Chapter #12The Masked Golem by: Seuzz   "An interesting situation," Mashkadov muses with a smile. He wipes the top of his bald head with a huge hand. "You wish me to come with you, and I wish not to. You will not let me shoot myself--" He gestures at the gun you'd snatched away as he'd raised it to his mouth. "So you can hardly threaten me if I won't come."
"Mikhail," you gasp. "I'm here to save you! For God's sake, I don't want you shooting yourself, and I want you out of here before the FSB arrives!"
"Oh, Konstantin," he says in a pitying tone. "I cannot believe the impossible. But I will do you the courtesy of making a call." He reaches for the phone.
Grigory Petrenko puts his hand on the receiver. "That is not wise, sir. You are under surveillance, and our only hope is that they do not know your location. If they hear your voice on a line, they will arrive much sooner!"
"Then perhaps this office is bugged?" Mashkadov sniggers in a way that suggests he doesn't believe it.
Of course he wouldn't: "We keep it swept, Mikhail. Why won't you believe me?"
"I have reasons, Konstantin, and you would know them if you only gave them a little thought. A very little thought. My reasons ought to be as obvious as your nose." He sniggers again.
Your nose, of course, is a perfect replica of Shlykov's. You throw up your hands. "Then you are lost, my friend!"
"I am not," he retorts. "Not while I am in this office. You cannot remove me by blandishments or threats, and you cannot remove me by force without those men in the outer room taking an interest." His smile turns grim. "They would be taking an interest now if only this office were not soundproofed."
"At my suggestion!" you exclaim. "You see how I have your best interests at heart!"
"Yes, Konstantin Ivanovich has been a dog at my feet and at my call. I would trust him absolutely."
"Then why do you not trust me now?"
He leans back in his chair, and under his chalky white scalp you see the veins darken with sudden emotion. He picks up a pencil and holds it between his fingers. He eyes you shrewdly. "Do you remember what I showed you in Prague?" he softly asks.
"I remember many things you showed me in Prague," you reply. His eyes narrow. "Mostly, though, I remember a double-headed eagle."
"What do you remember about it?"
"I remember what you had me leave behind it." Your nostrils flare at the horrible memory.
He rolls the pencil lightly between his fingertips, then points it at you. "You are most convincing. In fact, I almost am convinced by you. In fact, I would be convinced-- Ah!" He smiles broadly. "There is the question that would settle it. The thing you left in Prague. Is it still there? I sometimes wonder, Konstantin, and worry."
You are now well and truly caught, and need not be shy at showing it with a swallow. If Mashkadov knows the truth and you tell a lie, you will have destroyed any credibility you have in this disguise. If you tell the truth, you will have destroyed not only your own credibility, but that of the man whose form you have borrowed. You can only pray this is a bluff on the magician's part. "Of course it's still there, Mikhail," you say.
He grunts. "That settles it, as I knew it would. Now I most definitely will not go with you."
"You don't believe me?"
He shakes his head with mock ruefulness.
"You know, then, that I ... took that item back?"
He purses his lips and nods sagaciously.
"How?"
"You told me so yourself, Konstantin."
"Just now, you mean," you sigh.
"No. Two hours ago." He raises his index finger and cocks his thumb. "Just before I put a bullet in your face."
You blink and stagger back a step. "You think I'm an imposter, Mikhail?"
"Indeed!" he exclaims. "And I will not go with you, Konstantin, until you or Grigory explain to me how in Hell's great name one can construct a disguise that is so perfect!" He leans forward and stares at you with open and rapt curiosity.
No one says anything for a moment.
"Okay, squirt, time for Plan B," Grigory says.
"Plan B was rigging you up like that, Rick."
"Plan C then. Well?"
"Well, give me a minute!"
He splays his fingers. "Never sit on the crapper without five pieces of tissue and five ways of using them."
"When did you give me that rule?"
"I shouldn't have had to. Fucking things up with the kid shoulda taught you that."
"Is like Mr. Dashiell Hammett," Mashkadov muses in an English much more broken than the English you and Rick have switched into.
"Have you got a Plan C, Rick?" you retort.
"Not until you hit Plan F."
"I'm there, Rick, and ready for remedial work."
"Okay then. Sing this asshole a lullaby."
You know better than to argue, though you know it will do no good. The magician tries shifting his great bulk out of the way, but you're across the desk and have your open palm on his scalp before he can scoot back so much as an inch. He face-plants onto the desk.
"So we call the medics and have him carted out. Great plan, Rick, but it won't work. Ten bodyguards--those goons out there--have orders to go with him everywhere at all times."
"No, I'm going to take him out with me while you sneak out in your cloak."
"What are you talking about, Rick? You mean rig him up as Shlykov here--" You point to your face "--and have him carried out that way? Won't work. We need Shlykov and Petrenko's retinas both to get the dingus out of the vault, and the FSB will be here any minute."
"No, we rig him up like Shlykov, and--" He scoops some earth out of a potted plant. "And you put one of your dummies inside the face. Him and me'll get the dingus. We'll use some of my hair for essentia."
You suck in a hard breath. "No, Rick," you say firmly. "You're in charge, and I'll jump into a shark tank if you tell me to, but you do not tell me to unlock a Libra spell. I draw the line there. Gimme your Plans D and E."
"I sacrificed them to get us an hour head start on the Federales. They'll be here in ten. I'm down to my last square of tissue, squirt."
"Fuck it. I still won't do it."
"He has to go out under his own power, and you heard him. He'll only do it if it's our will moving his legs."
"Your will, our will, my will, or me. Which 'will' are we talking about," you snarl.
You glare at him, but he remains very calm. "We're supposed to fetch Mashkadov and the dingus," he says. "But if you take responsibility with the old man for losing both to the Kremlin, I won't kick."
"This is blackmail!"
"It's your choice, that's all it is."
"Choice!" You spit the word. "Fine." You grab up a steel ashtray, the only thing at hand that you can transform into a mask. "If you'll go with me to see Margaret when this is done." You stare at him hard.
His eyelid twitches, but he nods.
* * * * *
"Thank you," Mashkadov says quietly. He grasps you by the shoulders and kisses you wetly on both cheeks; and his eyes are wet too. "Owe you ... I owe you everything, my young friend!"
This is the last thing you expected, and you blush a little. "Well, you're welcome, sir," you stammer. "I feel like I did you a wrong, though, in the way that I--"
He waves you silent. "Is not significant. And you too!" He turns to Rick, but by some unspoken agreement they just grimace and nod at each other. You wouldn't want to kiss Rick either, now that he's out of that mask.
The Russian turns to the great bear of a man who's been waiting at his elbow. "I'm ready now," he says in his native tongue. You understand him, of course, for even after flushing Shlykov away, you've kept his knowledge of Russian.
Fyodor fixes a keen eye on him. "You understand what this is?"
"Yes. I thank you again." He bows.
Fyodor bows as well, then turns to Frank. "You are ready, too?"
"Sir," Frank says quietly to Mashkadov, and indicates the stone bier.
The magician lays back on it, and looks around. It is almost entirely dark here (wherever "here" is; you only know you reached it through the shed in back of Fyodor's dacha), and there is only a single pool of light shining around your small company, but you sense the other biers, and their occupants. Frank hands Mashkadov a small urn, which he grips to his chest. "I will sing to you now, sir, and you will sleep," Frank says.
Mashkadov raises his head. "Will I dream?" he asks Fyodor.
"Yes. But whether they will be fair or foul, I do not know. It depends on who you meet in them."
"Then they will be fair," Mashkadov says with a smile.
"You might not like who you meet."
"Those will be the fairest of them all," Mashkadov says. "There are things I must say to them. And do for them." His brow furrows a little. "I hope I meet Konstantin first. Yes," he sighs. "For him I have much to atone." He closes his eyes.
Fyodor leads you and Rick out while Frank stays behind. You feel your way through the dark for a very long way, until you see the light from the shed door ahead. "Will he sleep long, sir," you ask as you step into the back yard.
"I don't know," Fyodor says. "But you heard him. He has been yearning for sleep, without realizing it, for a very long time. Those sometimes sleep the shortest, and sometimes the longest. But both find it very sweet."
To wake from this reverie: "The Boy from Before Everything, Part 2"   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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