Under the eyes of a disinterested guard, Indy finished scrubbing his hands and donned a lab coat. His scalp was covered by a sterile cap, and his well-worn boots were wrapped in plastic covers. It was midmorning, but the laboratory was windowless and bathed in bluish light. Holding a clipboard and pen, Spalko looked on as a centrifuge separated her samples for processing. She, too, was dressed in clinical gear, and her dark hair was hidden under a net.

"Good morning," he greeted.

She turned to Indy, barely taking her eyes off the machine. "These are the samples from Site 3. Please check if the record contains coordinates."

Noting her laser-like focus on her work, Indy nodded and pulled the folder for Site 3, a clearing across the lake from the ruined temple. Two photographs were clipped to the cover, along with a hand-drawn map and approximate coordinates. Holding it up to the light, Indy traced the vague outline of a river, a blue shaded circle that he supposed represented the lake.

"We do have coordinates, but I can't attest to their accuracy."

"This is the site across the lake, yes?" The machine beeped, and Spalko flipped up the lid, leaning forward to squint at the array of vials.

"Yes. Would you like to see the map?"

She beckoned him forward, and he handed the piece of paper to her. Her brow pinched together as she considered the sketch. "Ah. I see."

She tossed the paper onto the counter and turned back to the centrifuge. Snapping the lid back in place, she mashed a few buttons and turned back to Indy.

"Have you seen Ross today?"

Indy shook his head forcefully. Despite her unflappable demeanor, Indy knew that she found Ross' presence uncomfortable. As the scientist leading Project Amanita, she had suddenly gained ground in her struggle with the American officer. If Ross harmed her, he would risk her cooperation in developing the weapon. And still, Spalko was perpetually looking over her shoulder, eager to maintain this advantage.

So far, his peace with Irina had held. They had been working in the laboratory for a few days, and she treated him with brusque professionalism, too absorbed in her work to engage in extraneous conversation. At night, however, she continued to share his bunk, and Indy liked the company. It was becoming difficult to deny that he felt something for her, abrasive and closed-off though she was. This knowledge coexisted uneasily with the fact that Marion had been dead only five months. He still mourned for the family they could have been, and he knew that Marion's spirit, if indeed it were still lingering, would be irate at his choices. But when he looked at Spalko, intense and resilient and every bit his intellectual equal, he couldn't ignore the spark that lit up his chest.

"Fetch the pipettes," she directed over her shoulder, interrupting his thoughts. The samples were now lined up on a rack, and Spalko was pulling on a pair of heavy gloves.

"Sure." Indy rifled through the storage closet, surprised by the sheer selection. Ross had purchased a huge supply of equipment, and along with the stacks of files from Akator, the collection took up dozens of shelves. Tucking the box under his arm, he carried the supplies to the counter. Spalko was mixing chemicals in a small, round dish, and she retrieved a pipette, carefully transferring liquid from a vial to the dish. The mixture gained a reddish tint, and she tilted her head, lost in thought.

"Jones," she finally asked, still staring at the dish, "will you summon the guard? We have initial results."

"It is only soil," Spalko declared in a disappointed tone. "We detected traces of potassium nitrate, likely from gunpowder. We found nothing else of interest."

"And how many samples remain?"

"Two sets."

Ross let out a frustrated breath, and Indy stepped smoothly between them. "The last samples come from a site within the rubble. They look promising."

Spalko crossed her arms over her chest, giving Ross a chilly glance. "—But proper analysis will take time."

Ross stepped towards the exit, where his guards were waiting, and gave the rack of samples a final glance. His face was twisted in irritation, but he held his tongue. Before stepping out the door, he tossed a final command over his shoulder.

"Dr. Spalko, report to my office at 0600 tomorrow."

The door slammed behind him, and Indy leaned his forearms on the counter, sighing heavily. Rows of paper were spread before him, and his notebook was propped up nearby. He had taken to locating the samples on a large wall map taped above the counter. Indy idly traced the route that he and Spalko had taken months before, noting the elevation changes and river crossings. It had been a rough journey; his brush with malaria had left him weak for weeks, and his limbs were still scarred from insect bites. He would return to Akator if ordered, but he wasn't looking forward to the jungle.

Across the counter, Irina was preparing slides for the microscope, humming quietly to herself. Despite the circumstances, she seemed to enjoy working in the laboratory. As she held a bit of glass to the light, Indy approached.

"Need a hand?"

She shook her head. "I am nearly finished." Walking to the microscope and turning a dial, she continued, "these samples are no more promising than the previous. Why did you tell Ross otherwise?"

Indy looked down. The truth was, he'd felt a sudden compulsion to smooth things over, in hopes of diminishing Ross' wrath. His one-time friend was not prone to fits of violence like his colleague Marino, but he was certainly capable of cruelty. He'd allowed Spalko to be tortured back in Iquitos, and their current détente would only last as long as the project was successful. He decided to speak plainly.

"Ross is unpredictable. I didn't want him to lash out."

"I see." Irina turned towards him, and something softened in her expression. "Be careful, Jones. I do not wish for you to become a target."

The office was freezing cold, and Spalko kept her hands in her pockets, leaning back against the chair. Ross had demanded her presence at first light, and she had spent a sleepless night strategizing. Despite her change of circumstances, she deeply distrusted the man, and she had no doubt that he would have her beaten again in a heartbeat. Even now, his guards were posted outside the door, batons at the ready. Ross sat across the desk, an imposing figure in his tailored uniform coat and polished boots. When he spoke, his breath was visible in the chilly air.

"Spalko-"

"Why have you called me here?" She cut him off brusquely, eager to gain the upper hand.

He pursed his lips at her rudeness. Silently, he reached towards a tape recorder at the edge of his desk. Switching it on, he startled at the sudden whirring that emanated from the machine. Then he brushed off his hands and fixed her with a cold stare.

"I have questions for you. As an American asset, I'm sure you'll have no objection to answering them."

"It depends," she responded carefully. She was reluctant to feed him classified information, even if it helped to cement her role in Project Amanita. Such disclosures could be dangerous for the Soviet Union, even if they allowed her to gain the trust of the Americans.

Ross opened a desk drawer and withdrew a sheet of paper. Smoothing it carefully, he began. "First, please state your full name, date and place of birth for the record."

She rattled off this information, wondering what else he would ask. Her thoughts racing, she tried to settle on a strategy. Ross interrupted her ruminations by slamming the desk drawer.

"Pay attention, Doctor. What is your relationship with the KGB?"

"I am an officer in the Science and Technology Directorate. I am a scientist."

"You were an officer. I'm certain Russia stripped you of your rank when you were arrested."

This was true, and Irina nodded slightly, feeling a pang of shame and loss.

"Now, what kind of work did you perform for the Directorate?"

"Experimental weapons development. Stalin was greatly interested in psychic warfare, and he tasked us with researching these phenomena."

"And that is why you traveled to Peru?"

"Yes. I was looking for Akator."

"You were involved in creating other weapons, correct?" His inflection changed, and she saw a flash of genuine interest in his expression.

"Of course."

"You'll need to be specific," he demanded, "I want you to give me a list."

"That information is classified," Spalko said firmly, pulling her hands from her pockets.

"You are on our side now. Answer my question."

A tense silence settled over the room. Irina clasped her hands before her, straightening her back. She was determined to win this contest of wills, and she wouldn't let Ross' theatrics frighten her into complying. Outside the window, a faint golden line appeared at the horizon, and she heard shouts as the morning shift change commenced. Ross drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

Behind her, Spalko heard the door creak open. "Sir," one of the guards interrupted, "You have a visitor at the front gate."

Ross hummed in surprise. Standing up abruptly, he flipped off the recorder and retrieved a cardboard box from under the desk. "One moment, Private Gauthier."

"Yes, sir."

Removing the tape, Ross replaced it with another from the box. He mashed a few buttons, straightened his coat, and departed with a final remark.

"I will return within the hour. Until then, perhaps this will serve to remind you of the consequences of not cooperating."

With a hiss of static, the tape began to play.

When Spalko returned to the barracks, it was evening. Indy had already settled into his bunk, oiling his boots by the light of a kerosene lantern. Absorbed in his work, he was startled by the slam of the door. Across the room, she was no more than a shadow, slipping off her boots and jacket and sitting down at the edge of the mattress. She ignored his greeting, staring at the floor and hugging her arms to her chest.

Indy had believed them to be on good terms, and so he was surprised by her standoffishness. Feeling a sudden flicker of concern, he put aside his project and stood.

"Spalko?"

She didn't respond, and so he crossed the room, crouching down beside her. "What's wrong?"

"Leave me be," she grumbled, turning her head away.

Despite their partnership, Spalko was reluctant to discuss matters of any emotional importance. He remembered that she had spent the day being questioned by Ross, and he wondered if something had shaken her. Torn between pushing further and returning to his bunk, he laid a hand on her knee.

"We're allies, okay? You can trust me."

She didn't react, only hunched forward further, avoiding his gaze. Indy gave up, resolving to respect her privacy. Taking his feet, he took a few steps towards his side of the room.

"Jones?"

"I'm right here," he assured her quietly, sitting back down.

Another minute passed in silence, but Indy stayed put, waiting for her to speak. Finally:

"Ross called me to his office for questioning."

"I know."

"He felt I was being uncooperative," she said stiffly. "He had a box of tapes."

"What tapes?"

"From my interrogation in Iquitos. With Marino."

Indy felt bile rise in his throat. He wanted to put an arm around her, but he kept to his space, listening.

"Ross played the entire recording-" Her voice cracked slightly, and she dropped her hands into her lap, shaking like a leaf. "—They killed my soldiers in front of me."

Indy retrieved her jacket from the floor, tucking it around her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, and she barely registered his movements. He dropped down beside her, at a loss for how to respond.

"I heard the shots," she whispered, lips barely moving.

"I'm sorry."

He smoothed the fabric of the coat over her shoulders, but she didn't react to his touch. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"Their blood is on my hands."

"No," he said forcefully, keeping a hand on her shoulder. "You made a difficult choice."

She quickly swiped a hand over her cheeks, and he pretended not to notice. Her pain was like a punch in the gut, and he was surprised by the strength of his reaction. He vaguely remembered Marino executing the rest of the Soviet captives, but he hadn't realized that Spalko had witnessed their deaths. He'd been lost in his own grief over the fates of Marion and his son, and the incident had barely been a blip on his radar. Now, he remembered the staccato bang of shots as he worked elsewhere in the prison, the row of sheet-covered bodies in the interrogation room. The past few months had been a blur of pointless, ugly deaths, and he saw in his mind's eye the bouquet he'd placed at the crash site, scattered by the mountain wind. He gritted his teeth.

"From what I saw," he continued grimly, "your men were willing to follow you to their deaths. That kind of respect doesn't come easily."

"I let them sacrifice, while I survived."

"…And you think you didn't sacrifice?" He angled his body towards her, catching her eye. He softened his tone a little but addressed her emphatically. "Spalko, I was in Iquitos. I remember."

She let her weight fall against him, and he kept his arm around her, holding her tightly. The world felt infinitely complex and brutal, and he wondered how they'd manage to stay alive these past few months. Whatever ulterior motives she had for collaborating with Ross, whatever unresolved tension they still had between them, Indy was grateful that they were once again allies. Spalko was a force to be reckoned with, even when she didn't measure up to her own exacting standards.

"Guilt will eat you alive," he concluded, remembering the nights he'd spent agonizing over Marion's fate.

She put her hand over his, and he felt the cold grip of her fingers. "Stay here for a while?"

He nodded. "Maybe we should change topics. Did I tell you about the dig I worked on in Xi'an?"