“Faith?”
She threw her arms around him and put her head against him, careful not to put pressure on her ribs. Tears flowed down her face.
“You okay?” he said.
“I’m pretty bunged up, but nothing that won’t heal. They’re going to kill us.”
“Pull yourself together. We’re gonna make it, honey.”
“I know you’re just saying that.”
“Hell, yes. But you have to get it together and get my hands freed up before we can do anything.”
“What are you doing here? Did you come after me?” She tugged at the tape around his wrists.
“Not exactly. Where the heck is here?”
“Moscow. Some old KGB lab’s storage room.”
“Holy moly.” He wiggled his wrists, trying to get some slack into the tape handcuffs. “Moscow? I was afraid of that. They’ve kept me blindfolded, but I had a feeling we were flying east. Hell, I didn’t need a feeling to know they were taking me to Russia. Where are Walters and Meriwether? I couldn’t hear them on the plane, but I wasn’t totally sure they weren’t there.”
“I have no idea who they are.”
“The last I saw them, the East Germans had them,” he said.
“I’m not sure what’s going on, but something big. This isn’t working. I can’t get this stuff off.” The tape stuck to itself. Her short fingernails picked at it.
“Don’t suppose you’ve got anything sharp?”
“Hold on.” Faith unscrewed a lid from one of the jars.
He sniffed loudly. “Jeez, someone dissecting cadavers around here?”
“You don’t want to know.” She smacked the jar lip against the heavy metal desk. Her finger explored the jagged edge. Sharp enough. Her foot raked stray shards under the desk. “Where are you? Talk to me.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Over here. This way.”
She inched over to him and sat on the floor beside him. “I’m going to do my best not to cut you, but I can’t see a damn thing.”
“Just take it slow, nice and slow.”
She sawed through the tape a few frustrating millimeters at a time.
“How many of them are there?” Summer said. “Any idea what’s outside the door?”
“At least two. Three or four guys brought me here, but I don’t know if they’re still around.” She nicked herself with the makeshift knife. “I have no idea what’s outside, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t set up for prisoners. Summer, you need to know, I’ve got some C stuck in my shoes.”
“A cap?”
“I had a blasting cap and time fuse in two pens, but she took them. She also took my matches.”
The fluorescent lights buzzed, then glowed.
“They’re coming.” Faith stuffed the glass shard into her pocket and smashed the tape back to cover up her handiwork.
Summer looked around in the light. “What the heck is wrong with these people? Pickled brains?”
“They study brains of smart people to try to figure out the secrets of their success. Yuri Gagarin’s over there. From rumors I’ve heard about his drinking and the truth behind the plane crash that killed him, he probably came prepickled.”
Bogdanov walked in, carrying a white brick wrapped in clear plastic. The guard closed the door behind them and stood erect, his gun pointed at Summer’s chest.
“I see you’re making yourselves at home,” Bogdanov said in English, startling Faith. “You’re in the company of great minds.” Her face fell, her mood shifting like a wind shear. She threw the brick to Faith, who caught it. “What’s this?”
“Play-Doh. Personally, I prefer Silly Putty. I like to smash it on colored Sunday funnies and stretch-”
“I don’t have time for foolishness. Where’s the C-4?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Guard, leave us alone for a few moments,” Bogdanov said. “I think I might be able to be more persuasive without a witness.”
“General Stukoi’s orders were very clear. No one is to be alone with the prisoners.”
Bogdanov snapped her head around toward Summer and raised her voice. “I’m talking about a CIA agent and a US Navy special forces commando who brought C-4 into the Soviet Union on a secret mission to assassinate General Secretary Gorbachev to stop his reforms and save the budgets of their Cold War-dependent agencies. You’re here to save your militaryindustrial complex from the threat of peace and friendship with an open, democratic Soviet Union. I prepared your confessions. Sign at the bottom. It may even help you avert the death penalty.” Bogdanov handed them the papers and two pens, both from the same Berlin travel agency.
Faith fingered the pen. It was the same one Bogdanov had confiscated earlier. She studied Zara’s face, but it betrayed nothing. She skimmed the document. “This is dated May first. It’s not May first yet, is it? And it’s not a confession about an attempt on Gorbachev. It’s a murder confession.”
“Things will go much easier for you if you voluntarily confess. I only have you for another twenty minutes. I can’t wait any longer. You have only twenty minutes. If you don’t sign by then, I can’t be responsible for what happens to you. Up until now, I’ve seen that you were treated well. Commander Summer’s trained to hold up under torture, but Doctor Whitney isn’t. Others can be more persuasive. Once you’re outside this wall…” She made eye contact with Faith, then looked at the wall. “Once you’re outside this wall on your way to Lubyanka, I can’t help you. Trust me; you don’t want to be in here in twenty minutes when they come for you.”
“We’re not going to sign. Forget it.” Summer shook his head.
“I’ll leave you alone for a few minutes to consider it. Would you like a cigarette while you’re thinking?”
Bogdanov tapped the Marlboro pack until a cigarette tip came out. “Go ahead.”
The guard objected in Russian.
She turned to him. “It can’t hurt. What are they going to do? Put burn marks on Stalin’s brain?”
The guard laughed.
Faith hesitated before she pulled the cigarette from the pack and put it in her mouth. Bogdanov tossed her the matchbox. Faith palmed two matches as she removed one for the light.
Summer leaned forward. “I’ll take one, too.”
Bogdanov put the cigarette in his mouth. Faith lit it for him and threw the matches to Bogdanov.
“You have less than twenty minutes. Think carefully about what I’ve said. Do the smart thing.”
They left the room, but the lights didn’t go out.
“She’s the bitch who kidnapped me. I don’t know what the deal is with her, but she made it pretty clear we’d better be out of here in twenty minutes.”
Faith extinguished her cigarette and cut at the tape on Summer’s wrists. “I’ll have you out in a minute now that I can see what I’m doing.”
“Don’t worry about cutting me; just get my hands free. And get this cancer stick outta my mouth, but don’t let it go out. We’re going to need it.”
“I got a couple of matches.” Faith removed the cigarette and crushed it out on the floor. “The pens she left us have time fuse and a cap in them. And I swear she knew it.”
“That KGB bitch is a slick devil. What kind of fuse did you get? How much?”
“About four inches.”
“Four inches of time fuse will give us fifteen seconds or so.”
“I don’t know if it makes any difference, but it’s Russian made.”
“Then we’ve got a problem. I used Russian fuse in Somalia once. Burns like greased lightning.”
“It’s all I could get on short notice.”
“You should’ve let me help you in Berlin. Guess we can use a cigarette as a timer if we have to.”
Faith dug the glass shard into the tape, jerking it back and forth.
“You’re doing this like a girl, Faith. I’m gonna pull my hands apart as far as possible-which isn’t much. Now you’re gonna poke it into the middle of the furnace tape. Don’t worry about what you’ll do to me long as you don’t get an artery. Pull it as hard as you can toward yourself. Do it.”