The Carnival Master

3.

Maria’s heart began to pound as soon as she heard the heavy clunking bar mechanism of the cold store door. It all depended on whether it was The Nose or Sarapenko who came in with the meal. Not that it could be called a meal: they had kept her on the minimum calorie intake to dull her mind and weaken her resistance. The near-starvation diet combined with the irregular switching on and off of the light was intended to disorientate her. The door slid open. She didn’t look to see which of them it was. The decision to act or not act, to kill or not kill, would have to wait until the very last moment. She knew the routine: the tray would be left outside on the floor and whoever had brought the meal would stand back from the doorway, sweeping an automatic round the room before training the gun on Maria.

Maria remained on her knees, clutching the hollow of her belly, gasping for breath.

‘I’m sick…’ she said, still not looking up. It was the only way to go: she knew that Vitrenko would have given them strict orders to keep her alive until whatever use he had for her had been fulfilled. She heard the sound of boots approaching.

‘I have medicine…’ gasped Maria. ‘In my coat… please help me.’ She didn’t want the door to close; for her guard to contact Vitrenko for instructions. She was presenting a problem and a solution at the same time. She was counting on her stuff still being there. The tablets in her coat were the anti-anxiety pills that Dr Minks had given her. The boots didn’t move: feigning sickness was an obvious ploy. Maria had predicted this doubt of the guard’s and she clamped her hand to her mouth as if about to vomit. Unseen, she slipped her ring finger into her mouth and throat. The hair-trigger reaction. There was little left in her stomach from the meagre meal of God knew how many hours before, but enough splashed onto the cold store floor to suggest that she was genuinely ill. Maria slumped onto her side, her eyes closed. She heard the footsteps approach again and a boot jabbed her in the ribs. Maria had so detached herself from her body that she didn’t even flinch at the kick. A pause while the guard calculated the risk: just how much of a threat could Maria pose, even if she were conscious? Then the sound of a weapon being reholstered. She felt fingers jab into her neck to check her pulse.

It was then that Maria opened her eyes. Wide. She stared directly into Olga Sarapenko’s face. Maria saw the alarm in Sarapenko’s eyes as she realised that she was looking at something that was no longer human.