“I’m really blessed with a linguistic genius like you. Goddamnit! If I had ten men, only ten Tribe warriors I could take that place, shake it until all those Spetsnaz fall out like apples from a tree and then have a word with our reckless friend! Provided if Nooria is unharmed, because if not… Oh God! Ten men. Eight. God, give me five men!”
“You’ve got only me and Sawyer and he refused to shoot humans, anyway.”
“And I told him that bugs are tougher than humans, predators are stronger and monkeys funnier, yet hunters like him don’t have a problem killing them. Makes him a peacenik and hypocrite.”
“Whatever. Bottom line is, we can’t get to Tarasov if he’s kept at that base.”
“It bloody well seems so, yes, but I’m glad at least you had the balls to come with me.” Hartman turns his eyes to the agonizing soldier. “Time to finish our business.”
“He’s all fucked up, Top. We should let him go.”
“Listen up, son,” the Top says loading his shotgun. “There’s a saying in Uncle Sam’s armed forces: no man is left behind. We in the Tribe prefer to say: no enemy is left alive. And we’ve good reason to do that—you’ll see.”
Lying helplessly at the Top’s feet in the mud, the by now barely breathing soldier closes his eyes not to see it coming.
“And what now?” Pete asks when the bang of the rifle shot died off.
“Back to base,” the Top replies. Seeing that Pete is about to check the bodies for anything useful, he adds, “Looting is not an honorable thing to do. We are not scavengers, son.”
“Sometimes you really give me a hard time understanding you, Top,” Pete says shaking his head but leaving the bodies alone. “You and your Tribe speak about honor. I mean, you shoot a helpless man without batting an eyelid but don’t touch his gear because it’s not honorable. I just don’t get your logic.”
“You’re not supposed to understand. You’re supposed to follow.”
“You are a heartless SOB if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“I take that as a compliment,” Hartman says with a grim smile. “Take point, big mouth! Watching out for anomalies will keep you from thinking too much.”
48
The gossip magazine full of cheesy photographs of beautiful people doing all kinds of nice things is very out of place in the SBU’s vaults. The female guard reading it fits there perfectly, however—she’s got the hands of a butcher, and her knee-length blue skirt with a belt holding a baton, pepper spray and a holstered Fort pistol reveals fleshy legs crossed under her desk. With a thick finger, the nail cut short, she scratches her head that is topped by a bun of greasy, dyed blonde hair. Occasionally, she lets her blue eyes wander around the corridor from where a row of holding cells open on both sides, then continues completing a sudoku riddle. Overall, she appears a person no prisoner would mess with. Yet she stirs and jumps at attention when the entry door opens.
Radiating an aura of authority, Maksimenko and Agent Fedorka appear and walk to her desk, their steps keeping the same pace.
“Did you clean her up?” Fedorka demands.
“Yes. But—”
“Did she stink?”
“Just a few days’ share of Zone grime. I need to—”
“Did you disinfect her?”
“That was not necessary. But in the process—”
“What?”
Glad that the agent at last gives her an opportunity to tell what she wanted, the guard keeps her message short.
“She is pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” Maksimenko asks and smacks his lips in amusement. “She got knocked up by one of the Spetsnaz or what?”
“No, tovarishu Kapitan… at least not to my knowledge—”
“How do you know?” Fedorka asks, impatiently.
“According to the protocol, we took a blood test to check if the prisoner has any contageous diseases like HIV or hepatitis—”
“I know exactly what a contageous disease is, Corporal Ivanovna,” Agent Fedorka snaps at her. “Don’t you dare lecture me.”
“Apologies. The test proved negative on diseases but positive on pregnancy. Between six and eight weeks.”
The two SBU agents exchange a meaningful look.
“Very well,” Fedorka says. “She is from the New Zone and has even spent several days in the Exclusion Zone. She will be thankful later if we prevent her child from being born. It must be distorted by irradiation already.”
“Yes, but—”
“Why do you keep interrupting me, corporal?
“With all due respect—the protocol says pregnant prisoners must be kept in a special facility. Not here!”
“She’s holding information we must get from her.”
“Tovarishu—”
“On second thought, it’s good news actually,” Fedorka says, putting her finger on her lips. “Threatening her with losing her child might be good leverage. When she has talked, the abortion will be performed anyway.”
“Good idea,” Maksimenko says and gives Fedorka an approving smile.
“It’s your call,” the female guard says with a shrug.
“Yes it is,” Maksimenko snaps at her. “Open her cell.”
“I better go alone,” Agent Fedorka says. “I’ll soften her up.”
The prisoner squatting in one of the corners and hiding her eyes behind her hand to shield them from the strong neon light above looks rather innocent to her. Fedorka even feels a slight envy when she looks at Nooria’s waist-long hair.
“Get up,” she commands but the prisoner doesn’t move. Fedorka grabs her arms and lifts her to her feet. Taking Nooria by her chin, she forces her to raise her head. Fedorka notices the sadness and fright in Nooria’s green eyes. She decides to play cat-and-mouse with her.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” she tells Nooria. The scar on her face don’t impress her much, but being nice is part of her game. She strokes the scar covering Nooria’s right face.
“Poor girl. This must have been sulfuric acid,” she says with mocked compassion. “Who did this to you? Let me guess—the usual story of a refused lover taking revenge? Some bearded old men being upset over you going to school?”
Nooria doesn’t reply.
“Not as if I’d care, you know,” Fedorka continues. “I am not even surprised. You’re barbarians—we should have killed you all but luckily, you took care of that with the nukes yourselves.” She chuckles. “Not without some unfortunate side effects. You know, my dear, ever since Chernobyl we have been dealing with the effects of radiation. Do you know what radiation does to a fetus? A little child in its mother’s belly?”
Nooria’s eyes flicker. Fedorka takes this as a sign of fear.
“Not very nice things. Let me show you.” Fedorka browses through the images on her mobile phone and shows one to Nooria. “Such monsters are better not being born. We are not bad people, my dear. For the sake of both of you, we will not let it be born.”
Nooria stirs. Satisfied with the effects of her words, Fedorka continues.
“Look, you know a lot of things. Some people might hurt your baby but I won’t let this happen if you help me. All you need to do is tell me about a few things.”
“About what?” Nooria asks now.
“About where you live. The men in your Tribe. How many of them are there, how they are armed, what they do, how they get supplied—things like that. Will you help us?”
“Will you harm my child?”
Fedorka leans against the wall, her hands over Nooria’s shoulders. She leans close to her prisoner, as if she wanted to press her against the wall with her own body.
“Silly question,” she whispers. “I am a woman myself, can’t you see? How could I hurt a pregnant woman?”