Chapter 8
Boris stared at the knife, still vibrating from the force of the blow.
“Pull it out!” Igor shouted.
Boris tugged on the knife. “You really drove it in there deep.”
“Ja, I really wanted to kill that girl. She knows. She knows about the gold.”
The knife finally came free. “I know,” Boris said. “I heard you.”
“Go! Go find her.” Igor tore a section of the tablecloth off and wrapped his bloody hand. “And don’t waste any time. If you find her, kill her.”
Boris looked at Igor’s hand and was about to offer help bandaging it but then shrugged. If anyone could manage with such an injury, it was Igor. The only thing that really intrigued him was how he had managed to drive the large knife through his own hand.
He headed out of the living room and peered into the many rooms downstairs. No sign of life. He glanced up at the second level as he reached the main staircase.
“Where are you, dear teacher?” he called out in a maniacal tone. “Don’t let Igor scare you. He was only trying to teach you a lesson. Come out and we’ll talk about this. I’m the cooler, calmer half of this duo.”
Caressing the banister with his callused hand, he slowly climbed the stairs.
“I won’t hurt you, teacher. I just want to talk about.
.. you know... the gold.” He reached the second floor and turned to head down the hall.
“Do you hear me, teacher? Now that Igor has shared our little secret with you, maybe you would like to partake...”
A sharp pain suddenly sent him crumbling to his knees. “Aah! Aah! Argh! Pizdets” Falling to his side and curling up into a near fetal position, he grabbed his knee as the excruciating pain brought him close to fainting. “What the...?” He looked down at his blood-soaked trousers.
A girlish giggle caught his attention, and he looked up and behind him. April, the sweet young woman who had so politely and warmly invited them into her home, stood there, a large slegehammer in her hand.
“Sorry about that,” she said through another giggle. She swung the hammer, letting the hammer fall into her other hand. Where did she get the strength to do that? That hammer must have weighed over 50 pounds. With a shrug, she ran away. “Come and catch me, if you dare.”
Boris tried to get to his feet, but the pain was unbearable.
“What’s going on up there?” Igor called from downstairs. “Do you have them? Do you have one of them?”
Grabbing the banister, Boris struggled to get onto his good leg. He looked down at the gross angle of his calf. The young girl had completely shot his knee out.
“Do you have them, Boris?!”
“No!” he shouted through the pain. “I don’t have them. I’ve been hit! I’m wounded.”
“You damn sissy!” Igor shouted. “Stop crying like a little girl and go after the teacher.”
Clinging to the banister for support, Boris looked downstairs at Igor who stood there barking orders as he held his bloody hand.
If anyone was a sissy, it was Igor with his slightly injured hand.
At least he was still mobile. There was nothing about his injury that kept him from running around the house looking for the two elusive women.
And yet there he was screaming at him to run after the women with a shot out his knee.
“You hear me, Boris?” Igor called out. “Stop playing the sissy and go after them. Damn it, and don’t come back until you have them... or else I will kill you myself!”
“Ja, ja,” he muttered to himself.
Why in the world had he embarked on this adventure with the man? He’d never liked him. He’d met many vile and evil men in the past years, but none as ruthless and cruel as Igor.
“What are you waiting for?” Igor said. “Go!”
As Boris pushed away from the banister and headed down the hall he’d seen April take, he contemplated on his growing hatred for the man. They had the gold and the glory of the Bolsheviks in common, but that was all.
Three doors away, he saw a faint light coming out of a room... a warm and inviting glow.
The door was ajar. He hobbled closer.
“That really wasn’t very nice of you, young lady,” he gently called out, bringing added pain and suffering to his voice. “I thought we were getting along, chatting about history. You know, I have great admiration for Shakespeare myself.”
He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, then went on. He reached the door and pushed it open. “I know you’re in here. I saw you go in.”
The room was silent.
“You mustn’t let Igor get to you. I know he can be mean and nasty.
I don’t really like him much myself. In fact, you could almost say that I’m just as much a victim of his cruel streak as you.
You see, I’m not like him. I want to help you.
You can trust me. Just come out and let’s settle this misunderstanding. ”
More silence.
“Are you here, young lady? Hello? Is anyone here?”
“Hello,” April finally said with a giggle. She looked so innocent, helpless with both hands behind her back as she stood smiling at him.
He saw her then, backed up into a corner... just the way he liked his prey. “It wasn’t very nice of you to hurt me like that. Look at me. Look at what you did to me.”
With her small and delicate hand over her mouth, she giggled louder.
“You find this funny?” he said, his anger tinting his words.
Nodding, she giggled even louder.
No longer willing to play games, Boris stepped toward her. “You little bitch. I’ll kill you for what you did to me!”
Adrenaline eased the pain of his leg as he lunged at her.
He raised his arms up in anticipation of wrapping his long fingers around her tender neck.
She was almost within reach. He could almost feel her long neck in his hands, feel the blood pounding through her carotid artery as he squeezed and squeezed.
He could almost feel her life ebbing away.
But just before he got to her, he suddenly fell to the floor, a strange and inexplicable pain at the back of his neck. He reached back to find the needle of a syringe plunged deep into his skin.
The young girl’s giggles faded away as he was dragged across the floor. He looked up, trying to see who had grabbed him. But his eyes wouldn’t focus. The room grew blurry and dark. He was losing too much blood... and the needle... what was in that syringe?
Struggling against the being that dragged him along, he looked up into a face he barely recognized.
The teeth, fangs, long and razor sharp, were not those of any human he’d ever seen.
And yet, beyond the snarl, he thought he recognized.
.. No. It couldn’t be. Was it the teacher? It was female. Was it the girl?
It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. And as he blacked out, he wondered, what sort of house of horrors had they chosen to hold up in?
Having no notion of how long he’d been out, he came to and found himself sitting in a stiff wooden chair. He looked around and realized he’d been dragged to the red room. Why?
The room had a strange array of items, notably, the old-fashioned clothing and shoes that were of a bygone era. It didn’t make sense.
The more time he spent in the house, the more confused he became.
Desperate to get away, he tried to get up but he was strapped down to a red leather dentist’s chair. He wanted to struggle, to break free, but his limbs were feeble, almost useless.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” he shouted into the room. “You won’t get away with this. No matter what you’re trying to do, you won’t get away with it. No one ties down Boris. No one!”
But even as the words left his mouth, the cold sweat of fear beaded on his brow. He felt helpless, more helpless than he’d ever been.
“Look up,” a gentle and amused whispered suggested.
Unable to fight the curiosity, he looked up to see a long medical needle aimed directly at him.
“What is this? What do you want? Why are you doing this?”
He was answered with two strong hands that grabbed his head, holding it steady as the needle slowly made its way down.
“No!” he screamed as the needle approached his right eye. “No!”
He tried to close his eyes, but the thumb of the hand on his right cheek, reached over to pull his eyelid up.
In horror he watched as the needle pierced his eye.
*****
IGOR STARTED WHEN HE heard the piercing scream from upstairs. What had Boris gotten himself into now? The bumbling fool was a worthless partner. He never did anything right, leaving Igor to do everything.
With his hand loosely wrapped in the tablecloth now soaked through with his blood, Igor walked down the hall and went into the office hoping to find a more suitable solution to his injury.
He opened a series of drawers and finally found a small medical kit. “Now we’re talking.” He let the blood-soaked strip of tablecloth fall to the floor and opened the bottle of peroxide.
“This is going to sting,” he told himself.
Pulling in a tight breath, he poured some of the liquid over his hand. It stung even more than he could have imagined, but the pain quickly subsided, and he grabbed the roll of bandages and wrapped it around his palm.
As he secured the bandage, he looked at the papers and envelopes strewn across the large desk. Eager to know more about the residents of the large home, he picked up one of the letters.
Dear Doctor Ang,
It pleases us to confirm the order that was discussed at our last meeting. The conditions that you stipulated regarding payment suit us perfectly. 1/3 up front, 1/3 on delivery and 1/3 30 days thereafter.
However, while we had discussed the purchase of 20,000 units at a cost of $685.00 per unit, we wish to revise this and request the purchase of 35,000 units at a dimished cost per unit of $625.00.
In addition, when looking at the older model that you mentioned, we concluded that a purchase of 325,000 units at a cost of $27.00 a piece would suit our needs just fine.
Please confirm your ability to fill this order as we hope to receive partial shipment within the month, with the rest of the shipment the month following that.
Cordially yours,
Purchasing Director
Tim Conway
Smiling, Igor made a quick mental calculation.
“So, Mr. Ang,” he said with derision. “You’re the father of this little April Ang... a wealthy and powerful father. How interesting. How very interesting and perhaps even useful.”
As he shoved the letter in his pocket, another terrified scream came from upstairs. He shuddered, then quickly shook off the fear.
He’d fought in the war. He knew pain. He knew death. He knew horrors.
What could two feeble little women do to them?
Nothing he hadn’t seen before. Nothing he hadn’t survived.
Walking to the fireplace in the corner, he picked up the heavy metal poker and turned to head out and up the stairs to settle this thing once and for all.