The Hate Parallax by Allan Cole

Author:Allan Cole
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC.
Published: 2011-05-29T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“He’s coming, Master!” the gremlin squeaked. “Hurry!”

Davyd didn’t waste his breath cursing the gremlin, telling him to shut up! That he knew damned well the guy was coming.

As for hurrying, he was going as fast as he could, but the vent cover was resisting him.

The bolts holding the grill in place were old, some of the heads nearly stripped, slipping the grip of his little pneumowrench. The wrench made no sound, other than a faint purr, like a cat.

Behind him, Billy moaned in his drugged sleep, whispering “Lupe, Lupe,” with so much pain in his voice that Davyd knew the child was in the grip of a nightmare.

Poor kid, he thought. Wish I could tell you it’ll get better, but it won’t.

And then another bolt fell into his palm and he was almost there! Two more to go. Then through the vent and away to the storage room where his gear was stored.

He’d be off the Borodino and on his way to the rendezvous point in no time flat.

Too bad he didn’t have everything he needed. The report would be pretty damned slim. But it was a good start. Nothing to bitch about. Father Zorza wouldn’t be ecstatic, but he wouldn’t be disappointed either.

Davyd pressed the pencil-shaped wrench against the next bolt. He triggered it and the tool jumped in his hand, biting into the bolthead. The bolt came half-free, then jammed.

Davyd gave the wrench more power, muttering, “come on, baby, come on …” The bolt snapped, but no matter, he could bend the vent back. But then:

“He’s here, master!”

And Davyd sighed, dropping the wrench and coming to his feet to face his enemy.

He turned toward the door, drawing his weapon, already thinking how the guy might come, worried because Billy was on the bed and would be between them.

But if Davyd angled to the right, getting the kid out of the line of fire, he’d be in a lousy position— field of fire drastically reduced.

And from his sleep Billy cried, “Lupe!”

Davyd moved to the right.

* * *

Vlad came down the dark corridor like a wolf on the stalk, feet gliding silently, muscles working smoothly like powerful machines bathed in warm oil.

He was in a crouch, the corridor wall on his left, ahead dim yellow light from Billy’s room spilling through the open doorway to puddle on the floor.

Vlad could feel the presence of his Odysseus Corps enemy in the hot marrow of his bones. His heart ached for this kill— and kill it would be.

He had been fairly certain who his enemy was well before he entered the hospital. Any niggling doubts were swept away by the scent of cold darkness.

Pheromones of death— of kind knowing kind— drifting on the air.

Obviously, the proper course would be to capture the man and question him. Torture him until he confessed all he knew about the filthy Amer plot to humiliate Mother Russia.

Vlad’s methods in such things had never failed to get the desired answers.

If the enemy had been an ordinary man, that’s what Vlad would’ve done.

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