but also the light. The ground was soft but uneven and Anna had to be careful not to fall or twist an ankle. The idea of injury brought back the reality of her predicament. She was the prey in a cruel hunt and an injury would make her an easy target. It would spell the end for her. Even with her health intact and her mind alert, the likelihood of her survival was slim.

  And there was the fear again, rushing up her spine, threatening to consume her. Anna started to run, looking to outpace the terror snapping at her heels. How far could she run before she could run no further? And when would Remington close in on her with his hunting rifle and long knife. Anna shuddered. But she kept moving, climbing over dead trees, crawling under thick branches sticking in the ground.

  It was getting dark. The thought of night returned the terror. What was she supposed to do? Soon it would be pitch-dark. And soon it would get cold. Anna had to find a safe place for the night. What animals came out at night in search for food? Were there wolves? Her impulse was to get off the ground. A tall, straight tree had tumbled over, but had been caught by a neighboring tree and the two had formed an awkward union high up. The branches had intertwined themselves, grown into gnarly shapes, all struggling to find the light above the canopy. Anna studied the tree. She hooked one foot into the bark and pulled herself off the ground. She carefully climbed the leaning trunk, supporting her balance with her hands, working her way higher and higher, much like a monkey might, only slower. She reached the gnarled intertwining branches and found a wide spot, where two thick limbs had grown against one another, creating a nook of sorts, before they separated again, going their own ways. Anna climbed to the nook. A bird had made a nest at one point, but it was abandoned now and falling apart.

  ‘What’s good for the goose,” Anna thought. Night was falling quickly now, a frenzy of birds chirping and fluttering in the canopies, looking for a place to sleep. Just like Anna. She removed her satchel, bow and quiver and arranged her gear on the thick converging branches. Afraid that she might fall off the tree in her sleep, she removed her leather belt and strapped herself to the branch, using the belt and the straps from the satchel and quiver. She laid in the nook and ate a power bar, listening to the sounds of the darkening forest. She was tired, but her mind was racing, unable or unwilling to give over to sleep and unconsciousness in the unfamiliar and dangerous wilderness. She doubted Remington would keep moving past nightfall. He was limited in the same way that she was, or was he? Did he have the resources and the will to hunt at night? Remington was not a local and surely as unfamiliar with the environment as she was; unless he had help, of course. Local trackers might be scouring the ground for her tracks, while he rested and ate a solid meal, prepared by others. Did Remington have a tent to sleep in and protect him from the elements? She could not imagine the middle-aged rich Remington going out into the wild by himself, carrying a backpack and a rif
le. No, Anna had seen his type: rich, older city slickers, who wanted to experience the wild without the risks and discomfort. She and Jack made their living guiding men just like Remington through nature for a controlled taste of the wild. And so, she doubted that the only advantage Remington had was his hunting rifle. If that were the case she would actually have a much closer to even chance. But the success of Diana’s heinous business and the interest from men like Remington depended on the prey being flushed out and killed, for this was more about the actual kill than the hunt. Anna concluded that Remington might be helped every step of the way and once he was sure not to fail, they would let him loose on her. Nobody had said the fight would be fair. In fact there was nothing fair about Anna’s predicament.

  A furious rage rose in her heart and tears welled in her eyes, as her new reality pulled into focus. This was her new world and her new world wanted her dead. The strange forest in northern Romania was to be her cemetery.

  When would Remington catch up with her? How much time did she have? She had covered much ground and didn’t think he would get close before tomorrow. How could he know where to look? Suddenly she felt safer. Remington was still far away and she would not have a worry about him yet. Opportunities would present themselves in the meantime.

  Jack. Anna thought of her husband. Where was he? And what must he be thinking? She suddenly missed him terribly and wished he could be here with her. The entire incomprehensible nightmare would be bearable if she was with him. Did he think she was dead? Jane and her husband had been ripped off the mountain by an avalanche of snow. She had seen it, she had heard Jane’s scream of terror when the powerful wall of snow had swept her away. It hurt her heart to think that Jack presumed her dead. But she wasn’t dead, she was alive and she needed him more than ever.

  She stared at the dark canopy above, imagining the stars behind the clouds and wished upon a star she could not see. I am alive, Jack, I am not dead. Come and find me, Jack.

  Anna cried. Imagining Jack’s pain and sadness broke her heart. Would she die and Jack would never know? Would he never know that she didn’t die in an avalanche in Peru, but instead in a forest in Romania? Did it matter, she wondered? It did. She did not want to die without anybody ever knowing her fate. The thought terrified Anna more than dying. Dying without anyone knowing was worse. Jack would never know what she had been through; he would never know where her body was buried, if indeed Diana’s thugs would bury her remains.

  Jack. Where are you? I am here, please come. She prayed hard, in the hope, that someone, somehow would hear her plea.

  Chapter 38

  30,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean, August 3, 2012, 10:22 PM GMT

  Jack’s eyes snapped open. He was instantly awake. The lights in the cabin had been dimmed and most passengers slept or rested. Across the aisle Tarpov snored with this mouth open. But it wasn’t Tarpov’s snoring that had woken Jack. It had been Anna, or rather a dream of Anna. It had been so real that it woke him up. He was sure he had heard her voice, but when he looked around the cabin, there was no one talking, no one confusing Jack’s sleeping mind. She had told him, she was alive, not dead, and she needed him, needed him desperately. Jack unbuckled the seat belt and climbed from his cramped seat. He stretched and took a walk to the rear of the cabin. He knew he had only been dreaming, knew that dreams can play tricks on the dreamer, but still, the dream had felt so real that he expected Anna to be standing next to his seat. But she wasn’t. It had only been a dream. She had been looking at him from a close distance, her face clear as day, and so the same for her voice. He could have sworn it was more than a dream.

  Jack splashed water on his face in the lavatory and stared at the haggard, drawn face in the mirror. Was that really him? The stubble on his chin exasperated the scraggly appearance of the man in the mirror. Jack found a dozing flight attendant and got a cup of coffee from the man. Sipping the hot drink, he looked out the window of the exit door at the rear of the aircraft. Millions of stars sparkled from a vast infinite sky. Below, the black ocean swallowed up all light. It was as if there was nothing beneath him, only a black hole, yet somewhere in that black hole below there was Anna, waiting for him, needing him.

  Chapter 39

  London, England, August 3, 2012, 10:34 PM

  Styx stood in front of Maria’s door for some time before she rang the bell. She had taken the Underground to South Kensington and walked to King’s Road and it had not taken her long to discover her shadow. It had not been the skinny man with a baseball hat. He had been replaced by a female. Black pants, a black jacket with a hood and a black baseball hat was meant to assure she blended into the background, but Styx had made her nonetheless. It had not been difficult. Once her mind had been tuned to look for the tail, it was easy. Styx had walked into a pub near her apartment and found a place to watch the door and moments later the woman had entered the pub. She did not look for friends she had planned to meet, she did not elbow up to the bar to order a drink, she did not even loosen her jacket as if she might stay a while. She stood near the door, her eyes scanning the crowd for her target. Styx had looked down at her phone and allowed the shadow to discover her. Then she had gone to the restroom and after sufficient time re-emerged. The shadow had moved closer to the restroom door, watching from the end of the hallway. Styx had walked by her close enough to have touched her and left the pub. She crossed the street and glanced back just in time to see the black-clad woman emerge, her eyes darting back and forth searching. The shadow left the train at South Kensington just like Styx and followed her up Kings Road never dropping further back than one hundred feet. She was not concerned about being spotted. She considered it an easy assignment, giving Styx the advantage.

  She rang the doorbell to Maria’s mews home and took a deep breath. She would learn a lot in the first moment when Maria opened the door.

  Maria looked lovely. She had changed into an alluring evening outfit, hiding little of her voluptuous curves. She smiled at Styx, her white teeth flashing.

  “There you are,” she said and stepped aside to let Styx in.

  “You are hot,” Styx said. There was no need to lie about that.

  Maria led the way to the living room, making sure Styx did not miss the swaying of her hips.

  “Glass of wine? I just opened a Cabernet,” Maria said.

  “Wine would be lovely,” Styx said. Candles burned on the fireplace mantle, flickering seductively in the dimmed light. Styx dropped her coat on a chair and lit a cigarette from the silver box on the coffee table. ‘So far, so good,’ she thought, as she exhaled blue smoke.

  Maria poured wine into a large round glass with a thin long stem and carried it over to the couch, handing it to Styx. She moved the ashtray to the side and sat on the coffee table across from Styx. Raising her own glass, she leant forward slowly and toasted her lover. They drank, eyes locked, neither one blinked.

  ‘Oh, Christ,’ Styx thought, ‘this is going to be good.’ Maria was in the mood and Styx could not resist, did not want to resist. Whatever happened outside of this room, whoever was standing across the street would have to wait.

  Maria kissed Styx on the mouth. And Styx was gone, she felt the passion rise, her mind clouded over in a fog of lust and desire. Maria took Styx’s hand and pulled her off the couch. They stood close, Styx felt Maria’s heat, in her eyes burnt a raging fire. Styx’s knees were weak and for a moment she thought she might faint. No one had ever made the young punk rocker feel like Maria did. She made her want to forget everything, the world outside did not matter, and if this was Maria’s set-up to kill her, then so be it, Styx thought.

  Maria led Styx to the bedroom.

  Chapter 40

  Carpathian Mountain, Romania, August 4, 2012, 2:16 AM

  A twig snapped in the darkness. Leaves crunched under a boot. Anna’s eyes snapped open, but she did not dare move. The pounding of her heart seemed to echo through the black night, alerting every predator within a hundred yards to her hiding place.
She had barely slept a wink, strange sounds of the forest startling her far too frequently. There was the screeching of a night bird, sometimes in the distance and sometimes close. There was the scurrying of small feet breaking through brush with a sudden burst. And the wind produced its own sounds: leaves rustling and then subsiding, trees aching under the pushy insistence of a gust or the grinding scraping of limbs rubbing against one another.

  There had been nothing quiet about the night in the forest.

  But the most recent sounds were different. Her intuition had sounded the alarm. The sounds she heard were not strange. It was the familiarity of the sounds that frightened Anna. They were sounds that did not belong in the wild. They were human sounds. She was sure.

  More crunching leaves. It was not the harsh sound of a hiker striding confidently along; it was a soft, slow crunch, it was someone trying not to make a sound. Anna’s heart drummed a fast beat and fear gripped her. She turned her body slowly, quietly, her eyes straining to see in the black night. She saw nothing but darkness. But someone was there. Anna did not dare breathe. More leaves crunched gently. Another footstep. Her ear had pinpointed the location of the sound, but her eyes saw only black.

  A dim light flashed briefly, then disappeared again. There it was again. A dim cone of light swept across the darkness making briefly visible tree trunks and the forest floor. And back to darkness. Anna reached for the hilt of her knife. It gave her comfort but would be of little use high up in the crooked tree. The shadowy outline of a man appeared, his darkness different than the black of night. He moved slowly, stopping frequently and standing perfectly still, listening. Listening for her. Anna imagined his eyes boring into the night searching for evidence, searching for movement where there should be none and listening for the sound of human.