The Carnival Master

11.

Maria stood framed in the doorway. She swung her aim into the part of the room she had not been able to see from outside, expecting to find Vitrenko there. It was empty. She swung back. There were the two goons standing, Molokov and Buslenko seated. No Vitrenko. She had given up her life for nothing. Everyone in the room had turned to face her. She felt the guns kick in her hands. Two bullets hit Molokov in the throat and his right eye popped as a round passed through it and into his brain. He was still dropping when Maria swung her guns onto the first heavy. Some bullets smacked into the wall of the workshop but three caught him in the chest. She sensed the second man move but didn’t have time to react.

Buslenko threw himself from his seat and Maria was surprised to see that he hadn’t been bound. He slammed into the ex-Spetsnaz who looked shocked at Buslenko’s sudden attack. He recovered sufficiently to swing a boot at Buslenko, who feinted and rammed his own boot hard into the other man’s groin. He followed up with a slash with the flat of his hand across the man’s throat. There was the sound of something snapping and the heavy sank to his knees and started to claw at his neck, his face turning blue. Buslenko grabbed the man’s lower jaw and forehead and wrenched his head sharply to one side. A louder snap. The heavy’s eyes glazed immediately and Buslenko pushed him away and he crashed onto the grimy floor. Buslenko looked at Maria and nodded grimly. She spun round to deal with the guards rushing in from outside. No one appeared at the doorway. She stood, both automatics held at full stretch from her body, her hands now shaking violently.

‘It’s all right, Maria…’ Buslenko’s voice was calm, soothing. He reached out to her shaking hands and took the guns from her. ‘It’s all right. It’s all over. You did well.’

‘The guards…’ she said desperately. ‘Outside…’

‘It’s all right,’ again Buslenko soothed her. ‘It’s taken care of.’

Maria heard someone coming in through the door.

‘Olga?’ Maria gazed confused at Sarapenko, who stood in the doorway. She was carrying a sniper’s rifle that looked more like a piece of scientific equipment than a weapon. It had a heavy night-vision sight mounted on it and its barrel was elongated by a flash eliminator and silencer.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Maria. ‘The police… where are the police?’

‘We clear up our own mess,’ said Buslenko, pocketing Maria’s automatics. He placed his arm around her shoulders and guided her towards the door.

‘Vitrenko…’ Maria’s voice was faint and shook with the tremors that were beginning to take control of her body. ‘Where is Vitrenko? He was supposed to be here…’

Maria started to shake uncontrollably. She felt as if her legs could no longer support her. The story outside the door was easy to read. Both guards lay dead, each with bullet wounds to the body and head. The second guard still held his machine pistol and his eyes gazed up dully at the dark clouded sky. Maria had read somewhere that that was how snipers always took out a victim: a bullet to the body to bring them down, then one or two to the head to finish them. She looked at Olga, who still held the precision tool of her sniper’s rifle. It was an odd skill for a Kiev city policewoman to have.

‘Stay here,’ said Buslenko. ‘I’ll fetch my car. Olga, I’ll drop you at Maria’s car and you can drive it back to Cologne. I want no evidence that we have been here.’

‘What about housekeeping?’ asked Olga, nodding at the bodies.

‘We’ll get these two inside. I’ll send someone out to clean up. But we’d better get away from here first.’

‘You’ll send someone?’ Maria’s voice was weak. She sounded dully confused. ‘Who do you have…’

‘You’re in shock, Maria,’ Olga handed the sniper’s rifle to Buslenko. She took a syringe from her pocket and removed the protective sheath from the needle.

‘Why have you got that with you?’ asked Maria, but she was too shaken and weak to resist as Olga bunched up the sleeves of Maria’s coat and the jumper underneath. Maria felt the sting of the needle in her forearm.

‘What…?’

‘It’ll relax you,’ said Olga and already Maria felt a warm sleepiness swell through her body. She felt as if she were already asleep, but remained on her feet. Her shaking had stopped.

‘I thought I was going to die…’ she said absently to Olga, who didn’t answer.

‘I’ll get the car,’ Buslenko said and ran across the field towards the road.

Maria felt completely relaxed, devoid of any fear or anxiety, as she watched Buslenko’s shrinking figure and realised that she had seen him run across a field very like this one, a long time ago. It was funny, she thought as she felt Olga’s grip tighten on her arm, that she hadn’t recognised him before; that it was only from a distance, like on the surveillance monitor, that she knew for sure who he was.

I am going to die, after all, thought Maria and turned to Olga Sarapenko, smiling vacantly at the irony of it all.