Madman's Monster Read online

  I shook my head, "No, I'm sure you kept the receipts, right?"

  Dimitri clearly wasn't used to the kind of insolence I was throwing at him, but he managed to continue.

  "Doing this for me will also serve your own interests."

  "And what "interests" might those be?"

  Now it was Dimitri's turn to smirk at me, "We'll get to that. First you need to understand what is at stake."

  I didn't like how confident Dimitri suddenly looked, which was as if he had some ace up his sleeve.

  "Go on."

  Dimitri frowned and spat, which I didn't appreciate as I would probably be the one cleaning up the office later, and said, "Everything that is happening is moving through "official" channels, but my own sources tell me that there is a man making claims to being a descendant of the Romanovs who is truly behind all of this."

  "Romanov? You mean like the last Tsar of Russia, Romanov?"

  "Da, it was thought that the family line had been completely slaughtered back in 1914, but the new administration has taken a stance of being publicly against the crimes committed by the Communists, and they are trying to assign restitution to the victims including the Romanovs."

  I shook my head at the whole convoluted situation, "So the government is just going to give the land back to this man just on his say-so, that he is of Romanov lineage?"

  "Oh, certainly not!" Dimitri waved his hand as if swatting away a fly at the question, "They are running DNA tests, apparently the latest technology, and if he is proven legitimate then the government will have to decide the best way to compensate all of the parties involved."

  "Compensate how?"

  "We believe they will either divide up our lands, or assign a monetary increment to each area, based on a geographical assessment value."

  I thought about it and, honestly, the idea didn't really sound all that bad a solution to me. "Sounds like everyone will come out a winner, so what's the problem?"

  Dimitri Lagos' eyes burned into me, "Do you have any idea the value of the land we are talking about?"

  I answered honestly, "Obviously not, because you haven't told me what location is in jeopardy."

  The old man's gaze never wavered, "As I said, Siberia."

  "Excuse me?"

  The old man nodded, "Yes, Siberia."

  "What, you mean like, all of it? The entire territory of Siberia?"

  All I knew about Siberia is that it was huge, almost as large as the entire United Sates, and was generally considered to be the geographical armpit of Russia. A freezing cold wasteland good only for prison camps and reindeer farms with little indigenous life and even less value. Why these idiots were going to go to "war" over a virtual icepack that no one ever wanted to begin with was beyond me.

  "Seriously?"

  The old man cocked his head curiously, "Yes, why?"

  Dimitri's surprise by my lack of comprehension made me pause. I tried to rack my brain and, failing that, turned to my computer and typed "Siberia" into the search engine. Wikipedia basically read as my memories of Siberia had always been: home to most forced labor camps and other forms of Soviet prison systems. There was also some mention of herding reindeer and a small patch where potatoes can be grown; otherwise, it seemed a wasteland. And then I saw the section about mining. Apparently after the fall of the Soviet Union the new technology that began to funnel into Russia made an amazing discovery. The region was abundant, dare I say, overwhelmed with precious metals, diamonds, natural gas and oil all of which were now accessible via modern mining methods. The entire region was, quite literally, a gold mine. If I were to read a into what Dimitri was saying I would have to assume that he and his brood were the past and present beneficiaries of these newfound riches, and they did not wish to lose control of ‘their’ lands.

  Dimitri stared knowingly at me and said, "In times past, we used the land as our sanctuary. People died in the camps all the time. Sometimes it was from malnutrition, sometimes from the abuse of their jailers and sometimes they simply disappeared into the night. If fate had brought you to Siberia then, for all practical purposes, you were already dead to the rest of Russia."

  Dimitri stood and began to pace around the office as if stretching his legs. "We enjoyed the isolation for years. It served us well during the transition from the Russian Empire to the Tsarist states and then into Communism and we were left alone because no one wanted anything to do with the people, or the land, called Siberia."

  "Did you have ever have claim on the land?"

  Dimitri nodded, "Da, it was officially assigned to myself and a few of my people as caretakers of the region. We were actually responsible only to track down any runaway slaves or escaping prisoners, and return them to the camps however we saw fit. In return we were granted the right to live and utilize any aspects of the land that were not currently being harvested by the state."

  "How long before you realized you were sitting on a treasure chest?"

  "Not long. We found the diamond mine first, then the silver and later the gold. It wasn't until decades later that prospectors began arriving and surveying the area for oil, coal and natural gas." Dimitri's nose wrinkled as if he smelled something foul, "Once they found the oil, there was no stopping them. So I began talks with then President Putin about maintaining our rights to the land. He taxed the mines heavily, but we kept all the rights of ownership until the claim was made by the Romanov."

  "You're calling him "the Romanov" now? Are you sure his claim is real?"

  Dimitri stopped pacing and a look covered his face that wouldn't be accurate to call fear as much as unease, "Yes, I am sure he will prove to be of the Romanov bloodline."

  "How distant a relative are we talking about here? There must be hundreds of people with some kind of distant familial tie to the Tsar's family."

  Dimitri shook his head, "No, only a direct tie would be recognized in this case."

  "But if they were all supposedly killed around the time of World War One, then who is this guy?"

  Dimitri didn't answer, but his eyes were distant and unfocused.

  I ran the whole story through my head and realized there was something I was missing. I had been so caught up in the tale that I forgot to ask the big question, "So how do you expect me to help? I'm on the other side of the world, and it isn't as though I speak Russian?"

  Dimitri seemed to reanimate himself and moved back to the desk to sit in the leather chair. I heard the tinkling of broken glass falling to the floor from behind us and realized Lei was working to raise herself up off the floor.

  Dimitri popped the latches on his briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope, full of several papers and some photographs, which he set on the desk.

  "We intercepted this." He passed a photograph to me that appeared to be an aerial shot from either a high altitude airplane or a satellite.

  "What is this?"

  "We believe that the Romanov is funding this base camp and that they are developing new weapons made specifically to kill our kind."

  I froze, "What?!? How do they know about us?"

  "We don't know, but it would seem that they do, and they are developing a weapon that would enable a military force to specifically target our kind."

  I scanned the photograph and some of the papers that Dimitri had handed me and while I didn't look, I could feel Lei watching us as she cleared the debris from her clothes. She started moving in close to Dimitri, but a quick shake of my head let her know the fight was over and to stand down. Dimitri glanced over her way and gave Lei a long, lingering up and down look that was creepy on a level that would put a chill in your bones. Lei noticed him and, in true Lei form, sensually licked one of her fingers, drawing his attention where she wanted it, and then dragged the finger across her throat in a slashing fashion before walking out of the office.

  "She is a spirited one. I like that."

  I didn't respond, but every fiber of my being wanted to rip the old monster to shreds, never mind whether I was able or not.<
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  I put the last of the papers down on the desk. "This is all very interesting, and, if what you say is true, then there may be a reason for my people to watch and see how it all turns out. However, I don't see a reason to actively become involved yet. I still say this "Romanov" is your problem."

  "Da, but this facility," Dimitri tapped a finger on the photograph where it lay on the desk, "it is your problem and your responsibility."

  I frowned but didn't respond. The old bastard was working his way around something, holding some kind of trump card back that he thought would obligate me. I waited for him to play his hand, but really had no idea where he was going.

  "This is why you owe me your service and you will do as I ask."

  My eyebrows went up. "Oh, really?"

  "Da," Dimitri's voice became smug and certain as he reached into a flap inside the lid of the briefcase, removed another trio of photographs and slid them across the desk. The first picture had two individuals standing next to each other. One appeared to be a uniformed soldier, although what uniform he wore was beyond me, while the second man was being led away in chains. The second man was also nearly twice the size of the soldier.

  "So what?"

  Dimitri pointed at the photograph, "The man in that picture is the key. I need him found and brought back to me alive."

  I frowned, "I assume you mean the big guy?"

  Dimitri rolled his eyes, "Yes, the big guy."

  I shook my head, "So who is he?"

  Dimitri immediately answered, "That doesn't concern you!"

  I stared at him, a little shocked by his outburst, but Dimitri composed himself quickly.

  "The identity of that man is unimportant to you, even though he is crucial to us. He is currently being held as a prisoner and we want him back."

  "Is he one of yours?"

  This time Dimitri just scowled at me and didn't answer.

  I relented, "All right, so how do I go about collecting him?"

  "The next photograph is a man who might be of some help to you."

  I swapped the top picture to the bottom and saw a picture of a United States Navy Officer, dressed in his formal uniform.

  "Can you tell me who this guy is?" I said with a degree of sarcasm in my voice.

  Dimitri ignored my attitude and said, "His name is Robert Larson and he served in the same Special Forces team that the man from the first photograph used to be in. We believe them to be close friends and he should be willing to help you."

  I shrugged, "I still don't see any reason, or obligation, that would make me want to help you."

  Dimitri smiled, "Check the next photograph."

  I again swapped the top photo to the bottom, but this time just watched Dimitri as he sat there, grinning like a proverbial cat that ate the canary. When I couldn't take the suspense any longer I casually glanced down at the photograph. Immediately I could see that it was a picture of a trio of men, two of whom were wearing the same soldier's uniform as the one from the first photograph, but the moment my brain registered the image of the third man I couldn't breathe and my hands shook as they held the photograph.

  Dimitri chuckled softly and rose from the chair. He placed stacks of money and the bogus passports on my desk along with another manila envelope. "All of the necessary documents, maps and other information you may need are in the envelope. I shall assume that I need not tell you to inform me when you have dealt with your responsibility, as well as resolved your debt to me, by retrieving the man and claimed the list of my property, which is also in the envelope.

  I was too stunned to speak, just nodding as Dimitri pointed at the photograph I still held, "That man, wearing the lab coat in the photograph, should be able to guide you to everything I require."

  My mind and body were numb at the sight, but somehow I managed, "Pick up your men and go."

  Dimitri inclined his head and torso in what might have been a slight bow and kicked each of his "guards" until they stirred and staggered out behind him. I thought I heard them dragging away the man Lei had incapacitated by the front door, but I couldn't be sure. I just stared at the image in the photograph.

  Lei walked back in, looking over her shoulder at the Russians departing and froze when she saw me standing there incapacitated.

  "What happened?"

  I couldn’t answer because my voice didn't seem to work.

  She moved to my side and placed her hand on my arm as her eyes searched my face for understanding. Then she modified her gaze and checked out the photograph. I heard her gasp and her fingers dug deeply into my forearm.

  "OH MY GOD!!!" she exclaimed and her legs buckled slightly before she regained her balance. "It's him!"

  I could only nod. After two years of searching, there he was. Dr. Phineas Whelan, the man who murdered over three thousand of my people. And now we knew where to look.

  Chapter 10

  He woke to pain, but there was always pain. It was a constant, consistent companion for him as he lay alone in the dark strapped to the upright platform that served as his "bed." His eyes fluttered open and he tried to take in the details of his surroundings, but his eyes, though acclimated to the dark from being closed while asleep, still couldn't penetrate the depths of the shadows that surrounded him.

  He wiggled his toes and could feel the smooth steel step his weight rested on beneath the soles of his feet. He tried to flex his ankles but, instantly, a sharp pain shot through and around his calf muscles as he made his attempt. The circular clamps that were bolted to the table and tightened around various parts of his body, although not so much as to cut off his circulation, and not viciously painful, unless he tried to move.

  He contracted his thigh muscles just to get a sense of feeling in his lower body and again something in the metal restraints seemed to bite into his flesh, increasing the already considerable amount of pain he was experiencing. He knew he was bound by similar restraints around his waist, chest, wrists, biceps, neck and forehead and even the smallest movement would be enough to set the sharp biting pain shooting through whichever part of his being couldn't remain immobile, but still, he tested each and every muscle, each and every clamp, until his body was beaded with sweat from the strain.

  He went through the act every time he awakened in the dark place that was his prison, even though he didn't know why. He closed his eyes and tried to make sense of his own incoherent thoughts as each one came into his head. He had no memory of who he was, nor how he ended up here. He tried to concentrate and quiet the chaos in his head, but he wasn't able to focus his chaotic mind. It was as if his own thoughts were functioning and literally screaming at him to act, although in a language he didn't understand. He tried to make sense of anything, to grab onto one single piece of information with some semblance of clarity that might lead him to a place where he could concentrate, a place that would enable him to understand, to recognize the steps needed to be free of the torment that the pain and restraints brought to him.

  He tried again and again until the muscles of his body began to quiver at the mental and physical effort he was putting into the attempt to be free. Finally, he slumped, exhausted against the restraints. He closed his eyes in expectation of the oncoming torrent of pain that would come from all the restraints and would simultaneously sear throughout his body as a result, but he just didn't care anymore.

  He was too tired of trying to escape, and he knew he couldn't escape the restraints. Or the pain. Or...worst of all...the...

  Lights flickered on and off in rapid succession and his eyes shot open at the unexpected strobe effect. There was a slight smell of something in the air that hadn't been there a moment ago. It was acrid and cloying in his nose, but not unpleasant. Something inside him was cheering and he suddenly realized he was no longer in pain.

  Surprised he flexed his calf muscles again, but this time there was no searing, biting pain when he felt the meat of his lower leg press against the slick metal that encircled his ankle. Confusion made him test other res
traints and when he clenched his fist, when he gently flexed his wrist he could feel the restraints creak and bend with his effort.

  The faint sound of voices in the distant background began growing louder and he went rigid. He couldn't let anyone know of the small newfound freedom he had acquired and he hoped that no one would notice him.

  The voices continued to grow in volume until he could distinguish the words clearly, "...capacitor probably blown. The readouts all indicate there was some kind of massive power surge, just more than the array could effectively distribute."

  "Whatever man, as long as we don't have to hang out in there too long. The guy gives me the creeps."

  It was easy for him to determine that there were two voices, both male and both somewhat apprehensive about whatever it was they were about to do. He couldn't distinguish much more as the men hadn't entered the room, but then there was a series of different beeping sounds, followed by a hiss and grind of metal sliding on metal until a loud click sent everything quiet again. Light burst into the room and he had to shut his eyes tightly to keep it from hurting his eyes.

  "Is he out?" one man asked.

  "No, just doesn't like the light. C'mon let's just get this done," another man answered who was wearing a white doctor's coat over simple green/blue clothes. The doctor hurried into the room and sat in a chair just to the left side of the upright table.

  The other man was more wary and was wearing the typical all-black garb of the guards along with a rifle slung over his shoulder and a strange looking gun in the holster at his side.

  "Oh yeah, he's awake." the guard's voice wasn't steady and came out in a semi-stutter, "Sh-should we just tranq him? To be safe?"

  Without looking up the white coat quickly said, "No, he's had too much of that shit over the last couple days. We aren't supposed to use it unless we absolutely have to."

  The “patient” let his eyes follow the guard as long as they could until he would have needed to turn his head to follow. He felt sure he could overcome the restraints around his head and neck as easily as he had those that were around his wrists, but he didn't want to let these two know he could move...at least not yet.