BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (86)
  1. Foreword
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. Afterword

“Very good,” the man said. “He never laid a finger on you. Good for him. And good for you, my dear. What would people say about you around the office if he had?”

57

“Get into the apartment,” Lance said in Russian.

He was holding one woman in front of him, his CZ 75 pistol pressed against her temple. The other was frozen in terror.

“Go on, get inside,” he said again.

The door was unlocked.

The woman he was holding was beginning to panic. She couldn’t breathe. Her friend was about to scream and Lance said, “Don’t make a sound or she dies.”

The friend stepped into the apartment, and Lance, still holding the other woman, entered behind her and kicked the door shut.

“Are you armed?” he said to the friend.

She didn’t respond. Her eyes were glued to the two dead soldiers on the ground in the middle of the room, blood pooled around their heads like crimson halos seeping into the white carpet.

The cat mewled desperately from the bedroom. Lance had locked her inside to keep her away from the bodies.

“Sit on the sofa,” he said to the friend.

She sat and he pushed the other woman onto the sofa next to her. The two women stared at him, numb with terror. They were already exhausted, he could see that much. They were close to their limit. He knew who they were, knew they were doctors, and knew what they would have been through in the past few days. He doubted either of them had slept properly since the beginning of the outbreak.

He pointed the gun at them and told them to put their hands on their heads. Then he patted them down and checked they weren’t armed.

He stood back and looked at them.

The woman Roth had showed him pictures of, Sofia, looked like she was about to burst into tears.

He went to the bedroom and let the cat out.

“I fed her,” he said.

The cat immediately jumped into Sofia’s lap and she started to cry.

Lance put the gun in his belt.

“I know who you are,” he said. “You’re Dr. Sofia Ivanovna, director of the Permafrost Pathogen Institute.”

She looked at him but said nothing.

“And you’re Dr. Olga Abramova from the Infectious Disease Center.”

Olga looked at Sofia.

“She’s got nothing to do with this,” Sofia said, wiping her face. “She’s just my friend, a doctor, from the hospital.”

“Well, I can’t just let her walk out of here, can I?”

Olga reached out and took Sofia’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Sofia.”

Lance went to the door and made sure it was locked.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said. “We’ve got to move.”

“You’re American,” Sofia said.

“What gave it away?”

She shrugged. “You need to work on your accent.”

“All right,” Lance said.