Murmansk

Prologue and Chapter 1

Murmansk

 

Prologue

December 10, 2000

Murmansk, Russia

 

Abby slid the tray slightly on her shoulder to help the balance as she weaved her way through the tables.

Setting the tray down at a booth with four leering men, she distributed glasses of Vodka to themwhile surreptitiously eyeing the front entrance.

"Hey!" she shouted, suddenly jumping away from the table.

"Xpahnte Grubby pkyn moeň ass!" (Keep your grubby hands off my ass!)

The Russian men around the booth burst out in riotous laughter as they threw their money on the tray.

Grabbing up the tray, Abby pocketed the bills and made her way to the bar to pick up the next order. As she waited for Gregor to fill the tray again, she blew her bangs out of her face nervously as she once again furtively glanced toward the door.

Where the hell are you, Gabe? She mumbled to herself worriedly.

***.

Outside of the bar, a man in the back of a nondescript car lowered his sniper rifle. He could have easily pulled the trigger when the American girl was serving her last table; even though his shot would have probably been ruined when she jumped back...one of the old perverts had grabbed her from behind!

The man smiled despite the delay in completing his mission.

"Soon little printsessa, soon. We will soon see if your man comes through with his end of da bargain."

The Arctic

 

I shoved the hand full of gauze pads against Preacher' shoulder and applied pressure.

"Hold on buddy, it went through and through, we just need to get the bleeding stopped."

Preacher's pain was evident in the film of sweat on his forehead, his breathing short and shallow. Wrapping his shoulder tightly with tape, I was relieved when I saw that it had seemed to slow the flow.

Covering him with several blankets, I went to check on the heating unit. I could see by the condensation showing at the bottom of the tank that we were about to run out of propane.

Dammit I whispered, angry at getting my friend into this...Angry at getting myself into this!

Slipping into the heavy parka, I pulled the hood over my head and walked out of the shack and onto the barren plateau. Distractedly, I realized that it was close to the first day of winter...the shortest day of the year.

But there had probably been no sun here today...we were already in the depths of arctic winter.

Pulling the satellite phone out of the parka's pocket, I powered it up and waited for it to find a satellite. I had discovered a speed dial number on a note taped to the phone when I woke up, and I was waiting to try it when I heard the beep.

Looking down at the device, it told me that there was a picture message coming in. Clicking on the icon, the screen filled with the image of Abby, looking back over her shoulder toward the camera. It would appear that she was acting as a server at some establishment, but that wasn't the worst part of the picture.