Chapter Five.
Friday 6th July , 1984.
Michael Coldsmith Brigg's III's Office – 7.30pm
"Sir? I thought you were going to leave early this evening …." Marella was surprised to find her boss still seated at his desk, wearing a perplexed expression as he fiddled with a scrap of paper she recognised as a telephone message slip from the main switchboard.
He had been going on all day about his 'engagement' this evening, and had laboured the point that he wanted to be away from his desk no later than six fifteen ….
A rare date, dinner with an old family friend ….
And then a quiet weekend out at the ranch ….
Obviously something had come up to spoil those plans ….
But she wasn't aware of anything major kicking off since she had last checked the reports from the field about half an hour ago ….
Maybe the lady had cried off ….
Never mind, it wasn't any of her business ….
"Change of plans …. A voice from the past …." He waved the scrap of paper at Marella then. "An old friend, rising like the phoenix from the ashes …."
"Oh?" Marella frowned. He had an annoying habit of being cryptic some times. "Does this old friend have a name?"
"Indeed …. Several …." Archangel smiled enigmatically, pushing back from his desk and rising stiffly. "If you don't have anywhere else that you need to be …. I'd appreciate it if you could get me everything we have on …. Sleeping Beauty …." He smiled again, noting the brief flash of comprehension in Marella's eyes. "She's awake and requesting that I contact her …."
"Interesting …. I'll be right back …" Marella told him turning on her white stiletto heels and moving briskly out of his office, her destination their archive store room.
"Yes …. Interesting indeed …." Michael Coldsmith Briggs III mused aloud.
He looked at the telephone number on the scrap of paper and recognised the Los Angeles area code ….
What on earth was she doing there?
He resisted the temptation to pick up the telephone and dial the number …. Wanting to read her file first ….
Refresh his memory ….
But, he couldn't get away from the notion that something was very wrong ….
A matter of extreme urgency ….
Maybe even a matter of life and death …. That was what she had told the operator ….
And the Sleeping Beauty had never been prone to over exaggeration ….
Something was awry ….
And she needed his help ….
Another old friend in dire straights ….
Just like poor Stringfellow Hawke ….
Now was that a coincidence ….
No ….
Somehow he didn't think so ….
He didn't believe in coincidences ….
Everything in this life happened for a reason ….
And he had a morbid sinking feeling in his bones that she hadn't chosen this point in time to call him just to catch up on old times ….
That was why he had called the lady he had been meant to be having dinner with and asked for her indulgence ….
And a rain check ….
This bore further investigation ….
And he did not trust it to anyone except himself and Marella ….
Sleeping Beauty certainly wouldn't trust anyone else either ….
And, who could blame her ….
Saturday 7th July, 1984.
Russia – somewhere in Siberia – 3am.
Dr Yana Petrova winced at the sound of the blood curdling screams coming from within the cell and wished that the guard on duty outside would hurry himself and open the damned door so that she could get inside.
She had been summoned because in the middle of the session, the prisoner had seemed to have some kind of seizure ….
At least that was what the heavy set, breathless soldier who had come crashing into her examination room had told her agitatedly, and as she had been the physician who had administered the drug at the beginning of the session, just before midnight ….
And according to his notes, barely six hours since the end of the previous session ….
Six hours ….
Damn them ….
They had demanded that she return to check him over.
The subject was the same bedraggled man she had encountered shortly after arriving at the base, and had been assigned to attend only a few more times in the ensuing four weeks ….
As on the first occasion she had secretly reduced the dose of the drug she was required to administer before being shooed away by the team working on him ….
Not by too much …. So that the men working on him would notice ….
But just enough so that he would gain some benefit from it later ….
It was clear to her that they were increasing the frequency and the intensity of the sessions in a bid to get quicker results ….
She did not know how much more the man could take ….
The guard had frozen fingers and was fumbling with the keys, and by the time he finally had the heavy metal door open, the screams from within had subsided and Petrova hastily pushed past the men crowding around the old leather dentists style chair to find the prisoner slumped forward, held in place only by the restraints around his wrists and ankles.
There was a pool of water around the chair and the cobalt stink and static crackle of electrical discharge in the air ….
What the hell had they done to him ….
She roughly pushed two men out of her way, one in a white coat, the other, the man in the Captain's uniform ….
Gregorovich ….
Damn ….
She had managed to avoid coming into contact with him since her last encounter, but she could see the look of recognition and interest in his eyes and knew that despite the fact that she had kept her head down and stayed well out of his range, he was still interested in her ….
Damn ….
Damn ….
Damn ….
It occurred to her that perhaps Mischa had been right when he had hinted that the only way to get rid of the Special Ops Captain was to cooperate with him ….
If indeed he did try to corner her ….
Take a chance and come on a little too strong …. and maybe scare him off ….
That perhaps her lack of interest was making it more of a challenge for him and if he thought that she was interested too, he might just back off a bit ….
Give her breathing space ….
Trying to avoid the pool of water, Petrova roughly raised the insensate man's head, grabbing a handful of his sweat dampened hair with one hand, and jabbing two fingers from the other hand into his neck, seeking out a pulse in his carotid artery.
With relief she felt the pulse throbbing rhythmically, strong and sure and steady.
Much too strong and rapid if he had truly fainted, Petrova noted silently, casting a surreptitious glance at the Captain who had moved away from the prisoner now and was standing almost in the cell's doorway, talking to his staff and the man in the white coat, a psychiatrist she had seen around the base but had not yet been introduced to.
"Get these things off him …. Now!" She demanded of the Captain, indicating the restraints, but the military man only moved very slowly in response to her order, so Petrova began to tug impatiently at the restraints herself.
Captain Uri Gregorovich shoved her roughly out of the way and set about unfastening the thick silver buckles that secured the leather restraints and as they became looser, the man in the chair slumped forward even more, before finally tumbling head first out of the chair.
Petrova, guessing what would happen, hastily rushed to his aid, roughly pushing what looked like another electrical generator out of her way, falling to her knees as she tried to stop his head from cracking against the hard, cold, concrete floor, too late to stop the first harsh bang but just managing to slip her hand under the back of his head before it made a second resounding thud against the solid floor ….
His whole body was shaking ….
From cold, shock or from the drugs, she couldn't be sure ….
She tried to turn him over so that she could see his face, cradling his head in her hand ….
And then he turned to face her ….
And she could see that same fierce determination to live in his eyes ….
And something else ….
Cognisance ….
Real understanding ….
She realised that the seizure had nothing to do with the procedure ….
Or the drugs….
He had contrived it ….
Probably to get her in here ….
Maybe to test their security protocols ….
To see if the sicker he acted …. the more relaxed they would be about watching him ….
And he might just be able to grab an opportunity to escape ….
It was exactly what she would have done too ….
But why?
Was it because he had realised that whenever she attended to him …. Afterward, he didn't feel quite as bad as after the other sessions …. When she was not the attending physician ….
Smart guy ….
He must have learned that which ever doctor attended to give the shot was also required to return at the end of the session to check that he had survived the procedure thus far and supervise the return to his cell.
Very smart …
Observant too …..
Considering his present condition ….
Or ….
Maybe he had sussed her out as the weakest link ….
The softest touch ….
And was trying to work out how he could use that to his advantage ….
All of which indicated to Petrova that his brain wasn't quite as fried as it should be at this stage of exposure to GKP ….
He was either one very lucky sucker ….
Or one helluva tough cookie ….
Either way, he was going to be a big pain in the ass ….
Another complication she didn't need ….
"Help me …." He gasped out in a raspy whisper, reaching out to put a shaking hand around her neck, drawing her face closer to his own.
"I know what you are doing …. thank you …." He rasped. "If you really want to help me …. get me the hell out of here …. Please …."
Petrova's grey eyes briefly grew wider as she recognised his accent as being American, her heart pounding in her chest as she realised that any minute now one of the guards was going to get suspicious about what he was saying to her ….
Fervently hoping that the prisoner would take her reaction as one of shock at his grabbing her like that ….
Not that she recognized him as a fellow American ….
"Please …." He implored, taking her wrist with a surprisingly iron grip.
Not wanting to give him hope where there may be none …. Yana Petrova gave him an angry glare and an impatient shrug, trying to yank her hand out of his grasp ….
Hoping to convey to him that she did not understand what he was saying, and then addressed the group of chatting men on the other side of the cell.
"Hey, you, don't just stand there …. Are you going to let him manhandle me like this …. Help me …. I need help getting him up …." She snapped in perfect Russian, at the men standing around conversing in quiet voices, and out of the corner of her eye noted, just for the briefest instant, the disappointment registering in the prisoner's china blue eyes.
Sorry buddy ….
Her heart went out to him ….
But she had no idea who he was or what he was doing here ….
Besides, she had another mission entirely ….
Although God knows that was going nowhere fast ….
She could not permit him to go on believing that she might be able to help him ….
It would be too cruel ….
And ….
Because, someone was bound to notice ….
And that would put them both beyond help ….
"What did he say to you?" Captain Gregorovich demanded to know, drawing her attention away from the man on the ground now, as he marched over and prised the bedraggled man's clawed hand from around her wrist and roughly kicked him in the belly, ensuring that he rolled away from her clutching his stomach.
Captain Gregorovich then barked out an order that despatched one of his men to find an orderly to help her get the prisoner up off the cold, wet floor, as he took her hand and pulled her roughly to her feet.
"Well." He demanded, as she found her balance at last.
"Nothing intelligible …." Petrova pulled her hand carefully out of his grip, rubbing it gently to restore blood flow and then began straightening her clothes and trying desperately to regain her composure, whilst also acutely aware of the man rolling around in agony at her feet ….
Wondering if that was for real or another act for her benefit ….
Probably real …. She surmised ….
Gregorovich's kick had been particularly well aimed and vicious ….
"Get me the hell out of here …. Before they kill me …." The man on the ground howled, clutching his belly.
"What is he saying?"
"How should I know …." She told the Captain with an angry scowl.
She suspected that he was testing her ….
That he spoke enough English to know what the man was saying and was suspicious that she might know too ….
Sneaky bastard ….
All the high level officers were required to learn a little English ….
But as a civilian doctor, seconded to the base, she was not ….
If she showed any sign at all that she understood one single word, he would be suspicious of her again.
Maybe even suspicious enough to get her background checked out ….
Damn ….
She had to be really careful now ….
Use her wits ….
"I think he is delirious …." She added for good measure. "And …. If you are trying to kill him, Captain, you are doing a fine job of it …."
"Whatever we are trying to do here is of no consequence to you, Comrade Doctor …."
"Nor is it of any interest to me, Comrade Captain …." She assured him in a haughty tone, carefully stepping over the man who was still rolling around on the ground clutching at his midriff, and tried to inch her way closer to the door ….
Anxious to make her escape.
"However, you are unlikely to succeed if you electrocute him." She pointed out, glancing briefly over her shoulder toward the discarded and thankfully disconnected electrical generator.
"He's no use to you dead, is he?" This time he shrugged. "In that case, may I suggest that you have him taken back to his cell and leave him alone for the rest of the day …. You could also give him some warmer, dry clothes and a little something extra to eat and drink…. Or it is debateable if he will survive the week …."
"Are you saying that he is not strong enough to continue with the procedure?"
"Yes Comrade, Captain …. That is exactly what I am saying …. I could summon Dr Dimitriov …. to give you his opinion …." She stood her ground defiantly.
If nothing else she could buy this American some time to recover both his wits and a little of his strength.
"That will not be necessary …." The Captain sighed deeply.
"In my opinion it would be prudent to allow him some time to recover …. His body is weak …. It will not tolerate much more of this …. He may appear young and healthy, Comrade Captain, but as you were no doubt advised, the drugs we are using are known to have an adverse affect on the heart …."
"Unfortunately, Comrade Doctor, his mind is proving to be much more resilient than his body …."
"Without a body, the mind is of no use to you either …." She reasoned.
"Very well …." The Captain acquiesced as the guard returned to the cell with two male orderlies, who immediately set about roughly hauling the prisoner to his feet and began to bodily drag him toward the cell door.
The man hung limply between them ….
But Petrova suspected that this was a continuation of his act ….
And as they hauled him roughly to his feet, and dragged him across the cell to the doorway, the prisoner managed to lift his head just long enough to give her another penetrating, imploring look and rasped out the words:
"Help me …. Please .… Americanski …. Americanski .…" Before the Captain lost his patience completely and moving swiftly across the cell, threw a punch, aimed directly at the man's jaw.
His head flew back with the force of the blow, as fist connected with jaw bone, and Petrova desperately tried to hide her wince, as she heard the sickening sound of his breath escaping in a desperate, hissed groan, and then he slumped limply in the orderlies grip, as they finally hauled him away.
When Petrova made to follow them out into the corridor, the Captain moved back and stood in her way.
"Where do you think you are going, Doctor?"
"With my patient …."
"That will not be necessary …. I will see to it that he is …. Taken care of, according to your instructions …."
"Very well …. But I will need to see him again before you even think about continuing with the procedure …. Dr Dimitriov is very clear in his instructions on this matter, Comrade Captain …." She could see immediately that her second use of the project's senior medic and her immediate superior's name unnerved him.
"Every man has a limit …. And this one has reached his …. For now …. Given a chance to recover a little …. Regain his strength a little …. I am sure that he will then be more …. Inclined to succumb to your persuasion."
"As you wish …."As Petrova made to move away from him, his hand snaked out and grabbed at the top of her arm roughly.
"Haven't I told you once already not to get too interested in the subjects …." He pinned her with grey eyes that were as cold as steel.
"I am simply trying to do my job, Comrade Captain …." She lowered her gaze demurely and tried to ignore the iron grip of his fingers biting into her tender flesh.
Damn ….
She could not afford to suddenly become of even more interest to this man.
His lustful interest was bad enough …
She didn't need him to be suspicious of her motives and her reason for being here ….
She needed to remain inconspicuous ….
Especially if she was going to have any part in helping the American to escape from here ….
And she now fervently wished with all her heart that she would have the opportunity to help him escape from this place ….
Despite the fact that his outrageous behaviour had put them both in the centre of the Captain's radar screen ….
Idiot ….
He could have been a bit more subtle about it ….
Fool ….
And even, if it wasn't officially sanctioned by the powers that be ….
It would be worth it just to see the smug look wiped off this sadistic bastard's face.
"See to it that that is all you do, Comrade …. Or else I might feel the need to bring your behaviour to the attention of Dr Dimitriov, and General Sevchenko …."
He left the threat hanging in the air between them, then, roughly pulling her closer to him ….
Crushing her slender body close to his hard, lean torso.
So close she could feel his hot breath on her face ….
As she waited to see if he would indeed try to kiss her ….
Then, he must have thought better of it, for after giving her upper arm yet another vicious squeeze he released his grip, pushed her roughly away from him and stepped aside, allowing her to pass.
Yana Petrova held her breath until she was outside the cell and hurried to the end of the corridor, turning the corner, then she sank against the nearest wall, closing her eyes and drawing in precious, calming breath.
Bastard ….
So that was his game ….
Over powering the little woman with his superior strength, until he frightened her into giving him what he wanted ….
She knew exactly what he wanted ….
And if he wasn't careful, she was just the gal to give it to him!
She was also going to have to do something about this American guy ….
Or his damned antics were going to get them both killed …
However, she had to admit that she admired his gall ….
And his acting talents .…
She liked his spirit ….
And no matter who he was, or why he was here ….
No one deserved to die at the hands of these animals ….
And certainly not like that ….
In the grip of GKP ….
Battered and beaten, cold and hungry and humiliated ….
Unable to defend himself ….
She vowed there and then that if a chance to help him presented its self, sanctioned or not, she would do her best to liberate him and get him away to safety ….
Why?
Self preservation ….
And ….
Simply because she liked his style ….