Faith plunged the crude knife into the tape and pulled back as hard as she could, rocking it so it sawed the tape. She tipped backward as the glass cut through the edge. The tape wasn’t completely severed, but Summer was able to pull his hands apart. A few drops of blood smeared onto it. He stretched his shoulders through a range of motions as he stripped off the last pieces of tape. Faith excavated the C-4 from her shoes. It had become pliable from her body heat.
He unscrewed the pen and removed the short fuse. “I only had to walk up six steps, so I’m assuming we’re at ground level. You start moving brains from the shelves and pile them up over there. There’s a long crack in the mortar and I’m going for that weakness. The blast wave will go out toward the street, but that glass’ll go everywhere. The only protection we’ll have is that desk. I want it turned over. We’ll hunker down behind it. Get to it.”
Summer grabbed two jars, turned around and handed them to Faith with such force that she nearly lost her balance. The sweat from her palms instantly mingled with the thick dust, creating a grimy paste. She steadied the jars against her chest and set A. N. Tupolev in the corner and then wiped her hands on her slacks. She hurried back for L. P. Beria and T. D. Lysenko. She ferried the brains across the room, all the while dissociating her own mind from those she carried.
“Get a lid. I also need the tape. Hope it’s got enough stick-um left.” Summer pushed explosives into a crack. He rolled the rest into a ball, inserted the time fuse into the hollow end of the cap and crimped both together with his teeth.
Faith handed him a lid and the wad of tape.
“See what you can do with the tape. Pull enough pieces apart so I can use it to hold the lid against the wall.”
“Can’t you just stick the C to it?”
“Only in the movies.”
She plucked at the tape wad. “This isn’t going to work.”
“Okay, we’ve gotta do something else. You go back to moving jars.” He took the metal lid, placed it on the floor and stomped on one side of it. He wedged the flattened side between the shelf and the wall. Careful to keep the cap positioned correctly, he lodged the explosives between the wall and the lid. “Give me a cigarette and a match.”
He struck the match against a brick, held the cigarette in his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply. “I’ve gotta smoke this down a bit. We don’t have enough time to wait for the whole thing to burn on its own time.”
“Can’t you just pinch off some of it?”
“Believe me, I need a smoke.”
“Summer, do you smell that? It’s not the cigarette. Look!” Faith pointed at smoke seeping through cracks in the door. “This place may be on fire.”
“Dandy. Let’s speed it up and get the desk into position.”
Faith struggled to lift the heavy metal desk with her hurt shoulder and cracked ribs, but Summer picked up his end with only one arm. They flipped it on its side, the top facing the explosives.
“Get behind it. It’s showtime.” He dashed behind the desk. “It could take a minute or two. Don’t think about looking up until after it’s gone off. It’s gonna be loud and messy, but fast. You might want your fingers in your ears. Just as soon as the sound stops, go out the hole. Go straight through it-don’t look around and don’t worry about the glass. Let’s hope there’s a hole there, because if something shifts, the wave might not go in the right direction. If it doesn’t, see if the bricks are loose enough to smash ’em outward. If you can get out, just go. I’ll catch up with you. If we can’t get out that way, say a quick prayer and we’re going out the way we came in. Stay right behind me.”
Summer picked up the glass shard Faith had used to cut him free. He wound duct tape around the narrow part, creating a crude handle. Then he took the knife and split the time fuse a half-inch down the middle, exposing the burning compound inside. He stuck the head of a match into the slit. He wedged the burning cigarette on top of it, careful not to press too hard and extinguish it. Working as quickly as he dared, he taped the two halves of the fuse together with duct tape, securing the match and cigarette in place.
Faith held her breath as she watched Summer blow on the cigarette to make it burn faster. He dashed over to her, pushed her flatter against the floor and wrapped his body over hers. Her side hurt from the pressure, but the comfort of his body compensated for it. Summer clutched the makeshift knife tightly.
“What’s that glass knife for?” Faith said.
“A contingency you’re not gonna like. Anytime now, any-”
The doorknob turned. Summer sprang up, gripping the knife. He glided to the door and plastered himself against the wall. Smoke poured into the room. Adrenaline flooded Faith’s body when she saw the guard step inside, his pistol drawn.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
LYSENKO RESEARCH FACILITY, MOSCOW
A FEW MINUTES EARLIER
Bogdanov left the temporary holding cell, the lingering formaldehyde smell sickening her. The second guard stood across the hall beside a glass display case crammed with a dusty assortment of books, scientific journals and plasticized human body parts. She already missed the German obsession with precision and order. She glanced at her watch. It was time.
“They require food and water. Go find something,” Bogdanov said to the guard who had accompanied her with the prisoners.
“Colonel, there are no facilities here that have prison rations.”
“Then get them something better. Go to the canteen and pick something up.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Davai!” the colonel shouted, then turned to the other jailer. “I have some things to take care of at headquarters. Make sure they don’t escape while I’m away.”
She walked through the musty corridor and down the main stairs. In the lobby she doubled back to a remote stairway and hurried into her temporary office.
She sat on the hard wooden desk chair, staring out the window. Every thirty seconds she glanced at her watch. She was pleased she had been able to arrange to take over a section of the second floor of the KGB’s biological research facility for temporary detention. Lubyanka would’ve afforded her far too little privacy. Her reputation as a key player in the operation had given her enough clout to make such a bad choice in holding facilities and guard complements without anyone second-guessing her. Stukoi had actually believed it was a good idea to keep them at such an obscure location to prevent knowledge of their imprisonment from becoming widely known. After three minutes had passed, she rose from her seat and stuck a handful of old copies of Pravda under her arm. Anyone who saw her would assume she was on her way to the water closet with her own supply of makeshift toilet paper. No one would suspect what she was about to do.
Just as she was about to walk out the door, Kosyk pushed his way into her office with two KGB guards.
“What are you doing here?” Bogdanov said. “They’re not supposed to be transferred for another ten minutes.”
“I’m here now.”
“This is a KGB operation. Why is the MfS involved?”
“To make sure it’s done correctly. I want my prisoners now.”
Bogdanov walked back over to her desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Then you won’t mind signing for them. Let’s see. You received them at fourteen hundred twenty-six hours.” She shoved the receipt across the desk to him, certain that the Prussian respect for bureaucratic procedure was on her side.
Kosyk removed a fountain pen from his jacket and signed.
“Wait here. I’ll get the keys.”
She hurried down the corridor and stopped in front of a door. She looked around to make certain no one was watching her. Using a piece of cloth to prevent fingerprints, she opened the door and slipped into the janitor’s closet. She reached into a bag for a cigarette butt she’d lifted from Stukoi’s ashtray that morning. She struck the match, lit the cigarette and held its glowing tip against the newspaper. She hoped Faith understood her message and would make swift use of the distraction. The newspaper smoldered. She puffed on it. Burn, damn it. Burn.