"Annie?"
The voice punctuated the darkness, beckoning for her to open her eyes.
Ryan's concerned face swam into focus inches away from hers.
"You alright?" he asked
"Yeah…where are we?" she answered.
She watched as her fiancé's face relaxed. Sitting up, she inspected her surroundings; the dark, concrete room was lit by just one small, dim light; the cold, damp floor was scattered with straw and the thick, metal door looked sturdy…and locked.
Ryan settled back on the ground.
"They hooded us, walked us for over an hour. We are still in the forest, but in some sort of underground facility."
"Denisovich?"
"Most likely. How are you feeling? You were out for quite a while," he asked.
"Nothing I can't handle," Annie replied as she stretched out her sore muscles, "Any plans?"
There was no time for Ryan or Cooke to answer. Footsteps sounded outside the room, followed by metal scraping against metal. A bulky man heaved open the door, another, pointing his gun at Ryan, followed.
"You, American – you come with us," said the man with the gun to Ryan.
A look passed between the three operatives; Ryan didn't move.
"Move! Now!" the Russian ordered again.
Annie knew he was waiting for the guard to become aggressive, they could win a hand to hand fight. But the guard didn't fall for the trick; his hand jerked to the left and there was a deafening bang. Cooke slumped against the wall, a dark stain quickly spreading across his abdomen.
"Alright, alright," yelled Ryan, as he held up his hands in surrender.
The other Russian stepped forward and fastened Ryan's hands behind his back with a cable tie. He shot Annie one last glance, and the he was gone, escorted from the room. The door was closed and she heard the lock slide back into place.
Annie scrambled across the floor to her fallen colleague.
"Cooke!? You still with me?"
The operative's eyes blinked open, but they were un-focused.
"Come on now, stay with me. We'll find some way of getting you out of here. Cooke!"
His breathing was laboured. Annie pressed on the wound, trying desperatly to slow the bleeding, but his skin grew sallow and his pulse was weak and erratic.
It took only a few minutes for him to slip away. Annie held his hand for many more, trying not to think of Ryan and what might be happening to him.
Eventually she lay Cooke down and went to sit in the opposite corner.
Closing her eyes, she pushed away the image of Cooke's corpse, ignored the smell of blood that now saturated the small cell and focused her brain into coming up with a solution to their predicament.
She had several ideas by the time she heard footsteps again. The door scraped open once more, and a guard unceremoniously shoved Ryan into the room.
His face was swelling, and blood trickled from a gash in his lip. Annie rushed to his side and helped him settle on the floor.
"You ok?" she asked. Now it was her turn to be concerned.
"Yeah," he winced, "Cooke?"
"Dead. He didn't suffer for long…I'm sorry," she answered.
Ryan just nodded.
"What did they want?" she asked in a hushed voice.
"Wanted to know who we are, why we are here. I think they are probably listening in," he leaned in closer, "Blake was my interrogator," he said in barely audible whisper.
Ryan sat back, holding Annie's gaze for several moments. He didn't say anything more but it was enough to make the cogs turn.
Blake's cover wasn't blown. Surely he would try to help them and they could all get out of this.
Before long the guards arrived again. This time they barked at Annie to follow. She obeyed immediately this time. Her hands were bound and she was led outside.
She had only a moment to study the long, low corridor before a hood was thrown over her head. She felt a large hand tighten around her arm and the barrel of a gun dig into her side.
"Walk!" she heard in a thick Russian accent.
Left, forward fifty paces, through a door on the right. The air here was different and she could hear a heavy whir, as if a large fan was nearby. Forward 20 paces, across metal grating, right, up a set of stairs.
She heard a whispered conversation and the turning of a key. Their footsteps echoed now. They walked her another few paces and then she felt a hand on her shoulder push her down into a hard chair.
The hood was whipped off, making Annie squint in the bright electric light. Blake stood opposite her with his arms folded and a smirk stretching his thin lips.
"Leave us," he commanded with no attempt at a Russian accent.
The guards hesitated but followed the instruction.
"Blake, we were sent for your extraction. We thought your cover was blown," Annie started as soon as she heard to door click shut.
Blake's smirk transformed into a smile and then he laughed.
"No doubt you are, Annie Walker," he said in a voice that sent shivers down her spine.
"You know me?" she asked, feeling more than a little perturbed at his response.
"Your reputation precedes you, Miss Walker. Here's the thing. I was hoping my last communication would have got Langley's attention. And so far, they have done everything by the book, because here you are," he said coolly.
Annie raised her eyes to his but instead of finding the gaze of colleague she found the cold, hard stare of someone who hated her.
"I don't understand…" she answered.
"Oh, come on now. A talented operative like you could surely put two and two together!" he jibed.
Annie's thoughts were reeling. She quickly scanned back over the events of the last 48 hours, trying desperately to think of anything amiss.
"They've turned you. You communicated with Langley, making them think you were in danger, knowing they would send an extraction team," she answered eventually.
"Well done," he smirked and clapped his hands slowly.
"But why?" she asked.
"Now that's a good question. Well see, I have given my life to the CIA and you know what I have gotten in return? I missed the birth of my first child, I lost my wife because she thought I was cheating, I missed being at my Father's side when he passed away. I lost everything, and all Langley could see was an opportunity. When I no longer had any ties they started to send me on longer assignments, deep cover…that was their biggest mistake. I done exceptionally well on my first but afterwards I couldn't seem to shake this sense of betrayal. I got to know the men I was working against much better than anyone at the agency, got to know their reasons behind their fight, their stories. They considered me a friend, a brother and because of me, they are all dead now. In the end it was simple. When I joined Denisovich, I told him immediately who I was and what I wanted to do…he welcomed me with open arms. Now a year on, we are finally ready," he said as he paced back and forward before Annie.
"Ready for what?" she asked.
"Well now, I can't go telling you all the details. But this I can say; I won't be hiding in the shadows any longer. I wanted you here because I intend to send Langley a message. I want to show them they have a new enemy to be at war with."
"Then you should know that I'm not CIA, not anymore. They contracted us to come get you," Annie said, as she tried to discretely loosen her ties and failed.
"Pity. Perhaps I could re-acquaint you with your old friends at the FSB instead…perhaps not…I think you'll do though. You may not be CIA but I think it will have the same effect."
He signalled for the guards once more and they led her back to the cell. The hood was removed once more and the cable ties cut before they opened the door and pushed her inside.
"He didn't hurt you?" Ryan asked as she sat down beside him.
"No. He has been turned. No need to worry about being listened to, he knows exactly who I am. This whole thing was a setup," Annie said, going on to tell him about what Blake had divulged.
"What do you think he plans to do?" Ryan asked.
"No idea, but I can't imagine it will be much fun for us. We need to think of a way out of here," Annie said decisively.
They sat quietly for more than an hour. Twice they heard movement behind the door but no one guards came in.
Annie had been hatching a plan in the silence. She brushed Ryan's arm to get his attention and finding his eyes tried to give him a meaningful look. After a moment he seemed to understand.
Letting herself sink to the floor, she began to writhe and gasp for air as if she were in pain.
"Help! Please she needs her medicine again. Please, you need to help her," Ryan shouted, banging on the door.
A hatch opened and a Russian guard looked in. The hatch closed again.
They shared a look. It didn't seem like the plan would work. Annie was about to stop her charade when the lock slid once more and two guards entered. One knelt beside her, ready to give her the injection.
Kicking upwards she caught the guard in the chest. He staggered backwards. Ryan had already disarmed the other man.
Within a few seconds both Russian's were down. Taking their weapons, keys and radio they locked them in the cell and cautiously set off down the corridor.
"We are miles away from the nearest town. We need to find our stuff if we have any hope of getting out of here," Ryan said in a whisper.
The approached the first door, and with Annie keeping watch, Ryan peered through the keyhole.
"Looks empty," he said, edging the door open.
It was just a small store room as was the following two rooms. The third sounded occupied. Sticking to their method, Ryan checked, gave a nod and pushed the door open. The men inside were dead before they had a chance to look around.
Annie scanned the room as Ryan kept watch. She had a quick check of the lone computer but there was nothing much of interest but a search of the filing cabinet turned up a map of the facility and by some miracle she found their backpacks locked in the cabinet.
Shoving aside one of the bodies, she spread out the map on the desk.
"The intel Blake was feeding Langley was completely false. This facility is massive, but I think I know where we are and there looks to be an exit nearby," she told Ryan.
Annie took the lead, continuing up the corridor and turning left. They had to duck out of sight twice before they reached the doorway to the staircase.
Several flights later they exited, took out the lone guard and found themselves, once more, in dense forest.
"That was easier than I thought it would be," said Ryan, "We should get moving, it won't be long 'til the notice we are missing. We should put as much distance between us and them as possible."
He quickly checked the GPS compass device and used the satellite phone to give the helicopter pilot instructions for their extraction before heading for the trees at a quick jog. They had barely been out five minutes when shouts went up behind them followed by the sounds of pursuit.
Picking up the pace the raced on through the trees.
"There," Annie heard shouted in Russian.
Gun fire echoed about them and Annie instinctively ducked as bullets splintered bark. But the Russians failed to meet their mark and soon it seemed as if they were falling behind.
They pushed onwards as their pursuers fell further and further behind. Annie felt her muscles beginning to tire but she had reached this point so many times before, it was easy to ignore.
"We're not far from the extraction point," panted Ryan.
Annie could see the trees were beginning to thin and she could hear the blades of a helicopter in the distance. Relief flooded her system at the thought of being safe.
The helicopter was hovering, ready for them to board, just a hundred paces ahead in a clearing when the gunshot rang through the trees.
Annie felt a searing pain shoot up her thigh and she stumbled. She looked behind to find Blake and three other men approaching.
Ryan was already doubling back to help her, his face creased with concern.
"We'll never make it," she called to him, "Go. Go get more help and come back for me."
His expression turned from concern, to disbelief and then to a sorrowful realisation.
The pain in Annie's leg was excruciating but watching Ryan, his face screwed up in his own anguish as he turned towards the helicopter was unbearable.