Secret of The Red Planet

by Chris Hawley

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  IN SOLITARY

  ‘Who gave you permission to use the computer?’ yelled Ivan. ‘And who have you been communicating with? You have taken advantage of our hospitality! You have abused the freedom we have given you here! This is the payment we get for our kindness!’

  Ivan strode up and down the interview room, waving his arms in the air and shouting in my face each time he passed my chair. I sat still, nursing my aching head and bruised face.

  I relived the last ten minutes of my life a dozen times while sitting there in the chair, cowering under the fiery blast of Ivan’s anger. I had been so relieved, having despatched the e-mail to Ben that I forgot the danger I was in. When I heard the door open I had swung round violently to find Alexei in the doorway. He had advanced towards me and had given me a blow to the head that brought stars to my eyes and made me cry out in pain. Then I had been frog-marched into Ivan’s room. I had stood there while Alexei shouted abuse at me in Russian and Ivan had grown more and more red in the face.

  Now I nursed my aching head, wishing Ivan would calm down and go back to his chair behind the desk. I expected another blow every time he passed my chair. Alexei stood by the door and he looked to me as though he might suddenly attack me.

  ‘You will tell me who you have sent a message to!’ he shouted again.

  ‘I can explain,’ I said with difficulty.

  ‘Explain!’

  ‘It is hard when you are walking up and down,’ I said.

  ‘Impudent boy!’

  I didn’t reply, but I kept my eye on Alexei, ready to dodge if he were to move an inch. He stood stock still with his arms folded across his chest. After another few lengths of the room Ivan sat down in his chair.

  ‘Explain then!’ he bawled.

  ‘I was worried about my parents. I wanted to get a message to them to tell them I am well and not badly treated.’

  ‘When they read the message they will know it comes from Russia,’ said Ivan more calmly. ‘Fortunately they will not know where.’

  ‘I sent the message to my friend. My parents don’t have e-mail.’

  ‘Do you know what this might lead to?’

  ‘I didn’t think about it,’ I said honestly.

  ‘You didn’t think?’ roared Ivan, rising from his chair and leaning across the desk towards me.

  ‘I didn’t mean any harm.’

  ‘You want Russia to help your Martians but you are not going to get it like that!’ he shouted.

  I decided it was better to be humble and apologise, even though he needed me even more than I needed him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  Ivan sat back in his chair and spoke to Alexei, who went out of the door.

  ‘I will have to move you from here,’ said Ivan.

  ‘And Sonia?’ I asked anxiously.

  ‘You will not see the girl for some time and maybe you will not see her again.’

  My stomach turned over and with the throbbing of my head I felt like vomiting.

  ‘I need to go to the bathroom,’ I said.

  Ivan got up and called for Alexei, who came in and escorted me to the bathroom. I sat there until I felt better and then was taken back to the interview room. Ivan busied himself with some papers until another man, whom I had not met before entered the room. Ivan spoke some words to him and the man gesticulated to me to get up and follow him. As I left the room I looked at Ivan but he didn’t even look up from his papers.

  Outside the main door stood a four-wheel-drive vehicle, with a driver already at the wheel. Before loading me into the car, the man fixed a blindfold around my eyes and handcuffed my hands behind my back. I was made to lie in the back seat. The car drove off, bouncing along the rough track. I could feel the heat of the late afternoon sun beating through the side window of the car.

  I lay there thinking of Sonia and wondering what they were going to do with her. Would they also move her? When would I see her again? I realised then how much Sonia meant to me. How long had I known her? Barely two weeks, I decided. But it was so hard to keep track of time.

  I tried to concentrate on Michu, Michu, the only one who could help me out of this desperate situation. Why does she not communicate with me? But she probably is all the time: it is just that I am too dumb to hear her.

  The journey by car over those rough roads seemed interminable. My head ached and the bruise on my face throbbed angrily. The metal handcuffs cut into my already sore wrists. The driver said nothing but he whistled softly what sounded like a Russian folk tune. I had seen the film Dr. Zhivago and had always thought Russian music so appealing. I could never listen to Russian music again without remembering that journey.

  At last the car slowed down and stopped. I heard the sound of voices as the driver’s door creaked and then clunked shut. Then the door beside me opened and I was roughly pulled out and made to march across some stony ground. A metal door squeaked in front of me and I was pushed inside. The blindfold was removed but the handcuffs were not. I looked round to see a man disappearing through the door, which groaned and then shut with a clang. There was the sound of a heavy key being turned in the lock. I was alone.

  I surveyed the interior of the room. It was a round hut made entirely of metal, with one small window in the roof and a concrete floor. On one side stood a wooden bed with a small table beside it. The bed had a single course blanket and a dirty pillow. There was no other furniture in the room.

  Apart from its sparseness the most unpleasant aspect of the room was the heat. Because of its metal construction it had become like an oven in the blazing sun, even though the sun was now low on the horizon. I sat on the bed and I could have cried. How long am I going to be kept here, I wondered. Ivan had not said a word and I had not had a chance to say anything to Sonia. Where was she and what could she be thinking? The situation was desperate and the future seemed bleak.

  I lay down on my side on the hard bed, trying to find a comfortable position, hampered as I was by the handcuffs. I pushed aside the filthy pillow, which smelt vile. As I lay there, looking up at the tiny window, the daylight faded and night drew on. The temperature in the room dropped slowly but surely. Soon the room became dark, the only light coming from the dim square in the sloping roof. The room was becoming cool but I knew that by dawn I would be cold, with only a thin shirt and trousers and one blanket.

  I called for Michu more intensely than I had ever done.

  ‘Michu, why don’t you hear me?’