by RT Lucas
Thomas had sent the email to the Russian investor and was waiting for his reply when he decided to send another to him. Why shouldn’t he make some money out of all the craziness that had happened in the last twenty-four hours? It wasn’t like the man was short of money.
When they had been at the dig, and the strange intruder had appeared – everyone had started to run away in panic – but Thomas had the foresight to grab one of the artefacts they had discovered and hide it in his jacket as he fled. He had thought the frightening looking man was there to rob them of their find, and his intention had been to secure at least something of theirs so that all their efforts weren't for nothing. Now though...with the site ‘vanished’ and his colleagues missing or mad, he decided he would cash the artefact in and get enough money to get the hell out of Scotland. So Thomas had taken a photo of the iron–age sword with the intricate carvings, and attached an email telling the Russian he could have it – for the right price. Otherwise he would put it on the open market and he would never see it again.
No sooner had he sent the email than a mysterious brunette had appeared in his room, demanding to be given the sword. He tried to deny he had it at first – not having enough time to process who she was, how she had gotten into his flat and how she knew about the sword in the first place.
Everything had happened so quickly.
She knew he was lying. He didn’t know how, but she knew. And it made her mad. She attacked him, holding his head in a death grip and tore at his mouth, saying it was the price to pay for a lying tongue as she bit it off and spat it out.
In a blind panic, Thomas had grabbed for the sword, wielding it at the woman refusing to let her have it, and wanting to drive it through her so he could escape. And all she did was laugh at him – that horrible, gurgling laugh that made his spine stiffen and his legs go weak. That was when Thomas saw the woman rip the sword from his grasp and then swing her arm slicing off both his hands at the wrists. That was for stealing and not returning her property, he had been told.
The rest was a blur – he was at home being attacked, and now here he was in this strange office, chained, bleeding and kneeling. Another man was in the room, and he was foreign…Russian? Was this lunatic woman holding them both hostage because of the dig in Scotland? Had she something to do with the strange events of yesterday? Thomas was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. His blood loss was reducing his brain function. He cursed the day he ever became an archaeologist. His attention was engaged when he heard the mad woman screeching, “Four more minutes to go…”
Baranovsky couldn’t hold back any longer, and he clutched his stomach, and he vomited violently, retching and coughing. How he could have shared his bed with such a barbarian, he couldn’t fathom. Why didn’t he notice her obvious insanity before now?
“Ewww.” Mabel wrinkled her nose when Baranovsky started to throw up, and as she did so it started to slide slowly down the side of her left cheek, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Luckily for you, Val, that you still have a use. Not for me. I mean…look at you – filthy little animal!” Her sliding nose was almost at her jawline and her right eyelid had started to follow it in some sort of show of support. “Three more minutes to go…”
Baranovsky looked up from his position on the floor, horror evident in his eyes. “What...what do you mean, ‘use’?” He wiped the sick from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Mabel shrugged. “He needs you, that’s all I know. Personally, I’d have you skinned alive and hung on my wall as decoration – but even Mabel can’t get everything she wants now, can she?” She leaned back to grab something from off of his desk, and when she straightened back up, he could see the most exquisite sword in her withered bony hands. Baranovsky blinked – was she decaying in front of him? Her once lush, perfect body was literally falling apart.
“Two more minutes to go…”
Who was the ‘He’ that she kept referring to? Was there more out there like her?! That was the most harrowing thought he had – she was evil incarnate on her own, but with others? He felt his stomach contract again, ready to expel its contents once more.
“You bore me now,” Mabel yawned, over dramatically as her lower jaw disjointed. She stood there, now open mouthed as her flesh was falling rapidly from her bones. “But I know that we shall meet again, my Russian love.” Turning her attention to Thomas as one of her eyes fell out of its socket. “Tell me, mortal – how did it feel to know you were living your last minutes? Did you count your heartbeats, or lament your failures?” Her mouth wasn’t moving and yet her mangled voice was booming out in the room. “One more minute to go…”
Thomas’ eyes widened as the dawning realisation hit him – seconds before the edge of the sword did.
Baranovsky watched as the man’s head rolled along his carpeted floor to the door of his office. By the time he had turned back to look at Mabel, she had disappeared. The windows were still closed, the door had been locked – and yet she was nowhere to be found. Lurching forward, he managed to press the emergency button under his desk, and slumped back down on the floor, waiting for his guards to come and find him. His body was shaking as he replayed in his head Mabel’s last words to him, “... we shall meet again, my Russian love”.
His body went into shock and he passed out, just as his office door was kicked in by his guards.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Martinez awoke in his office, his own stench of sweat and piss offending his nostrils. How long had he been on his ‘euphoria’ trip this time? He checked his cell. Thirty six hours. He had numerous messages, but mostly from Roberto. Well that rat-faced punk could wait, he needed to get washed and changed. Then he could supervise the consignment of the new wonder-drug to Baranovsky and thus ensure that their working relationship would be unbreakable. When the Russian saw for himself how good this product was, he would bite his hand off to get more.
Martinez had noticed in his shower that the ‘euphoria’ seemed to have another pleasant side-effect. His wounds seemed to be healing at an accelerated rate, and he had much more energy. That could be attributed to the amount of time he was unconscious, of course, he reminded himself, but deep down, he really didn’t think so. He felt...invincible!
As he fixed his tie and splashed on some cologne, Martinez returned back to his office which had just been aired and cleaned by his maids. He hadn’t eaten for almost two days, and yet he wasn’t hungry. As he logged onto his computer, his eyes narrowed and he drew his head back – he didn’t remember sending that! Did he send an email when he was in his drug-induced state yesterday? No, he couldn’t have. The drug hit was instantaneous. What the hell was going on? He picked up his phone and dialled the extension for Roberto. He had some serious explaining to do.
Roberto crashed into the door of Martinez’ office, his crutches getting him lodged in the doorway before he managed to manoeuvre his way through. “Boss!” he grinned as he took a seat, laying his crutches down on the floor. This was going to be where he finally got praise off of Martinez – and that big promotion that he’d been fantasising about all night. First he’d buy a yacht…
“Explain to me what this is.” Martinez pushed the screen of his computer round so that Roberto could see.
Roberto’s grin got wider. “I used my initiative, Boss...You weren’t available, so I sent the consignment like you asked and then informed the Buyer, just like you would have done.” And after a yacht, he’d buy eight – no, ten – leggy blondes to accompany him wherever he went…
Martinez’ eyes narrowed as he turned the screen back around. His voice was measured and low. “And on whose authority did you do this?”
The atmosphere in the room had changed. Suddenly his yacht was on fire and his bevvy of beauties were screaming and running away from him. Shit. “I...I used my initiative,” he repeated his words, unable to formulate a full sentence. Where was his praise, his promotion?
“You fucking moron – you sent an email from my address
to our contact’s personal email with no encryption, and giving a step-by-step ‘how to smuggle illegal drugs’ guide – that would come in quite handy if the authorities happened to be monitoring all suspected drugs lords – such as Baranovsky. Or…Me?” Standing up, Martinez reached over and slapped Roberto hard on the face, leaving a red imprint of his hand. “Well? Don’t just sit there bitch – talk!”
Roberto started to stutter. He hadn’t even checked to see if he had sent the details to a secured line. In his enthusiasm, he had inadvertently put them all in danger! His face was still stinging from Martinez’ slap as he answered, “I...you...I…”
That earned him another slap. “You’d better fucking answer me right now, Roberto.” Martinez had lost his cool, his trademark patience had evaporated.
Roberto had no excuses. The weight of his error had just hit him and had him reeling. How could he have been so damn stupid? “Boss, I’m sorry – I didn’t think.”
At least he wasn’t trying to wriggle out of it, or come up with a phony explanation. That was the only reason he wouldn’t die today. Martinez sat back down, fixing his suit jacket and shirt. “No, you fucking never do, and that’s your problem Roberto”.
An uneasy silence fell between the two men. Roberto contemplating his future, and Martinez trying to figure out how to secure his own.
Picking up the phone, Martinez dialled Baranovsky’s number – he may be many things, but he wasn’t a coward. He needed to deal with this before it got out of hand, because if the roles were reversed and he had received an email like that his first thoughts would be that he was being double-crossed. He needed to quash that perception and if he spoke to Baranovsky, he would be able to judge how the land lay between them. The voice always gave away true feelings – and Martinez had learned to always trust his gut instincts.
When the phone was answered at the other end, it wasn’t Baranovsky that answered however. It was another Russian man who didn’t identify himself, merely informing him that Mr Baranovsky was ‘unavailable for conversation’. When Martinez insisted on speaking to him, the line was cut dead. “Fuck.” Martinez glared at Roberto. “I need to go to Russia and sort your shit out, dumb asshole.”
Roberto grabbed his crutches and made the slowest getaway in history. He would book his boss on the next available flight to Russia, and hope that the meeting would go well. Otherwise his next duty would be to dig his own grave.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
“It is good to be back, yes?” Teodora addressed her staff as she was brought up to speed on the patients that were admitted while she and Shuggie were away on their short break. Allowing three of her nurses some leave of their own for a few hours she checked over her wrist watch just as the door to her consulting room opened. Sergeant Hawkeye Paterson came walking in, the bandage wrapped around his head and covering his left eye.
“Sergeant, please come in and sit down! I will check over this injury immediately, yes?”
Hawkeye sat down in the large examination chair as instructed by Teodora.
“You are healing very well Sergeant, but I’d like you to remain wearing a patch over your eye for another week then we shall re-assess you, yes.”
Once she had sorted him out with fresh dressing packs and given another course of antibiotics Hawkeye gave a salute and went on his way.
“Men! I really despair at what goes on with them at times.” Giving out a soft giggle as her belly rumbled, Teodora snapped the sterile examination gloves from her hands into the trash container, pulled her blue hooded top on over her scrubs and made her way down the mess kitchen for some food.
Xavier scrubbed a hand over his face as he heard Shuggie leaving his office. He had debriefed his Lieutenant on all the ongoing missions so that he was up to speed after his short break with the Doc. After they had discussed business, Shuggie had told him that he had some news of his own to tell. Xavier made some phony excuse to get Shuggie the hell out of his office, so that he didn’t give away his reaction to his old friend. There was something he needed to sort out first.
Rapping his knuckles on the wood of the door to the Doc’s office, Xavier crossed his arms, leaning on the jamb. “Didn’t think to make me a coffee, Doc?” smirking as he saw Teodora look up. “Sit down, you got time for a chat?” He hoped that his demeanour was casual.
Teo placed her mug down as she smiled up at Xavier. “Of course Commander, please come and sit down, if you would like a refreshment, I can have one brought in for you, yes?”
Pushing away from the door, Xavier shook his head as he took a seat opposite Teo. “I’m good – Sweetcheeks tried to make me a coffee earlier and burned the pot, kinda put me off for a while.” He laughed then relaxed back in his chair. “Good trip to kilt land yeah?”
Teo’s soft laughter filled the air. “Oh gosh, domestication is not Ali’s strong point now is it, I trust she is well, yes? Oh we had a wonderful time.” Teodora’s eyes lowered, unsure if Shuggie had told the Commander what had happened. “May I assist you Commander?”
“Just catching up with my valued employees, Doc.” Xavier leaned his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Spoke to Shuggie earlier – the rest did him a world of good,” he nodded, still hoping that he was coming across relaxed to Teo. “Things going well between you two?”
“They are most excellent Commander.” Teo’s smile reached her ears, her slender fingers absently moved to touch her engagement finger, of course her O.R had a zero policy on jewellery of any kind. “Thank you for asking, how are you feeling now that you can shift to your wolf?”
Xavier inclined his head slightly, his lips twisting before shrugging a shoulder. “Sweetcheeks has been helping me with the whole shifting shit, yeah – getting better at controlling it but not out of the woods yet...if you pardon the pun,” laughing for a few seconds before he continued. “Do you remember when we first ‘met’ Teo? How many years ago is it now?”
“Why of course I do Commander Raige, it was eleven years ago yes, why do you ask?” Teodora’s fingers wrapped around her mug as she tried to gauge Xavier as he sat across from her, looking totally relaxed.
“That’s good you remember, yeah, cos you’ll remember what happened that day I rescued you from that mad bastard and his research facility. You’ll also remember who I saved that same day.” Xavier’s tone was becoming more and more serious as he spoke. “And I know for a fucking fact that you’ll remember the conversation I had with you when I brought you into my unit.” He was sitting up straight now, his eyes narrowed and staring right at her. “Don’t you, Doc?”
Teo’s happy features turned quickly to that of a confused one. “Yes of course I remember, how could I possibly forget such a horrific day.”
“You had been on death row because you defied orders from your psychotic boss, because you refused to continue with the live experiments on Subject Ultimo, yeah.” As Teodora nodded looking perplexed, Xavier continued, “Oh, by the fucking way – I hear congratulations are in order. You and Shug getting married?” He knew that the sudden change in subject would confuse her even more.
Teodora let out a little yelp as the hot liquid of her mug splashed up and out onto her fingers, horrific images of her time at the Institute were being summoned from the deepest part of her memory where she had tried to keep them at bay. “Why would you choose to bring up Subject Ultimo?” Teodora was starting to shake as she stared at Xavier, her blue eyes almost black as her pupils dilated in fear.
“I’m going to make things very fucking clear for you here, Doc – you have three choices. And I’d advise you to think hard but quick cos there is a time limit on this, yeah? Shuggie – your husband to be – is Subject Ultimo. I’ve kept your secret from him for all this damn time, but as you’re both getting serious the time’s up. Either you call off the engagement, you confess to him your part in his torture or…” Xavier’s tone was deadly, “...Or I will”
The cup Teodora was holding fell from the clutch of her hand, bouncing off her
desk and smashing into pieces.
“I’m sorry…what did you just say…Shuggah is Subject Ultimato? This cannot be…” Teodora’s world was closing in around her, the air all sucked from the room as she struggled to catch her breath.
“Twelve hours, and the clock’s already started fucking ticking.” Xavier got up, giving her one lingering glare. “I will not have him fucking hurt – be under no illusion as to what I will do to you if you do, we clear Doctor Valdez.”
“I had no idea Commander.” The Doctor was unable to meet Xavier in the eye, the shame and guilt she was feeling was starting to consume her, lights were flickering before her eyes and she had to concentrate on her breathing to stop herself from hitting the floor in a passed out heap.
“You knew it was someone, and you know what you did – get it sorted,” and with that he left, slamming the door behind him.
Teodora slumped backwards into her chair, hyperventilating. Her hands were clutching at her throat. It wasn’t working…her past had finally caught up with her and was about to be revealed in all its glory to the love of her life…who she had just been told was in fact the most controversial experiment of her career. Unable to move from her seat, Teo’s shaking hand reached for her cell. It was the coward’s way but she didn’t want to tarnish anything she and Shuggie shared together. The text was simple.
Warrior, Could you come to my office
****
Shuggie felt as though he was centuries younger as he logged onto his computer. He had just returned from his meeting with the Commander, and had told him about his engagement to the love of his existence. He had wanted his best friend to be the first to hear the good news. Xavier was his usual, keeping his emotions to himself, but he knew deep down the grumpy bastard was happy for them. He would tell Teo all about it over dinner tonight. He had it all planned. Out on the patio, overlooking the grounds of the compound, candlelight, a small violin trio and gourmet food. Their first night back from Scotland would be perfect. Grinning as he whistled a tune under his breath, he got down to work.