“Marijuana?”
“Why, what did you think? I’m not crazy to use Krokodil and don’t want to spend all my money on cocaine like Lili does…”
“Why was she nervous?”
“Oh, you realized? She hadn’t see a cock for about… three hours,” Larissa says lighting up the joint. “Cocks are her second best drug.”
“Men?” Nooria asks switching off the hairdryer. Before she could smile upon the stupidity of her own question, Larissa cuddles to her on the bed and pulls the blanket over them.
“You think the girls are here because bad, bad gangsters dragged them by their hair? No, dorogaya. Not here.”
“And you?”
“And me? And you? Always the same stupid question,” Larissa says and takes a bottle from under her pillow. “You better try this.”
Nooria takes the bottle. It contains an amber liquid with a few small pods inside. She smells at it. Then, partly out of politeness to the girl who tried to comfort her and partly of curiosity, she takes a swig. The sweet-smelling vodka immediately turns into fire in her throat and makes her cough.
“Easy, easy. Wait, drink it with this.”
Larissa steps to the cupboard and returns to the bed with a small glass of pickles.
“Take one. Come on, take it,” she says putting one small cucumber into Nooria’s mouth. She laughs. “It looks like little cock but tastes much better.”
“It tastes—different,” Nooria replies and smiles. “It is very sour.”
“You’re so funny, Margarita. What brought you here? You don’t seem to be one like us.”
“Sultan brought me here.”
“The man himself? Bravo. But you are—” Larissa bites her tongue. “I like you and all, but—your face is a little—”
“Ugly,” Nooria says with a wide smile and shrugs. The liquor already makes its strength felt. “I know I am ugly. Everyone looks at me like I was an animal. It makes me sad but what can I do?”
“Maybe some men like that,” Larissa says drawing on her joint. “But wait—what was that story about killing your boyfriend?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Your choice, tsiganka.”
For a few minutes they sit in silence. Nooria tries to understand if Larissa’s casual words were referring to the murder eventually depending on her decision only, or were just meant to leave her secret alone. She wishes to share the mental burden weighing down on her but her caution prevails.
“Your jewelry is nice,” she says looking at Larissa’s earring. It forms a silver butterfly with two tiny, red gems where its eyes would be.
“You are very kind. Men like it too. You want some?”
“Men?”
“Anasha.”
“No.”
“And men?”
“Only mine.”
“Yes, I feel like that too.” The blonde chuckles. “I always keep thinking of him. I do everything that’s normal but for no money in the world would I look into their eyes. Or kiss them. That’s off limits. I keep my eyes closed and think of my boyfriend—and God save me from thinking of certain guests when I’ll be with him again!” Larissa chuckles again and narrows her brown eyes like a cat.
“Where is he?”
“He still studies.”
“Does he know?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Sorry. Are you here like Lili? I mean, are you here for—”
“No, no!” Larissa shudders with overplayed disgust. “To me it’s just for the money. Good money.”
“How much money do you need?”
“Don’t play Mother Teresa on me, okay? I feel all right where I am. At least for the time being.”
“I don’t understand. Sultan makes you do things you don’t want—not decent things. Not honorable things.”
“You are very mistaken if you think Sultan has no honor, and even more so if you think I have no honor. Do for one day what I do and you will understand that your body is an asset like… oh never mind. My soul is not into it, most of the time, anyway.“ She shrugs. ”I’m just helping them. Sometimes it’s like being a doctor, I tell you that.”
Nooria doesn’t know what to reply. Secretly, she had hoped that if she gives her word to someone who is after all just a criminal and as such a man without honor in her eyes, it would be as if she wouldn’t have given it at all. She could forget about it, after a little struggle with her better conscience. What Larissa has just said disturbs her view of Sultan profoundly, and Larissa hasn’t even finished.
“Those guys have their own idea of honor. You can call them a bunch of jerks locked in a perpetual dick measuring contest but they do keep their promises, be it good or bad. Like Sultan. He respects us, in his own way. The problem is—give me a sip, Margarita.” With a few deep gulps of vodka apparently boosting her courage, Larissa cuddles closer to Nooria and continues in a lower voice. “He keeps my money safe—but from me also. So, thing is he always keeps telling me how much the Jacuzzi, hot water, electricity and all that shit costs and deducts it from what I earn. I still don’t have enough collected.”
“How much would you need?” Nooria asks.
Larissa puts her head on Nooria’s shoulder.
“Not too much, I guess… enough for an apartment that I choose, with furniture that I like, with all kinds of stuff that makes me feel comfortable. So that I could be standing on my own feet, you understand?”
“But you speak English. You must have good education. Why this?”
“Are you kidding me? Do you know how much I would earn as an office assistant? I still would have to suck cock if I wanted a better salary.”
Larissa makes a sad face but then bursts out in laughter. Nooria laughs with her. She pulls the blanket tighter and sits closer to Larissa. As she moves, she feels something soft pressing against her bum. Taking it, she realizes it’s a teddy bear.
“That’s Misha,“ Larissa says taking the toy. “He is the best man in the world. He has been my friend since I was a little girl.” Larissa takes the bear and holds it tight to her breast. “Misha is the only man I go to bed with outside of business hours.” They laugh. “Here, Margarita. Try my anasha.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Your loss… your loss. You want to listen to some music? I have an iPod somewhere in my cupboard. ”
“First tell me how much money you need to get out of here.”
“Look, tsiganka… you’re getting a little pushy. It’s all about me trying to be my own master, don’t you understand?”
Larissa puts the bottle to her lips, blows the smoke into the bottle and takes a swig.
“But how can you be your own master when you can’t leave from here?”
“I can. I only need to ask Knuckles or another guy staying with us for our… safety. They knew I wouldn’t run away.” Larissa drums with her fingers on the bottle. “How could I run away anyway, with them keeping my papers… But one day I will, if I have enough money. Rest assured, I’m not a slave.”
“But how much you need?”
“Oh my God! Just to shut you up, maybe… fifty thousand? Dollars, of course! You have that on you? No? I guessed so. In a good week, I earn about three hundred—with all that damned expenses that Sultan deducts, I still have to work—how long? Damn, I have a degree in sociology, not maths—”
“Do you have a knife?”
“Why?”
“Anything metallic?”
“You are really strange,” Larissa says. She gets up, opens the window and tosses the joint butt off. For a minute, she rummages in the drawer of the table.
“Here’s a knife,” she says slipping back under the blanket with a blunt kitchen knife. “Spreading butter is the only thing it’s good for.”
Now it is Nooria who gets up. She takes her blade from the chair where she had left her clothes.
“Where did you get that from?” Larissa slowl
y whispers when she sees the jeweled sheath.
“From my stepmother.”
Nooria begins to remove the ruby from the pommel with the blunt knife.
“Are you mad?”
Ignoring Larissa’s whisper, Nooria works on the ruby until it becomes lose. She holds it close to the candle.
“Sultan said it is worth twenty thousand,” she says, holding the jewel between her thumb and index finger close to the candle. The ruby shines and glitters with deep, blood-colored red. “Dollars, of course.”
“Oh my God,” Larissa whimpers. “That means it’s worth at least two times more than that.”
“You have been kind to me,” Nooria whispers. “Take it and go where you really want.”
“You are completely crazy!”
“Take it.”
At first Larissa refuses to open her fist but Nooria folds her fingers back with a force that leaves the blonde aghast.
“Outch! That hurts!”
“Take it and go,” Nooria says closing Larissa’s reluctant fingers into a fist again, now holding the ruby.
“It feels warm,” Larissa says.
“It is a glowing stone. An artifact. Like in the Zone.”
“The Zone? Oh my good God,” Larissa whispers, moving a little away from Nooria. “The guys who have been there are the worst… complete freaks!”
“Why?”
“Come on — they spend a long time in that irradiated hellhole, totally deprived of sex, make good money with the artifacts they smuggle out and then — guess where they spend it. They’re mad about sex! And they all fuck as if could be the last one… for some it probably is. Don’t tell me you’ve been there!”
“I—I can protect myself.”
Larissa points at the blade.
“With that?” Seeing Nooria nod, she studies her for a long minute. “Who are you, Margarita?”
“You helped me. I help you. Now find out how to escape.”
“It’s not escape but… all right… that jerk Knuckles keeps my ID card, and he keeps telling me that if I run away he will kill my mother, and she is the only… But now If I take this to the right person… are you serious? This is worth a fortune!”
“It is, and it’s yours.”
“Wait—wait a minute. No, Margarita. Let me give this back and—”
“I could kill Knuckles,” Nooria casually says with a shrug.
“No! Don’t even think of it! Sultan would kill you for that!”
Even if she feels nothing but disgust towards Sultan, Nooria realizes that invoking his rage would destroy any of her chances of getting back to the Exclusion Zone and then the New Zone. She quickly reconsiders.
“It is just the vodka speaking, Larissa. Can you leave with glowing stone?”
“Maybe, but what do you want from me in exchange? I’m not like Nastya, if you have that in mind.”
“Why, how is Nastya?” Nooria wonders.
“I was right,” the blonde says with a smile. After a heartbeat of hesitation, she gives Nooria a soft kiss on her scarred cheek. “You don’t belong here—it is not me but you who should escape from here.”
“Will you go home to your boyfriend?”
Larissa turns her head away and doesn’t reply. She stares at her teddy bear, as if expecting the toy telling her what to do.
A few minutes later, back in her room and stretching her exhausted body under the warm blanket, the first smile comes to Nooria’s face since she got separated from Tarasov. She had been able to help someone who did good to her, even if just by offering a little sympathy. This night she sleeps deeply, not even awakening to the commotion at dawn and the noise of the heavy door being slammed.
51
Bagram area, New Zone
“Driscoll here, sir. Task Force Cobra is ready, over.”
“Good job. You will keep a strangle on them until I arrive. Wait for further orders, over.”
The Colonel’s voice sounds calm, but First Lieutenant Driscoll risks to ask the question that bothers him.
“Sir, our detachment at Ghorband reported heavy gunfire coming from the Alamo’s direction. Is everything all right? Over.”
“Ragheads, supported by about two dozen smiters have infiltrated our lower defenses. The storage vaults have been breached, but we managed to keep them off the upper fortifications. I’ll deal with the assault. Don’t worry, Driscoll. Stick to your orders. Over.”
“Sir, do you want us to return?”
“Negative. I repeat, we can deal with the situation here. Over.”
“Sir, please confirm—Task Force Cobra on Sierra Bravo while the Alamo is under attack?”
“Driscoll, I will not say it again. Your orders have not changed. Over.”
“How could they infiltrate the vaults? Over.”
“They used some kind of a mutant we’ve never seen before to navigate through the caves, then had the smiters break through the wall. Extremely effective, I’ll admit.”
“A new mutant?”
“Affirmative. It’s been neutralized. Appears to be brought in from the Exclusion Zone. Your intel from Ghorband supports my gut feeling about the ragheads having connections to the scavengers. Give me Collins, over.”
Driscoll passes the mike to Lieutenant Collins.
“Collins here, over.”
“Lieutenant, it’s time to check on the intel obtained at Ghorband. Take a Sierra Romeo squad to the northern approaches. Reckon the airfield at Charikhar and neutralize any hostile presence. Any further supplies for the new scavenger faction must be interdicted. We have enough on our plate already. Over.”
“Understood, sir. Sierra Bravo on Charikhar airfield, search and destroy, over.”
“Good luck, warriors. Alamo over and out.”
If Collins and Schmidt could see Driscoll’s look under the helmet’s face mask, they would be startled—doubt and bewilderment only rarely come to the tough First Lieutenant’s face. But Driscoll’s voice tells nothing of his misgivings.
“You heard the big man. He wants us to stand by. Until we get further orders, we keep Bagram locked down. Collins, prepare to move out. Questions?”
“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Schmidt asks.
“Go ahead, Scotty.”
“Sir, our main strike force is idling here while…”
Driscoll interrupts him. “The task force is not idling, Lieutenant. We are carrying out orders. Our orders are to maintain our position, except for Collins’ special recon. Is that clear?”
“Sir, with all due respect, I agree with Scotty. We might have a Waterloo situation here.”
“What do you mean, Collins?”
“The Alamo might be hard pressed while we are away. If we return, no matter what, we might be just in time to prevent a disaster.”
“The big man told us to stick to our standing orders. It’s his call. Maybe you think you know better than him?”
Collins swallows. “No, sir. Absolutely not, sir.”
“Good. For a moment I thought you doubted the big man’s judgment. If he says he can handle the situation, that’s that. Period. Dismissed.”
The two Lieutenants salute. Leaving Driscoll’s command position, none of them says anything till they are out of hearing distance.
“Bauer was damn right,” Collins says breaking the silence. “Without the Top to reason with the big man, this… stubbornness will be our doom.”
“There’s no reason to doubt the big man’s insight, Joe.”
“I hope you’re right. Nonetheless, I got the feeling that we’re in the biggest trouble ever! Don’t forget what happened to Ramirez! That situation was also supposed to be under control!”
“The Colonel is not Ramirez. And hey, we’re talking about the Alamo here. It’s a little harder to overrun than that outpost, even for smiters!”
“For Chrissakes, Scotty, they managed to infiltrate the vaults! You get it? This mess is becoming a clusterfuck of epic proportions, brother! I really do hope the big man
knows what he’s doing, while we just sit around here and do nothing because Driscoll can’t think for himself!”
Schmidt kicks a rock away. “At least you got a recon assignment while we’re staring holes into the air, instead of blasting holes into the scavenger’s defenses.”
“That’s right! Taking a damn airfield twenty klicks north of here while the Alamo is under siege. Really great.” Collins sighs. “All right… I better start assembling my team.”
“Going by Humvees?”
“Nope. It’s special recon this time. We’ll need to keep a very low profile until we get there.”
“At least you get a chance to fire your weapon.”
Collins adjusts the barely used M27 slung over his shoulder, muzzle up. “It’s about time!”
52
Sultan’s residence, Kiev
“Get up. I am here to bring you to Zaton.”
The voice awakening Nooria is pleasant but spoken in a manner that will not tolerate any argument. Stirring, she opens her eyes and sees a tall, handsome man wearing a smart suit standing next to her bed. He holds a big bundle in his hand, wrapped in drab brown paper. There is also a small rucksack next to her bed.
“You are to wear this,” he says and drops the bundle onto the bed. ”It’s already five past six. You have ten minutes to get ready.”
With that, he leaves the room. Nooria sits up and opens the bundle. She finds a black leather anorak inside that appears surprisingly heavy for its small size. On closer inspection, she finds that the jacket has plates of Kevlar over the areas covering vital organs, and each of the two big pockets holds a removable pouch, probably with a thin layer of lead sawn into the fabric.
The rucksack contains a Stalker’s most basic survival gear — a first aid kit, a bandage, a few bolts and two cans of processed meat.
When she appears downstairs, she sees the man leaning against the door and reading an English-language newspaper. With the paper, he appears to Nooria like a decent business man she had seen on the airports and the expensive hotel in Kiev. Only his hands tell of him being involved in shady business — there is barely skin left that is not covered with tattoos. Even his fingers bear strange symbols.
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