by George Nagle
They entered the second building on the left. This was a surprise to James and Daen, who would have expected the middle building to be the natural headquarters from a strategic point of view.
Upon entering the building, the first thing to hit them was the odor. The place smelled like a mix of burnt cabbage and old gym clothes. They climbed five flights of stairs, entered the main hallway, and went to the second door on the right. Here, they found two more doors. Nikolias secured the door behind them and revealed a hidden keypad next to the door immediately in front of them. He entered a code, and the door to the left opened.
“If you enter wrong code, this door opens,” he said in English. “Four seconds after you close it, a toxic gas is released. That is why it is a sealed door. You can open this door,” he indicated the one on the left, “without a code, but then you can’t find the hidden stairs.”
Entering, they found a studio apartment. The old couple that lived there looked up, recognized Nikolias, and went back to what they were doing. As the door closed, a little panel opened on the floor. Nikolias placed his palm on the palm reader and a trap door opened in the floor.
“Damn, man. Rather high tech for a building like this,” whispered Daen. James nodded.
“They gave up space in their home so we could set this up in exchange for free rent and vodka. They are old and don’t need so much space,” said Nikolias in Russian, clearly knowing the couple would hear and wanting to make sure they understood what he was explaining. Daen translated for James as they went down a set of steps.
Nikolias unlocked a final door and they walked through to find Petior gagged and rather beaten and tied to a chair. Three other men were present, two of whom had guns pointed at Petior while the third worked him over. There was a lot of confused shouting in English and Russian.
“Stop!”
“Put the guns down!”
“We will shoot him!”
“Stop. Do not shoot!”
“Hear them out!”
“I will not even count to one. You will release him and put down the guns!”
“Enough!” said a woman in the corner. While raising her hands, she moved between the two groups, capturing the room’s attention and at the same time their will. As her face came into full view, she appeared to be in her mid-fifties but with the beauty of a much younger woman.
“They are not holding guns to Nikolias. He is standing with them and defending them.” She stretched a hand towards each group. “We can hear them and then decide our next step.”
She scanned Daen’s face and then James’s before lowering her hands.
The eye contact was enough. James’s instinct, which had never failed him, told him it was wise to heed her instructions.
James lowered his weapon, as did the Russian men on the other side of the room.
“Man, are you sure about this?” Daen’s weak whisper rang with fear and surprise. “You always tell me to trust my instincts more, and this goes against them.”
In an audible voice, James said, “Lower your gun.”
“What if this is a set up and they shoot us?” implored Daen.
“Then we will be dead, but she is a woman of her word. Lower the gun,” James said, his eyes locked onto the woman’s.
Lowering his gun, Daen said under his breath, “Damn, man, this goes against training,” his head slightly shaking back and forth.
Without looking at Daen, James calmly said, “It does.”
“They are friends of Roman’s, his guests for dinner tonight,” said Nikolias after a tense moment of silence. The men exchanged a glance but said nothing. The woman walked toward them.
She hugged Nikolias and then leaned back, lightly grabbing his face in her hands before kissing his cheeks. She said something to him in Russian, and he nodded and smiled as his hands found her wrists near his face. A moment later, she released him and stepped back a few paces.
“I am Ola,” she said, addressing Daen and James. “This is Anton, Igor, and Valdnik.” She indicated the men from left to right. They did not acknowledge the introduction. “How is it that you know Roman?” she asked.
At this, Petior stared to create some noise and received a hard hit to the ribs for his efforts.
“Petior, please, my friend, relax,” said Daen in Russian.
Ola looked slightly surprised. “You call this man your friend?” she asked.
“We do,” answered James.
“Do you know your friend has stabbed one of our members? He may die. He has two small children who have no mother already. How will they survive without their father?” she asked in a voice like an attorney addressing a hostile witness.
Petior began to fuss again and tried to talk through his gag. He was somehow making the chair jump beneath him. The visible parts of his face that weren’t swollen or covered in blood had turned a bright red. He was clearly trying to answer for his actions. Instead, he received another shot to the ribs.
“Do you intend to kill him?” James asked.
“Yes. If our man dies, so does he. Life for life,” she said in a flat tone.
“He is how we know Roman. They are friends. I do not believe Roman would appreciate his friend being killed.” James slowly turned toward Ola, his body language careful and deliberate to show he wanted a meeting of the minds and did not pose a threat.
“Roman will have to understand, and he will accept it with a minimum of words.” Ola spoke as though she knew a key piece of information that would sway Roman.
James made quick eye contact with Daen. A tool was gone. He thought quickly.
“If this man, the injured man lives, then so does Petior?”
“His,” she indicated Petior, “and your chances of survival increase greatly. But if he dies, then so does your friend, in a most painful way. He will feel pain as will our comrade’s children for the loss.” Her eyes had narrowed, and her voice held a steel edge.
“Is he with a doctor, this man? What is his name?” James asked.
“He is Alexander, and no, we do not have a doctor we can freely summon. Alexander is in the infirmary. Why? You are not doctor; you cannot help him.” Ola spoke with a skeptical voice that hid a tiny hint of hope. Clearly, she cared about Alexander living.
“I might be able to help. I will need to see him, but perhaps I can help.” James played on the hope she had tried to conceal, convinced her tone was a cover.
She immediately countered, “Are you willing to bet your life on this?”
“If I think I am able to help Alexander after seeing him and if the tools I need are there, then yes, I am. If I fail and Alexander dies, then I die and not Petior,” James said.
Petior began to make noise again. This time he got a blow to the left knee from Anton for his troubles.
“No, you both die,” Ola stated.
This was not negotiable, but James had an out. If he didn’t think Alexander would make it, he’d simply have to find a different way to save Petior.
“Stephen, man …” Daen began.
James knew Daen’s argument without hearing it. Petior was basically a stranger to them. However, as James saw it, that wasn’t the point. He felt he had an obligation to try to help anyone he saw in a dangerous situation when he could. It was why he was in the group.
He also had a feeling Petior was in this situation because of Daen and himself. Plus, they had become friends over the last two nights. James decided to take action since he had a way out.
“Agreed.” James answered sharply, silencing Daen. “If I begin to help Alexander and he doesn’t make it, then we both die. If I don’t try to help, then no harm from Alexander’s death will come to me. If I do help and Alexander lives, then we all live. Oh, and no more injury to my friend. In return,” James made eye contact with Petior, “Petior will sit quietly.”
Petior sat motionless for a moment before nodding.
James turned toward Ola, who considered the request.
“That will all come to be.
Come this way.” She led James and Daen out of the room. Nikolias came too, as did Igor, leaving Anton and Valdnik to watch over Petior.
A few minutes later, after going through several doors and hallways that seemed to snake through the building, they reached the infirmary, a very large, but rather well equipped, room. It was like a small emergency room from before World War II.
Alexander was in one of three beds with a young woman at his side wiping his forehead with a cloth. He seemed to be having trouble breathing but was hooked up to a saline drip as well as a monitor and oxygen. He was the man who had posed as the fake hotel clerk.
“Anna has done what is possible to make him comfortable,” Ola explained.
Anna appeared to be a young woman in her late teens with very bright green eyes and a kind face. She wore a bonnet that covered her head and ears, and a clean, worn, light-brown dress.
“Hello, Anna, I am Stephen. I am going to try to help Alexander, and I could use your help, please. Can you tell me what medicine you gave him?” James smiled softly, but Anna frowned and looked at Ola.
Using sign language, Ola told Anna what James had said.
Springing up, Anna went to get the medicine she had given Alexander.
“Anna has been no hearing for many years now,” explained Ola. “When she was young, she was forced to work in an official’s home. One day, he returned home early to find Anna had not done as he instructed in cleaning. He said that since she did not listen properly, then she did not need her ears. He proceeded to burn her ears so they closed forever. She wears the bonnet to cover her scars.”
James processed this but gave no outward reaction as Anna returned and presented him with a bottle. Turning it over in his hands, James read the label.
“Demerol,” he stated to the room in general. “Well, I suppose it’s what they have.” He turned back toward Alexander, whose eyes were now open.
Upon seeing James’s face, the man immediately tried to get up. Igor and Nikolias rushed over and gently held him down.
“You!” Alexander exclaimed.
Ola came to the foot of the bed and spoke in rapid Russian.
“Alexander,” James began. The man’s eyes were full of anger and the monitor was showing signs of increased heart rate, but his blood pressure was still extremely low. “I know that Petior stabbed you, and I think you have heavy internal bleeding. I’m going to look at your wound and see what I can do to help you.”
James lifted the bed sheets. The man’s chest had been covered in gauze, but the darkest red spot showed the location of the injury. It was the middle of the left side of the chest, which led James to believe Alexander had a punctured lung. If that was the case, his chest was slowly filling with blood.
“Do you feel like there’s a very heavy weight on your chest, making it hard to breathe?” James asked Alexander.
He nodded.
James asked Daen to bring over the portable x-ray machine he’d spotted and began raising Alexander’s bed. “I’m going to be as fast as I can,” he said. “I know this position won’t be comfortable, and I apologize for it. I think you have a punctured lung.”
James stopped short of putting Alexander in the full position. It would essentially cut off all breathing if he had him there too long, and it would take a minute to get him fully set up.
“Do you know how to use this?” Daen whispered.
“Yes, I was a volunteer in radiology two summers ago,” James replied. He had never actually used the equipment but had watched enough to understand the basics.
Two minutes later, they were ready to go, aside from putting on the traditional lead radiation bib. This was a one shot deal, so it wasn’t worth taking the time to look for it.
“Alexander, stay with me. Nikolias and Igor, I’ll need your help to lift him so I can place this plate for the film behind him. At the same time, Ola, if you and Bryan can manually bring his bed up to support him as I get the film in place, that would be best. Anna will hit the radiation. Nikolias and Igor, we’ll need to then move him back up so I can get the film. Ola and Bryan, you’ll reset the bed manually to how he was when we came in. Everyone clear?”
Ola signed James’s instructions to Anna, who had obviously run the machine before, while Daen translated for the others.
“On three.” James verbally counted up and held up three fingers. He had the film in his left hand, ready to be placed, and started counting. He pointed to Anna to signal for the radiation.
“Now,” he said to kick off the second half of the maneuvering. Moments later, he retrieved the film and handed it to Anna to process.
Meanwhile, Alexander’s blood pressure was dropping, as was his heart rate. James began gathering tools to drain the lung. He suspected this was the most immediate threat, and he used the time while the x-ray developed to grab those tools he would need to address the lung. He also grabbed a defibrillator and had it ready to go.
Anna came back with the x-ray. The lung was damaged, but the puncture had missed the heart. James noted that Alexander’s lungs were rather small for an adult, which added a level of unneeded complexity.
The man was starting to fade. James moved quickly and removed all the bandages.
The moment they were off, James reached for iodine.
At that moment, the monitor flat lined. Simultaneously, there was the unmistakable sound of a chambered gun behind James’s head.
James moved so fast no one expected it. He turned and disarmed Igor before the man could respond. He removed the bullets, tossed the gun, and said, “I’m trying to save his life; leave me alone.”
“Leave it,” commanded Ola to Igor, who had gone to retrieve the gun.
James did a quick wipe over the ribs with iodine. He made the incision, placed the draining tube, and secured it. He was a bit sloppy but fast. “Turn him toward me,” he instructed.
Nikolias and Daen gently lifted Alexander.
“Stop, that’s good enough,” said James when they had him at the correct angle. Anna had already started propping him up. The blood began to drain.
James placed a manual respirator on Alexander and had Nikolias operate it. Now the tricky part was shocking Alexander’s heart back. If it didn’t take the first time … James didn’t have time to worry about that.
He gelled up the paddles and told everyone to move away. Anna was ready for the signal.
“Clear,” James said and nodded to Anna.
Two tense seconds passed before they heard a bleep on the monitor. They had a heartbeat. Alexander then took a breath on his own that seemed to be the signal that others could breathe again, too.
“We still have work to do. Ola, can you please ask Anna to get … Never mind.” James had started to ask for blood, but Anna had already gotten it. James gave her a big smile and she smiled back as she hooked up the bag. James returned to tidy up the draining tube.
“He will live now?” Igor asked.
“I’ve done the best I can. I’m sure the doctor will be able to mend him better, but yes, I think he’ll recover.”
After washing and drying his hands, James turned and punched Igor squarely on the cheek, knocking him to the floor.
“Don’t ever put a gun on me again,” he said in a clear but unemotional voice.
The room was stunned.
Ola broke the silence. “Igor is sorry, I am sure.”
She’d gotten the message. James would do what he needed to do, but he wasn’t going to be pushed around. He had patience, and that made him a formidable enemy, but it could also make him a strong ally.
James turned to Ola. “Could we please bring Petior here to address some of his wounds?”
She nodded and motioned for Igor to bring him.
While they waited, Nikolias told Ola everything that had transpired. James and Daen filled in where needed but limited what they said. They knew it was far better for this to come from Nikolias. About halfway through, Petior arrived, and James set to work to dress the wounds of hi
s Russian friend.
***
The next day, James received a call from Ola saying the doctor had agreed Alexander would make a full recovery and that he, Daen, and Petior were free to go. She apologized that she was not able to personally tell them, but said Nikolias would arrive in a moment to escort them out.
The three had been placed in a room made of solid brick with only one way in or out. A guard had been placed outside the steel door. James figured this was so he could conveniently execute them if Alexander died. It couldn’t actually be to guard them, since the door didn’t open from the inside and it was the only exit.
Nikolias bounded into the room just as James told Petior and Daen they were free to go.
“I will take you back to the hotel,” he smiled, showing them out of the room and to the car.
Daen and Nikolias took the front seat while James sat in the back with Petior. As they drove, Nikolias and Daen spoke in Russian, hitting it off, now that the crisis had passed. One of Daen’s more admirable skills was his ability to quickly make friends.
“My Ameri`can friend, how can I repay you for this debt of my life that I owe you?” Petior asked in a sheepish voice.
“You came to try to help Bryan and me,” James replied in a soft voice, looking over at Petior. “We saw you enter the hotel and get into a fight, but how did you know we would possibly be in danger?”
“No, it is different. I notice children following you, so I follow to see why. Very different than you saving my life. You bet your life in order to save mine. Not the same. I will not forget this, my friend. My life, it is yours.” Petior said in a way that meant it would be pointless to argue.
James didn’t know what to say, so he merely gave a nod of recognition.
“I do have question,” Petior continued. “Who are you, Stephen? You and Bryan, you are not normal Ameri`cans. I know many people, and I know how to see people. I see more than you think. You know how to do things. Things like spy, but you are not spy like I ever know. You are not CIA or FBI. I am former KGB, for reasons we don’t have to discuss, but I know this. So, who are you, Stephen?” he whispered to James.