Siberian Treasure

42

“Why is he doing this?” Marina leaned close to Lev. He smelled like an old man. Clean, a little musky, and of age — something she couldn’t define. It was strangely comforting to her.

Her grandfather looked at her with wise eyes. As before, she was struck by the peace and serenity that glowed there. “It is his calling, Marina. It is our calling. Yours too.”

They were sitting in a large room with a comma of a table along one side, studded with computer monitors like the crenellations on the top of a castle wall. Varden, Roman, and Nora clustered together around one of the glowing white screens, talking, gesturing, and alternately typing.

Command Central.

Victor had already been in the room with Roman when Varden brought Marina in, and now he sat in a chair near her and Lev, watching with appearing disinterest. He’d barely acknowledged his daughter’s presence. No more than a brief flash of a glance and then, his mouth tightening, he had turned away.

Although she wasn’t restrained, Marina felt as much a prisoner as if she had been. Varden had been clear enough when he propelled her toward the cluster of chairs and then turned to lock the door behind him. The sardonic grin he shot at her was the only warning she needed that she would be staying put.

Apparently, all of the important people were now here.

While Gabe was left to bleed in the hallway.

Marina had seen him jerk when the bullet struck, but before she could break free of Varden’s grip and rush to his side, Varden had yanked her off in an opposite direction. She had no idea where Gabe’d been hit, and what would become of him.

Her only solace, faint though it was, was that Gabe’s would-be executioner, Roman, was otherwise occupied.

And here she was, in the heart of the Skaladeska compound, about to be witness to destruction in the name of Gaia. Unless she was able to find some way to stop them.

“Calling? It’s no calling of mine to kill countless people and create massive destruction.”

“Marina, we are all a part of this earth. Slowly over the centuries and decades, she has been wasted … harmed. Gaia is part of all of us, each of us a cell in her large body. If we do not protect her, if we do not change the way we eat away at her … there will be nothing left.” Lev’s intensity bored into her, and she felt a small click of response inside.

“I love this earth as much as you, as much as anyone. But to destroy people and their lives — that defeats the purpose.”

“Does it? Marina, death and destruction and rebirth is a natural part of our world. Gaia has erupted with volcanoes, she’s spewed tsunamis and hurricanes; she’s burst with earthquakes, and roared with devastating fires. People, animals, plants … the earth — everything is destroyed by the natural way of things. This is how she responds to changes. This is how she controls.”

“Lev — Grandfather.” That the name came from her mouth shocked her as much as it did him; she saw it in his suddenly-wide eyes. Why — how — could she feel any tenderness, any respect for this man? Yet she did. She did, dammit, in the same way she felt that niggling awareness of Rue Varden.

“Grandfather, that is the earth, yes, and we do have natural disasters — but to create them on our own ….that’s altering the natural course of things.”

Lev’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. Kindness and pride lit there and his delicately wrinkled face pulled into a soft, weary smile. “The natural course of things has already been altered by man — since the beginning of time. He has taken over Gaia as though he is a god, as though he is somehow better than his fellow creatures. We all share the earth, as one, and when one species begins to thrust itself too dearly upon the others, the natural course must take place. Even if it is helped by man.”

Marina lifted her eyes to look at the cluster of people around the computers. How soon were they going to detonate the bombs? Did anyone back in the US know what was going to happen? Could they stop if it they did? “What are they doing there?”

Lev placed his long, cold fingers over her hand. “Marina. Man has been helping — as well as hurting — Gaia since the beginning of history. Pompeii, for one. The sinking of Atlantis.”

“Are you saying that somehow the volcanic activity of Pompeii was created by man? That’s ludicrous. And Atlantis ….” Her voice trailed off. The legends of Atlantis were little more than that; despite numerous theories there was no real proof that Atlantis existed — or if it had, no agreement on where. Yet …. “The library?”

He nodded. His fingers still covered her hand. “It’s there. I am eighty-nine years old, and I have been studying those manuscripts since I was fifteen. Thirteen, perhaps ….it has been so long. There are many mysteries yet to be revealed — the languages are old and archaic, and difficult — but those are some of the things I’ve learned.”

Marina wanted to believe he was delusional. She wanted to believe it with all of her heart.

“The Sacred, which I have long studied, and which reveals the ancient wisdom of Gaia, states: ‘Gaia is one with us, and all living creatures are one with her, and if there be a species of this earth that threatens the whole, it shall be expelled.’” His look was steady, sure, serene. “Gaia has called us to act. And we shall. The time is ripe.”

Marina pulled her gaze away from him. Like any other religious fanatic, he believed what he was doing was the right thing. And yet … and yet, she often times felt the same fear for the beauty of the earth and her resources. The dirt of auto emissions, the rape of the ground for natural energies, the stuffing of the landfills with waste … the puncturing of the ozone and the concern of greenhouse gasses … all of it threatened their lives and, most especially, their futures.

The old man sighed next to her. “You remind me so much of my Irina. She did not understand at first either — and you bear her resemblance so heavily. The same brown eyes, the same narrow, pointed chin.”

Marina did not want to feel sentimental; she wanted to act. She pushed away the need to ask about the woman who must have been her grandmother. This couldn’t become personal.

“Your grandmother did not understand that this is a battle, a movement … one that will not be won today, or tomorrow, regardless of the result of Roman’s operations. We will be victorious … we will save Gaia, but it will not be an easy task. It will be a long-fought conflict. And that is something Roman does not comprehend.” Those last words were spoken so quietly that they seemed meant for his own musings, instead of her own ears.

Marina wanted to know more beyond his Obi-Wan philosophizing and she asked, “Who’s Rue Varden? He seems very close with Roman. Nora’s son?”

“Not Stegnora’s son. She is an Out-Worlder, one from the outside — like your grandmother was. It has been the Aleksandrovs’ curse as well as our blessing to find love outside of our clan. Varden is Roman’s nephew, I believe you would say — the son of Roman’s wife’s brother.”

“Roman is married?”

“We say mated; but yes, he is. To Nila. But he has been obsessed with Nora since he met her at university in London, and seduced her away. He will never leave her, nor she, him. Varden is Roman’s most trusted supporter, and it is fitting as he is destined to be the next leader. He will take Roman’s place when he is gone … unless an Aleksandrov shall take her rightful place.”

“I would not.”

Lev nodded once, then, as if satisfied, settled back in his chair and watched her. “And the library will come under Varden’s control as well, then.”

The temptation he dangled before her should be little more than a prickle of curiosity, when compared to the reality that simmered outside this room … in the city of Detroit. And, if Lev were to be believed, the world itself. Yet, it was there. It burned in her belly, churned white-hot lust.

To have those manuscripts. He was offering her a life-long dream — yet beyond anything she could have imagined, could have conceived.

Suddenly unable to sit, to listen any longer, Marina rose from her chair. She walked over to Roman, Varden and Nora and thrust herself into their little group.

“Have you come to see what you’re missing?” asked Varden with a cool look.

“I’ve come to learn what you’re doing so that I can find a way to stop you,” she replied boldly. Varden grinned suddenly, his eyes glinting, while Roman pulled up his attention from the screen to look at her.

“Don’t be foolish, Marina. It is too late to stop anything now, even if you knew how.”

“Then why not let me in on the secret, since I am one of you.”

She turned her attention to the screen. A man appeared on it. His pose was such that it reminded her of a newscaster — waist-up, with a bit of scenery behind him: a sparkling river, five tall silver towers, a cityscape. She recognized him immediately.

“The man who tried to break into my house,” she murmured. So he’d been working for Roman?

But instead of asking — what did it matter now anyway? — Marina turned her attention to the screen and suddenly realized she recognized the background. Behind him — the Renaissance Center, across the Detroit River. She knew where he was!

Excitement poured through her, then evaporated. So she knew where he was. What did that help? She already knew this was to go down in Detroit. It made sense that he would be one of the team that was there to detonate the underground bombs.

“He tried to kill me; guess he doesn’t mind murdering a few hundred people in Detroit, eh?” Marina said.

“He tried to kill you?” Roman looked up. “He was to bring you to me, unharmed.”

“Tell that to the bullets he shot at me while chasing me up a tree,” Marina snapped. “So now what? Does he flip a switch and everything goes boom?”

Varden was looking at her intently. “He sets a timer then walks away. Forty minutes later, the first of the bombs will detonate. Ten minutes after that, the second will blow. And then the third.” He made a show of looking at the clock on the wall. “And he will be setting the timer in less than sixty minutes. So ninety minutes, Marina. Only a little more than an hour is all that’s left.”

The lump filled her throat. Ninety minutes. What could she do? And why was he telling her all of this?

Why?

Marina wondered suddenly where Gabe’s gun was. Did Varden have it? Maybe that would give her a chance. She tried to peer around to see if there was a bulge in his clothing. Nothing that she could see.

“And even if they found the box,” Varden continued calmly, “there’s nothing that can be done to stop the timer without the code. Which is written in Skaladeska. And it’s right here, in this room. Nowhere near our associate in the US. He is powerless to stop the timer, even if he would wish to. Or be forced to.”

“I’m going to be sick.” Marina wasn’t lying. No gun. She was helpless. How ironic that the weapon she’d once disdained would have been a lifesaver in this situation.

“There’s a toilet down the hall.” Varden flashed her that nasty smile. “Victor, why don’t you escort your daughter to the toilet. And keep her out of our way.”

Roman had appeared to be disinterested in the repartee between Marina and Varden; but now he pulled his attention away from the screen where he’d been typing communications with his cohort. “Where is the code, then, Rue? You and Nora had tested it.”

“It’s here.” Nora spoke for the first time and gestured to a green plastic sheet with writing on it. “I wanted it nearby in case … in case there was need for it.”

“No need. I just told Fridkov to set the timer.” Roman pulled away from the controls with a satisfied smile on his face.

Varden looked as though he’d been slapped, but the expression was quickly subdued. “But that is twenty minutes early.”

Roman looked at him. “I know. I could wait no longer. Why should I? I told them everything they needed to know — where it was, what the targets were — even the time — as you suggested. But I am impatient, and I see no reason to keep my word. I want to make certain they know we are in control.”

Varden’s lips were tight, and his face rigid. Obviously, he didn’t like to be surprised — even by his boss. He didn’t like to lose control. He looked up and saw Marina standing there. “I thought you were going to be sick. Take her to the toilet, Victor. We don’t need her standing here looking like she’s going to cry.”

When her father gestured for her to follow him, Marina was too frozen to move. Forty minutes until the first bomb was detonated. At 11:40 instead of noon. And there was no way to warn them.

She followed Victor as if she’d just awakened from a deep sleep: numb, slow, heavy. When he led her toward the main door, out of the control room, into the hallway, she felt a minor blip of surprise. But then, what good would running away do? The place she needed to be was back in there, in control of the communication. And that wasn’t going to happen.

Marina didn’t speak to Victor as they walked down the hall; nor did he try to direct her or speak to her, other than to gesture toward what she assumed was the direction of the toilet. It was as if they’d both given up the pretense of anything remotely like a relationship.

As they rounded a corner, Marina saw a streak of dark blood on the white wall. Gabe! He wasn’t there but maybe she could follow his trail.

She didn’t bother to explain to Victor; she just started off following the drops, splotches, and streaks that marked his route.

It ended at the door to a room, and she pushed on it. If he’d gone in, he’d either had help or it didn’t need a radio-key. It opened.

“Gabe?” she dashed in, heedless that there might be others in with him. There was no time left to slink around. They were going to have to be bold if there was any chance of stopping Roman’s plan.

“Marina?” a low voice called, and she found him near the back of the room, huddled, breathing heavily, clutching his satellite phone.

“Where are you hit?” Instead of embracing him, she started to lift his arm to assess the damage.

He pulled away. “Just a skim on my arm,” he told her. “I’m okay. Been trying to stop the bleeding. I’m going to be okay, but a little slow, but we—”

“We have to move quickly to stop them. We have less than forty minutes. Does that work in here?” She wanted to snatch the phone from him and start dialing herself.

“I was just going to try it. I just got in here; thought I could try to call Bergstrom and warn him, if the battery’s not dead. It’s been turned off since we got here, so it should be all right. Then I was coming after you.”

“I followed your blood streaks. Victor — my dad — is probably right behind me.” She was talking while he was pushing buttons on the phone. “I don’t know if he’s going to interfere or not — he seems so out of it.”

“Colin?” Gabe was speaking into the phone. “Yes, it’s me. I hope to God you’re in Detroit.” Marina could hear the voice squawking through the speaker. “It’s going to blow in sixty minutes ….” He looked at Marina, who was shaking her head. “ … No, they changed it. Forty minutes. Less. Less than forty—”

“Damn!” Gabe looked up. “Lost the connection.” He looked up and behind Marina, and she saw the expression on his face.

She whirled. Victor stood there, pointing Gabe’s gun at them. “Roman might be terrified of guns, but I’m not.”

“Where did you get that?” Marina demanded.

“I saw where Varden disposed of it.”

Again Gabe moved before Marina expected. He shot up, knocked Victor’s arms, and numerous shots blasted in the room above and around them. Victor fell back, and Gabe leapt on him, wrenching the firearm from his hands.

Once he held the Smith & Wesson firmly, he pointed it at Victor and demanded that he stand.

“I was going to give it to you,” Victor said, his hands trembling. “Marina, Mina, I was bringing it to you.”

Marina turned away. She didn’t know whether he was lying, but she was past caring. Either way, it didn’t matter. She would walk away and, if she got out of here alive, this man would play no part in her life.

Gabe moved past Victor as if he hadn’t spoken. His stride was awkward, and he held his arm against his chest, but he was mobile. He clutched the gun in one hand, and the phone in the hand curled against his ribs. “Come on, Marina. You lead the way.”

She followed and left Victor staring after them: a shell of a man.