Labyrinth of Reflections by Lukyanenko Sergei

Author:Lukyanenko, Sergei [Lukyanenko, Sergei]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2016-05-23T16:00:00+00:00

101

Dick, the Labyrinth’s other Diver and the one that the Loser called good people, separates us.

We’ve been fighting for about five minutes, not trying to kill each other, just letting out our rage and our hostility. Dick pushes the barrel of his BFG-9000 between our interlaced bodies and quietly tells us, “Three more punches and I fire.”

Anatole gives Dick a sidelong look, extricates himself, and jabs me in the midriff. I catch my breath and kick him in the groin. Now it’s his turn to writhe in pain.

Unruffled, Dick waits for the third punch. But now we’re standing at attention, like good little soldiers.

“Better,” Dick says, lowering his weapon. He’s speaking very pure, almost unaccented Russian. “D... Divers... Screw ’em all.”

“This boneheaded lamer...,” Anatole hisses, “this dirtbag...”

“Chill!” Dick says. “He did a good job. I was watching. Not always honorable but always good.”

Dick is short, thin, lithe, and he’s the boss. Anatole shuts up and starts to wipe the blood from his face.

I take to doing the same.

“You played a good game,” Dick says. “But it’s kinda complicated.”

“I realized that,” I say, dragging my eyes from the Loser’s body. “What’s going on?”

“Tell him, An,” Dick says casually, sitting down on the sooty, broken mirror that used to be a floor.

Anatole wrinkles up his face as if he’s been told to eat a handful of leeches. But he does it anyway.

“You think we’re just clowning about here, you nutjob?” he starts.

“If you say so.” I’m as happy with him as he is with me.

“We’ve been trying to bring him out every hour, on the hour!” he hollers. “Seven times for me and eight for Dick! Get it, numskull? We know this place like the back of our hand. If anything changes, we can smell it. Got that?”

I’m starting to get it.

“Guillermo told you we were trying to get that kid out?” Dick asks in a bored voice.

“Yes...,” I snuffle through my swollen nose.

“Excellent,” Dick says, cheering up. “Then why the...” He swallows the four-letter word and gestures wearily.

“What is he to you?” Anatole asks, glaring at me.

“Who?”

“The Loser!” he yells. He’s obviously planning to kick the body by way of illustration, but stops himself in time. “Best pal? Best man? What, then? You girlfriend dumped you, did she, and you were bored enough to try doing our job?”

“Which, as everyone can plainly see, you’ve been doing so well!”

“But it’s a fair question,” Dick remarks. “What is he to you?”

“No one.”

“Kid, if you know his address, you’d be better off getting him out manually.”

“I don’t know his address,” I say. “Want to check that? He’s just a client. I was assigned to rescue him.”

“Who assigned you?”

“I don’t know that either. The customer had no face.”

I wait for them to react, but they don’t. They think it’s just a fancy turn of phrase, this Man With No Face of mine.

“It gets better by the minute,” Dick says.

“Worse,” Anatole corrects him automatically. “It gets worse by the minute.”

“Thank you.” Dick looks sideways at me. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Leonid.

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