“When I was talking to Sokolov earlier, he said something that I now find strange. At the time, it seemed both casual and perfectly normal. But knowing what I know now, I am wondering if there was some hidden meaning.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘why not join me later in my office for a drink and maybe a cigar.’”
“That’s it?”
“I’m not sure those were the exact words he used, but yes.”
“I agree with your first assessment. It seems perfectly normal to me.”
“But he was only minutes away from taking his own life. He must have known at that point. So why invite me back later?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Do you think it is in some way important?”
“Maybe. I do kind of feel that way, but, I just don’t know why.”
“Well, let’s start by assuming it was a message. Those aren’t very many words. It shouldn’t be that hard to decipher. Try to work it out and I will help as best I can.”
Hamlin turned and let his eyes wander around the room. The words in question really meant nothing special to him. And yet…
“The first thing he said was to meet him later. So…was he referring to coming back into his office after he died?”
“Hmm. Either that or he was inviting you to kill yourself as well. That would be one way of meeting him later.”
“In a manner of thinking. But then he also said for a drink.”
“And maybe a smoke.”
Hamlin walked around behind the massive desk. On one side was a beautiful wooden cabinet.
“This is the liquor cabinet. Maybe we should open it and look inside.”
She didn’t seem to be picking up much enthusiasm for Hamlin’s quest.
“All right. I don’t see any harm in that. I’m not sure I see anything good coming out of it either, but what the hell? Maybe we can find something nice to get drunk on, and then we can make out on his desk.”
“I’m thinking the current atmosphere isn’t exactly conducive to romance.”
He reached for the ornate knobs on the two door adjoining doors. It took only minimal effort and they both swung open. The cabinet was jammed full of a variety of liquor, most of which Hamlin was totally unfamiliar with.
“He’s got a nice stash in here.”
“That makes me think of another issue,” Lena said. “We should probably secure this room or it will get scavenged. And like you are thinking, there might be things of importance in here. His booze and Cuban cigars will attract a lot of attention from the crew.”
Hamlin bent over to get a better view. So far, bottles were all he could see. He had been hoping for something more significant, although he had no idea what.
“Do you see anything else?”
“No. I wonder if I should take these bottles out before I give up?” On a whim, he slid his fingers along the inside of the top trim board. He felt a small item stuck to the wood. He was able to grab a corner. It pulled out with minimal effort.
Now Lena showed some interest.
“What is it?”
“It seems to be a small paper envelope. I think it might be hand-made. I also think I might be a genius. There’s something in it.” He started to pull it apart.
“What is in there?”
Hamlin had it out by now. “It’s a key. Just a small one.”
“Oh.” She didn’t seem to know how to react.
He held it up and scrutinized it.
“It says Savinelli. Does that mean anything to you?”
“No.” She spoke softly and seemed to be thinking it over. “Wait, how small is that key?”
Hamlin held it so she could see it.
“I might know what that is. You said he also suggested having a cigar, correct?”
“He did, yes.”
“Where is his humidor? I bet the key will fit it.”
Based on a previous visit to the room, Francis knew exactly where it was. He walked over to the shelf where the ornate box sat. The key slid smoothly into the small locking mechanism on the front.
“Bingo.” He opened it carefully. “Wow. I’m not much of a smoker, but does that smell good.”
She was walking toward him now. “It is lined with cedar, no doubt. Do you see anything?”
“Lots of big, expensive cigars. Oh, and a few smaller and only slightly less expensive cigars. Nothing else.”
“Are you sure?”
She was beside him now, peering intensely into the box. For some reason, the quest had now taken on significance for her.
“Just stogies. Sorry.”
“Wait. Doctor, do you smoke?”
“No. Just at stag parties or if someone at work has a baby with their actual spouse. Why?”
“You do not have a humidor, then.”
“No.”
“Empty the cigars out of it. Carefully, of course.”
“Umm, okay. Why?”
“Just do it.”
He complied. Each one was handled with the same care he would extend to a stick of dynamite.
“Oh come now, they won’t break. Just dump it out.”
“No, no,” he said. “This will only take a few more seconds.”
He removed the remaining smokes with care, then tipped and observed the box. “Sorry, I don’t see anything in here. It appears to be a dead end.”
“But there is something in there that shouldn’t be. No one puts a felt liner in a humidor.”
It looked natural enough in there. Hamlin never would have thought of it. He took his finger and tried to coax it out. The back corner lifted a little.
“I think you’re right. It seems like it is just a little bit loose in there.” With a renewed effort, he was able to get it to pull out completely. Its removal revealed a small, folded piece of paper. Lena reached it and carefully pulled it out.
“What have we here? What secrets were you hiding, Sokolov?”
She unfolded it.
Hamlin tried to see. “What does it say?”
She frowned. “It is a number.”
“Just a number?”
“Yes.” She seemed to be deep in thought.
He reached over and reclaimed possession of the paper.
“7846392001068375300.” He read the digits slowly. “That’s one hell of a big number. What does it mean?”
She was staring blankly off into space. “I don’t know.”
“But it must be important.”
“It would seem so.”
“Damn.”
“Exactly.” She seemed to break out of her paralysis. “I think we have been in here long enough. We will draw more attention and speculation the longer we are here. Let’s put everything back exactly as it was and get out of here.”
“What about the paper? Put it back as well?”
“No. We should take it.”
“Good idea. I’ll stash it someplace safe.”
Lena was outwardly calm, but on the inside a bomb had gone off.
“I have an idea. Let me copy those numbers down. Then we can each hide them. If they end up being important, I wouldn’t want to see them get lost. Besides, that way we can both study them when we’re alone and try to figure out what they mean.”
‘Sure. I think Sokolov keeps a pad on his desk. I’ll put the cigars back and close up the liquor cabinet.”
“Good,” she said. “Very good.”
They got a few sidelong glances when they returned, but nothing too noticeable. The group met informally for some time, talking about issues of security and how to move forward. A loose structure was agreed upon for administrative purposes and immediate duties were assigned. Hamlin volunteered to go out on a hunting mission. He was getting antsy and feeling like he wasn’t really contributing much.
The rotation for guard duty was reaffirmed. Also, a suggestion was made and accepted regarding daily checking and cleaning of the guns. Questions about ammunition and the status of the weapon stock in Sokolov’s office came up. All eyes slowly turned toward Hamlin. He quickly agreed to go in and check, inviting Barinov to come in with him for independent confirmation. That seemed to relax the crew just a little. Francis got the distinct impression that if he started to lord it over them, there would be a quick mutiny. His questionable authority over the station would come to an abrupt end. And that was fine at least in one regard—he didn’t want it anyway.