Budapest » [Clintasha]

Chapter Fourteen: James

‘Curiosity killed the cat’... It’s an atypical idiom. I know my meddlesome tendencies have got me stitched up into all types of tribulation, including landing me in this secluded corner of hell they call the Red Room. But even Lukin’s eagle eyes hadn’t clocked the absence of the blonde; I attributed it to our new lack of numbers. One missing link in the chain, what’s one more?

It was a few reversed steps, receding as the procession crowded the claustrophobic corridor. The gap was plugged the moment I retreated. Once I was veiled by the poorly lit part of the corridor, I stalked my prey. I could see her blonde plait swinging like a pendulum ahead as she sharply turned down the intersection.

Light on my feet like a panther; my toes provided me with the springiness needed for speed. I didn’t spare a glance over my shoulder as my associates bodies were guided through. Not a single eye strayed from the corpses of our desolated youth and the sobs only got quieter as I strayed from the beaten path.

The facility didn’t lend well to snooping; the corridors were like the pipe of a trumpet, every noise travelled. The waterlogged grates they excused as floors creaked; especially the disintegrating copper coloured ones: chunks were crushed under my feet. The whisper of fabric as my thighs brushed and my arms swung seemed like the hiss of a python. My breathing sounded like the puffing of a weary dog. I was a one-man band and every move alluded to my presence.

I peered around corners, eyes scanning through the darker aisles of the base, where the lights were dim with the mildew film that was clumping around the bulbs.

She padded away, hips swaying cockily, her mucky boots undone in her hand; laces limp. With one hand she unpicked the braid, letting her war-torn hair hang free. I only saw her whip the strands between the passing flickers of bulbs; like a camera flash as they intermittently transmitted light.

I caught the profile of her visage. I needed no more than that to tell me who she was.

My toe glided out past the intersection as I made to follow her. A particularly loud clunk reverberated down the deserted corridor as I crunched the gnarly metal under foot.

Her head shot round, her ice blue eyes squinted through the half-light in my direction. Then moved on.  I watched her eyes twitch narrower as she isolated the source of the sound, her eyes learning the dim environment. Even with enhanced senses, she couldn’t me detect me in the dingy surroundings.

It didn’t take her long to work out she was being followed. And as she made for her destination again, she stole glances at the reflective puddles on the floor – paying attention to her peripherals.

I followed, tracing her steps with my own footprints. At every turn, I darted to safety, pausing around corners; not making myself known. I followed her like a shadow, deeper and deeper into the labyrinth. But she was crafty. Craftier than me.

“What the hell are you doing, Natalia?” She rotated balletically, stone set face sneering with condescension.

“Good, question... But I have a better one...” I renounced my hiding place and stepped out into eyeline. “What the hell are you doing, Yelena?” Defiantly, I crossed my arms across my chest, my eyes locked with her, like two bulls locking horns, thrashing and clacking defensively.

“I’ve got better things to do than watch the bodies of failures be carried past...” She had the genuine temerity to snort. She sized me up, her lip twitching with outrage as she noted the holster still on my hip.

My eyebrow arched audaciously and I tilted my head down at her. “Is that what you call them?”

“If they were any good they’d still be alive. They let themselves die, Natalia.” She plodded forwards a few steps, the purr of a tiger in her voice.