Out Of The Night (6 page)

“Maybe Mac will have some answers. We can’t stay here. We must go forward, Tony.”

Forward into what?

CHA
PTER EIGHT

Lubyanka Prison

Viktor Pertinolf watched the young guard practically run from the room in horror. And justly so. That little bastard would be dead by morning. No one made a fool of
Viktor, especially not a fat, queer boy.

“I don’t yet understand why you put Archuletta in with the common prisoners
,” he addressed the commander of Lubyanka.

Ivan Gromyko lit a cigarette and stared at Viktor. “We couldn’t keep him in the shelter much longer without an explanation. I have the SVR breathing down my neck.”

“You’ve stood up under much tougher scrutiny, Ivan.”

The
commander took a deep drag. “Those were the old days. A time we could do as we pleased. That is no more. The government is still cleaning up the shit the KGB left behind.”

Viktor leaned back in his chair and took a sip from the tall glass of vodka next to him. “The KGB didn’t do anything the fucking government did not want them to do. Their hands are not so clean.”

“I know, but you cannot keep an American tied up, beaten and drugged in the basement of Lubyanka without questions.”

“I liked the time we could do as we damn well pleased and fuck the rest of the world.

Ivan’s hands shook. The man had no stomach for violence, Viktor thought disdainfully. Twenty years ago, Ivan would not have been allowed to sweep the floors in this building.

“Yes, I know you do. But the SVR is not an organization I want to mess with. If they found out about the American, we’d both have a lot of explaining to do.”

Viktor stood and stretched. He tossed back the glass of vodka and shrugged on his coat. “I don’t explain tonobody.
”
”
He pointed at Ivan. “Maybe you do, but I never have and I never will.”

“What about the American?”

“I have people looking for him. I told the police and the SVR there was a prison break and to find the man and bring him back.”

“What if they cannot do that?”

“They will do it. You worry too much.”

“Having you as a friend makes me worry.”

“I am not your friend, I am your conscience.”

Proletarsky

Mac McKinsey paced the carpeted room of the safe apartment situated in a large
housing project. His jaw ached from gritting his teeth. Either Tony had to get his head straight, or Mac would have to take his place and extract the CIA operative.

Mac could accomplish the feat, but not with the finesse of Archuletta. Tony knew how to pull off
assignments, so people didn’t know what happened until the mission was over. Mac’s tactics were to blow the shit out of stuff get what he needed, and run.

A.J. Roddio walked in with his cell
phone against his ear. Frank had called earlier and tried to come up with something that would jog Tony’s memory. But first, Frank wanted to find out exactly what had been done to his agent.

An informant in the GRU told Frank it appeared Viktor
Pertinolf might have used an experimental drug on Tony. Instead of it making him spill his guts, it had screwed up his memory.

Mac thought of Falcon Securities without his friend. His gut churned and his throat tightened. Nothing would be the same.

A.J. looked at Mac. “Same old shit. Frank is trying to break down steel doors from afar, and he isn’t getting the information he’s looking for.”

“I’m not surprised. This is Tony’s part of the world. He has a lot of contacts in Russia. With no memory, he probably doesn’t know that, or he’d be here by now.”

“Can’t use resources you don’t remember.”

“I could sit him down and tell him everything I
know. Maybe that would bring those memories back.”

A.J. fell back on the bed. “This is one hell of a crazy situation.”

Mac looked out the window. “I don’t think anything like this has ever happened to an agent before.”

“I thought only people in the movies and on soap operas got amnesia.”

“I didn’t think it was legitimate, either.” Mac stepped back into the shadows when a Russian police car pulled up in front of the house. “It’s the authorities. Looks like someone sold us out.”

A.J.
pressed his back against the edge of the window then gave Mac a smile. “It’s him and that reporter.”

Mac pulled back the drape. “Tony stole a damn police car?”

A soft knock sounded at the door.

Mac rushed to open
it and allow Tony and Abby Williams to enter. “Glad you guys managed to get away.”

Tony said nothing. He simply took in the room and stayed close to the exit. Abby on the other hand looked exhausted. She slumped in the recliner and closed her eyes.

Tony took a few hesitant steps. “As you can see by our mode of transportation, we managed to get here, but not without resistance.”

Mac slapped him on the back. “Hey, at least you’re here.”

A.J. stepped up. “Don’t know if you remember or not, but I’m…”

“A.J
?” Tony’s mouth broke into a weak smile. “You, I remember.”

“That’s good.” A.J.’s face brightened. “We’ve been on several missions together.”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t remember all those, but you look familiar.” He glanced toward the door. “I know I’m safe.”

Abby sat up. “
You remember a few things about me as well.”

“I do, but they have nothing to do with work.” He put his hand on Abby’s shoulder. “There
’s a difference in the memories I have of you and the ones I have with A.J.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Abby
smiled.

Mac approached the bed and spread out several pictures of the agents working for Falcon. “Do any of these people look familiar?”

Tony leaned over and inspected the images. He picked up a few, only to put them down, then moved on to the last one. “This guy shot me.”

“That’s Brody Hawke. And while he did shoot you in the leg, it was purely an accident.” Mac remembered that whole ugly scene like yesterday and had no intentions of reliving the disaster anymore than necessary. “You only suffered a flesh wound.”

“It still hurt like a bitch.”

“I bet it did, but no whining.”

“Whining? I should’ve shot him back.”

“No, you’d never do that. Not to a fellow agent.”

“Do you recognize anyone else?” A.J. asked.

“I see several faces I’ve seen before. But I can’t name all of them.”

“That’s okay.” Mac put his hands in his pockets. “Has anything come to you yet?”

“A few coiling tendrils of things. A flash here. A voice there. But nothing I can string together and make sense of.”

“Do you know why you have to go to St. Petersburg?”

Tony sat on the edge of the bed and cradled his head with his hands. Mac felt sorry for his friend. Poor guy looked so alone and baffled.

“He said he remembered something about a job in Morocco for Mossad,” Abby offered.

“That was several years ago
.” A.J. sat on the bed. “A lot has happened since then.”

Tony raised his head. “Do you know what I’m supposed to do?”

“Frank said I could tell you, but I have to warn you not to try to do anything yet.”

Tony nodded. Gone was that cool debonair guy with the slick black hair and eyes women drooled over. He had on a regular shirt with a pair of jeans and heavy shoes.

Mac couldn’t remember a time Tony wasn’t decked out in black slacks, a jacket, and wearing a pair of Italian leather shoes. Quite the charmer, he could con his way into or out of anywhere.

Not th
is guy sitting on the bed. This one required help. He needed to know his identity and how he got into the situation that nearly cost him his life. If Mac planned to save Tony, he had to start digging.

“Do you remember Viktor Pertinolf? Ex KGB?”

Tony stared at the wall. “I’ve heard that name.”

“He put you in Lubyanka?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did someone give you the drugs?”

“Yes, a Ukrainian doctor. Name Wargo ” The name came to him from nowhere.

“You see him before they took you to Lubyanka?”

“No, I don’t think he’s involved with the KGB, SVR, or the GRU. I think he’s just a doctor.”

“Perhaps a doctor with a new drug to test on someone Viktor wants information from?”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Why were you in Moscow when your mission is nowhere near there?”

Tony’s head shot up. “Where is the mission?”

“
We figured you’d start in Damascus.”

“Where was I when I was given the mission?”

“Home, in Dallas.”

The skyline of Dallas flashed through Tony’s mind.
He saw the nightlife, the heat, the traffic, the sunsets, and the view from his penthouse apartment. He knew where he lived. Again, those dangling strings in his mind began to weave a story.

“When did I leave?”

“Thirteen days ago.”

“Okay, one day to fly to Moscow. But, why would I go to Russia if my assignment was in Syria?” He heaved a sigh. “I would have flown into Incirlik Air Force base in Turkey, then crossed the border into Syria. I’d have no reason to go to Moscow.”

“Do you remember landing at Incirlik?”

“No, I never got there.”

“Did your plane have a layover before arriving in Turkey?”

“Yes, I had a stop in Cairo.”

“Did you leave the airport?”

Tony stood and walked across the room. Head down, he brushed his hair back. He pointed his finger at Abby. “You were there.”

Abby’s eyes widened and she sat up. “I was there? Where?”

“In Cairo.”

Abby stood and held out her hands. “Tony, I have been in Washington the last month, covering the Libya thing. Four days ago, I flew to Moscow on another assignment. I wasn’t in Cairo.” She looked concerned and innocent.

“You were with a Middle Eastern man
. A man who introduced himself to me as Mohammad el Gensez.”

She shook her heard. “Frank can verify everything I’ve done recently, and I wasn’t in Cairo.”

***

That news upset Tony. It revealed he couldn’t trust his own mind. That nothing made sense. Maybe none of this was real. Perhaps his imagination played tricks on him. What if he never regained his memory?

Mac walked over and touched his shoulder. “Sit down. Let’s try to figure out what happened to you. I’m no psychologist or anything close, but we’re all pretty smart people. We can figure this out.”

A.J. handed
Tony a cold soda from the small refrigerator. He popped the top and took a gulp. He wanted scotch. Johnny Walker Red to be exact.

A.J. squatted in front of him. “This morning Abby broke you out of Lubyanka
, and you drove to the safe house. Right?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s how you ended up here?”

Tony nodded, not sure where A.J.’s questions were going. He knew all this already.

“Now, before Abby came this morning, what happened?”

Tony strained to recall anything, even a single memory.

“I woke up in a cell.”

“Alone, on a cot, was it dark?

“No, I wasn’t alone. Four others shared the cell with me.”

“Cot?”

“I slept on the cold floor.”

“Why? Tony
, why would you sleep on the floor? Wasn’t there a cot for you?”

“There was a cot
, but it made my head hurt.”

“Okay, so laying on the cot gave you a headache. When did you first notice the headache?”

“Days before.”

“Days before Abby showed up?”

“Yes, when I was in the basement.”

“Okay, you were in a basement
. Then they brought you to the cell?”

“Yes.”

“How long were you in the basement?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his forehead. “Days, weeks. I’m not sure. They kept the room
well lit all the time. It was so bright the lights hurt my eyes.”

“Were you in a cell in the basement?”

“No.” Tony closed his eyes and struggled to see past the light. He strained to make out those unknown faces that mocked him in the shadows. Slowly, the clouds faded away and the face staring down at him belonged to… “Viktor Pertinolf.”

CHAPTER
NINE

Abby sat on the arm of the chair and fought against the urge to bolt from the room. Until now, she hadn’t understood the degree of instability Tony suffered. If he actually thought he saw her in Cairo, what else would his damaged mind come up with? Just how safe could she be with him?

Shaking her head, she wondered why she
’d allowed herself to be drawn into all this espionage stuff. Perhaps the thrill of the chase? Well, if she’d done it for that reason, their drive here had cured that.

More likely it was her uncontrollable desire to see Tony one more time. That was closer to the truth than anything as honorable as saving her country.

Shame burned her cheeks. Who wouldn’t consider being a loyal American and doing whatever needed to be done for freedom?

Mac and A.J. continued to question Tony while Abby stood and paced the place
, which was very similar to the one they’d used in Moscow, except this one had a homier feel. As if someone might actually live here.

Tony’s gray eyes were now bloodshot and his shoulders hunched. He had to be exhausted. His words weren’t as sharp, and his eyelids drooped.
She hated seeing him so confused.

Abby halted. “I think he needs to get some rest. He’s been through a lot. You should stop questioning him.”

Mac looked at her. “We will, but there’s a doctor coming to check him out. He may have some answers for us.”

“Doctor?” Tony asked. “You called a doctor?”

“He’s one of us. We’ve used him a dozen times. We have to know you’re okay.”

Before she or Tony could object, a knock sounded at the door and A.J peered out the keyhole. “It’s him.” He opened the door and a man entered carrying a black bag. His thick glasses, the tie, and his smooth hands would lead anyone to believe him
to be a doctor.

Still, Abby stepped closer and watched his every move. “You’ve checked him out, right, Mac?”

“Inside and out. He can be trusted.”

The doctor
went to Tony and asked him to remove his shirt. Abby’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. The Falcon agent did as instructed. Tony cautiously went through the motions. They all knew one wrong move, and the doctor would be dead before any questions were asked.

Abby flinched at the bruises, scrapes and cuts on Tony’s body. If they were going to fill him full of some kind of truth serum, why beat him so badly?

The doctor took a step back. “Do you remember the beatings?”

Tony shook his head.

Tenderly, the stranger touched a gash on Tony’s side. “Perhaps the knife that sliced you?”

“None of it.” Tony looked across the room
at her. Their gazes clashed with an intensity that stunned her.

“I’d like to draw some blood to see if there is enough of the drug left in his system that we might identify.”

A.J. shook his head. “I have a feeling that’s well gone by now. I’m sure they kept him out of the general population until they knew he was clean.”

“I believe you’re right. And the human body has an amazing filtering system to clean out impurities.”

Abby crossed her arms. “What about his memory? He thought I was someone else, even though we’ve known each other years.”

“That’s not unusual, even in the mildest forms of truth serum
,” the doctor said. “It has a tendency to confuse the mind. That’s why so few people put much stake in the use of such techniques. It’s difficult to know if the person is telling the truth or not.”

Mac stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “But what if they created a super drug? One they thought reliable?”

The doctor put the blood pressure cuff on Tony’s arm and pumped the bulb. “There have been rumors of that for years, but the mind is a very complicated machine.”

Looking at Tony, Abby’s heart shattered with sympathy. “They say every man breaks if you beat them enough. Deprive and torture them.”

“It looks like they did all that, and my guess is he didn’t say anything. There are too many areas where evidence shows the punishment grew more severe over time.” The doctor put the stethoscope in his ears and slowly released the pressure in the cuff. When he finished, he looked at her. “He was beaten quite severely. Over the last several days, his body has started to heal. I think they administered the drug as a last resort.”

Mac put his hands on his hips. “So he has information they wanted. You don’t think they got it?”

The doctor put his supplies in his bag and took out two needles. He held one up and filled it from a small vile. “It’s my opinion they did not get what they wanted, or they would have killed him. I think what they used was too strong, too invasive to make him talk. It simply shut down his mind.”

Abby went over and stood between Tony and the doctor. She balled her fists. “What are you giving him?”

“A shot of morphine for the pain. Also a muscle relaxant so he’ll get a good night’s sleep. This way his body will heal faster.” He held up an orange bottle of pills and shook them. “These are antibiotics. I want him to take one pill twice a day to insure he does not get sick.”

Abby stepped aside and held out her hand. “If these shots are safe, you take one first.”

Mac took Abby’s arm. “We’ve checked this guy out. He’s on our side.”

“When it comes to Tony’s life
, I don’t trust anyone.”

The doctor smiled. “I understand.” He took the needle
, stuck it in his thigh, and pressed the plunger. “Now I’m full of morphine. Do you want me to do the same with the muscle relaxer?” He smiled. “If so, someone will have to drive me home.”

She picked up the other bottle. “No, you can give that to me
, and we wait twenty minutes.”

“Abby.” Mac’s brows burrowed. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious.” She pointed to Tony. “As long as I’m breathing, nobody else is going to hurt him.” She looked at the doctor and held out the vile of muscle relaxer. “And that means you, Doctor.”

As the me
n looked on, and Tony shook his head, still Abby removed her coat and rolled up her sleeve. The doctor filled the syringe again and injected her upper arm with the medication.

She sat in the chair and waited. Her heart beat an unusual tempo and her breathing slowed. “If I fall asleep, let him give the medicine to Tony.” She looked at A.J., her eyelids heavy. “You take two of those antibiotics.”

That was the last thing she remembered before falling asleep.

Moscow

Boris Gurov ran into the apartment he shared with two other friends.
Dmitry, his partner, jumped off the couch and followed Boris into the back bedroom. “What are you doing?”

Boris pulled his small suitcase from beneath his bed. “Getting the fuck out of here. I am going to relatives in the Ukraine.”

Dmitry lifted his shoulders. “But why?”

Boris tossed clothes in the luggage. “They are on to me.”

“Who is on to you?”

“The commander, Gromyko, and that crazy man, Viktor Pertinolf.”

“How did they find out?”

“I don’t know. All I know is I must run
, or they will kill me.”

Dmitry
put his hand on Boris’s shoulder to hold him still. “We knew there was a chance that if you agreed to release the prisoner, your commander would have questions.”

“But we didn’t know Pertinolf was involved. That crazy bastard enjoys killing.”

“Viktor is the least of our problems. Did you forget he has no power since the SVR took over the KGB? He’s old and useless.” Dmitry patted him on the cheek and smiled. “Settle down.”

Boris stepped out of his lover’s grasp and sat on the bed. Not knowing what to do, he held his head in his hands. “I’m scared.”

Dmitry knelt in front of him and lifted his chin until they stared into each other’s eyes. “We will get through this together. And when it all dies down, we have enough money stashed away to open our own business.”

Boris tried to smile, but guilt made it impossible. He’d been so easily swayed. “It is our dream. Isn’t it?”

Dmitry squeezed his hands. “The only one we’ve ever had.”

Boris shoved his suitcase away. “Then I guess I need to stick it out.”

“Believe me, Boris. We can do this.”

He looked into his friend’s eyes filled with hope and batted back tears. They couldn’t afford to make a mistake at this point. “We have the money well hidden. No one knows but us.” Boris stood and put his arm around
Dmitry. “It will all work out. I promise.”

Damascus

Joe Mitchell sat in the dark corner of the basement and prayed help would come before something terrible happened. He’d been kidnapped at the Cairo airport weeks ago. While the men had treated him roughly, no one had hurt him yet.

After twenty-five years with the CIA, he knew the time would come when someone would either interrogate him or cut off his head in front of a video camera.

He knew too many names and too many secrets for whoever had him not to exploit the situation. Joe figured either way, he’d be a dead man.

Of course, every man hoped he could stand-up under a tough interrogation, especially all those Special Forces guys. Joe knew better. A human body could only endure so much pain before the spirit broke.

He’d done it too many times himself. Every man could be broken. At some point
, you spilled your guts just to stop the suffering.

So far, Joe had been spared that kind of treatment, which surprised the hell out of him. He
’d figured by this time he’d be dead and buried in a shallow grave somewhere. But that hadn’t happened. What were his captors up to?

The bolt slammed back and an Arabic woman wearing a pale blue burqa brought him a tray of food. She came regularly. Twice a day, every one of the fifteen days
he’d been here if he’d counted correctly.

With her completely covered, nothing gave away her age, except her hands, and they revealed a young woman in her late twenties or early thirties. She, like most women in the region, didn’t wear a wedding ring
, so he didn’t know her marital status.

Her role in the abduction confused him as well. She never spoke, and an armed guard always accompanied her into the bunker where they held him. It was
nighttime now, for she held a lantern to light her way.

Joe had nothing in the concrete bunker. No light, no windows, and no furniture. He sat chained to the wall on a dirt floor. They’d rigged his shackles
, so he could reach his food and drag himself to a bucket where he relieved himself. He could stand and walk about three feet before the restraints stopped him.

When the woman placed the food down, she stepped over and replaced his bucket with an empty one. Then she left the lantern in a far corner
, so he could eat his food.

Once
she was outside, the bolt struck home and Joe was alone. He picked up the spoon and shoved the food into his mouth. It was always a little too spicy for him, but he ate to keep up his strength.

Tonight
, he heard voices from outside, a man and a woman. Joe understood every word of Farsi they spoke.

The woman whispered, “I don’t like it.”

“It will be fine, Hana.”

“If the Americans come, they will kill us.”

“No one knows he’s here. If they did, they would have come to get him.”

“And kill us in the process, Hussein?”

“No, Nadir has promised me if we keep the American safe until Youssef can transfer him to Iran, we will be well paid.”

“I don’t know why you listen to your insane cousin. He is a radical. He hates America and now he will get you killed.”

“No, that won’t happen.”

“If you die, Hussein, what will become of me and our children?”

The voices drifted off into the night.

Oh, Christ. Sweat popped out on Joe’s forehead like a water sprinkler and the piece of bread in his hand fell to the floor.

He and the CIA were very familiar with the name Youssef, as in el Jibar.