Gunshots and shouting came from the hall.
“Drop the gun, drop the gun, drop the gun,” one man shouted, first in Russian, then in English.
Justin heard the metallic sound of a pistol dropping against the tiled floor of the hall, then a low scuffle.
“Break it off, stop it,” the same loud voice filled the room.
Justin felt strong arms grabbing him and pulling him away from Max. He made a last-ditch attempt to grab hold of Max’s pistol an inch away from his fingertips. He slid his hand and felt the rubber grip of the handle at the same time that he felt a heavy blow to the back of his head. Justin’s world turned upside down as he struggled to keep his balance. As he began to fall he saw Becca’s bloody face as she lay on the floor. Her eyes were empty. He began to reach for her outstretched hand but another blow landed on the side of his head, knocking him down and out.
Chapter Twenty-one
Justin woke up because of an icy shiver racing down his spine. It felt like a sharp knife. His eyes saw a vaulted ceiling with exposed, heavy beams like a log cabin’s. A recessed ceiling light flooded brightly down on his face. This is a dacha. I’m somewhere in a forest. Outside Moscow? How long have I been out?
He noticed he was lying in a hard bed without a pillow. Someone had stripped all his clothes from the upper part of his body but they had left his pants and shoes on. He lifted his head and moved his hands at the same time. They were fastened each to a side of his bed with handcuffs that cut into the skin of his wrists. His feet were also cuffed around the ankles. His eyes took in the expanse of the room. It was sparsely furnished, with a large stove at one corner and a couple of couches next to it, in front of tall floor lamps that gave out dim, yellow light. The stove was not on and the cabin was cold. Another shiver ran through his body.
He turned his head to the other side. A wooden door and a small barred window. It was dark outside the window and snow crystals swirled around the bottom corners. Two thin slivers of light came from a distance. Headlights. Someone’s outside. Where am I? Where are Carrie and Becca?
A loud metallic rattle came from outside, then the door opened with a noisy creak. A man Justin did not recognize entered the room. He had thick eyebrows that met over his hooked nose. “You awake, you CIA loser?” he said in English. He stepped closer and yanked Justin’s head up by the hair.
Justin clenched his teeth and endured the manhandling in silence. He was not going to give this thug the pleasure of seeing him writhe in pain.
“Yeah, you awake. Time you see my boss.”
He moved behind the bed and out of Justin’s sight. Justin heard electronic beeps of a few buttons, then the thug began talking to someone on a cellphone.
“Yes, yes, he’s awake. He’s doing well, sir,” the thug said in Russian, then slapped Justin’s face.
It was not intended to hurt him but to humiliate him.
“Yes, he’ll be ready. Oh, okay. I understand very well, sir.”
The thug shut his cellphone with a click, then walked around the left side of Justin’s bed. “My boss, Mr. Derzhavin, is on his way to see you now,” he said in Russian. “Don’t go anywhere.” He laughed.
Justin’s face remained locked in a deep frown.
“Why aren’t you smiling? You don’t find my joke funny? Fucking Americans have no sense of humor.” He shook his head, then walked to the door. He gave Justin and the room a last glance, then stepped outside and locked the door behind him.
Justin sighed and shook his head. He tried to organize the information he had learned so far. He had been knocked out for quite some time, since it was now evening or night. A thug and perhaps another one or more were outside waiting for Derzhavin. So these were the men of the FSB, not military intelligence as Max would have them believe. He had no idea where Carrie was or if she was even alive. Becca had not looked very good when he had last seen her at the safe house.
Max was supposed to be working for the CIA but instead he was a double agent.
Justin was kicking himself for being fooled in such a devastating way.
I should have trusted my gut.
He repeated the same thought over and over again as he counted the seconds and then the minutes. Time slowed to a painful crawl as he awaited his unknown fate, the wind howling and beating against the walls of the log cabin.
The door creaked and Justin cast a disinterested, almost dismissive glance in that direction. He had no illusions about who was going to walk in. He had been in similar situations before, stripped naked and strapped to a wall or a bed, waiting for his torturers to bring in the pain. A lot of pain. He had no reason to believe things were going to be different this time. One of the Moscow rules said to never get caught. If caught, then pray.
The same thug was the first man to step inside the cottage. He tried to intimidate Justin with a fierce glare but Justin stared back, determined not to allow this prick to have the upper hand. They may break my body, but not my soul.
Derzhavin followed behind the thug. He looked even unhappier than when Justin had first seen him, but this time Justin figured Derzhavin had a reason to be grouchy. He had to work late, drive to this remote frozen cottage, and deal with Justin, this new crisis in his hands.
The last man to cross the doorstep was Max. A victorious grin swept across his face. He stayed at a respectful distance behind Derzhavin, deferring to his boss’s authority.
Justin shook his head. The trusted dog wagging his tail behind his owner. The bastard.
“Mr. Hall, we meet again.” Derzhavin walked up to Justin’s bed. He stopped next to Justin’s right hand, reached for the handcuffs and tested them by pulling on one of them.
Justin winced as the sharp steel dug into his skin. “I can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you,” Justin replied in a firm voice as he held Derzhavin’s black eyes. The man was still wearing the gray suit and white shirt he had had on at their meeting. He had removed his tie and had put on a heavy brown coat.
“Do you think I have mastered the English language, Mr. Hall?” Derzhavin gave Justin a quizzical look.
Justin did a double take, then looked at Max, who simply shrugged.
Derzhavin said, “You have trouble understanding my words. I asked you specifically not to interfere with our work. You did not grasp the meaning of interfere.” He stressed the last word more than necessary, breaking it into two parts.
Justin nodded slowly. “You’re right. I did not realize at that time that you were lying through your teeth. You had the courier in custody but gave us the impression he was still at—”
“And I ordered you not to start any operation in my home city, in my homeland—”
“Yes, but you’re forgetting something very important, sir,” Justin interrupted him.
“Oh, and what is that?”
“I don’t get orders from you.”
Derzhavin stepped closer to Justin’s face, so close Justin could feel the man’s tobacco-tainted breath.
“You may not, but here you are, resigned to my will and command.” Derzhavin pulled hard on Justin’s right handcuff.