The Sakharovsky Ruby

Captives No More

What do I do now? Peter hopped on his bike and drove off...fast, trying to leave the memory of Sergei, the vodka and those damn spiders far behind him. I came here for the ruby but all I'm going home with is a trail of dead bodies. Peter was more than a little disappointed in himself. At least none of the dead were the result of anything he'd done.

Should I go after the ruby? Certainly, that's what my boss would want, or at the very least try. On the other hand, the young Russian did save my life, he thought as he continued to contemplate his options.

Peter chose a different option. I'm going back home.

As Peter drove along the wide dirt road that headed back to the Mongolian border he couldn't stop feeling guilty that this would be the very first time he'd ever failed on a mission for his boss.

This wasn't all his fault, he realized. He wasn't given enough information. In reality, this should have been a two-person job; one person to do his job, the dirty work, and the other for backup, reconnaissance or simply to discuss various scenarios with. Indeed, missions never went as planned, and there are always unknown variables, but this was just way too much, he concluded.

Peter's stomach growled from hunger. He hadn't eaten a thing since he entered China early this morning. I suppose it's too much to ask for a good Chinese restaurant, he thought. He parked the bike on the side of the road, opened his nap sack and pulled out a protein bar. This will have to do. Unfortunately, Peter had no water.

As he rode off Peter spotted some men up the road standing by a broken-down truck. They were attempting to wave Peter down. Instead of stopping, Peter decided to speed up and pass them. He wasn't spending one more minute here than he had to.

* * * * *

Svetlana quickly pulled out her now free hands from behind her back and threw off the blindfold. With incredible speed and precision, she then struck the guard in the neck with her index finger, the razor tip slicing open his carotid artery. He looked into her eyes, terrified, as blood spewed in every direction. Within seconds he was dead.

Svetlana caught him before he fell to the ground, held him up in front of her and used his body as a shield from the barrage of bullets being shot at her by the two guards at the end of the truck. Svetlana calmly took the gun out of the dead man's holster and then fired off two shots. Both men slumped to the floor. Two more down, she thought while taking a momentary respite to wipe the blood off her face.

Svetlana recalled her years of training. Her mentor, whom she hadn't seen in years, had taught her that gender, size and strength were meaningless when opposed by someone with skill, precision  & speed. Make each movement as quick and as precise as possible. Allow your subconscious to control your body while not allowing fear to slow you down. She was grateful to her mentor's teaching and vowed to tell her as much when she returned home.

The noise from the gunshots caught the attention of the other guards waiting around outside. Svetlana wasn't going to wait until they approached her so she ran around the side of the truck to the front cabin and prayed that they'd left the keys in the ignition. They hadn't. What they did leave was a pistol strapped to the sun visor. She grabbed it and focused her concentration, ready to fire in any direction.

The first guard approached the passenger window. Only his arm was visible. "Get out of the truck and we won't kill you," the man said. Svetlana fired at the pillar between the front window and the back of the cabin. It was an old truck, with lots of rust, so it went right through the metal and killed the guard.