The Complete Fugitive Archives (Project Berlin, The Moscow Meeting, The Buried Cities) (Endgame: The Fugitive Archives)

by Frey, James

  He looks away. “Stalin does not care about us any more than he cared about those dogs. We are just tools for him—things with no purpose but the one he assigns to us. And when he is done with us, or when we refuse to do as he asks, we disappear.”

  I think I’m beginning to understand. “What did Ott promise you?”

  “A weapon,” he says. “A weapon to help us regain our country for ourselves.”

  I look over at Boone. I don’t know how much of our conversation he’s understood, as it’s all been in Russian, but from the look on his face, I think he has the general idea.

  “What was his plan?” he asks Tolya.

  “To get his father and the other scientist out of Taganka, then convince you to reveal the plans for the weapon.”

  “And then?”

  “Either share it—or kill you.”

  “And in exchange for helping, he would let you use it on whatever targets you have in mind,” Boone says.

  Tolya nods.

  “And you trusted him to actually do this?” I say.

  “We do not have many options,” Tolya says. “And Ott despises the Soviets as much as we do.”

  This is true. And maybe Ott would allow them to use the weapon, as long as it suited his purposes. However, I think there is more going on than any of us know. More to Ott than we even suspected.

  I am about to say as much when there is a knock on the door. Boone stands, removes his pistol, and moves so that he is out of sight. I nod at Tolya to go to the door, keeping my hand on my knife, as my pistol is still in my bag in the bedroom.

  Tolya goes to the door. “Who is it?”

  A child’s voice responds. This does not mean there is no reason to worry, however. I think back to the incident in Europa’s apartment in Berlin. It could be a ruse. So as Tolya undoes the locks and opens the door, I do not relax at all.

  The child is alone. It is a boy of maybe six or seven. He hands Tolya an envelope. “I was told to bring this to you.”

  “By whom?” Tolya asks.

  The child shrugs. “A man,” he says. “He gave me fifty kopecks to bring it.”

  The boy leaves, and Tolya shuts the door. He opens the envelope and takes out a piece of paper. He looks at it, then hands it to me. “It’s for you,” he says. “From Ott.”

  I take the paper and read it.

  “He wants us to meet him,” I say. “To talk.”

  “Talk about what?” Boone asks.

  “He doesn’t say,” I tell him. “But I’m guessing it will involve the weapon and not killing Brecht. He probably wants to make a deal. There’s only one way we’re going to find out.”

  “When and where?”

  “Tonight. In Gorky Park.”

  “What do we do until then?”

  I crumple the note up and toss it on the table. “We wait,” I say. “And we make a plan.”

  Boone

  The Moscow River is a frozen ribbon dotted with fishing huts, the lanterns inside spilling golden light onto the black ice. The snow that was falling most of the afternoon has stopped, and stars diamond the clear sky as Ariadne and I make our way along the walking path and deep into Gorky Park. The temperature has tumbled to well below freezing, and not many people are out. Those that are bustle by quickly, heading for shelter and warmth. No one looks at us. It’s as if the park is filled only with shadows sliding silently in and out of the trees.

  We’ve had all day to discuss what Ott might want. We still aren’t sure. Tolya had little else to tell us, and when Yuri and Oksana returned to the apartment, they were equally unhelpful. The incident at Taganka is being blamed on Nazi sympathizers, and the death of Helmut Falkenrath credited to the bravery of the guards who thwarted the “terrorist activity.” The escape of Oswald Brecht has been covered up for now, although Yuri says that, privately, the prison authorities are in a panic and terrified that they will face stiff consequences for his disappearance. The government does not like it when prisoners slip through their fingers, especially political prisoners. Someone will have to pay.

  At first we weren’t sure if we should even stay in the apartment, after finding out that Ott had promised the group use of the weapon in exchange for their help. But we had nowhere else to go, and Ariadne argued that we were better off knowing what they were up to than leaving and wondering. And she was right. Both Yuri and Oksana seemed genuinely surprised by Ott’s behavior, and I think they honestly believed that we would willingly help them with their cause in exchange for their assistance.

  We are still having a conversation about them as we walk to Gorky Park.

  “They are part of a group that is looking for any way out of their current situation,” Ariadne says. “They are small, and without resources. Their battle seems impossible to win, and probably it is. It’s no surprise they would agree to help Ott.”

  She’s right. It’s something I can’t really imagine living with, being so afraid of what your government might do to you that you would risk everything to try to stop them. I think Yuri, Oksana, and Tolya are good people. Ott, I’m not so sure about. Although he says his interest is in fighting oppression, I think he really wants the weapon to take revenge on the people who put his father in Taganka Prison. And now maybe Ariadne and I are also on that list. His father died while we were supposed to be getting him out. I’m sure he blames us.

  “He’s going to try to trade Brecht for the weapon,” Ariadne says.

  It’s the obvious thing. But I’m not so sure. “He needs Brecht to make sense of the plans,” I remind her. “Without him, he’s starting from zero.”

  “Maybe Brecht has agreed to help him,” Ariadne says. “Maybe once Ott has the weapon, Brecht will help him anyway, and this is all a trick to get us to hand it over.”

  “He should know we wouldn’t bring the weapon with us to Moscow,” I say.

  “Except that we did,” Ariadne reminds me.

  We did. It is not an ideal situation, but I was uncomfortable leaving it behind in France, so far away. While Lottie might have been entrusted with it, I don’t entirely know where her loyalties lie, and at any rate, having it or knowing where it is would put her in more danger than she is already in. It was best to leave her ignorant regarding its whereabouts. And so we brought it with us, making sure that at all times one or both of us has been awake to keep it safe from Ott in the event that he went looking for it. This morning was the most perilous time, as we didn’t dare leave it in the apartment while we were in Taganka, and had nowhere else to put it. Also, in the event that neither of us returned from the mission, we didn’t want anyone who knew anything about the weapon to stumble upon it. In the end, we separated the tube containing the plans from the box holding the weapon pieces. The box we hid in the basement of the apartment building, tucked inside a broken boiler. Not the best place, but the best we could do given the circumstances.

  The tube containing the plans we kept closer. It’s sewn into the coat I’m wearing. Again, maybe not the smartest place to keep it, but I feel better having it nearby. If something goes wrong, it won’t be too difficult for Ariadne to retrieve it. And if something goes really wrong, well, we won’t be around to care, I guess.

  Not that I think Ott will try to kill us. If he does, he loses any chance he has of getting his hands on the weapon, and I think that’s more important to him than anything else. I also don’t really believe he would hurt Brecht, who was his father’s friend. So although I’m apprehensive, I’m not overly concerned about this meeting.

  “Ott’s only bargaining chip is that he thinks we really want the weapon to be built,” I remind Ariadne. “He thinks we want Brecht because we need him to help us build the weapon.”

  The thing is, I’m not sure we really care about building the weapon anymore. If we ever did. Now that Ariadne is considered a traitor to her line, it’s not like she’ll hand the weapon over to them. Even if it would get her reinstated as Player. And I’m not anxious for the Cahokians to have it either, at least not
without agreeing to share it or use it to change the course of Endgame for everyone. Mostly, I’m thinking that we—Ariadne and I—can use it as a bargaining chip, to negotiate some kind of way for us to be together. And we could probably do that even without Brecht. Really, the only reason I’m concerned about him is because he’s Lottie’s father and Bernard’s grandfather. I figure I owe it to them, and to my brother, to keep him unharmed.

  It’s funny how my perspective on all of this has changed in such a short time. And it’s all because of how I feel about Ariadne. Now I reach out and take her hand.

  “What?” she says.

  “You’re always so suspicious,” I say. “Can’t I just want to hold your hand?”

  “Sorry,” she says. “It’s that whole Player thing. Don’t trust anyone and all that.”

  “Pretend we’re on a date,” I say. “I’m walking you home.”

  She laughs. It’s the sweetest sound in the world. “You mean, pretend we’re normal people?”

  “I don’t think we can ever be normal, exactly,” I say. “Not after all of this. But maybe something close to it.”

  Ariadne doesn’t say anything, and suddenly the atmosphere around us feels different. “Hey,” I say. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convincing.

  I stop. “Talk to me,” I say.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” she says.

  “Come on, Ari. I can tell when you’re holding out on me.”

  “Did you just call me Ari?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I guess I did. Do you like it?”

  “I do,” she says, and this time, I know she means it. “Cassandra and I never even used nicknames for each other. It was always Ariadne and Cassandra.”

  “Well, Ari,” I say. “What are you worried about?”

  “Meeting a dangerous man in a dark park?” she suggests.

  “Besides that. There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  She hesitates before answering. “When do we stop running?” she says.

  I don’t have an answer for her, at least not one that will help. “I don’t know,” I say. “Let’s just get through tonight, and then we’ll worry about it.”

  It’s not the answer she wants to hear, or the one I want to give her, but it’s the only one I’ve got. Right now we seem so far away from everything that could be considered a normal life. And maybe it’s too late for us to have anything normal. Probably it was too late the day we were chosen to train as Players.

  “Let’s throw the plans in the river and get out of Moscow,” I say. “Go somewhere warm. I’m sick of snow and cold. I want to lie on the beach and not think about the end of the world.”

  She puts her arms around me and hugs me. “That sounds great,” she says. “But we can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, the river is frozen.”

  “We could drop the tube through one of those fishing holes,” I argue.

  “For another, they’d still come after us.”

  I sigh. She’s right. They would. The only way we’ll get out of this is if we give our lines something they want.

  “All right,” I say, and kiss her. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

  We walk the rest of the way to the rendezvous point in silence. When we get to the place Ott has chosen, a statue of a woman poised to dive off her pedestal and into the water, we stop. There is no one else in sight, although we have a few minutes until the agreed-upon time. We stand in front of the statue, back to back, surveying the area and waiting. I rub my hands together to try to warm them. It feels as if the cold has soaked into my bones and will never leave, and I think about how nice it would be to sit in front of a warm fire with Ari, with nothing to worry about. I wonder if that will ever happen.

  Somewhere, a clock begins to chime midnight. Before it’s counted out twelve hours, Ott appears, walking out of the darkness. He is alone.

  He stops a dozen feet away from us.

  “A beautiful night,” he says.

  “Yes,” I say. “It is.”

  “I’m sorry that our last meeting did not go as planned,” Ott says.

  “And I’m sorry that the guards killed your father,” I tell him. I want him to know that it was not Ariadne’s fault. “There were complications.”

  Ott nods. “Regrettable,” he says. “I understand the Minoan was recognized.”

  I feel Ariadne stiffen beside me. I know that, like myself, she’s wondering how Ott knows this. Brecht couldn’t have told him, so that means he has some inside knowledge of what went on inside the Taganka infirmary.

  There’s no point in denying what happened, so I say, “She tried to get your father out.”

  “And failed,” says Ott.

  So, this is how he’s going to play this. He blames us for his father’s death, and now he wants some kind of reparation.

  “How is Brecht?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  “As well as can be expected,” Ott tells me. “After so much time in Taganka, I’m afraid his health is not at all good. He requires medical attention as soon as possible.”

  It sounds like a threat, a threat meant to make me inclined to do whatever it is he asks. “It will do no one any good if he dies,” I remind him. “His daughter and grandson would like to see him again.”

  “I imagine they would,” Ott says. “Much as I would like to have seen my father again.”

  I can tell he’s not going to move past this issue, and so I decide to get to the point. “What is it you want?”

  He laughs. “How American of you,” he says. “Always in a hurry.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s cold,” I say. “And it’s been a long day.”

  Ott’s voice, when he replies, is icy. “What makes you think I want anything at all from you?”

  This takes me aback. If he doesn’t want anything, why did he ask us to meet him here? Obviously, he has something we want and we have something he wants. The only thing that makes sense is that he wants to trade, or come to some kind of partnership.

  “We need to get out of here,” Ariadne whispers to me. “Now.” She reaches for my hand, but Ott speaks again, and I wait to hear what he has to say.

  “Maybe what I want is you,” he says.

  “Boone,” Ariadne says. “Now.”

  This time, I let her pull me away. Something is wrong. But we get only a few steps before a figure confronts us. It’s Kenney. He has a pistol aimed at us.

  “Leaving so soon?” he says. “I was hoping we could have a little chat. It seems there’s quite a lot to talk about.”

  I turn and look at Ott, who has moved closer and is also now holding a gun. If Ariadne and I try to make a break for it, one or both of us will end up dead. Our only hope is to try to buy ourselves some time.

  “All right,” I say to Kenney. “Let’s talk.”

  Ariadne

  In the Greek story of the hero Odysseus, he at one point in his journey is sailing his ship through the Strait of Messina, which is guarded on one side by the six-headed monster Scylla and on the other by Charybdis, who creates a deadly whirlpool by swallowing huge quantities of seawater in an attempt to sate her unquenchable thirst. Knowing that he cannot avoid both dangers, Odysseus is forced to choose one over the other. He elects to pass by Scylla, who devours six of his sailors, rather than risk losing his entire ship to Charybdis. It’s a classic example of being faced with a decision that has no good outcome, and one that Minoan trainers famously use when teaching Players about making difficult choices.

  As Boone and I stand between Ott and Kenney, I attempt to figure out which is Scylla and which is Charybdis. If I am forced to confront only one of them, which is the most dangerous? I know nothing about Kenney except that he is a Cahokian operative. As such, he will very much want the weapon for his line. If he knows I am a Minoan, he will be particularly interested in ensuring that I don’t get it. But Ott also wants it for his own purpose
s, and he has the added incentive of thinking that he needs to avenge his father’s death, for which he blames me. Both men would likely be happy to see me dead.

  Because of how we are standing, I am facing Ott, and so he currently draws my focus. Boone, meanwhile, continues the conversation with his linesman.

  “I understand you took a detour before heading to Moscow,” Kenney says.

  “I had to get the weapon back,” Boone explains.

  “Of course,” Kenney says. “You might have mentioned that the Minoans had it, however. Although perhaps it wasn’t the weapon you were most concerned with retrieving.”

  He’s of course talking about me. I want to respond to him, remind him that I’m not a trophy to be collected, but it’s important to keep things calm for as long as possible.

  “I knew she could be useful,” Boone says.

  Kenney laughs. “I’m sure she is,” he says. “Unfortunately, she presents a dilemma. A Minoan working with a Cahokian can end only one way.”

  Again, his meaning is clear. One of us has to die. And because he is Cahokian, his choice is much less complicated than that of Odysseus.

  “Not necessarily,” Boone tells him, obviously grasping his meaning as well as I have. “There are other options. We could share the weapon.”

  “An interesting suggestion,” Kenney says. “However, one I think neither council would agree to.”

  “We won’t know unless we ask them.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Kenney replies. “I’ve been tasked with bringing it home.”

  I feel things reaching a point of no return, and so I say to Ott, “What about you? Do you think he’ll share with you? Is that what he promised?”

  I still don’t know how Ott and Kenney have come to be working together, but I know that it has to be because Ott was given a guarantee of some kind.

  “Mr. Ott will be well rewarded,” Kenney says from behind me.

  Ott’s gaze flickers from me to where Kenney is standing. Is there uncertainty in his look? Is he now doubting that Kenney will fulfill whatever promise has been made? If I can create a wedge between them, this might give us an advantage.