Текст книги "Snow Wolf"

Автор книги: Glenn Meade

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Текущая страница: 30 (всего у книги 34 страниц)

Not dead.

Alive.

He had been lied to. Katya had been lied to.

Lukin felt so overcome with emotion he thought his brain would burst a blood vessel.

He had a vague recollection of the man who had been his father; but a stronger memory of his mother. Lukin was a small boy. She was walking with him in a wood. It was summer. She was picking flowers. One of her hands held his, another held his brother's. The woman smiled down at him ... Think.

Remember.

And then he saw his brother's face clearly, as if a curtain had lifted inside his head. The same face as in the photograph.

Stanski.

He knew there was something oddly familiar about the face at the checkpoint in Tallinn.

A fog rolled away, He remembered the day the wolves came and he had run to his father's arms.

"Wolves, Papa!"

"Bah! He's afraid of everything," Mischa laughed.

"Then why did you run too?"

"Because you ran, little brother. And I couldn't stop you."

His father carried them into the warm, happy house and his mother fussed over them. And afterwards, that same night, lying in his bed, the storm came and he heard the wolves again, howling in the woods, and Mischa's voice saying across the darkened room, "Are you afraid?"

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled beyond the bedroom window. Lukin had started to cry then, fearful of the noise and light, and the wild animals out there in the woods baying in the terrible storm.

"Don't be afraid, little brother. Mischa will protect you. Come, sleep beside me."

He had snuggled in beside his brother, still crying, and Mischa's arms went around him and hugged him close.

"Don't cry, Petya. Mischa will always protect you. And if anyone or anything ever tries to hurt you I will kill them. You understand, little brother? And when Mama has her baby, Mischa will protect baby too."

And all through the night Mischa had held him close, warm and safe and comforted.

Mischa "I'm surprised you find time to relax. Enjoy it while it lasts, Lukin."

He started at the voice behind him and turned, not even aware of the tears at the edges of his eyes. Romulka stood there, a mocking grin on his face, a glass of brandy in his hand.

Lukin wiped his face and turned away. "Go to hell."

Romulka smirked. "Now that's no way to speak to a fellow officer. You ought to be more respectful. What's wrong, Lukin?

Worried what might happen to you and your wife when Beria learns you've failed him? I just thought you'd like to know the Frenchman still hasn't talked yet, he's holding out remarkably well." He held up his glass and grinned. "It's thirsty work, and I needed a little refreshment before I really go to work on him. But if a little more torture fails, then I have something in store for Lebel that's certain to loosen his tongue. That can only mean one thing, Lukin. Once I find the American you'll be finished and the woman will be my responsibility."

"I said go to hell."

Only something bothers me. I hear you had the woman transferred to Lefortovo this evening. But you know what's odd? The prison has no record of receiving her. Now why is that?"

When Lukin didn't reply, Romulka leaned in closer and said threateningly, "If you're trying to hide her from me I'll make you shorter by a head. Where's the woman, Lukin? Where is she?"

As Lukin stared up at the man's face he felt a terrible overpowering rage.

"You know what your trouble is, Romulka? You and your type are the scum of the KGB. Goddamned cowards all of you. And like all cowards you get pleasure inflicting pain. You bastard, you haven't an ounce of pity in you. You want to know where the woman is? Here's your answer."

He threw his drink in Romulka's face.

Romulka flung away his glass in a rage and reached over and grabbed Lukin by the collar, twisting him around in the chair. A fist smashed into Lukin's face and he was flung back.

As he crashed onto the floor Romulka was already moving in for the kill. For a big man he moved fast, but not fast enough.

Lukin stumbled to his feet and ducked right as Romulka punched the air. He saw his chance and swung his hand up and the metal hook impaled itself in Romulka's forearm.

Romulka's eyes snapped open and he screamed in agony.

Lukin pulled him in like a baited fish and his knee smashed into the man's groin. Romulka yelled in pain as Lukin pulled out the hook and blood spurted on the carpet.

Romulka fell to the floor, still screaming in agony, and a couple of army captains rushed forward to break up the fight.

Lukin roared, "Leave him!"

The men took one look at the rage on Lukin's face and stopped in their tracks, Romulka stared back up, murder in his eyes, pain twisting his face. "Understand one thing, Lukin-i'm going to find the Wolf. Do you hear me? I'm going to succeed and you'll have failed. And then you're finished, Lukin! Dead!"

Lukin took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the metal hook, "And you understand this-I see you within two paces and so help me I'll kill you."

He noticed the entire room had gone deathly silent. Faces gaped at him and a few stern-faced elderly officers scowled their disapproval. But no one moved, and from the look on their faces they obviously thought he was deranged, Lukin turned to the two officers. "I suggest you call a doctor before the colonel here ruins the carpet."

Then he turned and strode out of the door.

When Lebel came around he started to cry.

The pain in his testicle was unbearable and the sickening feeling of nausea still hadn't left him.

Suddenly a bucket of water was splashed in his face and Romulka's voice roared, "Wake up, Jew! Wake up!"

Lebel spluttered behind the wet gag as Romulka leaned over the table. He looked pale and in a savage mood. Lebel noticed a bloodied bandage on his forearm.

"You're being stupid, Lebel, don't you think? A simple question is all you have to answer. Who is helping your friends in Moscow? You tell me how I find them and I release you, Not only release you but do you a favor. I promise your friends won't be hurt. It's the American I'm after. The American and his bitch friend. No one else concerns me."

Sweat and water ran down Lebel's face and he mumbled behind the gag. Romulka tore it off.

"You have something to say?"

"You bastard ... you're ... making ... a mistake ..

There was a murderous look in Romulka's face. "Have it your way."

Lebel felt the implement being attached to his scrotum again, tightened, and the pain again shot through his spine, only this time more intensely. His screams rang around the walls and tears flooded his eyes.

It was too much ... Too much to bear. His tortured cry rang around the cell.

"NO ... !"

Romulka shouted to one of the men, "Get the scopolamine."

The man came back from the table with a syringe filled with a yellowish liquid and Romulka said to Lebel, "The truth drug. Either way you're going to talk, Lebel, but let's just see how much more pain you can stand, shall we?"

Romulka turned the screw more tightly and the pain increased until it flooded Lebel's body from head to toe.

He screamed again.

Too much.

He couldn't bear it. It felt as if his testicle was about to burst. He tried to tell Romulka he would talk, tell him everything anything to stop the pain, and then he passed out again.

It was 11:30 when they reached the street.

There was no street lighting and Massey had to strain his eyes to see the van parked at the end of the road. The glass was iced but he saw that patches had been scraped away so that the driver could see out. The Ukrainian tapped on the side window.

"Open up, Sergei, it's me."

The driver's door opened and a young man peered out, his icy breath fogging the air. He looked almost frozen to death, despite the fact that he was wearing a heavy coat and hat and a scarf covering the lower half of his face.

"About fucking time, Kapitan."

Massey and the Ukrainian slid into the freezing cab. When he had got over the shock, he said to Massey, "You going to tell me what's happening?"

"Later. What's the situation?"

"They're still in there. They haven't moved so far as I can tell. The dacha's the third on the left."

Massey rubbed a patch in the icy window. He saw the dark outline of houses across the street and counted off the third one, a bank of trees in front. He turned to the driver and explained everything he had told his companion. Massey would go in alone first. If he wasn't out in half an hour or the men heard shooting they were to enter the house back and front and finish the job.

As the driver checked the action of his weapon and screwed on the silencer, Massey said, "I want you to cover the rear."

The young man grinned. "No problem. Anything to get out of Moscow."

Massey looked at the red-haired man. "You stay out front and keep under cover in the front garden. If anyone other than me comes out you both know what to do."

"You're sure you don't need help inside?"

Massey shook his head. "Just understand one thing. The man will be armed and he's dangerous, very dangerous. So be careful."

The red-haired man grinned. "Whatever you say, Americanski. But we were SS, remember? We know how to handle ourselves. Right, Sergei?"

"As the Kapitan says."

"For your sakes I hope you,re right," said Massey.

He looked back toward the dacha. There was no way out for Stanski if he tried to leave. And if Massey himself failed, then the two men would finish the job.

He checked the silenced Tokarev. His hands were shaking and nausea in the pit of his stomach made him want to vomit.

The driver said, "Hey, are you OK, Americanski?"

Massey nodded and took a deep breath.

They synchronized their watches and Massey said, "OK, let's go."

The three of them stepped from the car.

Lukin sat in the operations room leafing through the lists of car registrations. He had been stupid to do what he did to Romulka. the driver recognized Massey he said, "What the devil ... But . his rage had been so overpowering he couldn't help him self. He tried to concentrate on the papers in front of him.

By law and for internal security, all public and private transport vehicles in the Soviet Union were registered with the militia and the KGB 2nd Directorate. Vehicle licenses and ownership were strictly controlled and both were automatically refused to those convicted of serious criminal and political crimes, so Lukin had disregarded the lists of dissidents.

He had gone to the registrations office and showed the officer in charge his letter from Beria, and ten minutes later the man had come back with a ten-page list of Skoda owner registrations for Moscow.

It had taken Lukin another fifteen minutes to find a couple of likely suspects. There were a dozen gray Skodas registered to women owners. Lukin considered that it was also likely the car could be registered in the woman's husband's name if she was married, but two female owners stood out on the lists.

One was named Olga Prinatin. Lukin knew she was a famous ballerina with the Boishoi and her description was nothing like the one Rizov had given him.

Another woman, named Irena Dezov, also had a gray Skoda registered in her name. Her address was in the Ramenki district, southwest of Moscow. He knew the area. It was a place where many senior army officers had weekend dachas. The kind of place Nadia could have been held. As Lukin noted all the other brief details in the file, he felt his pulse quicken. A widow, frena Dezov was aged thirty-eight, and there was a photograph that showed a handsome dark-haired woman. He could check further on her background in the 2nd Directorate records office and see if he could come up with anything that suggested her motive. But some instinct told him he was on the right track. As he scrambled to his feet, the door opened. Pasha came in. His face still looked gaunt and pale.

Lukin said, "Why aren't you at home? I want you to keep out of this. You're in enough trouble as it is."

"I wanted to see if you were OK." He hesitated. "And I need to talk. Something's come up." He saw the notebook in Lukin's hand. "What have you got there?"

When Lukin explained about the woman, Pasha smiled. "Maybe you've struck gold. You think Alex Stanski could be using her place as a safe house?"

"It's all I've got, Pasha."

"There's something you ought to know. I just saw Romulka getting into a Zil out in the courtyard. He seemed in a hurry and there was another Car following behind with some nasty looking heavies, armed to the teeth. I phoned the cellars. Apparently, the Frenchman's in a bad state and the prison doctor had to give him a shot of morphine," Lukin whitened.

Pasha said, "Looks like maybe Romulka was right and Lebel's cracked or been drugged up to the eyeballs with scopolamine to make him talk. What are you going to do?"

Lukin reached for his belt and holster and hurriedly buckled it on. "Follow them and see what direction they're going in. If it's toward Ramenki, as I suspect, I'll try and get to the woman's address before Romulka does. If it's not, I'm in trouble. There's no time to check her background further. Give me those car keys, man, quick!"

"You're going alone?"

"I'm going to take a couple of men along," Lukin lied.

"And what happens if Anna Khorev's there? How do you explain that?"

"That's my problem. But you're out of it, Pasha. That's an order."

"You forget, I'm on sick leave. I don't have to take orders."

"Pasha, for once do as you're told."

"I wouldn't miss this for anything." Pasha hesitated, his face suddenly bleak. "What do we do if we find Stanski?"

"God knows."

"If Romulka gets his hands on him and the woman, they're finished. So are we."

Lukin was suddenly gripped by a terrible feeling of confusion and panic. The whole business was a mess and he didn't know exactly what he was going to do once he reached the woman's address, if she was the right one. He didn't want Pasha to come with him, but he knew it was pointless arguing and he didn't have the time. The man was disobeying him more out of loyalty than any disrespect.

Lukin said, "I've got a better idea. Where's Lebel now?"

"In the prison surgery. The doctor's still patching him up."

"Get Lebel and bring him up to the courtyard. We're taking him with us. I could be wrong about Irena Dezov. Let's see if he can tell us what he told Romulka."

"According to one of the guards he's barely able to walk."

"Then get him some more morphine from the doctor. Do whatever you have to, but just get the Frenchman." He handed Pasha Beria's letter. "And if anyone questions you show them that."

He picked up his car keys from the desk and was already moving toward the door. "Let's get going. Romulka's got a head start."

It took Massey five minutes to thread his way through the Woods to the rear of the dacha, and when he came out of the trees he found himself at the end of a large garden with withered fruit trees covered in snow.

The shutters on the dacha's windows were open, but all the windows were closed, and no light showed behind the curtains. He could make out what looked like an open woodshed off to the left with a car parked in it.

He moved forward, staying in the shadows, and made his way to a small stone-flagged patio at the rear. He tried the back door, turning the handle gently. It was unlocked. He pushed. The door creaked a little, then opened quietly on its hinges.

The room inside was in pitch darkness. Massey stood there for several moments, tensed for a reaction, aware of the sweat on his face as he listened for any sound within the house or for something to happen.

Nothing.

The silence rang like thunder in his ears.

He stepped inside. There was a strong smell of rancid food. From the location of the room and the smell he guessed he was in the kitchen.

He flicked on his flashlight. The room was large and basic; a table and some chairs and some pots and kitchen utensils. He saw a hallway ahead, a door halfway down. A yellow crack of light spilled out from under the door. He moved carefully toward the light, his heart beating in his ribs. When he reached the door, he hesitated and listened again. Silence. He cocked the Tokarev. Click. In the stillness the faint noise sounded like an explosion. Jesus. Again, he waited for a reaction.

Nothing.

He took a deep breath, then pushed in the door and stepped quickly into the room. As he sought a target, he felt the cold tip of a gun against his neck.

He froze, then tried to look around as someone stepped from behind the door.

Stanski's voice said, "I wouldn't, Jake. Now how about you drop the gun. I think we need to talk."

As the BMW drove over Lutznikovski Bridge toward October Square, Lukin wiped the perspiration from his face and checked his watch.

Eleven-thirty.

There was a groan in the back seat from Lebel, The Frenchman was out of it, his eyes closed. Lukin had put handcuffs on him but the man was going nowhere, still drowsy after the drugs. The doctor had given them some extra morphine, but by the look of it Lebel was already drugged up to the eyeballs. According to the doctor, the combination of the scopolamine and morphine acted as a strong painkiller but caused drowsiness, and Lukin wondered if taking the Frenchman along had been a waste of time.

Now Pasha looked out beyond the windshield. "At this rate we'll be lucky to make Ramenki before sunrise."

For some reason the late-night traffic was slow and thick over the bridge. Suddenly it had ground to a halt in both directions.

"Something's wrong up ahead."

at the far end of the bridge. There seemed to be a pileup of traffic, and drivers were climbing out of their cars. Lukin had no siren and Romulka already had a five-minute head start, He hit the brakes and Pasha went to step out of the car but Lukin beat him to it.

"Stay here. I'll find out what's going on."

Lukin ran toward the pileup. Up ahead he saw that a delivery truck had skidded across the bridge and the traffic toward October Square was blocked. Tire tracks slashed across the slushy surface and the scene was chaotic. He swore.

He saw a pedestrian walking past on the footpath, head down against the freezing cold, and he roared at the man, "What the hell's wrong up there?"

The man looked back at the tangle of traffic and shrugged. "A truck's blocking the way. A couple of cars came too fast over the bridge and the truck had to swerve to avoid them."

Lukin saw no sign of Romulka's Zil. The bastards must have caused the pileup and driven on. He raced back to the car. When he climbed in he slammed his fist on the steering wheel in frustration. Pasha said, "What's up?" Lukin told him. Pasha said, "That's all we need. We'll never catch up with Romulka now."

Lukin ran his hand over his face and tried to think. Below the sweep of the bridge lay the entrance to Gorky Park, its expanse stretching along the bank of the frozen Moscow River. Farther on, in the hollow below the bridge, he saw the towering shape of the Warsaw Hotel. There was a narrow road off to the right of the hotel which Lukin knew finally came out onto Lenin Prospect. It was throwing him off course by minutes but it was the only way he could escape the pileup.

He said to Pasha, "Hold on to your hat. This is where it starts to get interesting."

He shifted into gear, pulled out of the line of traffic and bumped onto the footpath, lights on and horn blaring as he headed down toward the park.

Massey sat in a chair, the Tokarev pointed at him.

He looked over at Stanski steadily. "It's over, Alex, whichever way you look at it. Lebel's been taken by the KGB and it can't be long before he talks. And that can only mean one thing-the boys in black are going to pay this place a visit."

"If you think I'm giving up now, Jake, you're crazy."

"I told you, it's over. Why be a damned fool?"

There was a slight smile on Stanski's face but no trace of humor in his voice. "Instinct, if you like. A lifetime of bad habits. Besides, it would be one hell of a waste of an opportunity."

Massey shook his head. "You're throwing away your life and the lives of Anna and Irena."

"Washington didn't send you all this way just to have a talk. You came here to put a bullet in me, didn't you, Jake?"

Massey was silent but Stanski saw the reaction on his face. "Could you do that, Jake? Kill Anna and me?"

If I have to," Massey said flatly.'

"The look in our eyes says different. You don't want to do it, Jake."

"There's a bigger picture at stake. It's not just your lives.

Moscow will want you both alive. And once they have their evidence they'll have enough reason to start a war."

"What you mean is, heads will roll in Washington if this goes wrong."

Stanski stood. "You didn't come here alone, did you?" Massey said quietly, "The dacha is covered, front and back.

There's no way out."

Stanski thought for a moment, then said, "What proof has Moscow got that I'm here to kill Stalin?"

"They've got proof, I told you. And they'll use it once they find you,"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. Besides, I'd never let them take me alive. You think Moscow would tell the world that someone got close enough to kill Stalin? That's where you're wrong. It'd be the biggest loss of face the Kremlin's ever had.

They'd keep their mouths shut and pretend nothing had happened. And if I succeeded some of them might even be grateful." Massey started to stand.

Stanski said, "Stay right where you are."

"Then you mind if I smoke?"

"Go right ahead. But move nice and slowly. And light one for me while you're at it."

As Massey handed him a cigarette, Stanski sat down again, "I never thought it would come to this, Jake. You and me.

Like High Noon."

"It doesn't have to be that way. You give me your word you'll stop this now and I'll take you and the women back with me. It's against my orders but I'm prepared to take that risk.

Like you guessed, I don't want to see any of you wind up dead."

"Considerate of you, Jake. But how do you plan on getting us out now that Lebel's out of the picture?"

"There's a military transport flight to Vienna tomorrow morning. I can arrange papers for all of us."

"And if I don't agree?"

"You won't get out of here alive. You, Anna or lrena."

"You'd really kill Anna too?"

When Massey didn't reply, Stanski said, "How about you just take her and lrena and leave me to finish this?"

Massey shook his head. "No deal, Alex. It's all of you or nothing. So I guess her life's in your hands. What's it to be?"

Stanski smiled faintly. "What a terrible world we live in, Jake. We were friends, and now you're ready to kill me. Anna too. It makes my heart bleed, but there you have it."

He held up two fingers, tips close. "I'm that much away from putting a bullet in the head of the biggest madman the world's ever known and you want me to forget it. You're crazier than me."

"I told you the reasons. Washington can't take the risk."

"And you always do what Washington says?" Massey said impatiently, "Something tells me I'm wasting my time here."

As he reached over to crush out his cigarette suddenly his hand came up to grab the silenced pistol. But Stanski was too quick. He fired once, the pistol spat and the bullet nicked Massey's wrist. Massey fell back in pain, gripping the wound. "You're getting slow, Jake. I could have taken your eye out. Maybe I should just kill you and be done with it."

He took a handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it over. Blood oozed through Massey's fingers and he put the cloth on the wound.

"Alex, you're making a big mistake ... listen to me ... for Anna's sake."

There was a sudden hard edge to Stanski's voice. "What the hell do you care about Anna? Sorry, Massey, I'm past listening. Get up."

As Massey struggled to move, there was noise on the stairs and then Anna appeared in the doorway.

When she saw Massey she opened her mouth to speak but no words came, a look of utter shock on her face.

Stanski turned to her. "I'll explain later. Get some water and look after Massey. Then wake Irena. We're getting out of here."

Five minutes later Lukin had cut onto Lenin Prospect and was headed toward the Ramenki district.

Pasha had tried to rouse Lebel, slapping him hard and shouting in his face, but the Frenchman was still unconscious.

The Mongolian said in frustration, "Damn, it's no good, we've wasted our time bringing him with us."

"Try again!"

He tried again but the Frenchman only groaned in his sleep.

Lukin swore with frustration. "Leave him." The traffic out to the country was thin and the roads covered in hard-packed snow. When they reached the intersection with Lomonossow Prospect and turned right, Lukin saw the taillights of another vehicle a hundred meters in front.

When he narrowed the gap he saw that it was a black Zil and that there was another large car ahead of it.

Pasha said, "I think we're in luck."

The two cars up ahead were moving fast over the snow, but Lukin had snowchains and the BMW had a powerful engine. He put his foot down and pulled out to get a better look. The car in the lead was definitely also a Zil.

Pasha said, "If it's Romulka and you overtake him he'll smell a rat."

"What else can I do?"

Pasha grinned. "Nothing, but I'd like to see the bastard's face when he sees us. Let's do it."

Lukin hit the accelerator. For a split second there was a dragging sensation as the BMW's tires threaded the packed snow, then the chains on the tires gripped and the powerful engine roared as Lukin swung the steering wheel to the left.

He overtook the rear car. There were four burly plain-clothes men inside and they glanced at the BMW as it roared past.

And then suddenly Lukin was alongside the lead Zil.

He glanced right just as Pasha did, and caught a glimpse of the driver, then Romulka sitting in the passenger seat. He gave another burst of power and the BMW shot forward.

The driver and Romulka glanced over, just as Lukin overtook them.

For a moment Romulka's face was illuminated in a wash of street light. There was a look of astonishment when he saw Lukin's car, Pasha rolled down his window and raised his middle finger at Romulka. "Sit on that, you asshole," Romulka reacted at the gesture and then his twisted, angry face was gone from view as the BMW raced ahead.

Moments later, Lukin pulled back into the lane, but kept the speed up. Pasha laughed. Lukin said, "Do you always have to be the diplomat?"

"Fuck him. I'll worry about the consequences afterwards."

"You Mongolians, you're beyond redemption."

It's in the blood. With Genghis Khan for an ancestor, what do you expect?"

Lebel groaned in the back, seemed to come around, then fell silent. Lukin glanced in the rearview mirror.

Already the cars behind were picking up speed, challenging him. He felt the sweat drip from his brow as he said to Pasha, "How much farther?"

"I reckon another four kilometers. Keep up the speed and, with luck, we'li just have time to do our business at the dacha before that bastard's up our ass."

Stanski blew out the oil lamp and the room was plunged into darkness.

He flicked on the flashlight and held the Tokarev in his other hand. He shone the beam into a corner of the room.

Massey was sitting on the floor, his hands tied behind his back. Anna and Irena sat huddled beside him. They had dressed and Irena's face was white with fear. Stanski said to Massey, "How about you let the women go free and I take my chances?"

Massey avoided looking at Anna as he said, "I told you, I can't do that, Alex."

"You're a bastard, Massey. They're out of this already. What harm can it do?"

"I was given orders – .."

Massey saw that Anna was staring at him, hurt on her face. Stanski had told her why Massey had come and he had seen the disbelief in her reaction.

Massey said suddenly, "Anna, I'm sorry. This isn't my doing. If Alex goes ahead with this we're all dead. He has to stop this madness."

There was a look of hopelessness on her face as she turned away. "I don't think it matters now, does it, Jake? Nothing matters."

"Tell him to stop because it's the only way we all walk away from this alive ... You've nowhere left to run to." Before Anna could reply, Stanski said, "Shut up, Massey. Make another sound and it'll be your last."

He flicked off the flashlight and moved to the window. He waited until his eyes became accustomed to the dark, then pulled back the curtain a crack and peered out. The front garden looked eerily quiet in the moonlight. He thought he saw a figure move near the gate, and then it was gone. He let the curtain fall back into place, switched on the torch again and shone the light on Massey.

"How many people have you got outside?"

Massey didn't reply. Stanski cocked the Tokarev and aimed at Massey's head. "You hesitate again and I take your head off. How many?"

"Two men."

"Who are they?"

, "Agents we dropped months back."

"Tell me more."

"They're former Ukrainian SS."

"Nice company you're keeping, Jake. I'm surprised."

"It was either a war crimes trial or work for us." There was an edge of panic in Massey's voice. "For God's sake let me talk to them, Alex ..

Stanski shook his head. "You're sure about the number?

You don't want to reconsider?"

"I told you, two."

"You'd better not be lying to me." He tossed Massey's weapon to Anna. "He moves, you shoot him. If you don't he'll kill you," He handed the flashlight to Irena.

"Switch it off. And keep it off until I get back. Give me the keys to the car."

Irena looked at him wildly. "We'll never get out of this alive. We're all dead ... Oh my God., The woman was trembling with fear and Stanski slapped her face and said firmly, "Shut up and just do as I tell you. That way we may get out of here in one piece. The keys. Then turn off the damned flashlight."

frena fumbled for the keys, handed them to Stanski, then flicked off the flashlight. Suddenly the room was plunged into darkness again.

They heard the door creak faintly and Stanski was gone.

The kitchen was in darkness and freezing cold.

As Stanski stepped inside he saw that the door that led out side was ajar. He crossed the room silently and peered out into the courtyard, the Tokarev at the ready.

The snowed-under garden was pale gray in the watery moon light. He trained his eyes for a long time on the woodshed and the car, trying to discern movement, but saw only shadows and darkness.