Siberian Treasure

32

He looked down at her, shock flooding his face.

Marina didn’t move. Her breath filled her lungs and held there, then expelled in a long, low, soft huff.

He looked healthier than she remembered; his face filled in, his skin creamy and smooth like he’d just moisturized it. He’d shaved his head, and it gave him a whole different look. His brows were trimmed and he was dressed neatly in clothing similar to that which she and Gabe wore. When was the last time she’d seen him so well groomed, his eyes so white instead of bloodshot?

Yet … he looked different. He had a different air about him.

It felt like minutes, but the mutual paralysis lasted only a few seconds; then Dad closed the door behind him and stepped into the room, standing in front of it as if to block any chance of escape.

Marina felt Gabe tense behind her, but she gave a bare shift backward with her elbow as a signal not to make any rash moves. She had no reason to fear her father. And the elderly man obviously had no problem with them being there.

That Dad didn’t react to seeing her unexpectedly didn’t strike her until he looked over at the old man. “What are they doing in here?” He spoke in Skaladeska.

The old man’s attention flickered toward Marina, but he replied, “You might ask them yourself.”

Dad didn’t appear to embrace that idea. He stood, as if unsure what to do. His jaw moved. She noticed the way it shifted from side to side in a broken rhythm.

Since he did not acknowledge her as his daughter, she assumed he didn’t want the old man to know. Perhaps it had something to do with the email warning he’d sent.

Whatever the reason, she wanted out of there. The tension was too thick, and she felt surrounded by an urgency she didn’t understand. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly out of her element. Frightened.

Let the CIA take it from here.

“We were just leaving,” she said in Skaladeska, and started to push past her father. “I’ll be in touch.”

His face registered surprise, and he looked as though he wanted to stop her ….but he didn’t. She brushed right past him, and he moved aside to let her reach the door. Gabe was behind her and no sooner than they were in the hall than he grabbed her hand and started running.

Marina’s instinct was to run too, but she wasn’t sure why. No one had tried to stop them. Her dad was there.

She pulled her hand out of Gabe’s and slowed to a quick walk. “No need to call attention to ourselves,” she said.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of pounding feet. Many of them.

They looked at each other, and Gabe lunged for her arm, yanking her after him as he ducked into a room.

It was unlit, and once the door closed behind them, she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. She felt Gabe, bumping up against her, and she put her hands out in front to keep their foreheads from cracking into each other.

His voice hissed into her ear. “You lied to me.” His breath was warm, but his words held ice. And the fingers around her upper arms weren’t gentle.

“What?” Then she realized what he meant. Annoyance zipped through her. “I didn’t realize I could speak—”

The door blasted open and a swarm of people poured into the room. Marina sprang away from Gabe and turned as a flood of light beamed into the darkness.

It blinded her, and she had no chance to move before strong arms grabbed at her, pulling her away from Gabe.

Soft, solid thuds and groans told her that he wasn’t going wherever they were taking them happily; but despite the fact that Marina struggled like a fly wrapped in a web, no one punched her or kicked her. They just held on very tightly. One man at each arm, and one behind.

By now, the flood of light had diminished from a sudden blinding to something less invasive, and Marina noticed that they were in what appeared to be an office. But she had no further chance to examine the room. By the time she got her bearings, she was being dragged toward the door, past a bloody, inert Gabe and his attackers.

Marina jerked her arm hard and fast, and managed to yank it from the grip of the man next to her and wallop him across the side of the head before she was subdued once again. She hoped his ear rang for an hour afterward.

“My father will not be happy,” she gritted between her teeth as her two captors forced her arms, none-too-gently, behind her back. Something wrapped around them, from upper arm to down past her elbow, and she was trussed securely.

By that time, she’d stopped struggling. It was a waste of energy; she needed to save it for later, and spend her time paying attention: to where they were, where they were going, and anything that was being said. She figured it was an ace in the hole that she somehow remembered her Skaladeska ….and she presumed her captors didn’t realize that. Because of her distress, Marina had spoken English during her threat moments ago.

Once the two men realized she was going to cooperate, they gentled their treatment of her. She was allowed to walk down the hall at her own pace, following their lead. Pretending to be subdued, she bowed her head slightly, but kept her eyes raised so that she could take in details of the hallways and their route.

Despite her submission, Marina’s captors remained silent, giving her no information other than what she could see from the walk down the halls. They passed no one; and each passageway appeared the same as the one before.

Finally, they reached a door similar to the one with the old man. She watched with interest as they stepped up to the wall that appeared to have a door with no way to open or close it. One of the men went to the wall next to it, and suddenly a little panel opened. As she watched, he took a small flat object, placed it on his tongue; then removed it and fed it into a small slot.

The wall in front of them split, folding into itself on either side like a theatre curtain, and they stepped through.

Marina stared.

They stepped into a large, open space, glittering with light that shone through a faceted dome ceiling, another huge atrium. It was like being inside one of her clear crystals; except that there were stairs and landings ….hallways, and trees. Trees growing all around; small buildings, and small vehicles that reminded her of golf carts … but shaped like little pods.

Unbelievable.

Like a little city under glass.

That was all she could think as they prodded her along. She walked agreeably, trying to keep her pace as slow as possible so she could absorb it all.

The realization stunned her. Not only were the Skaladeskas not extinct, but they were as far from being an archaic, primitive tribe locked away in the mountains of Siberia as the U.S. was.

Once he recovered from his enormous shock at recognizing Marina Aleksandrov in Lev’s private study, Roman seized the opportunity to take control.

Excusing himself from Lev’s presence, he stepped into the hall and ordered his men to apprehend her and her companion. When he returned to his father’s study, Lev appeared to be deep in the study of the parchment paper before him.

Did he know?

He couldn’t know.

Lev’s eyesight was poor and he had no idea that Marina existed, let alone that she would find her way here.

Roman recognized her from photos and other surveillance footage he’d seen throughout the years. It had been in his best interest to keep her on his radar screen, so to speak, but that she had penetrated their city without his knowledge was an acute blow.

And then there was the issue of the man with her; but Roman would deal with him shortly.

“That was my granddaughter.”

Lev’s cold voice drove all other thoughts from Roman’s mind. What did he know? Dare he continue the charade?

“Viktor has arrived, and after him his daughter, Father. I am just as shocked as you appear to be.” Truths. Speak only the truth, and you will not be found out.

“Did you think I would not recognize my own flesh and blood?” Lev had lifted his eyes from the table and now stared at Roman, glinting like grey glass. “She has the same eyes of my Irina. You did not withhold this information from me. You were not aware of her presence, Roman.” It was not a question. It was a demand for truth.

“Father … I cannot lie to you. I did not expect her to come here; I know very little about her. She did not come with Viktor. I am sure she knows nothing of us.”

“But you knew she was my granddaughter. You knew she was the last of the Aleksandrovs.”

“While I have no proof that she is of our line, I suspected that.”

“You have no proof? One look at her face will tell you so!”

“She is an Out-Worlder, Father. She will not understand. Her presence here puts us in danger.”

“You will not harm her, Roman. You will not disappoint me again.” Lev’s voice was cold and forbidding.

He had crossed the line.

“No, Father.”

“Leave me now.”

Thus dismissed, Roman hurried from the study and rushed along the corridors to his private suite.

Stegnora was there, waiting for him.

As he came into the room, she rose, took two steps toward him, then stopped herself. They had been together for nearly thirty years, and she still moved instinctively to touch him whenever he entered the room. This time, however, despite her hesitation, Roman needed her.

When he started toward her, she dropped her self-control and wrapped her arms around him. Aside from being beautiful, and the one woman to whom Roman always returned, Nora was a brilliant engineer. She was his partner; his support; his world.

“What is it?” she asked. Her eyes carried worry for him, and for them.

“Marina. She is here.”

“Marina? Here? George and Bran … but I thought—”

Roman pulled away. “They are not with her. She is with a man, an agent of sorts — perhaps the CIA, perhaps the FBI, perhaps her lover. I will find out.” He stalked across the room, feeling Nora’s concerned gaze upon him; but she would not move to touch him again until he signaled he wanted her. She had learned that too.

Roman passed a hand over his scalp, back over the base of his skull, and massaged the back of his neck. The tension there had tightened across his shoulders, pulling them taut and leaving a pounding between his scapulas. “They found us somehow, and now everything is in jeopardy. I expect Varden back any day, any moment now. As soon as he returns, make sure I speak to him. We’re going to have to move more quickly — shift the Phase Two date to Friday.”

“Three days from now?” Nora caught herself as Roman turned to look at her. He watched her face as she calculated silently, waiting for her confirmation.

He didn’t care if it was possible; she’d find a way to do it. He could always count on her not wanting to disappoint him.

“But we’ll need to — Roman, the explosives aren’t completely ready. We only have two of them. And the detonators—”

“You’ll have to get them done, Nora. We have to. This is our time; our chance. I know you can manage it. You’ve never failed me before.” He moved across the room and took her hand to draw her to her feet. Pulling her close, he rested his cheek on the top of her head and inhaled her scent. Comfort, steadiness, sexuality ….all rolled into one piece.

One thing he was sure of, would always be sure of, was Nora. She loved him.

Roman shoved her toward the table and she fell forward onto its smooth glass with a loud slap of her hands. Bent at the waist, she steadied herself with her palms on the surface, elbows bent at her hips, feet flat on the floor as he came up behind her and shoved himself inside.

A sigh of relief escaped them both; a groan of contentment that dissolved into pants and gasps and the slap of flesh against flesh.

Roman allowed her to finish before he did, but just barely. He was not in an overly generous mood. A squeak of pain told him the edge of the table had cut into her thighs, but that was but a vague recognition in the midst of his mindlessness. He slumped over her from behind, covering her, trapping her, breathing heavily, and feeling as though he’d emptied himself of more than just his seed.

Nora would take whatever he gave her and make it work.

That was what she did.

Gabe swam to consciousness.

He didn’t want to; but a gush of cold liquid and a brilliant white light forced him into reality. It took him longer than it should have to remember where he was and what had happened.

Where was Marina?

He didn’t waste energy completing the thought; he had to focus on his environment.

A tall, bald man stood in front of him; the one who’d interrupted their interaction with the old man. There was no one else in the room; but the man didn’t appear to be concerned about facing Gabe on his own. They were about the same height; but Gabe, younger, he guessed vaguely, by at least two decades, had more bulk than the other.

Still, the added strength wouldn’t help him, as his wrists and ankles had been immobilized.

The man looked familiar.

“So glad you have awakened,” he said to him, forcing Gabe to sit up on the long, flat surface he’d been sprawled upon. “I am Roman. I’ll be your … host.”

“Why am I restrained?”

“A better question is … why are you here? How did you get here and who sent you?”

Gabe knew that his current discomfort was just beginning. He willed himself to calm, to grow cold ….to turn off his neurons and go blank and numb.

“Ah. I see that you understand me.” Roman smiled and he looked, for a moment, rather handsome, benign. Almost kind.

Then the pain struck, suddenly, from nowhere. Gabe snatched in his breath and closed his eyes against the lightning pain. It shot down his left arm, culminating somehow in the curl of his palm.

It stopped.

“Perhaps if I am a bit more persuasive you’ll be more forthcoming.”

Not bloody likely.

“Where am I?” Gabe forced his mouth to move and the words to come out clearly and smoothly.

The man moved, and the pain zinged suddenly — this time from beneath his left ear. Roman moved back and watched as Gabe pulled in a deep breath of relief. “Who sent you?”

“No one.” He drew in a wavering gulp of air, dragged it in and felt the oxygen flow through him. Soothing. He relaxed his fingers from where they dug into his palms. “We found a cave and walked in. There was a vehicle. We got in and came here.”

That was the truth, for the most part; but Gabe wasn’t confident Roman would buy it.

Indeed, when he pressed his handsome face near his, Gabe felt the disdain emanating from him like a palpable wave. “Why did she bring you?”

Unexpected and absurd. Gabe jerked, and then spasmed again, harder, as the pain shocked him at the base of his neck. He couldn’t suppress a cry of pain, but stifled it as quickly as he could find the ability to take a breath.

Focus. Focus.

The room swam before him and still the pain beaded through him in little shockwaves.

“Accident.” Gabe heard a voice groan, pitifully. It was his own.

The pain stopped. “We’ll see if that’s true. The rest of your tale leaves much to be desired.”

Gasping for air, reeling it in, he blinked rapidly as a drip of perspiration trickled onto his eyelid. “What do you want.” He couldn’t make it a question; it was all he could do to get the words out; to make his mouth and tongue move.

Good God.

What would they do to Marina? She was a civilian. She wasn’t prepared for anything like this.

Focus. Draw in a breath. Let it out. Draw it in. Let it out.

“I want ….” Roman stood upright, suddenly, away from Gabe. Something long, thin, and silver flashed in his hand. “I want revenge. I want … to be heard. I want … to be accepted.” An odd, quicksilver grin slashed across his angular face. “Very simple. Not so much to ask.”

Gabe’s mind swam. He wanted to ask another question; he wanted to feed an ego that he realized was starved. But his mouth wouldn’t move. The ache in his bad leg screamed. And the points on his arm, and shoulder, and neck pinged with sharp pains, over and over. He couldn’t focus on anything but the pain.

“What … why …?” was all he managed.

“Because I can.” Roman, laughing, was the last thing he remembered before sliding into darkness. “Gaia wills it.”