Tatyana distantly felt the needle as it penetrated deep into her vein, as if her body had become a strange inanimate object uselessly attached at the neck. A moment later she watched as the American quickly shoved three large vials of blood into the backpack next to him.
“All done.”
She stared unblinking back at him, consumed by a mixture of terror and rage. She tried to command her hands to reach out and grab the man by the throat and kill him, but she couldn’t summon so much as a twitch. Even her eyelids, succumbing to the effects of the paralyzing drug, were unable to close, and a steady stream of tears began rolling down her temples into her dark brown hair.
His smiling face hovered over her. “Okay, Dr Aleksandrov, it’s about that time. I want you to know that, having now personally suffered through a few weeks in Kaliningrad, I can say with absolute certainty that you are, as they say, going to a better place.”
Tatyana steeled herself as the American lightly touched her shoulder. I’m going to die now she thought as she watched him reach into his backpack. He pulled out a small phone and punched a single button. “Be ready in five,” he said curtly before tossing the phone back into the bag. He then pulled out a long coil of nylon rope and began tying some form of knot, pausing when he caught Tatyana staring at him.
“I’m sorry Tatyana, just one more little prick,” he said, pulling a small syringe from his pocket. Tatyana didn’t feel the needle this time as she watched his finger push the contents of the syringe into her neck. A soothing warmth began to cascade through her body, replacing the fear and rage in her chest with a calming sense of peace. She watched as he went back to forming a knot with the cord, his fingers deftly moving at what seemed an impossible speed. He then stopped and looked at her again.
“By the way, your plan to escape to the archive room was a very good one. Unfortunately, I know the combination as well.” The American then reached out and gently closed Tatyana’s eyelids. She distantly felt the tightening of a rope around her ankles and exhaled with a long, submissive sigh.
The sound of her heartbeat faded as the warmth overtook her.
She was ready for the darkness.
25.
“Christ, you’re starting to become a regular around here.”
Tom Coleman smiled at Chip as he sat down next to the older man at his usual spot at the bar. “Funny, I was beginning to think the same thing,” he replied as the two men exchanged a quick handshake. “How’s it going Chip?” Tom asked as he glanced around for the bartender.
“Can’t say it’s going too badly,” Chip replied cheerfully. “At least it’s getting quiet around here again.”
Tom nodded and glanced around the room. The attention generated by the article in the college paper seemed to have receded in the last few days, leaving the usual mix of dejected students and alcoholic professors scattered around the room.
“This must be the third time I’ve seen you in here this week,” Chip said, giving Tom a quizzical look. “Any particular reason why?”
“Well, it is the holiday season,” Tom replied cynically. “As far as I see it, drinking’s as much a part of the holidays as turkey and dressing.”
“Well said,” Chip raised his glass of beer and toasted the room.
“Jeri working tonight?” Tom asked nonchalantly.
“Yeah, she’s around here somewhere.”
Tom pulled out a sanitary wipe and quickly wiped down the counter before taking off his gloves and carefully placing them in front of him. As with past nights, he used them as armrests to avoid direct contact with the bar top. He then reached into his jacket pocket and quickly checked that his notepad and pen were in their usual spot. Satisfied that everything was in order, he removed his coat and laid it across his lap.
“If you’re planning on being a regular, you need to start acting like one,” Chip muttered as he pointed with his thumb. “There’s a hook under the bar for your coat.”
“It’s fine on my lap,” Tom replied.
Chip stared at Tom for a moment, then grunted loudly. “Suit yourself.”
Tom gave him a friendly nudge with his elbow. “So what’s new, old man?” he asked sarcastically.
“Nothing worth telling,” Chip shrugged. “The world and the beer
are still ice cold.”
“Gotcha. And is that a good thing?”
Chip gave Tom a sidelong glance. “Depends on how you like your beer.”
“Well, I suppose that’s my cue,” a female voice replied. Both men looked up to find Jeri leaning against the opposite side of the counter, staring at them with her arms folded. Tom immediately sat up straight.