‘His vitals are fine,’ Chris said, his own face reflecting the polar opposite, ‘but he’s completely non-responsive. He’s in some sort of coma.’
Chris and Novitskiy steered Gardner’s body to the medi-station in the Harmony module, as Sally followed on behind. Other than a brief and foggy stint in her weeks of intense training, Sally had never had any sort of formal first aid education, and so all she could do was look on at her only friend, helpless. As Novitskiy and Chris peeled off Gardner’s suit, revealing his soft naked flesh beneath, the feeling became one of claustrophobia, and it engulfed her like a thick skin, numbing her mind. Once what could be done for Gardner was done, they retreated to the galley where she stared at her untouched meal.
‘He seems to be stable,’ Novitskiy said, the first words spoken in a while. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him for any changes.’
Somehow, Sally knew — and she felt the others knew too — Gardner wouldn’t be coming back.
‘We’ll investigate the Soyuz capsule tomorrow,’ Novitskiy continued. ‘We don’t know what kind of condition it’s in, so we’ll need our wits about us. That means a good night’s sleep before we attempt to breach it.’ He paused, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘Or at least as much sleep as we can manage, anyway.’
He took a mouthful from his food pouch, struggling to chew and swallow. He didn’t take another, but sat back, scratching at his face. Sally wondered if he wanted to leave the breach until tomorrow because he couldn’t face seeing his friend in the inevitable condition they expected to find him in.
‘I didn’t know he was in trouble…’ Chris whispered, jarring Sally from her distant thoughts. ‘I just left him out there.’
‘It’s okay,’ Sally said, putting her hand on his. ‘I saw the whole thing. You did the best you could have possibly done.’
Chris snatched his hand away, sending his drinks pouch spinning from the table.
‘I didn’t help him!’ he bellowed. ‘I didn’t help him like I didn’t help Mikhail!’
Sally watched in shock as he left the module, loud bangs and thumps reverberating back up the station after him, each one making her flinch.
‘He’ll be okay,’ Novitskiy said. He sounded weary.
‘What did he mean?’
Another muffled thump travelled up the station.
‘I used to love American food,’ Novitskiy said, massaging the paste in the pouch, then holding it up to his face to look at it with big, longing eyes. ‘But now I can’t stomach it.’ He slopped the pouch back on the table.
‘Novitskiy!’ Sally snapped.
‘What?’ Novitskiy said, looking up, a child-like surprise replacing his distant expression.
‘What did Chris mean when he said he didn’t help Mikhail?’
Novitskiy pursed his lips.
‘He didn’t take it well,’ he said. ‘Williams — sorry, Chris — had real admiration for Mikhail, despite what everyone says. When Mikhail asked him to help run some pressure tests on the Soyuz airlock, he didn’t think for one moment that he would just up and leave in it. He blames himself for that.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. There’s nothing any of us can do to make things different, so it’s best not to linger on it. I prefer to think that Mikhail’s just — gone out for a bit.’ That same awkward smile he’d smiled when Sally had first met him bloomed on his face.
‘Is there any chance at all he’s still alive?’ Sally asked, not really knowing what else to say.
Novitskiy’s smile dimmed, and his woeful eyes looked deep into hers. He shook his head. ‘Not even a remote one.’
The waiter refilled Sean’s wine glass. Sean brought it to his nose to savour the musty tones of such a fine vintage. It wasn’t often he treated himself, but since his investigations had taken such a positive turn, he felt it was a justified luxury. That and the wine was taking the edge off the grinding worry in his stomach as he waited to hear from Aleks. Aleks had messaged him earlier today to let him know he would be trying the key card, but he was yet to follow up with the results. Sean glanced — as he had a thousand times since being seated at the hotel restaurant — at his phone, which remained silent. He drained the glass.
When his dessert arrived, his appetite was somewhat waning, partly due to the big steak he’d just consumed, and partly because it was ten o’clock and he still hadn’t heard anything. When did Aleks’ shift start? He couldn’t remember. Aleks had mentioned it in his earlier message, so Sean prodded the menu key on his phone and scrolled through to read it. As he did, the phone vibrated in his hand, the resulting jolt of adrenalin almost causing his steak to make a reappearance. He opened the new message and read it. As he consumed its few words, his mouth went dry, and he re-read them in disbelief. Sure enough, they said the same thing they had read the first time: Bomb on Progress
Chapter 16
In that moment everything became very real for Sean Jacob. Too real. He was used to chasing leads and getting into tight corners, but this was another level of government conspiracy he wasn’t prepared for. Panicking, he looked about the restaurant, half expecting a squad of Kevlar-clad troopers to crash through the doors. His frenzied stare was met by the sympathetic smile of an old couple sat on the table opposite, while the few other diners hadn’t even noticed. His heart seemed loud in this quiet, serene environment, and for a second he felt silly. They wouldn’t be coming for him, would they? How would they even know of his existence? He looked at the message again, then deleted it. Shit, he hadn’t meant to do that. Not that it mattered — the words still burned bright in his mind.
Hands trembling, he retrieved his wallet, scooped out of wad of cash and, hoping it was enough, dropped it on the table. Just because they hadn’t come for him now didn’t mean they wouldn’t come for him at all. He didn’t want to end up like Lev Ryumin. Negotiating the tables in a daze, Sean exited the restaurant and hurried towards the elevators. He could see the main entrance at the other end of the lobby, and he watched for the inevitable black SUV to pull up outside. The elevator pinged its arrival, taking him by surprise, and the businessman that stepped off smiled at him as they traded places. But was he a businessman, or an undercover government agent? Sean watched him with suspicion while tapping the button for his floor.
‘Come on…’ he said to himself. After what seemed like forever, the doors closed and the elevator ascended. It arrived at his floor and he disembarked, checked the route was clear and headed for his room. At the door, he paused, grasping the handle. Visions of what might lay in wait for him turned his throat dry, but still he took a breath and slotted the key card into place. The green light illuminated and the bolt retracted. Trying not to make a sound as he opened the door, he slid into the room. It was dark, and there didn’t seem to be anyone there. He bolted the door and put the chain across, and only then did he switch on the light. Everything was as he left it. Relief swooped over him, and with it, exhaustion. He dropped onto the bed, just for a little while, to let his thoughts catch up with him. But his thoughts weren’t the only thing to catch up with him: the red meat and wine intoxicated his body with slumber, and he fell asleep.
The next morning he awoke in a pleasant mood, despite a bit of a throb above his left eye. He lumbered to the bathroom to top up his glass with water, and as the cold liquid filled his stomach, the events of the night before came back to him. How could he have been so stupid as to fall asleep? He dashed to the window, cracked the curtains and looked out at the road below. There were still no black SUVs parked outside, which was a mild reassurance, but he still needed to get out of there fast, and there was only one place he knew to go.