Baba Yaga motioned with her head to one of the Russian guards, who reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a wallet. The man silently handed Black a hundred-dollar bill. He stared at it for several seconds, then spun and left the room. Barbara cocked her head toward the old woman on the bed.

“He’s a pup, too—but a lucky one.”

“Tell me about this Hellraiser,” Barbara said, trying to bring the conversation back to something that might help Klaus, might give Barbara and the Committee something solid on which to hope and plan. The woman lifted her head a bit on the pillow.

“His name’s not Hellraiser. It’s Tolenka. He was my partner in the KGB: a good one. And Tolenka isn’t the one causing your ‘disturbance.’” She coughed as she stressed the word. “It’s the thing that is inside him doing that.”

“The thing inside him?” Barbara asked.

“We went on a mission many years ago to … well, you don’t need to know that. All you need to know is that it didn’t go well. Tolenka went to use his power, and realized that he’d taken in something he couldn’t control, something that had taken a foothold in his body and couldn’t be banished—and that’s why Talas has become what it is.”

“What are you talking about? What took him?”

“Wait,” Baba Yaga told her. “Be patient a little longer. When Black gets back, I will play the tape, and you will hear Tolenka. I would offer to translate, but…” She gave Barbara a mirthless smile. “You will understand the words, at least.”

Miles later, the Angel came upon the vehicles they’d arrived in that morning, but hovering above the scene, could see no one to greet her.

She was exhausted, hungry, and hurting. Her shoulder throbbed from the injuries she’d sustained in the battle with the bat-beast. She thought the bleeding had stopped some time ago, but her side was still wet and tacky from the blood she’d lost. She could feel the semidried blood pulling off her flesh when she turned certain ways and she wasn’t looking forward to removing the gore-soaked leather away from the wound.

She hovered for a moment, peering down at the vehicles. The foul-smelling, sticky green fog that had obscured her vision and made her nauseous and thickheaded as she moved through it had thinned and finally vanished as she’d moved down the road toward the airport they’d arrived in. But as far as she could see there was no activity on the ground below her.

She wondered if any of the Committee aces had made their way out of Talas. The Angel wondered if perhaps the army units had retreated as, as it seemed, the fog had advanced.

Suddenly, someone emerged from the front seat of one of the parked vehicles, holding a rifle and looking up at the sky. The figure waved vigorously and she finally recognized him in the leprous moonlight, more from the hat he wore than anything else. It was the Australian ace, Tinker. He gestured for her to land and she did so gratefully. She dropped tiredly to the ground, landing near the girl. Her wings vanished.