Джеймс Фрей – The Moscow Meeting (страница 2)
I hold the knife up so he can see it. With my eyes, I try to tell him to trust me. I say, “I’ll do you the favor of reuniting you with your brother.” He looks at me, and his brow furrows for a moment. Then he gives the slightest of nods, and I know that he understands what has to happen.
I stab him in the stomach. He bends as if the knife has really gone in, but really I’ve only grazed him. Just enough to make the blood flow. I get some on my fingers and wipe it on the blade. Then I pretend to pull the knife out and I shove Boone toward the shaft. He spins, holding his hands to his stomach, so that his back is to me and Cassandra, and staggers the short distance to the opening. He plunges headfirst into it. There’s a soft splash as he hits the water, then nothing.
It all happens very quickly, and I’m not sure it’s convincing enough. I turn back to my sister, wipe the blade on my pants, and return the knife to my boot. The whole time, I expect Cassandra to express her doubts that Boone is really dead. However, all she does is lower her gun and say, “Who was he?”
“An American,” I answer. “A soldier. Not a very good one.”
“He couldn’t have been completely incompetent,” Cassandra says. “He wounded a Player.”
“A lucky strike,” I say as I retrieve the box. “And now he’s dead, or soon will be.”
“What did you mean about his brother?”
So she did hear. “His brother was also a soldier,” I lie, although this is not entirely untrue. Jackson Boone was a Player, like his brother. “He was killed in the war.”
“It sounds like an interesting story,” Cassandra says. “You can tell it to me on the trip.”
She’s walking up the stairs. I follow her. I hate leaving Boone behind, but I really have no choice. I have to keep pretending that he means nothing to me. Not knowing whether he’s alive or dead is horrible, but for now I have to bury all my emotions as deeply as possible. Not only is Cassandra trained as a Player, but she’s my twin. We have a bond that is beyond the normal sibling relationship. Each of us knows what the other is feeling and thinking without having to ask. Sometimes, this is a gift. Other times, like when we had to fight each other in training, it could go either way. Now it puts me at a disadvantage. If I lie to her and she detects any trace of nervousness, she’ll know. Ironically, after everything I’ve been through in the past 48 hours, the most difficult thing is going to be pretending things are normal between me and my own sister.
Cassandra makes her way through the New Museum as if she’s been here a hundred times. I’m not surprised. She has a photographic memory, and I’m sure she’s memorized every map she could find of the building. I still don’t know, however, how she knew to come here in the first place, or why. What I do know is that she’s dying for me to ask her, so I don’t. We’ve only been in each other’s company for 20 minutes, and already we’ve slipped into our familiar patterns.
“It’s too bad about Europa,” Cassandra says as we exit the museum. “Also about Theron, Cilla, and Misha.” She looks at me, and I know she’s trying to read my expression. “Four Minoans dead. I hope what’s in this box is worth it.”
That she is placing the blame for the deaths of our linesmen on me is obvious, and it makes me furious. She has no idea what I’ve been dealing with since arriving in Berlin, how difficult the past six months have been working inside the MGB. She’s brave, yes, and capable. But while I’ve been here, risking my life every day for our line, she’s been at home in Crete.
“Every war has its casualties,” I say, keeping my voice even.
“And Sauer?” Cassandra asks.
“Dead,” I tell her. “Suicide.”
“Anyone else?”
Again I think about Boone’s brother, whose body is still in the trunk of a car parked nearby. I think too of Lottie and Bernard, Jackson’s wife and son, who are waiting in a borrowed apartment for us to return. If Boone can’t get out of the museum alive, what will become of them? They aren’t my problem now that I have the box containing the weapon, but I find myself worrying about them anyway. I know Boone has given them instructions on what to do in the event we don’t come back, and I hope they’ll be safe.
“No,” I say. “Not from our side, anyway.”
“How many sides are there?” Cassandra asks.
“I’m not certain,” I say, and this is the truth. “Things became complicated.”
“Which is why I’m here,” my sister says. “To uncomplicate them.”
There they are, the words she’s been wanting to say to me all along. I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist forever. This is what she’s been waiting for, the chance to tell me how I’ve failed.
“When we couldn’t reach Theron, Cilla, or Europa, we knew that something had gone wrong,” Cassandra continues. “And then we had word that Misha had been killed.”
So there was someone else inside the MGB spying for them. For us. I’m not surprised. In fact, I assumed there was. I do wonder who it is, though. I don’t ask. I’m not ready to give Cassandra even the smallest bit of satisfaction.
“The council decided it would be best for me to come see if you were in trouble,” she says.
“Of course,” I say. “And since you look like me, it would make it easy for you to assume my role as Player without arousing the suspicions of anyone else who might be involved.”
“The look on the American’s face when he thought he was seeing double was worth the trip,” Cassandra says. “It was almost as if I’d broken his heart.”
Her words are not lost on me. Again, though, I ignore them. We’ve reached the street. Cassandra stops at a car, takes some keys from her pocket, and unlocks the door. She gets inside, and I walk around to the other side. When she pushes the door open, I get in. “Are we driving back to Heraklion?” I ask as she starts the engine.
“Train,” she says as she pulls away from the curb. “It will take a little more than two days, so we’ll have lots of time to catch up. I have a bag for you, so we can go directly to Berlin Friedrichstraße. Unless there’s something else you need to do.”
She looks over at me. I look back at her. “No,” I say. I pat the box I’m holding in my lap. “Sauer is dead. We have the weapon. That’s what I came for.”
Cassandra grins. “Good,” she says. “This will be fun. Just the two of us, with nothing to do but talk. It will be like when we were children.”
As I sink through the water inside the air shaft, all I can think about is how cold I am, how my muscles won’t do what I tell them to, how hopeless I feel. Without any light, I’m in total blackness. I can’t turn around in the cramped space, so I have to keep going down, back into the flooded chamber where Sauer’s body is. Then I have two choices: I can either come back up the shaft, or I can go back into the elevator and climb up the cable again. Neither one seems possible. I barely made it up the elevator cable the last time. Now my body is even more worn out and damaged.
To make things worse, the only thing waiting for me if I do manage to get out is a whole bunch of problems. My brother is dead. The weapon I worked so hard to find is gone. The thought of going home and telling my council that I failed my assignment, and that the Minoans now have the weapon, is horrible. Even worse is the idea of telling my mother that Jackson didn’t actually die in the war, but that now he’s dead, and it’s because I couldn’t save him.
Then there’s Ariadne. I don’t want to believe that she betrayed me, that she played me like a fool in order to get her hands on the weapon. And part of me doesn’t believe that she did. She could easily have killed me, or let her sister kill me, but she didn’t. Why? I’m no longer any use to her. She doesn’t need me. Any good Player would have used the opportunity to take me out. And Ariadne is an excellent Player. So why am I still alive? Why did she give me a chance?
Maybe, I think, she doesn’t believe I can make it out. Maybe she’s hoping the freezing water and the darkness will do what she couldn’t bring herself to do.
And she might be right. I can feel myself growing more and more exhausted. It would be easy to just close my eyes and wait for the air in my lungs to run out. I can practically hear the cold whispering in my ear, telling me to give up. It would be so easy.
I feel myself pass through the bottom of the shaft and into the chamber where, somewhere, Sauer’s body still floats. I can’t see anything, can’t even really orient myself to know which way to go. The explosion caused by the grenade Ariadne dropped down the shaft has filled the room with pieces of debris, which further confuses me, as things keep bumping against my body. And I’m running out of time.
I feel my thoughts slowing down. Instead of thinking clearly and quickly, making decisions, I’m lost in a fog, following one idea for a short time and then stopping. The darkness is closing in. All I want is to go to sleep and wake up somewhere else.
Then the voice of Fawn Flowers, my harshest trainer, cuts through the darkness. “The human body has limits,” she says, and I instantly picture her standing over me as I lie in the mud. It’s sleeting, I’m soaked through, and I’m completely worn out after running for what seems like a thousand miles through a snowstorm. My feet are covered in blisters that tear and burn with every step, my hair is frozen into icicles that sting my eyes, and now she tells me I have to turn around and run all the way back the way I came.