Callsign: King - Blackout

35

Suvorov stared at the two men illuminated by the flashlights of his Spetsnaz teammates. One of them was the objective of the mission that had brought him to Paris. The other had killed Kharitonov.

What could be simpler? Take one, kill the other. That’s what he knew he should do. All of his military training could have been summed up in a single phrase: the mission comes first. No matter what else happened, accomplishing the mission should have been his first priority. Not fifteen minutes earlier, he would have carried out both tasks without hesitation…even with a sense of satisfaction.

But damn it, a lot had happened in the last fifteen minutes.

He didn’t know exactly what had happened. When the city had been plunged into darkness, he hadn’t really paid heed, but that thing he’d faced on the riverboat… what in God’s name was that?

It had been only inches from him when something had caused it to reverse course. A few seconds later, he’d met the SVR undercover operative-the man now going by the name Chesler-who, while providing a few answers, didn’t really know anything of use. One thing he’d said however, still echoed in Suvorov’s head.

It went after them.

He took a step forward, putting himself at arm’s length from both men. The one Chesler had called ‘King,’ evidently an American operative, had been relieved of his weapons, but Suvorov knew from experience that the man was still very dangerous.

“What is that thing?” he asked.

King gazed back impassively. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“I don’t think you’re being truthful. I want to know what you know, even if it’s merely a supposition.” He glanced past King, toward the dark river. “We aren’t going anywhere until I get some answers. How long do you think you have before it gets here?”

King gave an odd smile, and then to Suvorov’s amazement, began talking. His account was succinct, like a military briefing. He talked about quantum phones and a crazed Indian who had believed he was unleashing a black hole upon the world.

“I don’t think it is a black hole,” King finished, “but it must be something like that. What it did to Pradesh…”

Suvorov nodded. He’d witnessed some of the fleeing passengers evaporating before his eyes and had found others evidently turned to stone. It seemed more like a demonic monster from a folktale. And didn’t those stories usually end with the hero slaying the monster?

“Bullets slowed it down,” Suvorov revealed. “There has to be a way to kill it.”

King seemed genuinely surprised by this news. “I’ve got some ideas about that myself, but I’ll need time. And a little breathing room. So, if you don’t have any more questions, it might be a good idea for us to get moving.”

“Where should we go?”

“Anywhere is better than here.” Despite the urgency of his previous statement, King studied Suvorov a moment. “You’re Russian special forces, aren’t you? Spetsnaz? I think I know why you’re here, and it’s got nothing to do with stopping that thing.”

Suvorov shrugged, confirming nothing King had said. “I think right now, the immediate problem takes precedence over other considerations.”

“And later? If we survive this?”

Suvorov didn’t answer. “You mentioned something before, something the Indian told you about where it came from.”

“He said it was hidden in a Buddhist statue. I’m not really sure what he meant by that.”

“I think I know,” Suvorov said. “I might not know what it is, but I think I know exactly where it came from.”