Poe

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Building Three secure,” Danya said into his radio.

There was a hiss of static, then Plachkov, manning the desk at the prison control center, repeated in a bored monotone, “Building Three secure.”

“Moving to Building Two,” Danya said.

“Moving to Building Two.”

Danya Sosna had long ago stopped rolling his eyes when his messages were repeated back to him, and hardly even noticed it anymore. It was, after all, procedure. But tonight the practice grated on his nerves, like almost everything else.

Because tonight he wasn’t supposed to be here.

This was Danya’s night off. The one night every week he could spend in his beloved Ivanna’s bed and eat her wonderful dinners, two finely tuned skills that had always kept him coming back for more.

But instead of lying in Ivanna’s arms with a belly full of expertly prepared chee-börek, Danya was stuck here in this prison, forced to work another man’s shift.

This was all Vanko’s fault. Vanko, who, at the best of times, was a terrible card player and lovestruck fool. Vanko, who, for reasons unknown to anyone here, had decided not to report for duty tonight, and could not be found in his sleeping quarters.

Danya himself had tried calling the man, but the stupid fool hadn’t answered.

Where had he gotten to?

Danya could only guess. Saw him drunk and sprawled out on a mattress with some local whore, undoubtedly imagining that she was the object of his obsession, the lovely nurse Irina.

Danya hoped he was enjoying himself, because the money he had used to hire such companionship would soon be very hard to come by.

It wasn’t likely that Vanko would have a job after this.

Cursing the man’s name as he checked Building Two, Danya called it in, did the same for Building One, then made his way to Administration. He briefly chatted with the guards at the security point, airing his complaints about Vanko, before heading inside to check and double-check the doors and windows, as he had so many times before.

He was on the second floor when he noticed something wrong. The door to the infirmary was unlocked and no one was manning the reception area.

The empty desk by itself wasn’t unusual.

The night shift would typically consist of only two people — Vanko’s crush, Irina, and one doctor. But when Irina left the desk, she always closed and locked the door.

Had she forgotten this time?

If so, it wasn’t like her. Not only was she an attractive woman — although nowhere near Ivanna’s part of the stratosphere — she was also quite professional and extremely efficient. And, in Danya’s experience, she was not one to forget things. Especially when it came to safety.

Danya waited for a moment, checking his watch, wondering if she would return. He listened, hoping he might be able to hear her moving around back there, but it all was quiet. Too quiet. And as the seconds ticked by, he began to feel more and more uneasy.

Something wasn’t right.

Stepping past the reception desk, Danya went inside and found that the main examination area was still and lifeless, all of the curtains pulled back to reveal nothing but empty beds.

When he reached the door to the back room, he peered through the window. He didn’t see Irina inside — or the doctor, for that matter — but then he couldn’t see the whole room from here.

Putting a smile on his face, he tapped the glass.

No one answered.

Even if Irina had gone to the cafeteria, the doctor would have remained on duty. The guidelines were very clear on that. Someone on staff had to be present in the infirmary at all times.

Danya opened the door a crack. “Irina? Doctor?”

He wasn’t sure which doctor was on duty. Probably Teterya, a cold man who, according to Vanko, was his biggest rival for Irina.

When no one answered, Danya stepped inside, but a quick look around revealed he wasn’t alone.

“Irina?”

Worse yet, the door to one of the isolation cells was open, and there seemed to be some water on the floor in front of it.

As he walked over, he noticed a plastic cup lying to the side. There had obviously been a spill here, but why hadn’t anyone cleaned it up?

“Irina?” he called out, louder now.

At the sound of his voice, someone pounded against one of the other cell doors and called out in English, “Hello? Hello? Who’s there?”

It was coming from the cell at the opposite end.

Danya walked quickly over and moved up to the door. Raising the window slat, he looked in and saw a prisoner staring back at him.

Summoning up his best English, he said, “Is nurse…with…you?”

It was unlikely, but he supposed it was possible that Irina had somehow managed to lock herself inside.

“Only me,” the prisoner told him. “The nurse is gone.”

He processed her words. “Gone? Where gone?”

“I don’t know. It sounded like a fight. What happened, it wasn’t good.”

The word that stuck out to him was “fight.” Had Irina and the doctor had words? Or was it something much worse than that?

“Where go?” he said. “Where go?”

The prisoner shook her head. “I…I don’t know.”

Danya looked around, hoping to find some clue to where Irina or the doctor was, but saw nothing. He ran back into the examination area, and was starting to do the same there, when he caught sight of something he hadn’t noticed the first time.

The rear exit was ajar.

Danya had never seen it left open before, and was sure there was something in the guidelines about that as well.

He pushed through to the corridor, found it empty.

Which way did they go?

Right led to the stairs, the elevator, and the main part of the prison — all just as easily reachable through the main infirmary door. To the left was a handful of storerooms and a few unused offices, none of which held any medical equipment or supplies.

Why would either of them go there?

For a moment, Danya considered phoning for help, but what if the explanation for their absence was something as simple as a medical emergency, or just a bathroom break?

That would not score him any points with his boss.

Danya took a breath. If they went to the right, then everything was fine and they’d show up soon. So, Danya went left, opening each door he passed and checking inside.

He immediately knew there was something different about the storage room when he opened its door.

It was the only room with a light on.

“Irina? Doctor?”

He stepped inside. Though the room was stuffed with boxes and discarded pieces of what appeared to be telecommunications equipment, none of it looked as if it had been disturbed in a very long time.

“Irina?” he said again as he moved around the end of a storage rack.

Though she would have surely answered if she were here, he kept going, drawn forward by a sense that something was wrong.

The first thing he saw when he passed the last shelving unit was the rectangular hole in the wall. There was a partially open door covering half of it, but the other door had been pried away and lay against the wall, hanging by a single hinge.

The second thing he saw was the foot.

A woman’s foot.

For a full two seconds, he didn’t move, unable to fully grasp what he was seeing. Then he rushed forward, nearly tripping over himself. He gasped.

Irina! Oh, God!

He dropped to his knees beside her. “Irina! Irina!”

Her head was tilted to the side, her eyes closed.

“Irina!” This time, shaking her shoulder.

He checked her pulse, but could feel nothing. He looked at her chest to see if she was breathing, but of course she wasn’t.

She had no pulse; how could she be breathing?

All guards had rudimentary first-aid training, and Danya knew he needed to get her heart going and air into her lungs. He reached over to turn her head so it faced upward, giving him better access to her mouth. But he realized with horror that no matter what he did, he would never be able to bring her back.

Her head flopped in his hands, her neck clearly broken.

Which meant this was no accident. She hadn’t simply fallen.

Someone had done this to her.

Someone had killed Irina.