sounded panicky. His legs felt weak, even shuffling at that snail's pace. The scissors gleamed. He pressed the point of them down, touching the girl's throat. It would not take a minute more, perhaps only seconds, before they moved out of shock and drew their guns and killed the girl and took him for interrogation as if nothing had occurred.
The male nurse moved slowly, reluctantly. Three yards separated them now, then only two, but Gant hesitated because the manoeuvre seemed too complicated. He lacked the necessary co-ordination. The man's eyes were quick and alert, the girl had gone soft and unresisting in his arms. Both of them were beginning to think he was already beaten. In the man's face Gant could already detect his anticipation of what might happen to the girl when he made his move, and his lack of concern.
One of the guards was moving his hand very slowly to the breast of his jacket. The doctor, sensing the approaching moment of violence, had made a single step to one side, away from the doors. Two yards, a yard- and-a-half -
His left hand gripped the girl's arm, his arm across her breasts. He spun her away from him, flinging her to the left. Then he kicked the male nurse with his bare right foot, almost losing his balance, striking at the groin. He had already dropped the scissors to the floor. He grabbed the nurse, hoisted him upright, fumbled in the man's coat, withdrew the Makarov. Awkwardly, he juggled the pistol until it pointed towards the group at the doors.
'Back off!' he snapped. 'Out! Move!' He waggled the gun in their direction.
The doctor was flat against the wall. He slid along it and slipped through the doors behind the two guards. Gant turned to the male nurse, who was groaning softly, still clutching his genitals, and prodded him through the doors -
Alarm, hand reaching for it -
Gant moved, bringing the pistol's barrel down on the extended wrist of one of the guards as he reached towards the wall at the side of the door. The man groaned as something cracked. The violence thrilled Gant, made him feel stronger. As the guard slumped against the wall, Gant kicked his legs away and the man sat in a moaning, untidy heap. Gant waggled the gun at the remaining guard and the doctor.
What to do — ?
Guide them — but what about the alarms — ? Guide — alarms…
'Move!' he said. 'Go on — move! Get out of here!' There did not seem to be any other alarms down the corridor. 'Take him — get out.' He indicated the guard sitting against the wall, eyes malevolent, one hand clutching the other like a precious, damaged possession. The second guard bent, helped the injured man to his feet, and then the two of them began to hurry down the corridor, the doctor following them, casting occasional glances over his shoulder.
Gant held the nurse against the wall, arm across the man's throat. The girl had not emerged from the ward, but he knew she would sound the alarm the moment the corridor was clear — he knew, too, that the guards were hurrying to the nearest alarm… the male nurse understood. His eyes anticipated what he might be able to inflict on Gant before the doctors and interrogators ordered him to desist.
Which way — ?
He gripped the nurse's shoulder, pressing his forearm against the man's windpipe. Which way — ? His feet were cold on the linoleum. He was aware of his bare legs.
The alarm sounded above their heads. Someone had triggered every alarm in the building; overlapping, continuous ringing.
'Which way up?' he barked. 'Up to the top of the house? Which way?'
He released his grip on the man. The alarm just above their heads was deafening. The nurse hesitated — then shrugged. It was no more than a postponement of his intentions towards the American. He pointed along the corridor, his body adopting a submissive stance. Gant motioned him forward with the pistol. At first, Gant's legs moved reluctantly, and then he was running, his bare feet slapping on the linoleum, the gun clutched in both hands.
At the end of the corridor, the nurse turned left. The ether-smell and the cream walls they had left behind suddenly clashed with ornamental urns and carpets and upright chairs against the panelled walls. A short gallery overlooking the main hall — the clatter of boots on the tiles below — and then they were climbing a steep wooden staircase that twisted back on itself, then climbed again. Gant glimpsed another corridor, wide and panelled. Heavy, unrestored oil paintings retreated along the walls. Snow-bound hunting scenes, a rich, faded carpet, a frowning, heavy Tsarist face, then more stairs. Bare walls, old plain wallpaper swollen with damp. Colder. His feet resented the uncarpeted, dirty floor of the next corridor.
The nurse halted. The gun prodded his back. He half-turned. Gant struck his shoulder with the pistol. The man groaned.
'Where?'
The alarms were all distant now. He heard no sounds of pursuit. He caught the musty, warm smell of animal cages. The nurse went ahead of him down the corridor. He opened a door. Ether-smell, overhead lamps, an operating table. A surgery or another interrogation room. They passed into a pharmacy, then into a room from which the animal-straw scent emerged strongly. Monkeys chattered as the lights were switched on — Gant realised the man was leaving a trail of turned-on lights for others to follow, but ignored the danger.
Rats in cages, an operating table, loudspeakers, instruments. Monkeys. In one cage, a cat mewed pitifully. An electrode emerged from its shaved, plastered head. Gant shuddered with the cold of the sight. The room itself was warm, the smell overpowering. Straw and urine and food. A bird chirped somewhere.
'Undress!' Gant ordered. The nurse watched him, weighed him. Gant felt himself swaying on his feet, his breath coming heavily, raggedly. 'Undress — clothes on the floor!' Still the man hesitated. 'Do it! I don't give a shit whether you live or die, I just want your clothes!'
The man's resolve snapped and he undressed swiftly. At a movement of the pistol, he kicked the little heap of clothes towards Gant. Gant watched him. The cat mewed again. Gant glanced at it, its protruding electrode touching the wire of the cage. Its food was uneaten. The nurse moved. Gant struck out with the barrel of the Makarov, hardly moving his eyes from the cat's gaze. The nurse held his head and stumbled against a cage of white mice, spilling them onto the floor. They scattered-and clambered over his underclothed body, making for the room's corners. The nurse lay still, blood seeping from his temple down the side of his face. Hurriedly, Gant climbed into the jeans, then the shirt. He leaned against a table as he put on the shoes that were at least a size too large. Then he buttoned the white coat. He brushed dust from the uniform. Still the nurse did not move. A mouse emerged from behind him, sniffed the air and the body, then skittered away beneath one of the tables.
Gant turned swiftly and left the room, switching off the lights. As he closed the door, he heard the monkey chatter die, heard the scamper of mice-paws. He switched off the pharmacy lights, then the lights of the interrogation room-surgery. As he closed the door behind him, at the moment when he wanted only to pause and recover his breath, someone turned into the corridor. Booted feet. He looked round wildly.
A uniformed KGB man strode towards him. The Kalashnikov in his hands hesitated to draw a bead on a white hospital coat.
'Anything up here?' he asked.
Gant shook his head. 'Only the mice,' he managed to say.
The guard laughed. 'The bloody American's loose,' he said. 'You know?' Gant nodded. The guard was already reaching into his breast pocket. The packet of cigarettes emerged before Gant could react. 'Smoke?' Gant shook his head. He was sufficiently aware to keep his bruised temple out of the guard's direct line of sight. The man struck a match, the cigarette's acrid smoke was pungent in the bare corridor. The man smoked secretively, as if at every moment he expected the appearance of one of his officers. Seconds extended to a half-minute, three-quarters…
'I'd better get back down,' Gant explained.
'Plenty down there rushing around — say you heard a noise up here… thorough search.' He grinned, his stony face opening as if a rock had cracked apart. 'They like that, officers — ' He spat, without malice, more out of habit.
'I'd better go — ' Gant said.
The guard shrugged. 'I'll take a couple of minutes more,' he said.
Gant hesitated. If he left the man here — ? The cigarette had not burned halfway to its cardboard tube. Two, three minutes — ? The nurse…
