The Life We Lead: Ascending (5 page)

James got it. The station, the organization,
the control, wasn’t as much about the money as it was about keeping
that area clear of drugs and teaching the kids life lessons they
would need if the revolution being sought were to happen. They were
trying to do good using the tools and methods they had available to
them.

“Why did your friend at the subway assume I
was looking for drugs?” James asked.

“He said you make move to make friends with
children. That you are strong and healthy but know how to fight.
You watch before doing. This is what smart drug dealers are
like.”

“I see,” said James.

“How do you know Roman? He does not normally
talk to outsiders,” asked Nikolias, whose attitude seemed to be
changing as his tone became more even.

“He hosted a dinner for us tonight because
Petior is his friend. We got to meet him at the end of the dinner.
I am sure the children you had watching us told you where we had
dinner?”

James knew they were winning Nikolias over.
He added, “Perhaps we can go talk to Roman and you can see for
yourself that we met him and he will tell you about Petior.”

“No, no that is not need. I take you to
Petior. We must hurry,” said Nikolias.

A minute later, they were walking up the
street. They went about a block before Nikolias stopped. The three
men got in a car and drove for about fifteen minutes before
reaching their destination.

The housing complex was made up of five
twelve-story buildings that formed a “U” shape with a thin forest
behind it. They were older brick buildings in need of repair, and
the sidewalks leading to them were heavily damaged and missing
large sections. Several bricks were missing from the buildings, but
some of the missing bricks seemed deliberate, as if space had been
made for surveillance cameras, though none could be seen.

The courtyard area had a fountain in the
middle that seemed remarkably well maintained, given the state of
the buildings, with concrete benches that created a rectangle
around it. This area clearly was a source of inspiration and pride
for the inhabitants. A plaque on the fountain said “Hope
Eternal.”

They entered the second building on the left.
This was a surprise to James and Daen, who would have expected the
middle building to be the natural headquarters from a strategic
point of view.

Upon entering the building, the first thing
to hit them was the odor. The place smelled like a mix of burnt
cabbage and old gym clothes. They climbed five flights of stairs,
entered the main hallway, and went to the second door on the right.
Here, they found two more doors. Nikolias secured the door behind
them and revealed a hidden keypad next to the door immediately in
front of them. He entered a code, and the door to the left
opened.

“If you enter wrong code, this door opens,”
he said in English. “Four seconds after you close it, a toxic gas
is released. That is why it is a sealed door. You can open this
door,” he indicated the one on the left, “without a code, but then
you can’t find the hidden stairs.”

Entering, they found a studio apartment. The
old couple that lived there looked up, recognized Nikolias, and
went back to what they were doing. As the door closed, a little
panel opened on the floor. Nikolias placed his palm on the palm
reader and a trap door opened in the floor.

“Damn, man. Rather high tech for a building
like this,” whispered Daen. James nodded.

“They gave up space in their home so we could
set this up in exchange for free rent and vodka. They are old and
don’t need so much space,” said Nikolias in Russian, clearly
knowing the couple would hear and wanting to make sure they
understood what he was explaining. Daen translated for James as
they went down a set of steps.

Nikolias unlocked a final door and they
walked through to find Petior gagged and rather beaten and tied to
a chair. Three other men were present, two of whom had guns pointed
at Petior while the third worked him over. There was a lot of
confused shouting in English and Russian.

“Stop!”

“Put the guns down!”

“We will shoot him!”

“Stop. Do not shoot!”

“Hear them out!”

“I will not even count to one. You will
release him and put down the guns!”

“Enough!” said a woman in the corner. While
raising her hands, she moved between the two groups, capturing the
room’s attention and at the same time their will. As her face came
into full view, she appeared to be in her mid-fifties but with the
beauty of a much younger woman.

“They are not holding guns to Nikolias. He is
standing with them and defending them.” She stretched a hand
towards each group. “We can hear them and then decide our next
step.”

She scanned Daen’s face and then James’s
before lowering her hands.

The eye contact was enough. James’s instinct,
which had never failed him, told him it was wise to heed her
instructions.

James lowered his weapon, as did the Russian
men on the other side of the room.

“Man, are you sure about this?” Daen’s weak
whisper rang with fear and surprise. “You always tell me to trust
my instincts more, and this goes against them.”

In an audible voice, James said, “Lower your
gun.”

“What if this is a set up and they shoot us?”
implored Daen.

“Then we will be dead, but she is a woman of
her word. Lower the gun,” James said, his eyes locked onto the
woman’s.

Lowering his gun, Daen said under his breath,
“Damn, man, this goes against training,” his head slightly shaking
back and forth.

Without looking at Daen, James calmly said,
“It does.”

“They are friends of Roman’s, his guests for
dinner tonight,” said Nikolias after a tense moment of silence. The
men exchanged a glance but said nothing. The woman walked toward
them.

She hugged Nikolias and then leaned back,
lightly grabbing his face in her hands before kissing his cheeks.
She said something to him in Russian, and he nodded and smiled as
his hands found her wrists near his face. A moment later, she
released him and stepped back a few paces.

“I am Ola,” she said, addressing Daen and
James. “This is Anton, Igor, and Valdnik.” She indicated the men
from left to right. They did not acknowledge the introduction. “How
is it that you know Roman?” she asked.

At this, Petior stared to create some noise
and received a hard hit to the ribs for his efforts.

“Petior, please, my friend, relax,” said Daen
in Russian.

Ola looked slightly surprised. “You call this
man your friend?” she asked.

“We do,” answered James.

“Do you know your friend has stabbed one of
our members? He may die. He has two small children who have no
mother already. How will they survive without their father?” she
asked in a voice like an attorney addressing a hostile witness.

Petior began to fuss again and tried to talk
through his gag. He was somehow making the chair jump beneath him.
The visible parts of his face that weren’t swollen or covered in
blood had turned a bright red. He was clearly trying to answer for
his actions. Instead, he received another shot to the ribs.

“Do you intend to kill him?” James asked.

“Yes. If our man dies, so does he. Life for
life,” she said in a flat tone.

“He is how we know Roman. They are friends. I
do not believe Roman would appreciate his friend being killed.”
James slowly turned toward Ola, his body language careful and
deliberate to show he wanted a meeting of the minds and did not
pose a threat.

“Roman will have to understand, and he will
accept it with a minimum of words.” Ola spoke as though she knew a
key piece of information that would sway Roman.

James made quick eye contact with Daen. A
tool was gone. He thought quickly.

“If this man, the injured man lives, then so
does Petior?”

“His,” she indicated Petior, “and your
chances of survival increase greatly. But if he dies, then so does
your friend, in a most painful way. He will feel pain as will our
comrade’s children for the loss.” Her eyes had narrowed, and her
voice held a steel edge.

“Is he with a doctor, this man? What is his
name?” James asked.

“He is Alexander, and no, we do not have a
doctor we can freely summon. Alexander is in the infirmary. Why?
You are not doctor; you cannot help him.” Ola spoke with a
skeptical voice that hid a tiny hint of hope. Clearly, she cared
about Alexander living.

“I might be able to help. I will need to see
him, but perhaps I can help.” James played on the hope she had
tried to conceal, convinced her tone was a cover.

She immediately countered, “Are you willing
to bet your life on this?”

“If I think I am able to help Alexander after
seeing him and if the tools I need are there, then yes, I am. If I
fail and Alexander dies, then I die and not Petior,” James
said.

Petior began to make noise again. This time
he got a blow to the left knee from Anton for his troubles.

“No, you both die,” Ola stated.

This was not negotiable, but James had an
out. If he didn’t think Alexander would make it, he’d simply have
to find a different way to save Petior.

“Stephen, man …” Daen began.

James knew Daen’s argument without hearing
it. Petior was basically a stranger to them. However, as James saw
it, that wasn’t the point. He felt he had an obligation to try to
help anyone he saw in a dangerous situation when he could. It was
why he was in the group.

He also had a feeling Petior was in this
situation because of Daen and himself. Plus, they had become
friends over the last two nights. James decided to take action
since he had a way out.

“Agreed.” James answered sharply, silencing
Daen. “If I begin to help Alexander and he doesn’t make it, then we
both die. If I don’t try to help, then no harm from Alexander’s
death will come to me. If I do help and Alexander lives, then we
all live. Oh, and no more injury to my friend. In return,” James
made eye contact with Petior, “Petior will sit quietly.”

Petior sat motionless for a moment before
nodding.

James turned toward Ola, who considered the
request.

“That will all come to be. Come this way.”
She led James and Daen out of the room. Nikolias came too, as did
Igor, leaving Anton and Valdnik to watch over Petior.

A few minutes later, after going through
several doors and hallways that seemed to snake through the
building, they reached the infirmary, a very large, but rather well
equipped, room. It was like a small emergency room from before
World War II.

Alexander was in one of three beds with a
young woman at his side wiping his forehead with a cloth. He seemed
to be having trouble breathing but was hooked up to a saline drip
as well as a monitor and oxygen. He was the man who had posed as
the fake hotel clerk.

“Anna has done what is possible to make him
comfortable,” Ola explained.

Anna appeared to be a young woman in her late
teens with very bright green eyes and a kind face. She wore a
bonnet that covered her head and ears, and a clean, worn,
light-brown dress.

“Hello, Anna, I am Stephen. I am going to try
to help Alexander, and I could use your help, please. Can you tell
me what medicine you gave him?” James smiled softly, but Anna
frowned and looked at Ola.

Using sign language, Ola told Anna what James
had said.

Springing up, Anna went to get the medicine
she had given Alexander.

“Anna has been no hearing for many years
now,” explained Ola. “When she was young, she was forced to work in
an official’s home. One day, he returned home early to find Anna
had not done as he instructed in cleaning. He said that since she
did not listen properly, then she did not need her ears. He
proceeded to burn her ears so they closed forever. She wears the
bonnet to cover her scars.”

James processed this but gave no outward
reaction as Anna returned and presented him with a bottle. Turning
it over in his hands, James read the label.

“Demerol,” he stated to the room in general.
“Well, I suppose it’s what they have.” He turned back toward
Alexander, whose eyes were now open.

Upon seeing James’s face, the man immediately
tried to get up. Igor and Nikolias rushed over and gently held him
down.

“
You!
” Alexander exclaimed.

Ola came to the foot of the bed and spoke in
rapid Russian.

“Alexander,” James began. The man’s eyes were
full of anger and the monitor was showing signs of increased heart
rate, but his blood pressure was still extremely low. “I know that
Petior stabbed you, and I think you have heavy internal bleeding.
I’m going to look at your wound and see what I can do to help
you.”

James lifted the bed sheets. The man’s chest
had been covered in gauze, but the darkest red spot showed the
location of the injury. It was the middle of the left side of the
chest, which led James to believe Alexander had a punctured lung.
If that was the case, his chest was slowly filling with blood.

“Do you feel like there’s a very heavy weight
on your chest, making it hard to breathe?” James asked
Alexander.

He nodded.

James asked Daen to bring over the portable
x-ray machine he’d spotted and began raising Alexander’s bed. “I’m
going to be as fast as I can,” he said. “I know this position won’t
be comfortable, and I apologize for it. I think you have a
punctured lung.”

James stopped short of putting Alexander in
the full position. It would essentially cut off all breathing if he
had him there too long, and it would take a minute to get him fully
set up.

“Do you know how to use this?” Daen
whispered.

“Yes, I was a volunteer in radiology two
summers ago,” James replied. He had never actually used the
equipment but had watched enough to understand the basics.