Rasputin's Shadow

52

Koschey didn’t need the smelling salts. By late morning, he’d returned from his shopping-and-renting expedition to find Sokolov awake.

The scientist looked rough. Which was expected. On top of everything he’d been through, he hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink for hours.

Koschey had what it took to remedy that. He’d bought supplies-food, drink-as well as everything else he thought they’d need.

He’d also rented a car. Being close to the airport, it wasn’t too far to get to the big agencies there, where he found a large selection to choose from. Using a Greek passport and matching credit card-the upheavals in Greece had turned it into the European country of choice when it came to obtaining fake identities-he’d driven off with a black Chevy Suburban with tinted windows that had less than a thousand miles on the clock. He was pretty sure the SUV would do the trick. The fact that it was the vehicle of choice for government agencies was an added bonus that could always come in handy.

He peeled the tape off Sokolov’s mouth and freed his hands from the radiator mount, then he cuffed them together again, only in front of Sokolov this time, so he could use them to eat and drink. He gestured at the sandwiches, bananas, and the big bottle of water he’d placed on the floor next to him.

“Eat. Drink. We have work to do.”

Sokolov eyed him hesitantly, then reached out and did as ordered.

“Daphne,” he asked after sipping some water. “Is she all right? The truth?”

“She’s fine. Probably in protective custody at the moment. I told you-I have no interest in her.”

Sokolov nodded, forlorn. “If you’re taking me back to Russia… will I be able to contact her from there? Just to let her know… why?”

Koschey nodded, thinking about it. “Let’s take things one step at a time. Cooperate. Do as you’re told. And we’ll see.”

He waited until Sokolov had finished half the big sandwich, then he got down to business.

“We need to move it out of the van,” he told Sokolov. “I have an SUV with a big trunk area. I want you to put it in it. How long will it take?”

Sokolov frowned.

“And please, comrade,” Koschey added. “Don’t lie and make life any more difficult for yourself or for Daphne. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can all move on.”

Sokolov shook his head in defeat. “I need to dismantle it.”

“I want it operational,” Koschey clarified. “Not in crates.”

Which surprised Sokolov. His face crunched up with concern. “You’re going to use it?”

Koschey just looked at him, his face as expressionless as a slate of marble. “Just do as you’re told. For Daphne’s sake.”

Sokolov held his gaze for a moment, then nodded in defeat. “That’ll take longer.” He paused, thinking about it, then added, “I’ll need tools. It has to be mounted into place.”

“I bought everything I thought you might need. Anything else you need I can also get. From what I can see, the only connection it has to the van itself is to get its power, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So you could take it out and put it anywhere, really. As long as it has a power source.”

Sokolov nodded. “It’s powered by four rechargeable fuel cells in the back. The engine charges them when it’s running. They’re very heavy.”

“Not a problem.”

He asked Sokolov more questions. About the device’s other settings. About range. About whether it could go through walls. Windows. Three-inch-thick bullet- and blastproof glass.

The answers he got were all pleasing.

“Finish your food,” he finally told Sokolov. “Then let’s get started.”

Then he left him and went out to make the first call that would set things in motion.

SOKOLOV’S SPIRITS SANK EVEN lower as he watched his captor walk away.

The bastard was going to use it. An insidious new weapon was about to be unleashed on an unsuspecting world. Pain and suffering to innocents would inevitably ensue. There would be all kinds of ramifications, all kinds of uses Sokolov hadn’t even dreamed of yet, but that others would. They always did. There were many out there who were more than happy to let their imaginations take them to the darkest corners of the human psyche, who didn’t need to be paid to dream up new ways to inflict pain.

Things would never be the same from here on, and it would be because of him.

He considered not doing what his captor had asked, even if it meant the Russian would torture him to try to force him to do it. Which the Russian would. Sokolov didn’t doubt that. And he doubted he’d be strong enough to endure it. In the end, he’d wind up doing it anyway.

He thought back to his grandfather’s darkest hour. The man’s misguided intellect had caused so much damage, and he wondered if he was now destined to cause more of it. Facing his own darkest moment, Sokolov contemplated killing himself, assuming he could find a way to do it. But he quickly dismissed it as the wrong way forward. The Russian had his device already. It was too late. The genie was out of the bottle.

More important, there was Daphne.

He had to keep fighting. He had to try to overcome it all.

For Daphne.