The tight grip of the Control Officers carrying Quinn to her quarters made it difficult to break free from them. She did not intend to. Their unintentional help allowed her to make the long walk through the corridor. She kept her chin up, despite the ache in her neck muscles. Were she expected to make the journey on her own, she would not have made it. Already, she was near collapsing from exhaustion. She did not care that the officers had to almost drag her to her room. Once inside, she stumbled to her bed and crashed down on it.
Pain coursed in unending waves from her toes to the ends of her hair. She clenched her teeth with every labored breath. She felt unraveled and unable to focus on any one thing apart from the pain. The Twins, even in their older age, were more than proficient at their work. While one prepared the next ordeal, the other dictated a battery of questions, some ridiculously confusing, while others were straight and to the point.
"What time of day do you wake?"
"What is the color of your coffee?"
"Do you prefer to wear thongs or briefs under your clothes?"
"Do you like puppies?"
They asked her mathematical formulas and questions about current world leaders. If answered incorrectly, she received a startling jolt of electricity, or a sickening twist at the temples of her head.
"If you had a choice to save a monkey or a kitten, which would you save?"
Quinn let out a long sigh. There were other questions mixed in with the ones that seemed too silly to give a thought to. Even though she answered every question, she quickly became confused which question was fact-finding and which ones were traps.
Quinn turned her head, trying to put aside the hot pain left by the marks under her eyes. The device the twins used targeted the sensitive nerve bundles underneath the eyes. The overload of stimulation made her skin feel as though it were on fire, and her eyes burned behind the sockets. The tension in her neck drew out every muscle and caused her hair to stand on end. Her ribs ached from shock pads, which made her heart race, and drew out her breath in large gasps. By the time they moved on to the Cranial Probe, she was beyond ready to break.
The promise of pain was eased by the moments paused between implements. Finally, the twins closed their cases and silently concluded their inquiry. Moments later, Michael appeared. He warily flitted around his point of interest like a butterfly. She thought it odd that he never quite landed on the very question he knew he wanted the answer to. He seemed to purposefully not ask. Instead, he played in the fields of her accomplishments, her attributes, and a little into her psychology. He did not have the same questions as the twins, nor did he press her about who it was that she was working with. He showed her kindness and understanding, where she fully expected his cruelty. She was not unfamiliar with it, as she had seen him be more than deplorable with extracting information. His sadism was matched only by Madeline's zeal for torment. For him to decide to draw her into him rather than keep his distance made her even more suspicious of his tactics. She never looked at Michael in any other manner other than as a colleague. She was never very close to him, preferring to maintain a respectable separation. She knew Michael's reputation and how easily he manipulated women.
It was his gift.
In the White Room, she was at his mercy, and yet, he seemed to not take advantage of her vulnerability. She was sure he noticed she was at the point of begging. She was certain he saw her desperation. He knew she didn't want to die, even though she deserved to. She was sure he was prepared to do the deed, but chose not to.
You are more useful to me alive than you would be dead…
There was little that she could provide for Michael if he truly wanted Command of Section One. The final sequence of her mission was already closing, with much of the work left to the operative in the field with Nikita. The only thing that she needed to do was continue to play the part as Mission Coordinator and ensure that lines of communication remained open between all parties. With Nikita going dark, she would not gain any help from Section. If she survived, there was still the matter of the mission's failure, which would prompt the Council to vote. If everything went as sequenced, the mission was to be a loss, resulting in Section stationed agents evacuated immediately. Nikita would be trapped in Damascus forever, living the identity she infiltrated Al Amin's compound.
Nikita stared at the cracked ceiling above her. Rusting metal mixed with the dank stench of the blankets. Her back ached from the lumpy thin mattress she and Katya shared in the single-bed hotel room. Finding a bed at all was a luxury. Usually, an abandoned car or derelict building would be her motel for the evening on such a mission. The hotel room they were staying in was not exactly the Ritz, but it was far better than what she expected to find in such little time. When they first arrived, Katya did not seem to care where they were lying for the night. Exhaustion had set in and blinded her to the dirt and grime of the room. She ignored the frayed carpet and the dark water stains on the wallpaper. She was glad she did not notice the cockroach in the sink or the permanently browned toilet. Light sifted through a break between heavy brocade fabric drapes, illuminating the truth of the room in bold and deep crimson and gold colors. Nikita ran her tongue over her cracking lips before sitting up.
The night was long.
Katya's constant whining about the fate of her expensive luggage made the hours drag. The flames from their hotel room turned the starlit sky white and red-orange, calling attention to it and not the two women racing away into the night. Nikita could not think anymore about what the fire might do to the rest of the residents inside the hotel, nor could she mourn the loss of Katya's Louis Vuitton luggage. They had to go in search of another hotel out of the radius of Section's aerial surveillance. It would be a few hours before Section discovered they were nowhere in the radius. It would be a few more minutes before their location was pinpointed by Katya's "clock." Nikita hoped by then they would be well on their way to Al Amin's compound, where she would find someone there looking for them. Knowing Section, someone would not only be searching, they would also have them unceremoniously wiped away. Unfortunately, Al Amin wasn't the only person in Syria that needed to be erased. Her expiration date was long overdue, and it was time for Section to clean house.
Nikita pulled herself from the bed and walked into the bathroom. She splashed water onto her face, then braced herself against the counter. Her head hurt again, this time with an unrelenting ache that begged for her medicine. Her mouth was dry, and her heart repeatedly charged at her breastbone. She breathed out slowly, hoping to silence the pounding. Instead, the throbbing at her temples mounted, squeezing the bone between her eyes.
Nikita growled.
She turned and grabbed her purse. Opening it, she searched through the collage of makeup, pens, and random pieces of paper before coming to the familiar cylinder. She pulled out the bottle and twisted it open.
BE AWARE… I WILL TRY TO SEND YOU SOMETHING TO HELP...
She tapped two pills into her palm and tossed them into her mouth. She raced over to the sink and bent forward, turning the faucet and running the cool water into her cupped hand. After gulping down several swallows of the water, Nikita sank down to the floor. Her heart continued to drum rapidly within her chest. Sweat teased at her temples and wet her back. She tried once more to steady her breathing and center herself.
Focus, Nikita. Your life may depend on it…
"Michael…" Nikita whispered to herself.
She shut her eyes.
Images of Michael drifted far off in the distance of her memory. Against a blinding white background, he was all that she could see clearly.
"How did you cure Adrian?"
"I didn't. She was too far gone for me to help her."
All around him were images of her past, places she had gone, and the deeds she committed. He stood amid the visions, dressed in black and his hair long on his shoulders. He was young and appeared every bit the angel that became his epitaph.
"You brought her back from cryo-stasis. Got her to remember… Remember how to cure me. The formula."
"Part of it was medicine… The other was accessing a part of you that no one else could touch."
"But you could. You brought me back then. You can do it again."
"Maybe." Michael breathed out heavily over the line. "Where you are, I can't go. You have to do this alone."
"Michael, I don't know that I can…."
Nikita looked over towards Katya, checking on her progress with the men at the other end of the cafe.
"How is she doing?" said Michael as if he could see what she saw through the internet call.
"Fine… For now."
"Good. Keep her calm. The less she knows about what's going on, the better. As long as everyone plays by the rules-"
"I'm so sick of the rules, Michael. When are we going to be done playing this game? When do we win?"
Michael was silent… As she knew he would be. Nikita sighed.
"What's the next objective? What is Section expecting me to do next?"
"Follow mission parameters. Continue on as you have and don't let on that you know you're being watched."
"How much time do I have?"
"Not long. A day maybe. You'll have to figure out a way to get out. I'll do what I can here to find out exactly who is behind all this."
"I assume you already have a guess."
"Yes… But I'm not certain of it. I'll contact you again soon…."
Nikita's purse buzzed. She opened her eyes and got up from the floor. Her heartbeat slowed to a more manageable cadence while the ache in her head dulled.
She pulled out the PDA from her bag and opened it. An envelope icon blinked a message. Nikita read it, then slipped the PDA back inside her purse. She looked at Katya, lying asleep on the bed. She thought to wake her, but then considered it best not to. If she told Katya where she was going, the young woman would insist on coming along. The instructions on the message told her to be alone when she went to pick up the package left for her. Still, she knew she needed to tell Katya something to not worry or think the worst happened.
Nikita pulled out the side table drawer and found a pen and stationary. As she wrote, she smirked, realizing the irony of her actions. For years she spent shuffling messages from one operative to another electronically without ever picking up a slip of paper. She forgot how satisfying and personal it felt to simply write a note for someone else to discover.
Even if it was just instructions telling her not to leave the room.
Katya awoke with a start, screaming.
Her eyes darted about the room, expecting to see hooded men preparing to grab her. Instead, the only thing staring back at her was the dark screen of a late model television. It sat atop a long dressing cabinet built into the wall. A cable box rested atop the television, feeding lines into the back of the monitor at its input and output ports. There was a solitary mirror in the bathroom area, terminally smudged from too many cleanings with products not typically used to clean glass. She breathed in and was immediately assaulted by the odor of stale water and mold. She looked down at the sheets, noticing that most of the stench was coming from the heavy comforter laid over the top of the bedding. It was a heavy fabric of gold thread and crimson tapestry playing host to a soup of scents and smells from previous guests. There was a distinct odor of tobacco within the sheets, and below that, the acrid smell of lye soap.
She remembered parts of the evening as the haze of sleep lifted. She remembered walking barefoot down the street in search of an Internet cafe. She remembered Nikita pulling her gun on her in the elevator, daring her to object.
The men in the cafe.
The stink of the cab.
The smell of burning fabric as the acid ate away both her clothes, and the camera found behind the television.
The electric eyes of the man standing in their room when they first arrived.
"Nikita?" Katya called, hoping to hear the older director call back from the bathroom.
Silence responded, along with a grim thought that something was wrong.
In case of kidnapping, check to see if anything is disturbed…
Katya looked around the room, but saw nothing out of place. The spot where Nikita slept was cool, which meant she was long gone by the time Katya awoke. Her purse was also gone, along with one of the room keys.
She must have stepped out, Katya thought as she pulled herself out of bed. She looked down at the nightstand and noticed a sheet of stationary anchored down by the edge of the lamp. The note was from Nikita, scrawled in somewhat shaky handwriting, letting her know her disappearance was not through foul play. She was gone to pick up a package and would be back shortly. At the bottom, Nikita wrote in large, bold lettering…
DO NOT LEAVE THE ROOM FOR ANY REASON.
Katya sank back down on the bed. Nikita's instruction felt like a parent telling her not to leave the house. When she was younger, the same instruction was given. Still, she promptly ignored it once a ride, and an opportunity presented itself. However, she was certain Nikita's command for her to not leave the room was not because she felt she may get into trouble with her friends. Considering they were within the walls of a militia-controlled city, searching for an internationally wanted Shiite leader, she assumed the note was left for her safety. If nothing else, it was to simply keep her in place while Nikita set up their next maneuver.
A low gurgle twisted within Katya's stomach. It had been a while since she had eaten. Over twelve hours, she was sure. They spent so much time running between rooms and computer terminals that neither thought to stop for food. By the time they found the hotel room they were using to rest, it was well past 2 a.m., and both women were beyond exhausted. They slept in the clothes they had on when they left their burning hotel room. Another hour passed before they checked into a lodge that doubled as a housing unit for displaced citizens who had to race from their homes because of bombings . Katya had paid little attention to where they were as she followed Nikita. She wanted to take a cab, hoping to give her aching feet a break from her high heels and the crumbling streets, but Nikita brusquely said no.
"It'd be better if we go on foot. That way, we don't trap ourselves."
Katya rolled her eyes, hating every step she was made to take down the narrow alleyways and shaded avenues. Tall buildings grew up on either side of tightly compressed streets, blocking out the moonlight and creating thick darkness about them. Nikita kept her hand at her gun as they moved until they finally walked out into a brightly lit plaza. A sign advertising cheap rooms beckoned them over and welcomed them warmly with the scent of baklava and red wine.
Katya regretted having turned away the food when it was offered to them. The urge to get off her feet and lie down on a soft bed overrode her need for food. Once their room key was in hand and they were shown their room for the night, Katya wasted no time hurrying towards the faded wood door. When they entered the room, she headed for the bed and crash-landed on it, grateful that her ordeal was ended, at least for that night. Tomorrow, it would start afresh with likely more pain, more confusion, and more anxieties.
But first, she needed to eat.
Katya quickly took a shower, ignored the tub's grungy look, and brushed her hair with her fingers. She braided her hair and tied it with a loose string pulled from one of the frayed terry cloth towels from the bathroom. Turning her underwear inside out, she pulled on the rest of her clothing then stopped, considering the note again. Nikita's words stared back at her, already chastising her for what she was about to do. She flipped the paper over and found a pen in the drawer to write a note for Nikita if she returned before she did. After telling Nikita she would grab something to eat, she gathered her purse and the other room key. She tore off a small piece of paper from the stationary and carefully laid it at the top of the door before pulling it closed.
She made her way out to the street and looked around to gain her bearings. In the darkness, the shadows hid much of the city, making everywhere look unfamiliar and mysterious. In the daylight, the city buzzed as people moved from one block to the next in congested waves. Soldiers mingled with civilians, carrying automatic rifles slung over their shoulders. Their dusty fatigues blended into the color of their skin, making them appear nebulous among the black-clad Shiite women and western-styled men.
Katya followed the crowd into a bizarre, where textiles and many kinds of foods were sold. Men and women bargained and traded goods, exchanging both smiles and coins. Seeing Katya drawing close to their booths, several women stood and presented fabrics in various colors, babbling about their products. Katya shyly declined, unsure of what they were saying and becoming quickly embarrassed for being ignorant of the language. The further she pressed into the crowd, the more anxious she became. She realized not only was she unaware of the customs, but she had no idea what anyone was saying to her. She was more than vulnerable and wished that she had listened to Nikita when she told her not to leave the room.
"Hi there, little Nikki."
Katya spun around and faced electric blue eyes. Her mouth hung open a moment before she clamped it shut into an indignant expression. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip.
"What are you doing here?" Katya narrowed her eyes, watching the sleek operative as he stood out amid the throng of people swirling around them.
"I was about to ask you the same thing," said Gabriel.
He wore a motorcycle leather jacket despite the heat, a white t-shirt, and black denim jeans that hugged his frame and accented the curves of his legs. He wore combat-style boots, loosely tied, allowing the strings to flail about his ankles. His eyes remained steady at Katya, while a knowing grin played on his lips.
"I asked you first," said Katya, almost chiding.
Gabriel let out a small huffing laugh in response. He looked around the market, searching, before returning to Katya.
"Where's mama?"
"She's around."
"Don't see her close by," said Gabriel, looking around once more to confirm. "It's not normal for the mama bird to let the chicks roam free."
"Like I said, she's around." Katya attempted to keep a straight face and not take her eyes from Gabriel.
"If that were the case, she'd already be here. There's no way she would let me get two inches near you. So… Little Nikki, why are you out here all alone? Unprotected…"
Katya stalled, trying to form words, but could only open and close her mouth soundlessly. Her eyes were wide with alarm as Gabriel stepped closer towards her. His grin was sharp, as was the steadiness of his gaze. Despite the crush of other people around her, Gabriel's nearness felt stifling the closer he came.
"I'm happy to see that you are unharmed. The fire in your hotel room nearly took out the entire floor. I don't think Nikita expected it to spread so quickly."
Katya blinked in response.
"It's a shame everything burned. I was hoping to enjoy watching you prepare for your mission. You are still going to do your mission, right?"
Gabriel's voice wrapped around and pulled her towards him. She was no longer focused on his eyes, but more so now at his lips as they parted and rounded around his words. His scent drew her further until she was nearly crushed to him, being unwillingly pushed into his arms. He smiled tenderly, regarding her in a manner that made her question his real motives for being there. He ran his tongue sensuously over his bottom lip, turning it a deep and inviting pink.
Katya did not answer him. She could only exhale her thoughts and stare helplessly into Gabriel's disrobing eyes.
"If I know Nikita, and I'm sure I do very well, she is planning to go to the gathering tonight. No doubt showing up in whatever rags the two of you salvaged from your room."
"We don't have anything," Katya heard herself say.
"So, what are you planning on wearing?" Gabriel took a long, scrutinizing look at Katya's attire before wrinkling his nose in disapproval. "I hope not what you are wearing now. That would be rude."
"I'll find us something," said Katya, not really believing her own words. She knew already she was well beyond her abilities to navigate the market. Without Nikita's translation app, there was no guarantee she would not return to their room with a chicken instead of a party dress.
"Sure you will," said Gabriel, knowing well that Katya did not have the means to bargain. "I'll be generous… Just this once. I'll help you find something fitting for tonight's gala."
Gabriel turned, hooking Katya's arm under his and clasping one hand over her wrist. He strolled down the street, escorting Katya along the sidewalk like a gentleman with his lady. Katya looked around the market and all the middle eastern faces gliding past her. She half expected to catch Nikita's fury-filled eyes glaring over the sea of hijabs. Instead, Gabriel continued to lead her through the throng towards a corner shop selling an array of western-style clothing and other accessories from different parts of the globe. He kept her arm tucked under him as he spoke with the shop owner. The shop owner smiled and then looked at Katya with eager interest. He moved to ask permission to measure her. Again, Katya looked at Gabriel, who finally let her go so that the shop owner could do his work.
"He will only take a moment," Gabriel assured as the owner squeezed a tape measure around Katya's breasts, waists, and hips.
The owner finished his measurements, then receded into the back catalog of his store, talking in rapid Arabic. Gabriel nodded, but did not respond to the owner. Instead, he kept his eyes centered on Katya. Finally, the shop owner emerged from the curtain of scarves, maxi dresses, and chadors, carrying a modest-looking purple and blue dress with long sleeves and a high collar. He presented the dress with a broad smile. Katya looked at Gabriel, hoping he disapproved of the garment. It seemed too hot for the weather and too conformed for the type of persona she was expected to depict.
"How about we try something a bit more customized to our tastes?" Gabriel smiled, drawing a shy look from Katya. Then he turned to the shop owner and spoke to him in Arabic.
The shop owner looked confused at first. He looked down at his selection, then back to Gabriel, who nodded and gave a grin. Next, the old man looked at Katya with a different expression. He gave a half grin as he regarded her, making Katya wonder what Gabriel said to the man to make him look at her in the manner that he did. Finally, the shop owner turned and retreated into the folds of his store. This time, not speaking.
"What did you tell him?" Katya could no longer hold her curiosity.
"The truth," said Gabriel, his gaze leveling meaningfully at Katya.
"What do you mean, the truth? What did you say?"
"I told him you were an escort and my date for this evening. I plan to sell you to the highest bidder, so I want to be sure you look your very best so that I may fetch a tidy profit."
Katya's mouth dropped.
"Please, don't be so shocked." Gabriel rolled his eyes. "You were already going to be sold by Nikita once you got inside the pavilion. I can guess her plan was to prop you up as the perfect sex slave and pimp you out to Al Amin, hoping he'll buy you. That way, you can get close enough to tag him."
Katya breathed out again, this time expelling all that made her nervous around Gabriel. Only her curiosity remained, and sped up her thoughts so that she closed her mouth and listened. Gabriel moved his eyes from her and studied the clothing movement as the shop owner searched through his wares.
"You were to be nothing more than bait in this mission. You know what happens to bait, right?"
Katya breathed heavier, drawing in long swaths of air.
"She was going to dangle you out there on her extra-fine hook with hopes of teasing her catch. No one ever cares about what happens to the bait, so long as they catch the big fish. I'm sure the bait would care, though. I'm sure if it were the bait's preference, it would not want to be used to lure a monster or be sacrificed to it." Gabriel returned to Katya.
"Nikita is here to protect me and to make sure that I get home."
"Did she tell you that?" Gabriel released a slight huff. "Or are you just hoping that she will? But, of course, it's fine to hope. I find it is one of my most endearing qualities. I'm always so very hopeful…."
Katya thought of Gabriel's words. The clothing shifted aside once more, allowing out the shop owner with another garment in his arms. This time, he presented the outfit to Gabriel for his inspection. Gabriel lifted the sheer black dress and studied its construction, testing the threading and seams. Then he spoke again to the shop owner, clipping his words in a way that instantly made him appear very authoritative and demanding. The shop owner attempted to argue for his garments, but Gabriel smoothly shushed him, placing a finger against his lips. The shop owner looked indignant, but quieted almost immediately. Gabriel drew closer, brushing his hand softly against the old man's cheek. He held him in place like a cobra hypnotizing its prey before it struck.
"I'm sure we can come to an agreement, right?" Gabriel said.
The old man nodded and returned to a pleasant smile. He looked at Katya and bowed respectfully.
"Please, it's my honor," said the shop owner in very broken English. "You, very beautiful."
"Thanks," said Katya.
Gabriel handed the dress to Katya and then waited for the old man to retrieve another dress from his cache. He, once more, addressed Gabriel first with the garment before turning to Katya. Gabriel looked at the second dress, repeating his actions with the first, then spoke again to the shop owner. This time, Gabriel's tone was less aggressive and more soothing. The shop owner responded with smiles and a series of head nods, agreeing with whatever was negotiated between the two. Gabriel reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved his billfold. He peeled off a few pounds before turning to leave the shop. He locked his arm with Katya and guided them down the street.
Katya walked a while with Gabriel, studying him. His eyes cut towards her, noticing her staring at him. He returned to the crush of the crowd ahead. He kept her arm secure within the crook of his own arm and pushed through the throng of people shopping the bizarre. Finally, after they cleared the main square, he stopped and released her from his grip. Katya noticed they were at the edge of the bizarre and in a clearing along the avenue.
"Thanks… For this," said Katya, addressing the outfits draped over her forearm.
"No problem. I'm always glad to help," said Gabriel. He turned back towards the Bizarre.
"Gabriel," Katya called.
He turned.
"Why were you in our room last night?" Katya could find no other words to put to the question that continuously rumbled about in the back of her thoughts.
"You know why I was there." Gabriel took a step forward. "To make sure you and Nikita were going to go through with the mission."
"But, you already knew that we were going to do it. We wouldn't have come all this way if we weren't going to."
"Tell me... How well do you know Nikita and Michael? I mean, really know them? I'm sure you've heard their story. The story of Nikita and Michael." Gabriel moved slowly, inching closer towards Katya as he spoke. "The Bonnie and Clyde of Section One. I'm sure you know about the greatest escape story in all the world, or at least would have been had they not been caught. But I don't think that getting caught was a mistake. I think they planned it, just like they planned everything else."
Gabriel kept her paralyzed as he drew closer. She could feel the heat of his energy as he stood a breath away from her. The hairs on her forearms stood and strained towards Gabriel to touch him.
"You shouldn't trust Nikita as much as you do. There has never been anyone who said they were happy to work with her or hold a relationship. Even Michael, her fair, dearest Michael, is forever tortured by her cruel and unfeeling heart. Trust when I say whatever protection she is offering you is only a screen to hide who she is really protecting… Herself. She's never cared about anyone or anything else. Not even Michael."
"That's not true," said Katya. "She loves Michael."
"Loves Michael?" said Gabriel as if it were a foreign suggestion. "She doesn't love Michael. She never did. You don't send the one you love to their death… Twice… And get to say that you love them. You don't allow two manipulative, evil pricks to continuously torture and enslave someone you love. You try your very best to save them no matter the cost. No. Nikita doesn't love Michael. And by the parameters of this mission, I'd say he doesn't love her very much either."
"What do you mean?"
"This mission isn't meant to be survivable. It's a No Contest mission. One of the last. You might have survived if Nikita was not here with you. But since she is… You're as dead as she will be… Unless you leave Nikita to her fate and come with me… Back to Section."
"How?"
"Tonight. When you have identified Al Amin, slip out through the bathroom window. A car will wait for you at the end of the block. You will have a half-hour to make the cleric, tag him, and get out. If you're not there before the time is up, the car will leave without you… And you will be stuck here in Syria… Forever." Gabriel reached inside of his breast pocket and pulled out a small device with a single black button on it.
The device was small enough to fit in her hand. She stared at it, curious what it was and what it was used for.
"Once you have identified Al Amin, press the button. It will send a signal to my phone and to my driver. Once you make it to the car, the driver will take you to an extraction point where you can board a plane and immediately fly back home."
Katya looked at the device in her hand, then back at Gabriel. He was much closer now, his lips hovering precariously over her mouth. His scent flooded her senses and made her slightly dizzy.
"I know you don't want to be here. You don't have to be. You can leave it all right now. All you need do is say the word, and you can be gone... There's no shame in giving up. There's no honor in death. No one will blame you...Save yourself…"
He bent and plucked a kiss from her lips.
"How about I take you somewhere we can talk. I know you're hungry. There's a great place nearby that sells some delicious red grapes…"