The suit wouldn’t get her all the way to the harbor, but that didn’t matter. It had gotten her away from the oborots and rendered pursuit impossible. She hoped her deadly mix of fragmentation and incendiary grenades had managed to get rid of the entire pack. Maybe the human beings they had once been did not deserve such a fate, but they were beyond redemption. At least they were no longer a threat to her or anyone else.
In the distance, the moon danced on the waters of the harbor as she glided past the town square. She kept her eyes peeled for the boat that would meet her, though she knew it would be running without lights. She hoped the fire atop Fujiyama would serve as a beacon drawing the craft closer to her.
The cool rush of air on her face invigorated her and renewed her sense of determination. She would report in to Deep Blue and then begin her search for Rook. And if Deep Blue had more orders for her, she’d use a Rookism and tell him to take a long walk on a short pier, though Rook would probably include a body part, rude gesture or something about farm animals.
As she neared the ground, she braced herself for a hard landing. Aiming for a thick stand of bushes, she released the parachute in her suit and felt the familiar yank as it slowed her descent. Her landing zone of choice softened the impact, but she still felt the jolt from toes to teeth. She crawled out of the brush to find herself in front of the Cinema Prometei, or the Prometheus Cinema. Years ago, a bronze statue of the Greek Titan had stood here until its removal in the late 1980’s. Stripping out of her wing suit, she took one last look back at the city. Fire still glowed at the top of Fujiyama, a fitting backdrop for thoughts of the Titan who stole fire from Zeus.
The sound of a distant engine drew her attention back to the harbor. The silhouette of a small fishing boat appeared in the moonlight. Seeing her, the pilot brought the craft close to shore, and she waded out to meet it, aiming her pistol at his forehead, just in case.
“Who are you?” she demanded in Russian.
“Vladimir… I mean,” the man cleared his throat, “I was told to say my name is Pawn.”
“Who told you to say that?” She kept her weapon trained on him. He was an old man, his leathery skin deeply lined. His callused hands trembled as he held them above his head.
His eyes said two fears were doing battle inside of him: fear of Queen, and fear of what might happen to him if he answered her question truthfully. “You know I cannot tell you that.”
“Good enough. Just don’t try anything stupid and we’ll be all right.” She accepted his proffered hand, noting his strong grip, and let him haul her into the boat.
“Here are the things you asked for.” He tossed her a canvas bag. Inside she found a change of clothes, along with boots, belt, another Mark 23 and holster, a knife and sheath, a bottle of water and some jerky.
“All right, Pawn, get us out of here, and no peeking while I change. I’ve gelded bigger men than you.” She slid her KA-BAR from its sheath and stabbed it into the rail where she sat. The man gaped at it, and nodded his agreement. Queen grinned inwardly. She was not particularly modest, but she saw no harm in putting the fear of God, or rather, the fear of Queen, in his heart.
She stripped out of her clothing and tossed everything she’d worn into the water. The KA-BAR and Mark 23 she had used in the city followed. Spending a few hours in Pripyat would not expose one to a lethal dose of radiation, but prolonged exposure to contaminants that were stuck to clothing or weaponry was more dangerous.
When she was once again clothed, she sat staring out at the night sky as Vladimir guided their craft out into the Pripyat River. The first hint of dawn was on the horizon, and she picked up a photograph of a big man with intense blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, a long goatee and a mischievous smile. She’d held on to the picture when she ditched her clothes. She had brought it to show people as she conducted her search. At least, that’s what she told herself. Now that she’d carried it into Pripyat, though, she’d have to toss it—after one last look.
“Is he a friend of yours?” Vladimir’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned angry eyes upon him. “I do not mean to intrude. I was just surprised because I saw that man not long ago.”
In a flash, she had him by the collar and pulled him down so that they stood nose-to-nose. “What did you say?” She enunciated each word.
“I saw that man not long ago.” Vladimir hurried on with his explanation. “I was visiting some old friends, men I served with in the Military Maritime Fleet, and I saw him talking to a ship captain.”
“You are sure you saw this man?” Queen thrust the picture in his face. “If you are the least bit uncertain, tell me now.”
Vladimir took the picture in unsteady hands and stared at it for the span of five heartbeats before he nodded. He looked her square in the eye, his body trembling but his voice steady. “It was the same man. I am certain.” Queen arched an eyebrow. “You do not forget a man like this. He is not, how do you say, a common specimen.”