Chapter 7

Back inside, Hopper took the other half of the handcuffs off. Alexei asked Murray for a notepad and a pen. There was no point in putting it off. He drew diagrams of the machine from memory and wrote a few notes for anything that wasn't self-evident, though it seemed pretty simple to him. He pushed the stack of papers over to Murray. There. They had won. The Americans could build their own key if they wanted, or they could force him to build it. What did it matter? Then he started looking for the remains of the burger and fries. They were lukewarm and squished, but he was hungry, damn it, and didn't they know it was against international law to deny prisoners food?

"But what is it?" Murray asked.

"You can't read Russian?"

"Yes, I can read Russian, but this doesn't make any sense."

Alexei sighed. Joyce passed out the cigarettes as he tried to explain.

"He calls it the key, and this key emits a great energy," Murray translated. "It requires much strength – power. Those houses, like the one you found, they're located near transformers. They're stealing from your town's power grid."

Hopper jumped in, demanding to know if they were going to blow up Hawkins. Alexei half-laughed. Why would anyone care to blow up Hawkins? Were the Americans interested in villages in Siberia? It would have been funny, but for the memory of their terrible failures. For just a moment, the cigarettes smelled like the team's gear burning.

"There were many of these keys before in Russia, but they turned out wrong," Murray continued. "They had to come to where the –"

Murray clearly didn't understand, and now the Americans were arguing again. How did these people get anything done? It had been useful, when he'd been trying to stall for time, but now they were just annoying him. There had to be some other to explain it – he grabbed a straw and the French fry box. Hopper looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. Did American schools not use visual aids? No wonder no one understood anything.

The first attempt was unsuccessful, but then Murray got it. "They're using this energy to break through a barrier. To open a doorway. A doorway between worlds."

Alexei demonstrated the straw glancing off the box. It was good that it was of sturdy construction, or his demonstration would have looked silly.

"But it seems this key was only half the equation," Murray continued. "Location – location was the other half." Alexei gave the burger wrapper to Joyce to hold up. "In Hawkins, this door had been opened once. It was still –" Alexei searched for the right word, then settled on the metaphor his mind had offered when he was raving from radiation sickness. Murray hesitated, too, as if not sure he had the right word. "Healing." Alexei drove the straw through the paper.

"So this door is open now?" Murray relayed from Joyce. He shook his head slightly. If they'd continued their progress with nothing else breaking, it would be several days until a full-sized man could get through.

Joyce ran off. Hopper looked upset too. Alexei wasn't sure why. Yes, it didn't say anything good about their town that a foreign government had managed to operate under their noses, but hadn't they already absorbed that? The door had been opened before, with no apparent ill effects. And yes, the Americans couldn't use this other world to spy on the Soviets anymore, but so what? They still had satellites, spy planes, operatives on the ground. And in an age where both sides could kill everyone alive on the planet, what did this matter? He'd made it work because Stepanov had ordered it, and yes, he'd taken some pride in unraveling one of the world's mysteries, but he'd never believed he was truly keeping his home safe, letting alone destroying anyone else's.

Perhaps they were just tired and tense, he decided. A diversion would do everyone good. "Can we watch Looney Tunes now?" he asked.

"No," Murray said, and he sounded annoyed. All right, he'd tried. He finished his cigarette while the Americans rushed around. He thought he heard glasses and sounds like their throats were burning. Were they celebrating? They didn't seem pleased with what he'd told them. It would have been civil of them to let him have a drink too, though he wasn't going to complain about it.

Hopper came back and sat on the table across from him, so their knees touched. Alexei startled. Hopper only got this close when he was going to hurt him. Why? He'd answered all their questions. Maybe he was going to be punished because they didn't like the answer? So senseless, and yet so predictable.

But no. Hopper had more questions. Could they turn the key off? Of course he could turn it off.

"Could Edison not turn off a lamp? Could Bell not hang up a phone?" It would probably annoy the Americans, comparing himself to their great inventors, but he was annoyed too, and he wanted to remind them that he had value. "But-" He left it hanging, because Hopper must understand.

"But what?" Hopper demanded.

"But I'm compromised." Alexei shrugged. Hopper had known it. He'd counted on it, when he'd pretended to let Alexei leave. He couldn't pretend to have forgotten that.

Hopper grabbed him and pulled him closer. He wasn't threatening this time. He was promising something. Murray translated. Hopper would get him to the key? Alexei laughed harder than he had in a long time. Good one.

Hopper let him go and he fell back. He looked as if he wasn't accustomed to people laughing at him. Alexei knew he should probably stop, but it felt too good.

"What's so funny?" Murray asked.

"I like his courage," Alexei said. "Like a fat Rambo." That had been one of the morale-raising films, though he wasn't sure what message the commissar was sending. "But even thin Rambo couldn't get there." He laid it on a bit thick, with the greatest Russian designers and warriors, but Hopper seemed like someone who wouldn't take a subtle hint. If they tried to fight their way in, they would die, and he needed to understand. "Breaking in is impossible."

Hopper still looked defiant. Well, if the man had a death wish, that was none of his business. He'd told them the truth.