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Manuel passed slowly among the small rank of men at the 5:30 a.m. inspection. They were standing to attention under the harsh glare from the warehouse lights in full dress, and the sharp eyes of the nurse missed nothing. He pulled the peaks of their caps down over their eyes until they looked like patrolmen, adjusted a lanyard, checked a buckle on a gaiter, commenting, criticizing all the time, demanding as close as he could get to perfection. He stopped opposite Flynn, resplendent as a CHP officer.
"Smarten up that guy," Manuel commanded sharply. "Stand up straight, get your shoulders back! God made you small but he didn't want you to act like a munchkin. I heard about your daring infiltration of that British military installation."
"I have quite the reputation in Ulster," Flynn said, hate blazing from his beady eyes.
"The details were sketchy, but the word is that you managed to gather some valuable intel before slipping away into the night," Manuel said dismissively.
As Manuel mentioned Flynn's past infiltration back in Ulster, Flynn's mind raced with conflicting thoughts and emotions. The memory of the infiltration brought a mixture of pride and shame. On one hand, it was a successful mission that showcased his skills and resourcefulness. Yet, on the other hand, it felt like a futile endeavor in hindsight. Despite the intel gathered, it hadn't brought about the desired change or justice he sought. Deep down, Flynn couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment and regret. He wondered if he had wasted his time and efforts on a mission that ultimately had little impact. The thought embarrassed him, stirring up a sense of inadequacy and frustration. As Flynn glanced at Manuel, a flicker of resentment crossed his mind. If he could get away with it, he would unleash his anger and frustration on Manuel, blaming him for leading them into this seemingly futile endeavor. But he knew better than to act on such impulses. For now, he masked his true feelings behind a facade of calm and cooperation, biding his time for an opportunity to assert himself.
"Sure, Manuel," Flynn retorted with a hint of sarcasm. "Got in, got out, and what did I accomplish?" But the nurse had moved on to the next man and ignored him.
"Their bearing and movement are getting better, sir, more like regular policemen," Manuel told Dragov after the parade.
"Good," Dragov answered. "But aren't you asking for trouble with the way you're pushing Flynn?"
"Don't worry, sir," the nurse replied. "I've got the measure of that bastard now. by the way you're stepping up the training I gather it must be getting near the time. When are you thinking of staging the accident?"
"I haven't made a final decision," Dragov told him. "But I'm working towards February 3rd. Would that be alright for you?"
"I'd have to check the hospital duty roster, sir, but I can't see any problems. I'm due a few days' vacation and I thought I'd spend the time with the men. I could watch the last run-throughs and spend the time with the men. I could watch the last run-throughs and spot any faults."
"I'd be glad to have you with us."
"Right, I'll move my stuff across."577Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5wzqsJDop8
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Michael knocked on the door of Dragov's room. He found Zoltan inside, leaning against the wall. Dragov was sitting on the bed.
"I wanted to see you for a moment," Michael hesitated.
"Come in," Dragov said. "Don't worry about Zoltan." He glanced into Michael's face, then he reached into a drawer and took out a bottle of vodka.
"Didn't you say this was a dry house?" Michael queried.
"This is for medicinal purposes," Dragov answered. "Pour yourself a drink, you look as if you need one."
Michael poured himself a stiff vodka.
"I'll join you," Dragov said, passing over another glass.
"You?" Michael asked Zoltan, but Zoltan shook his head disparagingly, stating that he never touched the stuff.
"Now, what's happening with Kathy?" Dragov asked.
"She's O.K.," Michael answered. "She's not being badly treated, I believed that from the way she spoke, but she's scared and lonely."
"What about Kazakov?"
"The arrogant fucker behaved as we expected him to." Michael raised his glass and peered through the crystal. "You've got another spy in your camp," he said quietly. "Me."
"That's O.K.. Lead him along, but watch out for Reed-Henry, he'll see straight through you."
Michael nodded. The vodka felt good in his stomach. He lifted the bottle. "You mind if I get drunk?" he asked.
Dragov shook his head. "Not as long as you're ready to sleep it off here."
Zoltan pushed himself away from the wall. "I guess I'll leave you guys," he said. "I've got to check on Flynn."
After Zoltan had gone, Michael continued, unable to hide his hurt. "Dragov, let me tell you about my encounter with Dade," Michael began, his frustration evident in his voice. "When I told him what we wanted to do with Mischa Barton, he laughed in my face. Guys like him don't understand how a cause is made." He paused, then continued, his tone becoming more impassioned. "But what if Mischa Barton's rescue shook the public conscience, especially in America? Barton may not mean anything to them now, but her story could change everything. People would see her as a victim of a broken system, a symbol of hope and redemption. And if we're the ones to save her, well, who's to say we won't become heroes in the eyes of the people?" Michael's voice faltered slightly as he asked the next question. "Do you think I'm crazy? For believing that we can make a difference?"
Dragov just shrugged his shoulders. He could see that Michael was down and he needed all the support he could get. Courage was something that Michael had to work at all the time.
"Karl Marx and Darwin were crazy, and so were all the great religious prophets, you're in good company."
Michael smiled at him over the rim of his glass. "Hey," he said, warming to Dragov, "maybe you're not such a black-hearted bastard after all. Want some?" He was going to push the bottle across but Dragov shook his head.
"You know, Dade did give me some detailed leads," Michael explained, his tone serious. "It all started with a wild car chase through the streets of Los Angeles. Mischa was flying down the freeway at speeds of over 100 miles per hour, weaving in and out of traffic like a madwoman. Eventually, she was stopped by the police in downtown Los Angeles, where they used spike strips to deflate her tires and bring the chase to an end. When they finally pulled her out of the car, Mischa was in bad shape. The effects of 'Crystal Mirage' were evident—she was disoriented, agitated, and clearly under the influence. She put up a fight, resisting arrest until the officers were forced to restrain her. She was held in the holding room for hours, ranting and raving about God knows what. It was clear that she needed help, but all the cops saw was a celebrity gone off the rails.
"As for the drug 'Crystal Mirage,' it's a potent and highly addictive substance made from a combination of cocaine and various synthetic chemicals. The exact process of its production is murky, but the DEA suspects it's being manufactured in clandestine labs, possibly right here in Harborview. Mischa could have gotten it from many sources, but there are a few discos in Los Angeles that have been suspected key distribution points for the drug. Places like Studio 54 and The Limelight have been under scrutiny for their involvement in the trafficking of 'Crystal Mirage.' Now, her boyfriend, he's in a rock band, Led Zeppelin, very popular. He was likely the one who got her started on the substance. The cocaine used to make 'Crystal Mirage' comes from South America, and the CIA believes that the profits from the drug are supporting guerrilla organizations like the FARC and the Shining Path. It's a dangerous game, Dragov, and Mischa Barton is right in the middle of it.
"The court-appointed psychiatrist testified that Mischa was in a severe mental state during the incident, likely exacerbated by the side effects of 'Crystal Mirage.' She admitted to being under the influence, but was it her choice, or was it bad legal advice? The presiding judge on her case was Judge Amelia Hawthorne, a stern and uncompromising figure in the judicial world. As for her father, Lord Barton, he holds considerable clout with the OPEC nations. If he convinces the Arabs to turn off the spigot, it could spell disaster for America's energy supplies. But here's the kicker—Lord Barton might not WANT his daughter back, given the effect the drug has had on her. He might see her as more trouble than she's worth, especially if it means jeopardizing his political and business interests."
"Michael," Dragov said with a hint of frustration, "if she's as far gone as you say, then she'll be more of a liability than an asset to you."
"She is not far gone," Michael insisted, his tone resolute. "She may have lost the use of her conscious mind temporarily, but she's getting some of her common sense back. There's still hope for her. Dade let slip about a deal the DEA is considering—offering Mischa a reduced sentence in exchange for information about the drug's production and distribution network. There's a chance she'll agree to it, but they haven't asked her yet. But if that's the case, is it possible the Shadow Syndicate is watching her? Maybe they'd rather have her dead than see her leave Pescadero as a free woman. But nobody can touch her in Pescadero; she's too closely guarded. If something were to happen to her, the police would be suspicious if they thought she'd died of anything but natural causes. I'd say the Shadow Syndicate is trying to use us to bring her out into the open."
"You're right," Dragov confirmed, his tone serious. "The Shadow Syndicate is playing a dangerous game, and they're using us as pawns in their scheme."577Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRNEgnB1dpt
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Flynn came up to Zoltan, crouched in the corner of their room.
"How are you feeling?"
"Good, man, good," Zoltan said. "These tabs you gave me are the best. I'm flying high."
Flynn studied Zoltan's face and saw the dilated pupils, the filmy, faraway look in his eyes. "So you are, you crazy bastard," he agreed softly. "So you are."
Flynn sank against the opposite wall and waited as the L.S.D. took effect.
"How are you, man?" Zoltan asked, his concentration out of focus. "You flying too?"
"Sure I am," the Irishman said. "Just like you."
Zoltan let out a deep breath through his clenched teeth. "Wheeeeeeu! Are you sure you gave me the right stuff? It must've been double strength. I don't think I can handle it," Zoltan giggled. "Man, I'm stepping right out of my mind."
Flynn watched Zoltan's head start to droop, his shoulders sagging. "Did you know Dragov's girl?" he asked, raising his voice to penetrate Zoltan's consciousness.
"Kathy, sure," Zoltan replied hesitantly. "I know her."
"Now, there was a girl," Flynn reminisced, "with a soft body. I trained her to my hand, I brought her trembling and sweating to me like a frightened mare. Shall I tell you how I did it?" Flynn gloated. "You liked her, didn't you? Well, you'll enjoy this." He was using the hallucinations induced by the drug to upset the fragile balance of Zoltan's mind.
"No," Zoltan said, shaking his head, beginning to comprehend what Flynn was doing to him. He wanted to throw himself at Flynn, to rip out his throat, but it was too late, he couldn't get his body gathered together enough to move it. Crazy patterns began forming in his mind, objects flying at him like moons out of a science-fiction movie. he felt his mind coming apart with the terror of a bad trip. Flynn had left his place against the opposite wall. He held Zoltan by the hair, pulling his head back.
"You are in a room," he said, loudly enough for Zoltan to hear him. "Upstairs alone in the pitch dark. You've got a gun but you can't use it because you can't see, you are blind and men are coming in through the doors and windows of the ground floor and they are going to kill you. You can hear them coming and they can see you but you can't see them." Flynn let go of Zoltan and scratched the wall. "Listen," he said urgently. "You hear a knife, they're going to use a knife, you can't escape, they're going to rip it through your guts."
Zoltan's face was covered in sweat, the veins on his neck and forehead stood out like cords. He cowered in a corner of the room, death masks flashing in front of his eyes, then he felt the knife go in and he began to scream and scream, trying to climb out of the dream.
Flynn sat back against the wall, his wicked little eyes fixed on Zoltan. "Go on, you crazy bastard," he said. "Go crazy, kill yourself."
The whole house awoke to the sound of Zoltan's screams. Dragov burst through the door first, followed by Colin and Fernand.
"What have you done?" Dragov demanded of Flynn.
"It wasn't me," Flynn answered defensively. "He took himself on a bad trip---I've been trying to help." But Flynn was satisfied that help had come too late: Zoltan's mind was disintegrating.
"Catch him," Dragov ordered the Frenchmen. "Hold him down."
The two big men caught Zoltan and pinned him, struggling and screaming, to the floor. Michael appeared in the doorway, rudely awoken and still groggy from the effects of the vodka.
"Get some Valium," Dragov shouted to him. "It's in the first-aid chest under my bed. Move!" His voice cut like a whiplash.
Michael sobered up instantly, spun around, and dashed for Dragov's room. He came back with the tranquilizer to find Dragov kneeling, holding Zoltan's head.
"What dosage are the capsules?"
"Ten milligrams."
"Give him two, no, three," Dragov instructed him. He held Zoltan's jaws apart while Michael forced the Valium down Zoltan's throat.
"Want me to call the paramedics?" Michael asked.
Dragov shook his head. "No, there's nothing they could do now. Zoltan's mind is so far away it's almost out of reach. We've got to talk him down, he needs voices that he knows. Zoltan," Dragov began. "It's me, Viktor, it's Victor, I've got you safe. Listen to me, trust me, I want you to do what I say." But it took Dragov five minutes before he even reached Zoltan, then, gently, carefully, he began to bring him down, step by step.
"Viktor! Viktor!" Zoltan cried, clinging to him. "They've got a knife and I'm blind!"
"Where are you?"
"I'm in a room."
"O.K., O.K.," Dragov said. "I'm your eyes, I'll see for you. Lift your rifle, draw a bead ninety degrees from where you're facing, a little to your right, a little more, that's it, now you've got the door covered, no one's going to get through there."
"The windows!"
"I'm watching them. No one can get in, O.K., no rest up a little then I'm going to take you out of that room and pretty soon you're going to see again."
It took another twenty long minutes before the Valium took effect and Zoltan passed out.
"Will he make it?" Michael asked.
"I believe so," Dragov answered. He was mentally exhausted, every inch of his willpower and concentration had been exerted in the battle to save Zoltan's mind. He got to his feet.
"Right," he said to Ferdnand and Colin. "Take Zoltan to my room, he'll sleep twelve, maybe fifteen hours. We'll take it in turns to watch him. Not you," he said to Flynn, who was making for the door. "You stay here, I want to talk to you."
The others left and the door closed. Flynn was alone with Dragov and the fear showed in his face. There was great strength in Flynn's squat body but he had nothing to match the awesome power of Dragov. Without prior warning and almost in a blur of speed, Dragov flung Flynn face-on against the wall. Flynn felt his arm nearly wrenched from the socket and forced up over his back. A hand took the back of his head and smashed his face into the wall again, then it settled like a steel band around his throat. The pain was so great he was powerless to resist.
"Who told you to do that to Zoltan?" Dragov's voice whispered savagely in his ear.
"Kazakov, Kazakov did," Flynn gasped. "You know he wants him dead. Zoltan's so crazy that you can't even look into the bastard's eyes. He's a mad dog, not even you know what he'll do next."
He felt his neck being bent remorselessly back. He could do nothing to stop it and within a minute or less, it was going to break.
"The girl," he screamed, in terror for his life. "We've got to get the girl."
The pressure remained for a split second more, then Dragov let him fall.
"If Zoltan survives," Dragov said coldly, "you'd better pray that I can stop him from killing you."577Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡexlqsDLKSh
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Michael found Dragov in the living room, sitting alone in the darkness. He had left orders to be called but he was already awake. He seemed to be allowing himself less and less sleep.577Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsMdUziTvDZ
"I think Zoltan's regaining consciousness," Michael said. Dragov followed him to Zoltan's bedside. Zoltan's eyelids were twitching, he was muttering to himself, tossing restlessly about on the bed. Dragov put his hand out and felt Zoltan's forehead. It was hot and clammy, his face was sweating.
"Get some water and a cloth," Dragov said. Gently he began to sponge down Zoltan's face, neck, and hands. The feel of the warm cloth soothed Zoltan.
"Want me to get him a little more Valium?" Michael asked.
Dragov shook his head. "Go and get some sleep," he said. "I'll look after him, it won't be long now."
Shortly after Michael left Zoltan seemed to fall into a peaceful sleep. Dragov sat in the darkness beside him. He must've dozed because suddenly he heard Zoltan's voice calling.
"Viktor?"
"Yes, it's me."
"Don't turn on the light."
"I wasn't going to."
"I like the darkness, I find it soothing."
Dragov said, "You and I are going to have to learn to live without sleep. We can't afford the nightmares, old comrade."
Zoltan was quiet for a moment, then he spoke. "You know, it was weird, I was like a pilot letting down through the fog. I was coming down, down, down, but I couldn't see where to land, I couldn't see anything. I knew I had to find the way back into my mind and if I missed it I would crash and that would be forever."
"Do you remember anything else?"
"Enough to know that Flynn did this to me."
"I had hoped that the Valium would have wiped that out."
"No way. Viktor, I'm going to kill him now and nothing you can do or say is going to stop me."
"I know I can't stop you," Dragov agreed. "But if you kill him before I'm ready then I'll lose Kathy."
Zoltan was silent.
"How do you feel?"
"Like I've been kicked around inside a bucket for a week. There's not a part of me that's not hurting. I can't believe that I let Flynn do that to me." Zoltan's voice was filled with shame. "That I could have been so shit-stupid. I'm vulnerable among people, I'm better on the outside working alone. Viktor, you should never have brought me into the open."
"I had no choice."
They were both silent for a while.
"Yeah, I guess I knew that," Zoltan said tiredly. "I've been thinking, they're squeezing Michael, they're squeezing you through Kathy. I don't trust that Mex Manuel, he's supposed to have a wife and yet he's sticking his neck right out for us. Viktor, don't you get it? They're squeezing us so tight from all sides that they're choking us to death. We've got no room left to move, you must let me fight back now while we still can."
"Wait," Dragov said urgently. "Wait, Zoltan, be patient, our time will come."577Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNWssWhNj3l
