That stinging fire of curious apprehension was pressing Sergio’s body forward, his limbs beginning to twitch and react on their own as if to follow the Nationalist’s right up the escalators, but his mind was frozen on one thing: Marco. Where was she? He couldn’t continue forwards without her, maybe she hadn’t gotten too far in the air ducts and had to double back. They hadn’t set a specific rally point but the three Nationalists were already beyond the cordon and ascending the toothy metal steps to the outside world. If he let Boris close the door again then they might not be able to get out of Verona at all. Sergio didn’t have his own small pouch to pay the sentry with.
Just then a resounding ripple of sound whizzed by his ear, a miniature sonic boom like a small torpedo through the dense air of the station; the sentry seized up and doubled over and then crumpled to the floor like an empty sack, the rags fluttering out beside him. A forceful echo of running footsteps entered the space next and Sergio’s heart pounded in his ears. Dead? The sentry was dead, but who had shot him so precisely?
“Sergio, get the lever!” Marco hissed in a shrill whisper from behind him, trying not to draw any more attention as she ran forward and slid on one knee towards the dead man.
Sergio couldn’t think his own thoughts but somehow through her curt order he understood exactly what she needed him to do. Without the sentry’s strong grip on the wheel, the heavy iron door was slowly creaking back downwards of its own accord. He dashed forward awkwardly to catch it, leaving just two feet left by which to escape. Marco had already darted up, taken the pouch from the dead man’s hands, and shuffled under the iron curtain with her weapon in hand. She began fumbling with something else as he watched it all in slow motion; she had also pulled the sentry’s abandoned weapon across the floor and was hastily tearing off its sling and tying the end of it up into a knot.
“Quickly!” She hissed again, throwing the leather strap to him. “Use this!”
Once again her intentions jumped straight into his mind and he got to work instantly; he looped the leather through the hand wheel and stretched it out as he began to crawl over towards the door. The strap was meant to hold the wheel in place while he scrambled underneath. Thankfully there was just enough ambient light from the angled chamber so he could see what he was doing but it wasn’t so bright as to alert anyone who might be nearby to the commotion. The strap was just long enough for him to get the bulk of his body under the heavy door and he only hesitated for a second to take a breath, trying in vain to calculate the chances that his arm would be crushed the minute he let go of it.
The door creaked downwards slowly under its own weight as he released the strap and Sergio could only stare silently at the form of the dead sentry laid out on the floor, a pool of dark liquid spreading from beneath his head. She had shot him squarely in the left temple and his eyes had rolled back. Sergio swallowed a faint whimper of confusion as his mind caught up with reality, and he began to pray – pray that nobody had seen or heard them – and that nobody else was going to open the gate to come after them. But of course, all the inhabitants of Verona knew that this exit led up to the surface, and even the most ruthless of bandits were smart enough to not go skulking around up top. Only the squad of Nationalist’s seemed to know what awaited them at the top of the escalators, and they had already disappeared from the long angled column of frozen steps. Marco had done everything in just the right calculated amount of time, so the Nationalists must not have suspected anything at all, but why did she have to shoot the sentry? Did he really have to die in order for them to leave the station? And what would happen once they climbed up to the top of the vestibule? It seemed that nobody in the station heard the silenced shot from the Vintorez, so that man Boris could be laying there in the dark for hours or days before anyone noticed. Sergio seriously hoped that he was some brand of bandit, because only then could he excuse her execution of him. Hadn’t Vera said not to openly engage anyone? But Boris definitely wasn’t a Nationalist, and so Marco hadn’t technically disobeyed Vera’s order. They would have just enough time to confer before trying to follow the Nationalist squad to their destination – to meet up with Andrei Sokolov.
Chapter 27: Double Agent
Sergio looked over at Marco helplessly, his lips trying to trace out words that he had no voice for. She only looked back at him with a sort of aggravated expression as if preparing to defend or explain herself. Did she have any conscience at all? Had there been any second thought or hesitation before she had pulled the trigger? Had he completely misjudged her demeanor up until now and she was finally showing her true self? Or was this just a visceral response to the world in the wake of her grief over Sacco’s death?
“What are you looking at me like that for?” She had only glanced up at him for a moment but seemed to understand his apprehension right away; she was unloading the sentry’s weapon and counting the ammunition to divide between them.
“Whatd’you mean, what for?” Sergio gasped out, beginning loudly but then remembering the Nationalist soldiers were still somewhere nearby and hushed his voice to an exasperated whisper. “You shot—!”
“Yeah, I know what I did! But what else were we supposed to do?” Marco growled back at him in a low tone of voice and then glanced up the escalators warily.
“So you knew something about it then? That guard. Tell me you had intel or whatever!” Sergio tried with difficulty to keep his voice quiet and still express his horror.
“What intel am I supposed to have? I know just as much as you do.” She threw one hand out towards him to express the futility of his hope.
“Then what if he was innocent? Just a resident…” Sergio’s voice trailed off.
“And how innocent can he be if he’s working with them?” Marco held up the fabric pouch that the Nationalist squad had given to the sentry. She flipped it open and shook out the contents onto the floor between them; there was a folded paper amongst a sizeable wrapper of dried leaves and two clips of pristine cartridges. “Were you going to give the guy tobacco and cartridges then? Do you understand now? They paid him for his silence or for access to the station and the surface. Even if he wasn’t a bandit, he was up to no good.”
“But…” Sergio tried to come up with excuses, as if his persistence would somehow bring the sentry back to life.
“I did what had to be done so we could get out of there. There isn’t always time to decide.” Marco lowered her eyes to the floor; he hoped she was regretting her choice and formulating some kind of penance inside but instead it looked as though she was trying to reinforce herself as she nodded her head with a look of satisfaction a few seconds later.
“And Sacco taught you that, too, did he? To shoot first and ask questions later? To be complacent about murder? Is that what his lessons were all about?” Sergio felt a surge of anger bubbling up and couldn’t hold it back, but was he angry with just her or with Sacco too? If it was true, then he was suddenly glad that he hadn’t known Sacco very well, but no matter the answer he was already mentally distancing himself from his previous aspirations.
“Just what kind of man do you think he is? Who is it you think you’re trying to emulate, hm? I mean fuck its right in his very name. You don’t get to that kind of rank in the Order without sacrifice, without knowing the risks and the consequences, without facing down death on a daily basis. The scales of justice are always tipped against us. He knew the cost of everything… and the price is always high for the benefit of the greater good. Even his own life.” Marco had defended Sacco passionately, just as Sergio expected of her, and he almost regretted what he said but her explanation made too much sense to try and take back his accusation so he just swallowed it all down as the humbling truth that it was. She had been quiet for a moment but then looked straight up at him and released the last of her own anger and frustration. “You joined a military force Sergio, if you can’t bring yourself to kill when it’s necessary then you chose the wrong profession. Don’t you judge me for filling the role.”