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shone through the cornices. The streets were deserted, and there were no
lights. All the windows were shuttered. Garbage littered the gutters and alley
mouths, its odors strange but still foul. Small, darting creatures foraged in
the rubbish.
After a bend in the road, they saw a pale blue light glowing over the arched
entrance to a low, stone-walled building. A sign suspended from cast-iron
moorings was imprinted with a single word in Cyrillic Militsiya. Brigid
translated it for Kane and Grant. "Police."
Petaya made for the steps leading up to an iron-bound wooden door, waving at
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them to disembark. Grant reined in the horse at the curb. "I'll stay here," he
said lowly.
"Good," Kane whispered. "I'll leave my trans-comm channel open so you can
listen in on whatever there is to hear."
"Don't talk to anyone," Brigid instructed him. "Pretend you're a mute, if you
have to."
As Brigid and Kane walked toward the entrance, she spoke low, barely moving
her lips. "Let me do all the talking, no matter what happens."
"Of course."
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"I mean it, Kane. You'll have to follow my lead if things turn nasty. Act
taciturn." She smiled, adding, "That shouldn't be too much of a stretch."
The interior of the police station was as barren as the exterior. It consisted
of a cramped, stuffy common room that held a pair of battered metal desks and
several chairs. Bulky, old-fashioned black telephone units were on the
desktops.
Sheets of coarse pulp paper were everywhere, tacked to the walls, scattered on
the desks, wadded up on the scuffed, unvarnished floor.
An old cast-iron stove glowed red in a corner. Atop it was a coffeepot, and
the heady aroma set up a longing in Kane's taste buds. Beside the stove was a
door, standing slightly ajar. Beyond it barred cell doors could be seen. The
snores of sleeping men floated out.
Captain Ivornich stood up from behind a small desk when they entered. Not even
the dull maroon uniform blouse, high boots, jodhpurs and wide black gun belt
that girded her slim waist could conceal the svelte figure swelling beneath.
Kane's breath caught momentarily in his throat. Despite her lack of cosmetics,
she was very lovely. The woman's black hair, pulled back severely from a
remarkably high forehead, fell down her back as straight as a frozen flow of
India ink. Her oval face was of marble whiteness, and her deep violet eyes
were slightly tip-tilted, hinting at Asian ancestry.
She was a bit shorter than Baptiste, but very slender and muscularly athletic
in build. She was perhaps as much as five years older, but her complexion was
smooth and unlined. Her eyes, rich with suspicion, flicked back and forth
between Kane and Brigid, finally settling on him. Kane immediately sensed an
electric tension spring up between the two women.
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Petaya spoke quickly and respectfully to Captain Ivornich. She listened to him
impassively, then declared, "I have heard nothing of a special investigative
unit dispatched from Central. Let me see your credentials." Her voice was
husky, her tone accustomed to giving commands and having them obeyed.
Coldly Brigid said, "We are part of a covert-operations team. We were not
issued credentials, as a standard security measure. You should know that."
Ivornich's black eyebrows shifted. Gazing at Kane, she asked, "What is your
name and rank?"
"Irrelevant," interjected Brigid, a note of arrogance in her voice. "We need
not establish our identities to you. It is enough for you to know that both of
us hold ranks higher than your own."
"Indeed. Then why did you stop here?"
"A simple courtesy, to apprise you that Peredelinko should no longer be of
concern to you. All the Skotpsis are gone."
"To where?"
"Does it matter, Captain? They are out of your jurisdiction. That should make
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you happy."
Ivornich nodded. "It does, if true. With only myself, Petaya and one other
officer, our resources were strained trying to keep tabs on them. Thus, I am
very happy to hear your report. So will your superior, no doubt. To whose
authority
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Brigid's mind raced, though her slightly scornful, slightly superior
expression remained intact. Ivornich's question was very reasonable under the
circumstances, and trying to evade it would arouse her suspicions further.
"Sverdlovosk."
The black-haired woman's face registered a surprise very close to outright
astonishment. Her eyes widened, and her smooth brow furrowed. "Piotr? I mean,
the colonel?"
Brigid only nodded. A bit of the tension ebbed, but it didn't vanish
completely.
Irritated, Ivornich demanded, "Why didn't he tell me? I've been after him for
months to send agents from Central down here to clean out Peredelinko. Why
would he not let me know in advance so we could coordinate our movements?"
Brigid shrugged, as if the matter was of little importance. "As you know, his
duties require his absence from Central for long periods. He approved the
investigation before his latest trip."
Ivornich frowned. "You know about that?"
"About what?"
"The project."
"Of course."
Ivornich's frown became a tight smile. "Of course." She touched the telephone
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Axler, James - Outlanders 02 - Destiny Run unit on her desk. "And, of course,
Colonel Sverdlovosk has yet to return from his latest trip, therefore I cannot
contact him to verify your story."
Brigid stiffened. "You call me a liar?"
"Not at all. But if you are who you say you are, then you understand the
security protocols and proper channels. Moscow Central agents traveling the
countryside without identification is not particularly unusual, I grant you.
Not riding in an official network vehicle can be easily explained. But you and
your silent comrade pique my curiosity. You speak with an accent I cannot
place, and that piques it even more. You claim your rank exceeds mine, yet you
are considerably younger than myself, and I know I rose very quickly in the
hierarchy of the network, despite my posting here."
Ivornich's voice was very calm, very matter-of-fact. Though Kane didn't
understand a word she said, his pointman's seventh sense a subtle prescience
of impending danger caused his hand to instinctively ready itself to receive
the
Sin Eater.
The phone jingled discordantly. Ivornich deftly spun the receiver to her ear,
spoke a word, then listened intently. She dropped the receiver back into its
cradle with a clatter.
Showing her white teeth in a half grin, she said, "However, my curiosity must [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]