by Alex Archer
“At the same time, we will exit here and my other two men will post at these nearest corners. You and I will handle Dzerchenko.”
“So, you’re trying to bottle up the church and keep anyone from leaving.”
Mischa nodded. “I think that’s the best plan. If we can keep it contained, we don’t have to kill anyone. We can grab Dzerchenko, get him to reveal where he’s stowed your friend and then he and I can have ourselves a talk about his future.”
It was a simple and easily workable plan. It just might work. Annja nodded. “I like it.”
Mischa smiled. “So glad you approve.”
“Well, it’s easy and it has a strong chance of working.”
Mischa looked at her. “It will work. My men will see to it.” He looked away and nodded at his two men by the window.
Annja watched as they pushed hard on the window, forcing it up from the sill. Both men snaked through the opening and vanished.
Mischa checked his watch. “Two minutes.”
His other men each held up two fingers. Mischa nudged Annja away from the door. “Let my men take control first and then we will come out.”
Annja nodded and stepped back. Mischa’s men took up their positions by the door. Annja heard Mischa say something low and inaudible. Both of his men nodded.
Mischa’s voice was lower now, and Annja could tell there was some tension in it. “One minute now.”
Annja closed her eyes. Her sword still hovered right where she expected it to be. She felt a wave of calm wash over her. For the first time, she felt as if she wasn’t about to bite off more than she could chew.
“You okay?”
She opened her eyes. “Fine.”
Mischa nodded. “Thirty seconds.”
Mischa’s men did a final check on their weapons, each one carefully checking the safety and making sure he had a round in the chamber, ready to fire. They looked at each other and nodded.
“Twenty seconds.”
The men looked a bit more tense now. Annja could see it in the way they hunched forward. She could see the barrels of their weapons held obliquely low, just off the horizon. She recognized the position as low-ready. From where they slung their weapons, both men could bring target and fire to them in an instant.
These guys are good, she decided. Trained professionals about to do what they did best. Annja was glad she was on this side of the door.
She smirked. What strange bedfellows the world could make. Here she was about to storm a church with Russian mafiya members in the hope they could rescue Bicycle Bob from crazy scientist Dzerchenko.
Annja wondered what Mischa intended to do with Dzerchenko. Then she just as quickly decided she didn’t care.
“Ten seconds.”
Mischa’s men were breathing deeply now. Annja knew they were trying to flush their systems with as much oxygen as possible. As soon as they broke into the main church, their muscles would devour the oxygen supplies as adrenaline kicked into overdrive.
She found it fascinating to watch them prepare for it.
Mischa’s voice was quiet but urgent in her ear. “Five seconds.”
Annja took a breath.
Mischa counted down the final seconds.
Mischa’s men seemed to explode through the kitchen door as one entity. From somewhere down near the front of the church, Annja could hear the main doors burst inward.
Mischa’s men shouted commands in strident Russian to the parishioners.
Mischa’s hand stayed firm on Annja’s shoulder. “They’ll call us out when they’ve got it under control.”
Annja nodded. So far, she hadn’t heard a single scream ring out. That was weird. If armed men broke into a church service she was attending, she could count on at least some mild hysteria from some of the older folks in the church.
But nothing seemed to surprise the parishioners here.
She glanced at Mischa. “They’re not screaming.”
His eyes narrowed. “Maybe they’re in shock. They might confuse my men for the second coming.”
“I don’t know,” Annja said.
One of Mischa’s men shouted something. Mischa released his hold. “Let’s go.”
They pushed through the kitchen door, and Annja could see Mischa’s men at every corner, their guns trained on the crowd.
Annja turned and looked at Dzerchenko.
He smiled at her. “Welcome back, Annja Creed.”
Annja shook her head. “Forget it—where did you put Bob?”
Dzerchenko smiled some more. “Aren’t you even interested in meeting my flock?”
He spread his arms and Annja heard a sudden rumble of movement from behind her.
She turned.
Every parishioner stood up. But something was wrong. Their hands.
Annja whipped her head back at Dzerchenko. “You didn’t.”
He grinned. “Meet my life’s work, my dear. And prepare for the ultimate demonstration of my power.”
40
Mischa’s men waited just long enough for him to nod once, and then all hell let loose. Their submachine guns opened up and ripped into the parishioners. They howled as the bullets tore into them, shredding clothes and skin. Blood sprayed everywhere as Mischa’s men kept up their assault.
Mischa gripped Annja’s shoulder. Annja looked at him and he simply shook his head. There would be no mercy given to the parishioners.
One of Mischa’s men dropped a magazine and slid another into its place, but as he did so, one of the parishioners reached out a metallic claw and sliced into his gun hand. He screamed and dropped his gun.
Instantly he was pulled to the floor by the claws.
His screams were drowned out by a renewed burst of gunfire from Mischa’s other men.
Mischa brought his own gun up and double-tapped a parishioner attempting to crawl out of the nearby pew. His bullets slapped into the parishioner’s forehead, exploding his skull all over the floor.
Annja bit back the flood of bile in her mouth.
Stained-glass windows exploded as stray bullets broke them into a million bits of colored glass. Behind her, Dzerchenko looked horrified as his creatures were being cut down.
Another one of Mischa’s men took a slash across his belly. Annja watched as the crimson line on his stomach seemed to unfurl the contents of his abdomen onto the floor. He sank down beneath a tide of corpses.
Mischa’s two closest men backed up a few steps, trying to get some distance from the parishioners who hadn’t been shot and who were clambering over the pews like zombies.
Mischa’s own pistol barked three more times, and Annja saw two more creatures go down.
“This is getting dangerous,” Mischa said.
Annja nodded. “Get Dzerchenko. Maybe he can stop them.”
Mischa nodded and made a run for the altar, where Dzerchenko stood. He put his pistol up to Dzerchenko’s temple and eased back the trigger. “Make them stop,” he ordered.
Dzerchenko smiled. “I don’t want to do that.”
Mischa pressed the barrel of the pistol into his temple. “You either tell them to stop right now or I will decorate this place with your brains.”
Dzerchenko eyed him and then nodded once. “Very well. I will stop them for the time being. However, they are very hungry. And they haven’t eaten in days. I may not be able to control them for long.”
“Just do it.”
Dzerchenko held up his hands and then shouted,
“Stop!”
The effect was instant. The creatures stopped and sank back into the pews as if nothing had even happened. Aside from the corpses of their fallen comrades, and the puddles of blood and empty shell casings, nothing much had changed.
A stiff breeze blew in from the broken windows. Mischa’s men changed magazines.
Mischa looked at them and nodded. “Finish it.”
Their guns erupted.
Dzerchenko screamed, “No!”
But it was too late to save his creations
. Mischa’s men systematically cut down every last one of the parishioners. They sat there accepting their fate as the men walked up and down the pews, slaughtering them all.
Annja shook her head. Such barbarism. At one time all of those creatures had been people. But Dzerchenko had gotten his hands on them and turned them into something not of this world.
She glared at him. “Their deaths are on your hands.”
Dzerchenko pointed at Mischa. “He ordered them killed.”
“You killed them a long time ago. They’ve only been wishing for death to free themselves. You stole their lives from them. You deserve nothing less than the same,” Annja said.
Dzerchenko frowned. “I still have something you want. Very badly, I’d imagine.”
Annja leaped onto the altar and grabbed Dzerchenko. “Where is he? If you’ve hurt him, I swear to God—”
“You’ll kill me? Roll me in salt as you promised?” Dzerchenko smiled. “I don’t think so. You won’t touch me if you ever want to see Bob again.”
Mischa’s hand was on Annja’s shoulder again. “Annja.”
She released Dzerchenko, who straightened himself up. Mischa walked over to him. “Where is this Bob?”
Dzerchenko smiled. “Why would I tell you that?”
“Because I’m a smart man. If you tell me where Bob is and I get Annja and him out of here, then you and I can discuss a possible future together.”
“What kind of future?”
Mischa shrugged. “Seems to me you might just have a valuable commodity here. I’m sure there are plenty of people in the world who would be interested in…import opportunities.”
Annja shook her head. “You’re not serious.”
Mischa looked at her. “Annja, this is business.”
“This was wholesale slaughter! You can’t seriously be thinking about going into business with this guy?”
Mischa looked at Annja. “What’s more important to you—Bob or what I do with my time and business?”
Annja swallowed. “Bob.”
Mischa nodded. “That’s what I thought. Now, give me a moment here and I’ll see if I can’t oblige you, okay?”
Annja frowned. “Fine.”
She turned away and walked behind the altar. High above, a wooden crucifix hung on the church wall. Annja looked up at it and felt incredibly sad. So much death in a holy place like this. She shook her head. It shouldn’t have happened this way. She never should have fallen for Dzerchenko’s trap.
“Annja.”
She turned and saw Mischa beckoning her over. She cleared her throat of the lump in it and walked over. “Yes?”
“Bob is in the back office. Go find him.”
Annja turned and hurried down the steps of the altar. She had to pick her way through the bodies littering the floor of the church. Twice, she almost fell in the bloody puddles. At the door of the office, she cracked the door. “Bob?”
A lamp hit the door with a crash.
“Bob! It’s me, Annja.”
“Crap, sorry.”
Annja pushed the door open and saw Bob on his gurney. How he’d managed to get a lamp and throw it at the door as she opened it amazed her. “Got some strength back, huh?”
He nodded. “What the hell happened out there?”
“Don’t ask.”
“I’m asking, I’m asking.”
Annja filled him in as best she could. When she was finished, Bob shook his head. “This is unbelievable.”
“I know.”
“When you left, I had a bad feeling about it. And then he came in and laughed the entire time. Said something about gullible women. It was ridiculous blabbering that just made my head hurt. He got me up here as his…people were filing in. I’ve never been so scared my whole life. They all just looked at me like I was dinner.”
“I think you were,” Annja said.
“I think we all were.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I ran into Mischa and his men, then.”
“Depends on how you define luck, I guess.” Bob smiled. “Can we get out of here now?”
“I think so. Mischa’s talking to Dzerchenko. It seems obvious they’re going to work some kind of deal. It sickens me but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. My priority is getting you out of here.”
Bob frowned. “They’ll keep this up, won’t they?”
“Very probably.”
“Damn.”
Annja nodded. “There’s nothing we can do. This is a matter for the authorities, not us. I wish there was something more I could do, but right now…”
“Yeah.”
The office door opened and one of Mischa’s men came in. He pointed toward the altar and Annja nodded. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”
He left and Annja got behind Bob’s gurney. “We have an audience with the pope, apparently.”
She pushed him back out into the church. Bob groaned. “My God, look at this place. It’s a slaughterhouse.” Bob whistled. “I wonder what the penalty is for killing inside a church?”
“I don’t want to find out,” Annja said.
She pushed Bob as far as she could before the bodies barred her way. Mischa came over. “You are free to go.”
Annja nodded at Bob. “I need help getting him out of here.”
Mischa agreed. “I’ll tell one of my men to help you. We came in two vehicles. You take one of them and drive him back to Magadan. He can get the care he needs there.”
Annja looked over Mischa’s shoulder to Dzerchenko. “What about him?”
Mischa smiled. “Oh, I think he’s got enough on his mind right now to not worry about what you and Bob are up to.”
Annja sighed. “You’ve been good to me and I appreciate that. But I implore you not to do anything with Dzerchenko. Look at these poor people. Each one of them used to have a life and now they’re dead. But before they were killed, they endured horrific suffering. What kind of price can you put on that?”
Mischa looked around and then back at Annja. “Plenty. These things will fetch millions with the right buyers. It’s too good a deal to pass up. And if we control the village here, we can use it as a base of operations. We’ll be safe and secure. And Dzerchenko can continue his work.”
“You’re enabling his nightmare to continue,” Annja cried.
Mischa eyed her. “You have a better idea?”
“Kill him. And stop this madness.”
Mischa smiled. “You can really be cutthroat when you want to be, huh?”
“I think it’s necessary in this case.”
“Perhaps, but the profit is too immense.”
“And what about your men who were killed? They won’t be the only ones. And when Dzerchenko thinks he can get the better of you, he will try it. You might even die at the hands of one of these things.”
Mischa nodded. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“What you wish isn’t a factor here.”
Annja took a breath. “All right, then.”
Dzerchenko appeared at Mischa’s shoulder. “Are we all set here?”
Mischa glared at him. “I told you to wait over there.”
Dzerchenko smiled. “Forgive an old man his passion for working an open wound.” His eyes twinkled and Annja hated him all the more.
“You’re scum,” she said.
Dzerchenko bowed. “Thank you.” He stood and looked at Mischa. “Has she told you about her magical sword yet?”
Mischa’s eyes opened. “What?”
“She has a sword she can summon at will.”
Mischa looked at Annja. “Is this true?”
Annja shook her head. “I told you you wouldn’t be able to trust this guy. He’s insane and he’s already lying to you.”
Mischa eyed Annja and brought his gun up. “This sword…show it to me.”
41
Annja looked into Mischa’s eyes. “There is no sword. Dzerchenko is making it up in order to gain fa
vor with you.”
“How would lying gain him any favor with me?”
“If he is able to convince you that I have a sword and I tell you I don’t, he’ll just accuse me of lying until you get angry with me. At that point, you’ll probably shoot me and he will get exactly what he wants—me dead.”
Mischa smiled. “Your mind works very well, doesn’t it?”
“I have no idea. Lately, it’s been getting me into a lot of trouble.”
Mischa looked at Dzerchenko. “I’m inclined to believe her. She hasn’t lied to me yet.”
“That’s because you’re allowing yourself to be wiled by a beautiful woman.”
Annja frowned. “Thanks for the backhanded compliment.”
Dzerchenko ignored her. “Don’t let her fool you. She can summon it at will. She used it to kill the man I sent to kill her.”
Mischa smiled. “All right, if she’s got a sword, where the hell is it?”
Dzerchenko frowned. “I don’t know. She can summon it forth at will, though.”
“So it just…appears?” Mischa asked
“Yes!” Dzerchenko said.
Mischa chuckled. “You realize how crazy that sounds? Especially coming from a man of science? I wouldn’t think that you’d fall for that superstitious mumbo jumbo so easily.”
“It’s not crazy. I saw it.”
Mischa leaned close to him. “Could be time to get your eyes checked out.”
Dzerchenko turned away. “Fine.”
Mischa looked back at Annja. “Don’t worry about him. Are you ready to get going?”
Annja nodded. “We are.”
“All right, then—”
As Mischa continued talking, Dzerchenko suddenly let out a bloodcurdling scream and launched himself into the air.
Annja saw it all happen as if in slow motion. She saw the wicked knife Dzerchenko had in his hands. She closed her eyes and summoned the sword.
As Dzerchenko came down, Annja deflected the blade and then pivoted, dropping as she did so. Her blade cut horizontally across Dzerchenko’s midsection, cutting deep into his body.
He dropped, cut almost in two by Annja’s sword.
Dzerchenko’s knife clattered away.
“My, my.”
She looked up at Mischa, who had a pistol trained on her. “It would appear as though my former would-be colleague was correct.” He looked shocked.