“Hey,” Woods shoved a fry in his mouth. Bell paused as she was about to take a bite of her Burger and looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.
They had stopped at Burger Town on the way home.
Woods parked the van, but told Bell to wait in the van. Despite her reassurances that she was fine he still seemed concerned for her.
So Woods went inside to get the food.
When he came back, they opened up the back doors. Bell sat on the floor of the van. Woods had settled into a jump seat and propped his feet on the one directly across.
Between them were several orders of burgers and fries. It had been some time since either of them had eaten and they needed to keep their strength up. At least that’s what Woods had said.
Bell wasn’t going to argue with him. She had lamented missing out on the burger Park brought for her.
He had also picked up a stuffed toy of the Burger Town mascot Bubby, which he said was to cheer her up, but she had her doubts about whether it was actually intended for her or not.
Even so, she was currently holding the toy in her lap.
“Hey?” She said finally after a long pause.
“Hey, be careful you’re going to get mustard on that-” Woods warned.
“I can get mustard on my toy if I want to,” She grinned at him. Though she felt like that wasn’t what he originally meant to say.
Woods reached over and plucked the toy from her lap, placing it on the seat.
He shook his head at her feigning disapproval.
Then he dropped the act.
“Look, I’ve been thinking-”
Here it is.
Bell tilted her head, looking at him curiously, as she took a sip from her soda.
“I don’t know how to ask this, so I’m just gonna ask it.”
Another pause.
“What do you want to be called?”
That was not what she had expected at all.
And it was not something she had considered before.
Bell was the only name she knew. But she must have had another name at some point.
“I mean-” Woods scratched the back of his head, “It doesn’t seem like you can remember your name. So the only name we have for you is-”
“The name Adler gave me,” She finished and then took another sip of her drink.
“Yeah,” He sounded like he might be sorry he started this conversation.
“You know,” She said, a slight bitter grin appeared on her face, “You know where he got it from?”
Woods shook his head.
“Part of the conditioning. He used a little bell,” She mimed, holding the end of a bell and ringing it, “It’s almost funny when you think about it.”
From his disgusted expression, she could tell Woods disagreed. He muttered something under his breath she couldn’t quite hear.
Bell rubbed her hands on her sweatpants to clean them and leaned forward to pick up the Bubby toy.
She touched his squished little face, “I think he’s growing on me. He’s actually kind of cute. You know- in a homocidal sort of way.”
“You’re kind of cute in a homicidal way,” Woods said mock-defensively.
“Strike a nerve there, Woods?” Bell laughed.
“Frank. Remember?”
She nodded, “Frank.”
“So, what do you want to be called?”
“Well, like you said, I don’t have another name. I can’t remember my old one and-” She played with one of Bubby’s little arms before she spoke again, “I’m not sure I want to be her anymore.”
“Ok. What if-” Woods appeared to be thinking through his following words carefully, “You named yourself?”
Bell took a bite of her burger and thought it over as she chewed.
“Who’s going to take that seriously, though?” She said finally. She couldn’t imagine Park or Hudson calling her anything else. Adler, definitely not. Adler seemed like he wanted to call her- dead.
“I would,” Woods said sincerely and added, “Mason would.”
“What if I pick something and end up not liking it?” She grinned. She was joking. His sincerity had surprised her. Bell wasn’t entirely sure how to process it.
Deflection helped.
Humor helped.
Otherwise she’d have to think about the emotions she was feeling.
That Woods didn’t feel comfortable calling her Bell.
That he asked her what she wanted.
And that he’d respect whatever she chose.
But he ignored her joking tone, and once again, Woods responded thoughtfully.
“I’ll call you whatever you want to be called. I’m sure Mason will too.”
Bell hugged the Bubby toy and buried her face into it. Then she nodded.
“Maybe we can hit the library and grab some books. For inspiration.”
Bell reached behind her and hit rewind on the tape deck. She felt for the stop button, and after what she estimated was the right amount of rewinding, she pressed it. Then hit the play button.
The tail end of the previous song played through her headphones. A mournful acoustic guitar opened the next.
It was well past midnight. The apartment was dark. Bell felt like she did her best thinking in the quiet and the dark. West Berlin was a city that never quite could sleep. So much so that, even on this high floor, Bell could hear the revelers and party-goers from the street below through the open wind even on their high floorow. Initially, she had sat by the window, smoking and writing, but the unpredicatable noise proved to be too much of a distraction.
The stereo had been appealing to her from the moment she saw it, but she hadn’t tried it out. In all honesty, she felt a little overwhelmed by the extensive catalog of tapes, of the artists and songs she didn’t recognize. But tonight, she decided to give it a shot.
Bell popped in a cassette with artwork of a ship teetering on the edge of a waterfall, about to fall into nothing but open sky. It felt somehow appropriate to her. She had mistakenly started with Side Two but listened all the same. The first song had been good, but the second song?
It had her by the throat from the opening chords, so much so that she hadn’t yet listened to another song on the album since.
Bell sat on a pillow just against the cabinet that contained the stereo. The Bubby doll and one of the notebooks Park gave her were in her lap. Pen in hand, poised over the open page. She should have been recording her dream.
But instead, here she was meditating with the singer on the inevitability of death.
It could have been funny to her, given how many near misses she had experienced in her life. Maybe if she had been in a better place, it would have been.
If she hadn’t spent most of her time lately trying to recall and record a life she couldn’t remember. A life that didn’t even seem like hers anymore.
Like she floated through the dreams of someone else.
Who was this person?
Could they truly be so different?
You are damaged goods.
Volkov.
The name was written at the top of the page. She hadn’t yet been able to get anything else out.
Park would be interested in this, especially after Bell had killed Volkov, ruining Park’s chances of interrogating him. Bell tapped her chin with her pen.
They must have hated each other—she and Volkov.
Only a grave can cure a hunchback.
What an odd thing to say. Vokov must have thought Bell was willingly working with the CIA.
But to suggest that her attempt to change her life was futile, it seemed to her like there was something more behind it.
Volkov had not hidden his disdain for her. But it felt like old hate, not from her perceived betrayal. Not entirely.
Her dream seemed to confirm that.
Had she killed Volkov because she had no options or was it something else?
Something in their history telling her the Volkov was better off dead than alive?
Bell was jerked awake by someone yanking her by the collar of her coat. Pulling her off the couch where she had taken refuge. She struggled as he dragged her by her collar. Because of the cast on her arm, the coat was not completely on, and she could wriggle out of it. He reached for her again and grabbed the back of her sweater, holding her like she was a stray cat.
The man was tall and thin, with dark, slicked-back hair.
Volkov. Though she didn’t know that yet.
He was sneering at her through the lenses of his dark glasses.
“What the hell is this?”
The man talked about her like she was an object, not human, something to be despised.
The wounds on her back felt hot. The bandages had been on for far too long. They needed changing. It was likely that the blood had begun seeping into the towels she had stuffed into her shirt when she escaped the hospital. The man was shaking her and yelling, but she couldn’t understand what he said. She just needed him to stop. The pain in her back, the lightness in her head was overwhelming her senses.
Stop!
Do something.
Anything.
Without thinking, she grabbed his arm and bit down hard.
He shoved her to the floor and clutched his bleeding wrist.
“What’s going on in here?” It was him- Perseus. She didn’t know him as Perseus then. She didn’t know him as anything. She had probably heard his name at some point at school, but never committed it to memory.
It likely wasn’t his real name anyway.
And not once had she asked his name. Even though he had visited her in the hospital over the past few days.
“This disgusting thing bit me,” Volkov clutched his arm, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Bell bared her teeth at him. If he wanted an animal, she would give him an animal.
Volkov raised the back of his hand to her, but Perseus swooped in between them.
“What are you doing here?” Perseus placed a hand on her sweaty forehead.
“Don’t touch her,” Volkov recoiled.
“They wanted to send me to an orphanage,” She said quietly. It was getting hard to talk. She had exerted a lot of energy fighting off Volkov. She kept him in her periphery as she spoke to Perseus, “I ran away.”
“I see,” He placed his hand on her back and then pulled away, staring at his palm. He guided her to tip forward so he could look at the back of her sweater, “We need to change your bandages. Come with me.”
He helped her up. Bell wasn’t sure she could make it at this point. She felt so tired and woozy. He seemed to sense this and gently touched her shoulder as he walked her to an office. As it turned out, it was a makeshift medical room.
“Wait right here,”
Volkov sneered at her through the curtains.
“And what am I supposed to do- little brat bit me.”
She could not make out Perseus’ response.
Soon a woman entered the room. She washed her hands and pulled a thermometer out of a drawer. Then she popped it in Bell’s mouth.
She and Perseus closed the shades in the office. Bell was grateful not to have to look at Volkov’s nasty face.
The woman rooted through the cabinets and stacked a haphazard pile of what she thought she might need on top of a metal tray. Gauze, scissors, alcohol, and on top of those she tossed a pair of rubber gloves.
The woman looked at her watch and snatched the thermometer from Bell’s mouth.
She reviewed the reading and exchanged serious looks with Perseus.
“She’s going to take care of you, and I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
Bell nodded. He left the room. The woman helped her remove her sweater and hop up onto a bed.
“Your shirt is covered in blood. I’m going to cut through it.”
Bell buried her face into the table as the woman cut through the back of her shirt. Carefully she peeled it back, sighing in relief as she did so. Then she carefully snipped away the bandages. Cold fingertips prodded her warm back.
“Give me just a moment,” The woman said. She opened the door a crack, sticking her head out.
Bell could hear snippets of conversation.
Ripped stitches. Infection.
“Do you mind if he comes in?”
Bell shook her head.
“Oh, I see. You ripped out some stitches, making yet another daring escape.”
Bell nodded. She wasn’t certain if he could see her, “Yes.”
“Didn’t you notice?”
She nodded again, “I had to go.”
“I’m worried about infection. We should take her back to the hospital.”
“I won’t go back there,” Bell muttered.
“Can you take care of it?” She heard Perseus ask the woman.
“She’s a child,” The woman exclaimed, “I don’t take care of children!”
“She’s stubborn. She’s a fighter. If we take her there, she’ll just run away again. We’re fortunate she came to us at all. Next time, maybe not.”
“If I stitch her up, they aren’t going to look pretty.”
“I don’t care,” Bell said, exasperated with how they talked about her. As if she wasn’t in the room. As if she didn’t have a say in her own care. She had to take care of herself now. She was alone.
They had even gotten her grandmother, hadn’t they?
Killed a child and an old woman.
Bell gripped the bed sheet, balling it up in her fist.
Hot tears mixed with the fever sweat and rolled down her face.
A cool hand touched her shoulder, and the woman’s gentle voice said, “You might care when you’re older.”
Bell reached under her shirt and felt the scars on her back. Suddenly, she felt so connected with that angry and stubborn child.
A small smile appeared on her lips; she was still angry and stubborn. Just an adult now.
Bell rewound the tape again. At that moment, Woods emerged from his room. He walked in front of her, grabbed a pillow, and tossed it to the ground next to her. She watched him as he sat down, then he yawned and scratched his chest.
She felt a little thrill of something in the pit of her stomach looking at him.
“What?” He yawned again.
Bell shook her head.
Sometimes it was nice to indulge in the feeling, even though she knew nothing would ever come of it. Lifting one of the headphones off, she flipped it around and held it out to him. Woods leaned in, cupped his hand around the speaker, and held it against his ear. She did the same with hers.
Then she pressed play.
After a moment, he said, “You can’t listen to something a little more upbeat?”
“I like this one. It’s nice.”
“Nice? Remind me to take you to a record store.”
She was a bit taken aback by the suggestion.
Did he really want to spend more time with her?
No, he was probably tired and not thinking about what he was saying or who he was saying it to.
“Yeah, that could be fun,” She tried to sound non-committal.
Give him an out.
Make him realize what he said before he was stuck spending his free time with her, too.
But once again, he surprised her.
“Tomorrow?”
“What else am I doing?” She did her best to mask the excitement in her voice.
“Yeah, then we can go to the library,” He bent his knees and leaned back into the cabinet. Woods let out a tired sigh and closed his eyes. They listened to the song. When it finished Bell stopped the tape, not quite ready to finish the album, but not about to subject Woods to her incessant listening to this one.
After a moment of quiet, he opened one eye and looked at the notebook resting on Bell’s knee.
“What are you writing there? Name ideas?”
“No,” She said and capped her pen, ”Nothing like that. Just was writing down a dream for Park.”
“Want me to leave you to it?”
“Mm Nah, I’m pretty much done,” Bell shook her head. She let go of her end of the headphones. Woods turned them around and hung the headphones back up.
“Want to talk about anything?”
Bell considered this. Opening up to someone was unnerving. At least when she dove into her memories she wasn’t awake for it.
But this was just Woods.
Right?
Woods and Mason- they were safe.
“Volkov- I guess I met him when I was a kid.”
“That Russian gangster?”
“Yeah, he and Perseus must have been working together for some time,” Bell paused, she set her notebook aside, “After the- I escaped from the hospital.”
“Oh, did you?” He smirked.
“They were trying to put me in an orphanage,” She continued, “I didn’t want to go-”
“Yeah, I can understand that.”
“Thought you might,” She relayed the rest of what she could remember to him. Skipping the part about the scars.
“Well, he sounds like one grade-A asshole,” Woods groaned as he got to his feet. He swiped a pack of cigarettes left on the coffee table and gestured with his shoulder to the window. Setting her notebook and Bubby aside, she rose and joined him. He sat down on the window ledge and lit his cigarette. When she approached, he handed her the pack, and she, in turn, lit her own cigarette, then took a seat next to him, her back to the window. She propped her arms on her knees.
“Treating some wounded kid like that,” Woods was still thinking about the story she had just told him, “Good fucking riddance.”
Bell nodded. She sat up and braced a hand on the lip of the ledge as she leaned back to blow smoke out into the night air.
She felt Woods’ eyes on her. Sometimes she felt like he could see through her. But he didn’t always let on what he was thinking.
Let people underestimate him.
She took another drag and exhaled before meeting his eye.
What was that look? Sadness?
She hadn’t asked him what he wanted to talk to Adler about. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but something seemed to be weighing on him.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she asked, “What is it?”
He looked away from her then, “Something was bugging me.”
“Is that why you needed to talk to Adler last night?”
He nodded and surveyed the city below.
“Do you wanna get into this right now?”
“Can’t sleep, can’t think of a better time.”
If they didn’t talk about it now, she’d be up all night worrying about some imagined scenario.
Woods nodded again, and he rubbed at his collarbone. Bell forced her eyes back up to his face.
“Solovetsky,” Woods said, “How did you know to go there?”
“Oh, come on, Frank,” She held her hands up and to the side, “Not you too. You know how- Perseus told me.”
“Where?”
“In the bunker-”
“How did you remember it?”
“It was after Cuba. Adler pulled me off the plane, remember-”
“Yeah, he said he was going to get you medical attention,” Woods shook his head, “You looked bad, Bell. Imagine my surprise- and Mason’s- when you were back on the airstrip and we headed to Solovetsky. You could barely walk when you left the plane, the next time I saw you, you seemed fine.”
“Adrenaline, I think. And morphine.”
“That’ll do it. Fuck, that’s dangerous.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like Adler was looking out for my well-being.”
“No doesn’t sound like he was looking out for much. Except maybe his own interests,” Woods scoffed and then in a low voice, added, ”Still can’t believe you went through all that.”
Bell exhaled smoke out the window.
“So you heard about it in the bunker,” Woods continued, ”-in your head. After Cuba, they’ve got you on morphine, adrenaline, and LSD. Pushing you to your limits-”
He was ticking off each point on his fingers.
“Adler was running Vietnam scenarios,” She offered, “-trying to get me to find the bunker.”
“He was guiding you there?”
“Yeah, he wanted me to go through a red door. Go to the bunker. Meet with Perseus. That’s where Perseus told us about Solovestky.”
“Us?”
“Big table, surrounded by Aldrich and Arash, Volkov, Rudnik, oh and Arash’s second-in-command Qasim Javadi-”
“Sounds like the gang was all there.”
Bell smiled, “I guess so.”
“Everyone there was someone on Adler’s evidence board.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Doesn’t seem weird to you?”
“They were the major players.”
“That we know of. Really. No one else? In an organization as big as Perseus’?”
“Seems like something you don’t want to advertise.”
“Maybe,” Woods didn’t seem entirely convinced.
He took a drag. A group of revelers was running across the street below. Their whoops of excitement seemed to draw his attention.
“Was there any other time you heard about Solovetsky?”
Bell half shook her head, but then thought it over again.
Woods was looking at her. She was in the middle of bringing her cigarette to her lips when she stopped short.
“Arash,” She said, her voice distant as she dragged up the memory. Another death of hers. Absently she touched the spot on her chest where the bullet had entered, just missing anything vital. A miracle.
Woods’ eyes widened, realizing what she was doing, but he stayed silent and waited for her to go on. She wrapped her arms around herself as a breeze blew in through the window. It wasn’t particularly cold, but she felt a chill all the same.
“In the truck before he shot me,” Bell relayed, “We would fly to Duga. Shoot the hired guns with us and then to Berlin and from there to Solovestky. But then got out and he shot me.”
Woods stubbed his cigarette out and stood up. He scratched his head. Bell’s eyes followed him as he walked to the kitchen.
“You want a beer?”
“No thanks,” Bell finished her cigarette and placed it in the ashtray next to Woods’.
She moved to perch on the edge of the arm of the couch so she could see Woods in the kitchen. She wondered what he was getting at. He looked deep in thought as he got himself a beer, popped the top of the can, and took a drink.
Then he flopped down on the couch. Bell swung her legs around to face him.
“So?”
He took another sip from his beer and wiped his mouth.
“Not sure. Just trying to figure it out. Adler,” Woods sighed,” He didn’t know you were in Vietnam. This whole time, I thought maybe it was some CIA need-to-know bullshit. I mean, when Mason asked Hudson about Nadia- Hudson hit him with that crap.”
“Mason asked Hudson about her?” Bell leaned in, ”What about her?”
She had been wondering about Nadia but was worried about asking.
How it might look.
It was already bad enough her spilling her guts day after day. Admitting to her crimes.
She didn’t need to cast suspicion on her current motivations.
“What they got out of her. What she knew.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“No idea probably tucked away in a cell somewhere. Touted out when the CIA wants info-“ He looked at her then, ”-hey, you’re not feeling bad about that, are you? She lied to you. Wasn’t for her you’d have been long gone from that hell hole.”
“Woods, I would have tried to find you. All of you. I was ready to kill you. Getting her out was the only thing stopping me,” She turned her head away from him,” I’m sorry that’s a horrible thing to say.”
“Doesn’t justify what happened. I’d be ready to kill me, too if I was in your shoes. Amazing how one decision can change everything.”
Bell looked up at him. He wasn’t just talking about this one instance. He had a lifetime of experience with bad decisions and close calls, too hadn’t he? A lifetime of regrets.
You ever tell anyone about those Woods?
What did you regret?
What would you change?
He sighed and took a swig of his beer.
Is that why he was coming around? Or seemed to be? He could relate to bad decisions couldn’t he.
Maybe it was safe to tell him more.
“Adler,” Bell slid down into the couch cushion, “He tried to kill me.”
Woods paused mid-sip.
“It sounds stupid, but I was afraid to tell you.”
“Did you know?”
“That he’d shoot me? Yeah”
“Fucking hell,” He leaned his head back on the couch and ran his fingers through his hair, ”You knew, and after everything we did to you, you still told him where to go? You went into Solovetsky knowing you might not walk out?”
“Wouldn’t you? Of course, I had hoped not. There was even a point where I thought maybe he’d let me live. But that was stupid.”
“Yeah, but either way, you weren’t-” Woods stopped short.
“Getting out of it alive?”
He nodded.
Bell thought this over. There was more to it than just those options. And she felt like she owed him the whole picture. He was trying to help her put the pieces of her life together. She at least owed him some honesty.
“There was another option. Well, I only had seconds to think it through, but an idea did pop into my head. Arash said that there would still be forces at Duga. I could have told Adler to go to Duga.”
“And it would be an ambush?”
“And you all would have died.”
Woods sucked in a breath.
“That was my best option for survival, but,” She tugged at the elastic of her sock, “then the nukes would have gone off. I might have been able to stop him. Talk him out of it. But it wasn’t the safe bet. The best bet was trusting you, and Mason and Adler to get the job done in Solovetsky.”
“Knowing you wouldn’t make it out alive.”
“Heroes make sacrifices.”
“What?”
“All those people,” Bell looked at him, a sad smile crossing her face, “I couldn’t take the risk. Not just to save myself.”
Woods gave her a look but whatever he thought he kept to himself.
“I probably should,” Bell began to stand up, “Um, leave you alone.”
Who would want to sit there and drink a beer with someone who just admitted to considering killing you?
Twice.
She did that twice.
“Tell me what Arash said again.”
“We were going to fly to Duga. He said Perseus wouldn’t be there. We’d shoot the men we hired and dump them in the forest. That’s where I got the idea.”
“Yeah. And then to Berlin to give Volkov the weapons. The weapons you already had in Turkey? That we saw you loading onto the plane?”
“I guess.”
“And then on to Solovetsky.”
Bell nodded.
“Why the stop in Duga?”
She turned to look at him. Study his face. Why was he still talking to her?
Why didn’t he just let her leave?
Come on, Woods I’m a terrible person. Let’s drop this.
“I think-” She narrowed her eyes, a sudden thought entered her mind, “Duga- the radar array- would be the perfect place to send out a long-range signal, wouldn’t it? It’s almost obvious….”
Bell placed her thumb under her chin and bit her index finger.
Then her eyes widened.
“I think Duga was the place. Duga might have been the base of operations,” She frowned and tapped her chin, “But something compelled them to change. And so last minute. No that doesnt’ make sense does it? Why would they change the location of something so important to their cause?”
Woods stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to make a phone call.”
He went into his room. She could hear a muffled conversation. Then the sound of the phone hanging up. He didn’t emerge immediately,, but she heard him moving around.
When he walked out fully dressed he seemed surprised to see her still waiting for him.
“Shit, sorry, could you get dressed? We need to go to the Safehouse.”
They got into the van. Woods hadn’t elaborated on what they were doing. He seemed tired, and Bell didn’t want to ask for fear of what he might say. Maybe he had decided enough with her. She had admitted to wanting to kill them at some point. Maybe he felt unsafe.
“Might have to put the record store on hold,” Woods finally spoke.
She had forgotten about that plan.
“It’s fine.”
“Nah, we’re gonna do it at some point. When I get back?”
“Get back?”
Woods ran his hands over the steering wheel. Light filled the van as they drove under a streetlamp. Then it was dark. Woods’ face was illuminated and then cast in shadow again. They went through several of these cycles before he spoke again.
“Duga. I think we’re going to go to Duga,” He glanced at her, then back at the road, “Me and Mason.”
“What do you think is there?”
“I’m not sure. Could be completely cleared out. It’s all thick forest out there. It’d be hard to tell without eyes on the ground. But even if it’s abandoned, if it was actually the base of operations once there might be something left. Some kind of clue.”
“Woods, there was a team there,” Bell reminded him. Her heart was in her throat. She hadn’t meant to send Woods and Mason away. Eventually they’d have to go out into the field, but it was too soon.
“But that was months ago.”
“Yes, so wouldn’t they have cleared everything out by now?”
“Look, you never know what you might find. If they thought you switched sides, they might have had to clear outta there quick, right? When we hit them at Solovetsky, we took them by surprise. Maybe they hadn’t had time to completely clear out the Duga HQ. They might even have been worried about coming back because of how hard we hit them at Solovetsky.”
“Surely now-”
“It’s the first lead we’ve got.”
Bell stared into the darkness ahead.
Woods spoke again, “Look- something has been bugging me. Arash. The way he told you about Duga. Something doesn’t add up. If you already knew about the change, if what you remember from the bunker was real, then why would he need to tell you again?”
“What?” She stared at him in disbelief, “What are you saying?”
“I’m not sure. Nah, that’s not it,” Woods shook his head and stared hard at the road in front of them, “What if that was the first time you heard about it? The whole bunker thing wasn’t real. Your mind told you it happened that way because Adler told you it happened that way. But how would he know?”
“He wouldn’t,” Bell whispered, “He wasn’t there.”
“Right, seems convenient doesn’t it? Adler says Perseus told you in the bunker. You’re surrounded by people who’s pictures were up on his evidence board-”
She stared at her hands.
“If what you’re saying is true-“
“We don’t know it’s true-“
“Frank, this is my life,”
She saw his hands wrap tightly around the steering wheel. His jaw was set.
“I know,” He said through gritted teeth.
“Then everything that happened to me-”
“I know.”
“He played fast and loose with our lives out there,” Woods waved his hand in Adler’s direction.
Bell was struggling to pay attention and only caught snippets of the conversations. Her stomach knotted and her mind abuzz with terrible scenario after terrible scenerio.
What is something bad happened?
It would be her fault.
She never should have told Woods about Duga.
“You brainwashed someone without even knowing who they were?” Mason was looking between Hudson and Adler in disbelief.
Bell would have loved to lay into Adler, and she still might have that chance. But something didn’t sit right with her having Woods and Mason do it. She was certain that eventually, the hammer would fall, and they’d have to eat those words. Bell curled her legs up on the red leather chair and tried to focus on the conversation.
“Oh hell no,” Woods shook his head, “You’re not staying here so you can have free reign over her mind.”
Bell looked between the three of them. She had missed something.
“We need to investigate least,” Hudson piped up finally, “This is the first lead we have.”
“Are you all forgetting who she is? I still don’t trust her,” Adler pointed square at her.
“You’re the one who’s not to be trusted,” Mason shot back.
“She admitted she could have called in an ambush,” Adler tossed his cigarette to the floor and ground it out with his foot before continuing, “This could be a setup.”
“Why would I do that?” Bell rose to her feet, “That would be just about the stupidest thing I could do. You all have me under lock and key. If I did anything to you, it would be over for me. I have the feeling that if anything happens to on this mission that’s even slightly suspicious, I’m done for.”
Bell looked to Hudson, who nodded confirmation.
“Stay, go, I don’t give a shit. Stand here the whole time with a gun to my head until Mason and Woods come back. If they don’t,” She placed the tip of her finger between her brows, “At least get it right this time.”
Mason was trying to catch her eye. He looked concerned, but she continued to stare Adler down even though there was no breaking through his exterior. The man had a poker face to rival the best gamblers. But she had a feeling she was going to pay for that jab at him.
“I think I’d feel more comfortable if we looked into what Bell knows about Duga.”
“No way,” Woods sharply crossed his hands in a cutting motion, “She’s not up for that-”
“I’ll tell you what I’m up for,” Bell said through gritted teeth. She wasn’t backing down to Adler, even if it meant going back into the hellscape that was her mind.
“You see, Woods?” Adler flashed him a smug grin.
Then he gestured towards a banker’s box on the table. It was labeled with the date: 01/12/81.
“Bell, why don’t you take a look down memory lane.”
It hadn’t particularly bothered her before, but after her conversation with Woods she couldn’t help but sneer when Adler called her that name.
Bell, we have a job to do.
Bell, his trained puppy.
Do a trick for me little dog.
Roll over.
Fetch.
Maybe you’ll get a treat.
Play fucking dead.
Maybe you’ll get a bullet instead.
It enraged her that he still had control over her. One phrase and she’d lose everything that she was again. Everything she had been clawing to get back.
And even still he had begun to invade on her real memories. Popping up in her mind in unexpected places.
She approached the box, not knowing what she would find. Lifting the lid she saw something green and knitted inside, wrapped in a plastic bag. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands.
The bag was labeled with the words Bell- Trabzon Airfield 01-12-81. Different writing than on the box.
She to unzip the bag, but looked to Hudson for confirmation.
No way was she going to be asking Adler for his permission on any of this.
He nodded. Opening the bag she was greeted with the smell of must and smoke. She removed the mask from the bag. The back of her neck felt hot as she realized the whole room had gone silent. Everyone was watching her.
The mask was just a lump of knit green. It was pilling in places and the wool felt rough.
Bell had worn this once—the other her.
The empty eyeholes seemed to stare at her. She tried to imagine her own eyes looking out through it.
She flipped it inside out and rubbed her thumb over the soft insulating fleece. A whiff of something soft and clean-smelling hit her nose. And then the iron scent of blood.
She flipped it back and placed her hands inside it, filling the mask, rounding it out.
If she were alone, would it tell her its secrets?
She imagined putting it on and the mask suffocating her. The old her killing the new her, regaining control of her body.
But that was the stuff of the books she read. It was just a mask. Nothing special.
Bell gently placed it back in the bag. and tossed it back in the box.
A death mask for a dead woman.
Determining that she did not want to continue examining the contents of the box with an audience Bell walked to the lab and hopped onto the table. She removed her sweatshirt and folded it neatly on her lap.
“You don’t have to do any of this,” Woods approached her and spoke in a low voice, “ We have recon for this kind of stuff.”
She looked over his face, “If I can give you any useful information, it’s worth it to me.”
“You’re still recovering from the last time,” He protested.
Bell smiled at him sadly.
“You know, one of these days, you’re going to hear something you don’t like, and then you’re going to realize that this is all that I’m good for.”
She felt like she was suffocating. The soft fleece inside her mask grew hot and moist with her heavy breathing. Her hand went to her chest, but she couldn’t feel anything. She ripped off a glove and placed it back on her chest, it was wet and warm. Her fingers were stained with blood.
Bell followed her companion’s gaze gaze to the mask on her knee.
“I have my reasons,” She said, a hairpin was between her teeth. Bell took the pin from her mouth to finish putting her braid up and pulled the green balaclava over her head.
“We’re just doing a drill.”
“What do you care anyway?”
Her companion chuckled, “I guess I don’t.”
“Well, let’s get out there.”
The mask allowed her to blend in while in the field. Given her “dishonorable discharge” she had strong motivation to not advertise her presence. But she also liked blending in.
Nothing to see here.
Just another faceless person.
With all her armor on she was indistinguishable from anyone else. No one could even tell she was a woman- until they heard her voice- most assumed she was a short man.
The two women exited the truck and approached the clearing.
In front of them was a large palette stacked with filing cabinets.
A training exercise.
A variation on what the KGB called Molniya- lightning. When Perseus had told her about this style of trap she was fascinated by it. Another puzzle. A deadly one.
Essentially a hidden or buried cache of supplies that were booby-trapped with explosives to kill anyone who tried to take, tamper with, or destroy the items within.
At the moment, however, this Molniya was not live. An interesting bit of theatrical work was involved with smoke and bright lights, and ink to stain anyone who failed to recall the intricate disarming procedure setup Bell had devised.
The soldier who returned with ink on their hands would be shamed by the rest of the collective. A small price to pay to avoid accidentally triggering a live trap. A week with ink stains and the ridicule that followed served to ensure that everyone paid rapt attention and quickly memorized the combination of actions needed to disarm a similar device in the field safely and effectively.
If their enemies were to find and attempt to either take or destroy documents, they themselves would suffer great consequences.
Brutal, but necessary.
Better in no one’s hands than enemy hands.
Bell demonstrated the technique, and each soldier, in turn took to disarm it and then rearm it for the next. Bell returned to her companion as they observed the proceedings.
Her companion was writing the results in a journal: logging the time to disarm and rearm or failure if it came to that.
“They’re doing better this week,” Bell observed.
“No one wants to be a laughingstock.”
At that moment they heard a loud pop and the hiss of pyrotechnics as one of the cabinets began to spark and emit smoke. The ink covered soldier stood in the middle of the palette dumbfounded as his companions clapped and laughed. He coughed and sheepishly stepped off the stage. Bell saw him rub at the ink on his skin, but she knew it was a futile effort.
“Spoke too soon,” Her companion said, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear as she placed a mark next to the soldier’s name.
The rain pattered on the metal awing over the Safehouse porch.
Bell and Hudson watched as Adler, Woods, and Mason piled into the van. Mason waved at her from the passenger seat. Woods turned as he opened the sliding door and gave her a little nod before hopping in. Adler ignored both her and Hudson.
They were on their way to the airstrip. Bell had given them detailed drawings of what she could remember of the disarming procedure. But she had reminded them that these could have been adjusted at any time. They might not be using her methods any more.
Her gut nagged at her, she couldn’t quash the feeling like she was sending them into a trap. She felt the urge to run out into the rain and stop the van. Pull the doors open and drag Woods and Mason out.
Too dangerous.
Ridiculous.
This was hardly the most dangerous thing either of them had ever done.
That she had done.
But the stakes were raised now. Against her better judgement, Bell had begun to let them in. Woods and Mason mattered to her. Not just because they were the only thing keeping her from imprisonment. She was starting to believe that they actually cared about her. Bell balled up her fists.
The van pulled out of the lot and they drove away. When it turned onto the street and she couldn’t see it anymore she felt the pang of something missing. She had gotten used to not being completely alone.
