INFERNO
ENTRY 73
I surrendered the driver’s seat. I didn’t want to argue with Prit about his ability to “drive any heap on four wheels.” Truth is, the Ukrainian is a damn good driver, but he puts the fear of God in me.
Traveling from the port to the VNT office had taken nearly a week. We made it back to the port in just thirty-five minutes, ten minutes of which we spent trying to back out of a cafe window where we’d gotten stuck. A hair’s breadth from killing ourselves, the way I saw it. According to the fucking Ukrainian, just a small mental fuckup.
The fact is, we were just a few yards from the entrance to the port, almost back where we started. The tall buildings at the port hid the
With a screech that set my teeth on edge, Pritchenko shifted gears and set off for the entrance to the port.
There’s an old military saying that a plan only works perfectly when you try it out on the enemy. We’d find out very soon that our plan was no exception.
The entire port gave off the pungent stench of rotting flesh. In the light of day, you could see that the entire Safe Haven was one big graveyard. Everywhere we looked were mountains of half-burned, rotting corpses.
The chuffing of the van drove away hundreds of gulls and fat rats with glossy coats. I shuddered when I thought about their diet. From time to time, a few staggering figures came out from between the wrecked warehouses and headed for our vehicle, but they were too far behind us. We were moving too fast for them to be a threat.
The Darwinian principle of survival of the fittest seemed to be working. Gradually only the toughest, fastest, or biggest sons of bitches were left. Or the luckiest, Prit said acidly. I was more and more convinced we’d get out of this alive. The mere fact that we were moving at top speed through an area full of those creatures would’ve paralyzed me with fear a few months ago. Now it just seemed like an everyday occurrence.
I told Prit what worried me most was not that there were so few survivors, but that there were so few
Prit parked the van alongside a wrecked Beetle, leaving no way to get through, not even on foot. That makeshift barrier wouldn’t hold them for long, but it would give us time to carry out our plan. Let the dance begin.
ENTRY 74
As the Zodiac approached the
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The salty air, the familiar scent of algae and burning fuel, took me back to better times. I opened my eyes, with the childish hope it had all been a nightmare. Instead I saw the ladder hanging over the side.
Gripping the briefcase, I started up the ladder to the
Ushakov pushed through a group of sailors and planted himself in front of me, his hands on his hips. There was a deathly silence on the deck.
On one side was Ushakov, surrounded by half a dozen burly sailors aiming Kalashnikovs at my chest. On the other side, there I was, dirty, unshaven, covered in cuts and bruises, wearing VNT overalls two sizes too big, bone tired, clutching a shiny black steel Samsonite briefcase. A real duel of Titans.
“Well, well, Mr. Lawyer!” Ushakov boomed. “You look awful! Where’s the rest of group?
“They’re not here,” I answered laconically.
“Kritzinev?”
“Dead.”
“My crew?”
“Dead.”
“Pritchenko?”
“He’s dead, too.” My voice cracked. “I’m the only one left, Comrade Captain.”
Ushakov’s face turned gray. I guess he hadn’t expected me to return. His greedy gaze was fixed on the case.
“Is that it?” he asked in a trembling voice. “Is that the briefcase?”
“That’s it, Ushakov,” I said quietly. “Check the label.”
I carefully placed the briefcase on the ground, the label clearly visible, and took a couple of steps back. Ushakov stared at the label and muttered something in Russian as he grabbed the Samsonite with both hands.
“I’ve fulfilled my part of the deal, Ushakov. Now it’s your turn. Give me my cat and let me go.”
Ushakov was mesmerized by the case. For a moment, I thought he hadn’t heard me. I was about to repeat myself when Ushakov snapped out of his trance. Glancing briefly at me, he turned to one of the sailors armed with an AK-47.
“Kill him,” he said matter-of-factly.
The Filipino cocked the rifle and aimed it at my chest. I had a split second to get out of that mess. It was now or never.
“I wouldn’t do that, Captain,” I said in a trembling voice. When I’d planned that, it seemed much easier. That was because I hadn’t had the barrel of a gun pointed at my chest.
“No? Why not, Mr. Lawyer?” Ushakov said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I have what I wanted, thanks to you. And I’ve decided I don’t want a lot of people to know about it. I don’t know if I can trust you to keep your mouth shut, so I’ll shut it for you. So…bye-bye!” He smiled.
“Can you be sure you have the right case, Ushakov? Don’t be in such a hurry.”
Ushakov’s face froze in a grimace as he looked from the case to me and vice versa. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying, Ushakov. Take a look.”
I walked over to the side of the
Ushakov’s face was quite a sight. The crew looked confused. Nobody knew what was happening.
“That briefcase you’re holding is full of old newspapers, Ushakov. You don’t have shit, you fucking maniac.”
“But…” he stammered. “How?”
