Novikov propped his foot up on the
arm of the sofa. He took a handful of tissue from beside the coffee machine and
began to dab calmly at his shoe. "Well, Shalashaska, I don't think I have
much else to tell you."
Ocelot
tilted his head slightly, in the direction Innokenty had disappeared.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Just
a side effect of his training."
Ocelot
was quiet a moment, and when Novikov didn't say more, his eyes narrowed
slightly. "So, it's happened before?"
Novikov glanced up briefly, but
didn't answer. He had been so blithely accommodating only a moment ago, but he was withholding something now. It made Ocelot a little
uneasy. Nothing in his expression or in his posture changed, but something
flickered behind his eyes and he was on guard.
"Is it something I need to
worry about?" he asked.
"Not at all." Novikov
finished cleaning his shoe, and straightened up again. "It's under
control. Just leave everything to us."
"Of course," Ocelot
muttered. "I assume you won't be needing me for the rest of the
day…?"
"Kesha should be back on his
feet in a few hours. Check in with us this afternoon."
"And until then?"
Novikov shrugged. "Well, no
offense intended of course, but I'm afraid you'll just be in the way if you
stay here."
"And
bored, I'm sure."
"We're just not as exciting as what you're used to." His lips tugged up into a smooth smile. He cocked his wrists sharply, pointing at Ocelot with two fingers of each hand. "Do try to stay out of trouble."
Ocelot
had begun to turn away, but something about Novikov just then – his cocky
smile, or something else entirely – made him pause. He reached out, setting a
hand over one of Novikov's wrists and pushing it down. "I'll be
fine."
But
as he turned away, there was a hollow ache in the pit of his stomach.
He
couldn’t quite place what he found so unsettling, and the nagging sensation of
déjà vu had already begun to fade.
Ocelot
didn’t hesitate at the elevator, but as the steel doors slid shut behind him he
drew a deep breath, like a sigh. This
time, there was no gaze boring into the back of his neck, no stinging cold.
But
he knew that didn’t mean he was alone.
He
knew he couldn't let that bother him now. Something was being kept from him. It
was Ocelot's job to know when he was being manipulated. He was an expert at
lies – at telling them and at unraveling them – but he knew that if Innokenty
hadn't collapsed back in the lab, he never would have known that anything was
wrong.
That
boy was suffering from more than exhaustion. Ocelot didn't fear for Innokenty's
life. He'd had the bad luck to get involved in this, and that was all. It
hadn't been Ocelot's fault, but it wasn't his responsibility, either. What did
have him a little worried was the way Novikov had become so abruptly secretive
when Ocelot had asked what was wrong.
Already,
he was replaying their conversation in his head, trying to draw a line where
the truth had ended and the lies had begun.
The
elevator slid to a smooth halt at the top of the shaft. There was a slight
hesitation before the door slid back; an external camera monitoring the hall
made sure that the elevator wouldn't open if there were unauthorized personnel
in the area. When the locking mechanism clicked open, Ocelot stepped out,
turning toward the east wing of the fortress.
This
time of day, the northeast yard would be nearly abandoned. He'd be able to put
his thoughts in order without attracting too much attention.
On
his way out, he passed the corridor that led to the soldiers' barracks. Half of
Vulich's men, the ones who had been assigned to patrol during the graveyard
shift, were asleep this time of day. The lights in the hall were out, except
for the blue emergency bulbs above each door.
Ocelot
paused, staring down the corridor for a moment, to the place where it tapered
into shadow.
* *
*
In
the recent weeks, since his promotion to Major, Ocelot had taken to sneaking
into the barracks during the day. Between reveille and nightfall, the rooms
were empty, and he had come to look forward to a few moments spent in silence.
Ocelot
had been raised among soldiers, had been accustomed to their routines before he
could walk. Sleeping, eating, training… all in the company of a hundred other
people. He had never known what privacy was until now. His new position
afforded him a little extra freedom to move around the base, and so he made the
time, nearly every afternoon, to spend a few moments here.
The
lights in the barracks were turned off during the day, to conserve power, but a
single blue bulb glowed faintly above the door. Ocelot took a moment to let his
eyes adjust to the darkness, then he stepped further inside.
Bunks,
three high, pressed up against all the walls. The room smelled of sweat and
cigarettes and smuggled food. Ocelot slid his hat off, tossing it on one of the
mattresses, and ran a hand through his hair.
And
then the door behind him slid open, flooding the room with white light from the
hallway.
“Adamska
Ivanovich, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to avoid me.”
Ocelot
spun on his heels, one hand falling to the butt of his gun. “Raikov…” His eyes
narrowed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
"Shh."
There was a soft click as Raikov pushed the door closed, severing the column of
bright light and leaving them in bruise-blue half-darkness. “You’re a hard man
to get alone,” Raikov said. “I’ve been watching you, you know.”
“I
know,” Ocelot said, glancing away. “You ought to be more careful. I won’t bail
you out if anything happens.”
Raikov
laughed. “Adamska, you’re so sweet.” His boots made almost no sound as he
stepped forward. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. To tell you
the truth, it’s you I’m worried about.”
"Me?"
Ocelot backed off a step as Raikov drew closer. "Don't try to be
cute…"
Raikov
sighed. "You see? That's your problem. You don't take anything
seriously."
"I
don't know what you're talking about."
Raikov
reached out, setting his hand on Ocelot's chest. "Do I make you nervous,
Adam? Can't figure out what game I'm playing?" His fingers curled
slightly, rumpling Ocelot's uniform. "A good agent has to know what
everyone is doing, all the time…"
"I
know that," Ocelot said. He pushed Raikov's hand away. "I told you
before, don't touch me."
Raikov
twisted his wrist, disengaging his hand from Ocelot's and setting it back
against his chest. "Someone like Volgin… he's easy to read. I think
working around him has spoiled you."
"And
you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Ocelot muttered, glancing away.
He refused to let Raikov intimidate him. The major was more clever than Ocelot
had first given him credit for, but these were still juvenile mind games.
Amateurish, clumsy…
But
when Raikov leaned against him like that, Ocelot's heart beat a little faster.
Raikov
shook his head. "And you call me the cute one? Don't ever change,
Adam." His fingertips trailed down Ocelot's chest. "You're perfect,
just like this."
Ocelot's
hands twitched at his sides, but this time he stopped himself before he reached
for Raikov. "Stop," he said. "Stop, now."
"Stop…
what?" Raikov teased one of his uniform buttons. "Stop flattering
you? There's no need to be so humble, Adam."
"Stop,"
Ocelot said coldly. "Touching me."
Raikov
paused, glancing up. His eyes met Ocelot's for a moment, and they were close
enough that Ocelot could make out their color, even in the dim light. Raikov
smiled faintly, lifting his hand away. He spun sharply on his heels, turning
his back on Ocelot.
“I
know,” he said quietly, "that you don’t think very much of me, Adam. But
you can learn a lot keeping a commander’s bed warm.”
“That’s
not what this is about,” Ocelot muttered.
“No?”
Raikov glanced back. He reached out, touching Ocelot’s hand. “But… you have
something Volgin wants. And so do I. We’re not that different.”
“That
doesn’t mean I trust you.”
“Do
you trust anyone?”
“Not
really,” Ocelot said.
“Good.
Then I don’t feel so bad.”
“Major…”
Ocelot sighed. “Why are you here? Who sent you?”
“Someone
who’s looking out for you.” Raikov shrugged. “But then… that could be anyone,
right? You’re so talented, Adam. Wherever you go from now on, people are going
to know you.”
Ocelot
shook his head. “I’m also talented enough that I don’t need anyone looking out
for me.”
“Maybe
not,” Raikov said. “But is it really the worst thing you can imagine?” He reached
into his coat and drawing out a small white envelope. “Look. I even brought you
a present.”
Ocelot’s
eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
“Something
you want.” Raikov stroked the edge of the envelope over his palm. “Codes to the
vault where Volgin keeps The Legacy.”
Ocelot
stopped himself before he reached for the envelope. “You’re bluffing.”
“Now
you’re just being silly.”
“Where’d you get them?”
“From
Volgin.” Raikov laughed. “He wrote them down. He was afraid of forgetting. Then
he realized he was afraid of losing the paper, so he gave it to me to hold
onto. Didn’t say what it was, but it was easy enough to figure out.”
Ocelot
snorted. “So you got lucky. That’s what you’re telling me.”
“If
you want.” Raikov held out the envelope. “And now you’re getting lucky. Do you
want it, or not?”
Though
he still wasn’t sure he believed Raikov, Ocelot reached out.
"No."
He waited until Ocelot's fingers brushed the edge of the envelope before
pulling it back, out of reach. “What are you going to give me in return?”
Ocelot
rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”
“Oh…
I don’t know.” Raikov tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Something that tells me
just how much you appreciate me risking my life like this.” And he smiled. “How
about a kiss.”
“What?”
Ocelot recoiled. The back of his knee hit one of the bunks, and the springs
squealed sharply. “No! You’ve got to be kidding…”
Raikov
giggled, covering his mouth to hide the sound. “What’s wrong with a kiss? I
didn’t think you’d be so prudish, Adam.”
“It’s
not that…”
“Then
I suppose… I was shy too my first time. Are you really a virgin, Adam?”
“Of
course not!” Ocelot glanced away, glad the room was dark. He could feel that he
was blushing. “That’s not the point…”
“Then
what is?” When Ocelot didn’t answer right away, Raikov relented. “All right. No
kiss, then. Will you at least answer a question?”
“What
question?” Ocelot asked warily.
Raikov
stepped forward, setting his hand lightly on Ocelot’s chest, swaying against
him. “Why do I make you so nervous?” he whispered.
“You…”
But Ocelot knew it was impossible to deny. Raikov had seen right through him.
Even though he had been ready for it this time, his breath had still caught a
little when the Major touched him.
“I…
don’t know what you want,” Ocelot admitted. “I know there’s something you’re
not telling me, but I can’t figure out what it is.” He set his hand over
Raikov’s. “Satisfied?”
Raikov
nodded. “Yeah. I’m satisfied.” He flicked his wrist, tossing the envelope onto
the mattress at Ocelot's back before pulling away. “Take good care of that,
Adam.”
He
backed off a few steps, his lips curving faintly. Then he turned his back.
“Honestly, though, if you really want to know, you can just ask me.”
“Will
I like the answer?”
Raikov
shrugged. “Maybe.” He pulled open the door. Light from
the hallway cut across the floor like a saber stroke. For an instant, Raikov
was framed by it and Ocelot couldn’t make out his expression anymore. He was
just a dark silhouette against white fluorescent fire.
Then
he swung around the corner and was gone.
* *
*
Ocelot
shook his head slightly. It was a strange thing to remember so clearly, but
even now he could see the way Raikov's hair had looked under the blue light. He
could recall perfectly the faint, faded bruise below his right eye, that Ocelot
hadn't been able to make it out until Raikov leaned in to kiss him.
He
could remember… that he hadn't felt any pity for him, but he had wondered if
Raikov had bruises like that everywhere.
He glanced away from the dark hallway, and he moved on.