As she turned to stuff the bag into a leg pocket, Chad grabbed onto the neck ring of her spacesuit. “Dye minyeh!” His voice was strained, but his Russian was clear. “Give it to me!” In his free hand he held the machete she’d set down while extracting the bag.
She reached for the knife in his belly, but he slashed at her hand, cutting across her knuckles. “No, no, toots,” he gasped. “I’m planning to live through this.” He beckoned with his free hand and repeated his demand. “Dye minyeh!”
She twisted away from him in the confined space, reaching deeper into the leg pocket. Turning back, she raised the pistol and pointed it at him. “Nyet!”
A voice spoke loudly from below them. “Don’t move!”
Kaz climbed into the cockpit, his pistol rock-steady, aiming at Svet-lana’s head.
59
Pursuit
“Well, isn’t this a pretty little Mexican standoff,” Chad grunted. “Or should I say Russian?” He smiled at his own joke, and grimaced.
Keeping his gun on Svetlana, Kaz flicked his gaze around the cockpit, taking in the bloodied wet-suited body and the knife in Chad’s belly.
“You okay, Chad?”
“Never better, buddy.” His voice was raspy.
“I know you speak Russian. Ask her what she wants.”
“I do what, Kaz? How would I know how to speak Russian?”
Svetlana kept her gun trained on Chad, listening to the men.
“Chad, it’s no longer a secret. We know you’ve been in contact with your brother in East Berlin for years, and that you’ve been communicating with the Soviets, even while you were on the Moon. Dammit, you speak Russian. Ask her!”
Chad’s voice was slurring now. “I don’t need to ask her anything, Kaz. She’s already got what she wants. She just stuffed it into her pocket!”
Svetlana pivoted fast and fired point blank at Kaz; as he saw her move he squeezed his trigger. The two shots sounded in rapid succession, the noise deafening in the small space. Her bullet had spun Kaz, a sudden slam on his left side. She pushed forward past him, straightened her body and fell through the open hatch into the water.
He looked down, fearing the worst, seeing blood on his left upper arm. No pain yet. Fuck!
Colombo’s head popped up through the hatch. “I just saw someone in a spacesuit swim out, and I heard shots! You okay, Commander?” He looked around the capsule, his eyes widening. “Holy shit!”
“Yeah, I just got dinged. But Chad needs a doctor ASAP, and I need to stop the cosmonaut. Go topside and call the other helo for medical help, now!”
“Aye aye, sir.” Colombo disappeared.
Kaz looked at Chad, speaking rapidly. “We haven’t got the proof yet, but we know you’re guilty of Tom’s helo sabotage, and that you’ve been taking money from the Soviets. Time to get your story straight, Chad. It’s not going to be pretty.”
He clumsily pulled his mask back on one-handed, shoved his regulator into his mouth and slid down through the hatch.
Guilty! Is that what Kaz said?
The word echoed in Chad’s head, and he moaned. He wasn’t guilty! He was a hero! He alone had found what the damned Russians wanted and had been bringing it back to the good guys. He looked at the bloody body on the other side of the cockpit. Shit, I was stabbed defending it.
He looked down at the handle of the knife protruding from his belly. A wave of pain surged through him, a burning agony like the center of his body was on fire. As it subsided he reached into the hole the cosmonaut had cut in his suit, then pulled his hand out, wiggling his wet fingers, looking at the dripping red of fresh blood. Realizing what it meant. Realizing what Kaz had said about sabotage and money, and what would happen to him now that they knew.
Get my story straight! He closed his eyes against another wave of pain, and everything went searingly, blindingly white in his head. It took longer to pass.
I’m an action hero! He visualized the words, like they were floating in front of him on the cover of a comic book. He nodded, a smile curling his lips. I need to keep it that way.
Time to take one more action.
He reached up and unlatched the locker near his head, pulling out the strap that was attached to one of the vacuum-sealed containers of moonrocks. He clipped the free end to the ring on his suit, then reached up again. The pain of pulling the heavy box out made him scream. He worked it past the edge, the agony a cascading roar in his head, until the box overbalanced, tumbling and banging violently past him, towards the hatch.