Chapter Nine

Bright sunshine poured through the open windows as Nelson struggled to awaken from a deep sleep, his hands still manacled and cuffed to the bed that he had discovered in the wee hours of the morning was firmly bolted to the floor.

"Ah Nelson…you are awake. Good! I decided to come personally to inquire how your first night spent in Russian captivity was."

Nelson looked to the door to see General Vasnev standing, hands on hips, in the open doorway.

"Little stuffy in here but I made do," Nelson answered with a smirk.

"Well, you cooperate today and tonight you will spend in a place where the sand does not blow through your windows and the night creatures on this cursed island do not find you. Take him," he ordered, gesturing to the two guards behind him who stood at attention. "Unlock him and bring him."

The two guards walked quickly to Nelson, unlocked his cuffs and yanked him sharply to his feet where he swayed unsteadily for a moment as a bout of dizziness assaulted him.

"My apologies, Admiral Nelson. My men are not the gentlest. You must be hungry. Come, breakfast is being prepared for us."

With guards on either side of him, Nelson was escorted from the dank barracks, up a long shell-lined path to a more opulent dwelling that sat up on a hill overlooking the azure waters of the Pacific, a gentle breeze from the ocean gently ruffling his hair.

He stopped to admire the view briefly before an insistent tug on his arm propelled him through the doorway. Entering what he thought would be a simple dining room; he was shocked to find a large, lavish table spread with a brilliant white linen table cloth and set with china and crystal goblets. Spread about on the table were platters of eggs, sausages and an array of other foods. A large pot of what he fervently hoped was coffee sat on a small table off to the side.

"I do not believe in being deprived even though I have been assigned to this…tropical outpost," Vasnev said as he gestured for Nelson to sit.

"So, this isn't a prime assignment for you?" he asked as he sat at the table, trying hard not to smell the foods before him.

Vasnev shrugged. "I do what I am told. I am told to guard this pitiful island, make sure no one knows of its existence and to provide all that the scientists here need. I do it. You however, are a surprise. I was not told I would host the great Admiral Nelson for any period of time."

"My apologies on crashing the party," Nelson said with a self-deprecating smile. "It wasn't my idea."

"Yes, well, I will take the opportunity presented to me and make the most of it," Vasnev replied as he poured a large cup of coffee for Nelson and passed him platters of blintzes, sausages and eggs. "Ever had true Russian blintzes?"

"A time or two," he answered as he began to eat, trying not to remember the times he had been in Russia. "Not bad."

"My cook will be ecstatic to know you approve."

"Where are my other captors today?"

"You mean Stepankov and Brynov?" he asked derisively. "They are onboard their ship. Hopefully, they will leave soon."

"You don't like them?"

"They are PR scum. I do not understand why my country feels it needs The People's Republic's help. If we want or need their ports or their deposits…we take them," Vasnev said waving a fork in the air.

"Spoken like a true warrior," Nelson remarked with a smirk on his face.

"True! You understand!"

Unsure when he would see food again and wanting to regain his strength, Nelson ate what was put on his plate. "So what fun activities do you have planned for me today? A walk on the beach? A swim in those waters out there?"

"Ha! Nothing so mundane! No, I thought we would start with a tour of our facilities. Show what our scientists are working on…work we would welcome your input on."

"I doubt I can be of any help. World destruction isn't my forte."

"We will see. Once you have been…persuaded…we will see. Come…let's be off."

Nelson was once more grabbed by the arms and escorted down the path to a row of low buildings he hadn't noticed before and followed Vasnev inside. "Welcome to Russia's premier research weapons lab!" Vasnev said proudly as he spread his hands wide.

Entering, Nelson's eyes went wide at the sight before him and he hesitantly walked closer, staring in horror at what he saw. Rows and rows of containers filled with a variety of vegetation met his eyes. Long, covered containers filled simply with soil lay beside those while in other sections, centrifuges and other medical equipment was scattered about.

"Biological weapons? You're creating a whole cornucopia of biological weapons?" he spat out in anger as he began walking down some of the rows, noticing among others, castor plants for creating ricin and a variety of molds and fungi whose spores could be harvested and weaponized.

Staring at the containers of dirt, his blood chilled as he realized that in all likelihood, anthrax spores lay beneath the black soil. Turning to the medical equipment, he closed his eyes as if to blot out the horrors that could be waiting there… diseases to not only destroy human life but to also destroy crops or other food sources or highly lethal chemical weapons.

"Yes, of course. The next step in the road to world domination," Vasnev answered proudly. "The use of biological weapons dates back to ancient times. Surely you know that, Admiral."

"I do know that. I also know the use of such weapons was outlawed in 1972 at the Biological Weapons Convention and the Geneva Protocol!" he spat out in anger. "I also know the use of such weapons is barbaric!"

Vasnev waved a dismissive hand in Nelson's direction. "Outlawed by those too weak to use them and considered barbaric by its victims, future and past."

"As much as I detest your country, I find it hard to believe your country would advocate this research not to mention the actual use of weapons such as what you're creating here. Anthrax, Botulinum…My God! Rational people would never use biological weapons offensively," he spat out.

"Well, that is where you and so many others like you are wrong. World domination knows no limits. Not in its scope and not in its means."

"Ah! Am I seeing the man I think I am?" a voice behind him said.

Turning, Nelson watched a small, wiry man dressed in a long, white lab coat, thin glasses perched on the end of his nose, walk quickly towards him.

"Admiral Harriman Nelson! I never thought the day would come when I would have the pleasure of meeting you!"

"Admiral, allow me to introduce you to "Doctor…"

"Dr. Yuri Andreyev," Nelson intoned quietly, a look of repulsion on his face.

"You know me? I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear that you know of…"

"I know of your work," he replied in distaste. "I know of your work in destroying people and their lives. You're well known and not for anything good I'm afraid. Last I heard you were working on your mind-altering drugs, looking for the perfect truth serum to deliver to your gulags in a futile attempt at extracting information from helpless prisoners of your debauched country."

Andreyev's face paled as he listened to Nelson then reddened in anger. "I do what I am told. I do what I do for my country's good…to save it from…"

"From what doctor? From its own failings?"

Andreyev took a step towards Nelson only to be stopped by Vasnev. "Stop. He is entitled to his views. He will change them shortly. You would welcome working with him?"

"I…I have always admired Admiral Nelson and his work. Some of his work is here, down in the marine section," he smirked as he watched Nelson's eyes narrow. "Yes, your work on venomous sea creatures is most informative. Such an array of poisons to be extracted and used not to mention the interesting things that can be found in marine sediment."

"That research is not meant for destructive purposes. It's meant…"

"For the greater good of all humanity. Yes, I know of your pathetic philosophies. Perhaps, you can be shown the error of your ways. I assume that is why he is here?" Andreyev said to Vasnev.

"That is one reason. However, you wanted a guinea pig for your new truth serum? Here he is. Why use one of our own? Take him," Vasnev said to the two guards behind Nelson who gripped his arms tightly.

Vasnev stalked to Nelson and smiled. "You will break, Admiral. You will tell us what we wish to know. You will turn against your country. You will, or die."

"Then I'll die," Nelson answered firmly.

Vasnev shrugged. "If you die, it will be on you. And I warn you…it will be more painful than you ever thought possible. Bring him."

Nelson was taken out a side door to the research hut and to a small squat building set out in the open under the blistering tropical sun. Thrust roughly inside, a blast of humid, oppressive heat hit him, taking the breath from him. Hustled to a long table in the center of the room surrounded by trays of vials, syringes and other instruments, Nelson tried hard not to look at the array before him. He was grabbed, picked up and placed none too gently on the less than clean table and tied down. His shirt was ripped open and electrodes placed on his chest and on his head.

"We will monitor your condition throughout the…questioning," Vasnev said with a smirk. "In case you do not react well to the…medication."

"Questioning…you mean torture," Nelson spat out.

"Semantics, Admiral. Mere semantics. Now, we will see how strong you are. I have heard how hard you will be to break, but I think they are wrong. Past failures do not equate to future failures. Would you not agree?" Vasnev asked menacingly as he watched Andreyev withdraw a vial from a small refrigerator and sucked the bluish fluid into a syringe. Laying the vial down, Andreyev looked into Nelson's face. "I do not want to use this on you. Will you answer my questions without the use of this?"

Nelson clenched his jaw tightly and stared Andreyev in the eye but remained silent.

With a shrug, Andreyev injected the drug quickly and stood back, watching, waiting. Soon he saw the drug began to affect Nelson as he began to squirm on the table, his respiration and heart rate increasing.

Leaning close, he placed a cool hand on Nelson's forehead. "Let us begin," he heard Andreyev say quietly.

Over and over Nelson heard the questions…location of underwater missile silos, launch codes for missiles, defects in the US spy satellites, weaknesses in certain naval ships, names of spies working within Russia…and on and on. He fought with everything he had to keep the secrets locked inside his brain as he felt fiery fingers seemingly crawling through his mind looking for the right key that would open the locks his brain had set up.

Over and over the questions came and over and over he resisted until after several long, hellish hours, the searing fire he felt in his brain burned out. The welcoming arms of oblivion reached out to him, grabbed him, cradling him close, and carried him away to a welcoming numbness.

"Bah! Nothing," Vasnev exclaimed angrily. "Take him back to the barracks. Have someone stay with him just in case he speaks. We will try again tomorrow."

Nelson's limp body was untied and dragged through the doorway out into the late afternoon's softened light, the heat of the day beginning to ease into a more comfortable level as the sun lowered.

Off to the side, Peter watched, his jaw clenched tight as he watched them drag the unconscious form through the street. He hurried to catch up to the guards. "Anton! Wait!" he called out to one of the guards he had known on the ship.

"What is it? I have orders to get him back to the barracks."

"Yes, I know. Did he break?" he asked with a hopeful smile.

"No. This one is as they have said…too tough to break. Tomorrow…we shall see. Now, we must go," he said as he continued to drag the unconscious body down the walk.

Peter stood watching the three as they disappeared around a corner. He had to get word out. It had to be tonight. He didn't know for sure if Nelson could hold out through another round of Andreyev's drug. From what he knew of Nelson, he was certain he would die before he spilled his secrets. But he'd heard about the drug Andreyev had produced and he shivered as he thought of what it had done to Nelson.

Darkness filled the night in a deep, inky blackness as Peter walked stealthily down the corridors of the freighter, quickly walking towards his objective. Morning was closing in and he knew he needed to hurry. Silently he cursed the guards and others onboard that insisted on not only spending their free time drinking and card playing until all hours of the night, but drawing him into their nightly games. Although, tonight's games had produced a wealth of information: information that passed freely through lips plied with the best Russian vodka around.

It had only been an hour since the last of those stationed on the freighter had stumbled off to their beds, some lustily singing old Russian folk songs and others grumbling about those singing the old Russian folk songs.

He headed quickly for his own cabin deep in the bowels of the ship, relieved he passed no one. Entering, he shut the door, leaned back against it and closed his eyes. He had to get to the radio room tonight. He had to get word out that Nelson was alive and on this island but he needed to allow those he had just left to fall asleep. Looking at his watch, he knew that time was running out. Dawn was closing in. Nelson would be awakened shortly and taken to Andreyev for more interrogation. He couldn't allow the man to go through another round. Not if he could help it.

Taking deep breaths, he willed his heart rate to drop, his expression to turn bland and peaceful, then opened the door, peered out and left the sanctuary of his cabin. Treading softly down the darkened corridors, he stopped outside one, listened at the door and opened it slowly.

Seeing no one in the room, he hurried inside and to the transmitter, clicked it on and sent a coded message to a contact in Riga, relieved when it was acknowledged, assured it would be sent on to other agents in Riga, Odessa, Moscow and ultimately to authorities in the United States.

Sighing, he sat back in the chair and thought. The agent he had contacted had to be ready, and had to alert others in the community to be ready. Plans to get the man safely out of Russia needed to be formulated quickly. Thankfully, the location of the now not so secret base would be forwarded to INTERPOL within the hour. Hopefully, once Nelson was moved from the island and on to Russia, a rescue plan, or plans, would already be in the works.

Knowing which city they would send him to would have been nice but none of those at the games tonight knew for certain. Some argued Nelson would be sent on to a secondary island he'd heard mentioned called Atai that also housed a research station. Others argued that made no sense. That of course the great Nelson would be sent on to Moscow where he would be broken. A few others argued for a smaller city, something he himself hoped for. He smiled as he thought of the brief fistfight that had broken out over the argument. Russians and vodka were a dangerous mix.

He was just about to rise and head back to his cabin for a few hours of sleep whenhe heard the subtle squeak of the door open and before he could react was grabbed and thrown against the wall.

"Luka! What…what are you doing?" he blustered.

"Catching a spy I think. Josip was right not to trust you."

"No! No…I was merely sending a message to my girlfriend. That's all. I was hoping to meet her soon. If we take Nelson back to Russia, I…"

"I don't believe you," Luka sneered before yanking Peter back to the transmitter and peering at the dial the frequency showed.

"Did you tell them the location of the base? Did you tell them of Nelson? Did you?"

"No! No, why would I? I told you…"

"It does not matter," Luka said as he released Peter and dropped him back into the chair. Sauntering to the door, he opened it and looked up and down the corridor before closing and locking it. Turning back, he drew a gun from a holster and pointed it at Peter. "Now, you will tell me what I need to know."