Wendy Rosnau - Sleeping With Danger

The rat never knew what hit him. As he lay on his side twitching and dying, Cyrus put his foot on the rodent’s narrow head and crushed it beneath his foot. Then he reached down, picked up his knife with the dead rat still impaled on it and continued down the corridor to welcome Sully Paxton to Minare.

Sully was dozing on the cot in his cell when he heard heavy footsteps. The cell where he was incarcerated was dry, and it didn’t stink like the dungeon on Hell Island. There was fresh air coming from somewhere, and that told him that the tunnel was open-ended. If he managed to get free, there would be a way out of the monastery other than through the front door he’d entered.

He sat up, but before he could get to his feet, the Chameleon was standing on the other side of the iron bars grinning at him.

“You’re not surprised to see me?”

“I don’t surprise easy.”

“But you must be curious why you’re still alive, and why I’ve decided to change your address.”

“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. No sense losing sleep over what I can’t change.”

“That’s what I like about you, Paxton. You’re a man who says what he thinks, and believes what he says. That’s why I’ve taken such a special interest in you. I hate to admit it but Merrick has a talent for picking winners. Normally when recruiting a team of special agents, you would look for sterling military jarheads. But Merrick being Merrick went looking for the wildest vigilantes alive. Truly the name rat fighters fits the M.O. of his most elite.”

Sully glanced at the rat impaled on the Chameleon’s knife and wondered if the rodent was a visual aid. “Am I supposed to conclude that I’m going to end up like that rat?”

The Chameleon laughed. “Not if you’re smart. And we both know how smart you are. A street-smart Irish gunrunner.”

“Is that it? Need a gunrunner?”

“Perhaps. You know, Paxton, I find it fascinating that you’re still alive. That your mind is still processing rational thoughts and you’re on your feet. It’s a testimony to your endurance. My screening process is a bit barbaric, and more often than not the result is disappointing, but you haven’t disappointed me at all. That’s why I’ve decided to reward you.”

“And this is my reward, more iron bars? I vote for a room with a view and a beautiful woman for a few hours.”

“The cell is only temporary. A few tests to ensure you haven’t contracted any contagious diseases, and you’ll be moved. However there will be no view in your new quarters, and I promise you that very soon women will be the furthest thing from your mind once you begin working for me.”

“You can’t believe I would ever agree to work for you.”

“Not willingly, no.”

“I could kill myself in here. Snap my own neck. That would flush your plans down the toilet.”

“If that was your intention you would have done it at Vouno.”

Vouno…. Was that the real name of Hell Island? Sully wondered.

“No, already you’re in survival mode…again. Death at your own hands would mean you had failed Merrick, and more importantly, make you a coward. What I’ve observed over the years about the Onyxx six is that each of you have a private code of ethics that demands survival at any cost. That’s what Merrick saw in each of you. Why I knew no matter what I ordered done to you at Vouno you would survive.”

The Cameleon spoke of Merrick as if he knew him personally. Sully sized up his jailer. At Onyxx the Chameleon’s identity was unknown. But that hadn’t altered the fact that he’d topped the list as the most wanted international criminal for over a decade.

“Who are you?” he asked, never expecting to get a straight answer.

“You don’t recognize me? That’s right, you wouldn’t. Not unless you knew my history, or you’d talked to Merrick recently. Which we both know you haven’t.”

Was he saying that since his capture Merrick had uncovered his identity?

“Your boss and I go way back. We were friends before he betrayed me.”

“Before Onyxx?”

“No. We were both recruited by the NSA. We were the first team of Onyxx operatives at its conception.”

There had been talk at the Agency that the Chameleon could be a rogue agent. Sully said, “Long time to hold a grudge.”

“I assure you it’s more than a grudge. I believe my file at Onyxx states that I died just outside of Prague in a minefield. As you can see, Mr. Paxton, Cyrus Krizova is very much alive.”

So the Chameleon finally had a name. Cyrus Krizova.

“You and I have a lot in common. We were both left for dead by our comrades, and we have both survived.”

“You’re saying Merrick deserted you? Not a chance.”

“You find that hard to believe?”

“I know Merrick. That’s not his M.O.”

“Like your team, there were six of us. Merrick was the field commander, Briggs was point man, Paavo Creon was the typographer and, like you, I was the weapons expert. The others…well they’re not important. Like you, Paavo was a regular pretty boy. That’s why, when I needed some repairs done on my face after I stepped on that mine, I decided to take his. He wasn’t going to need it anyway.”

The smug look on Krizova’s face told Sully that Paavo was probably dead.

“You killed Merrick’s wife?”

“What I did was save her from wasting her life with a man with no honor. He didn’t deserve a woman that flawless.”

“Johanna Merrick wasn’t a part of your war with Merrick.”

“As you know there are always casualties in wartime. Like me, your Onyxx team left you for dead at Castle Rock. Are you telling me you don’t harbor any resentment?”

“I was caught behind enemy lines. Fallen comrades are left for dead. It’s standard policy at Onyxx.”

“That’s noble of you, Paxton, but while you were left for dead, Sly McEwen was carrying out Jacy Maddox. A fallen comrade at death’s door. He should have been left behind, too, but he wasn’t. They didn’t even try to look for you.”

So they had all made it out alive. It was the first Sully had heard. But instead of resenting Sly for getting Jacy out, all Sully felt was relief. His teammates had survived Castle Rock. That was good news.

“You’ll be in good hands with Dr. Barinski.” Cyrus looked at his watch. “Before I say goodbye, do you have a meal request for dinner? I have an excellent chef. Whatever you’re craving, I’m sure Cosmo can accommodate you. And of course as much as you want. You’re still underweight.”

“In that case, how about your heart on a silver platter,” Sully replied, “and a six-pack of Killian’s Irish Red.”

Cyrus chuckled, then stepped forward and slid the rat off his knife and tossed it between the iron bars to land at Sully’s feet. “An appetizer while you wait for your meal to arrive. I ate rats in Prague to stay alive. I know in the pit you did, too. You see, Paxton, you and I have even that in common. And I’m sure there is much more.”

An hour later a guard delivered Sully his supper. To his surprise it was served on a silver platter, and beneath the domed cover was an animal’s heart and a six-pack of beer. It wasn’t Killian’s, but the brand could have been from Tasmania and two-thirds dog piss and Sully would have drank it.

It was the first time in days that he had passed on a meal. He picked up the dead rat, tossed it next to the heart and covered the tray. Then he carried the six-pack to the cot and fell asleep nursing his thoughts with a liquid meal that went straight to his head.

In the morning Sully woke up with a screamer of a headache. The beer had tasted good going down, but he was paying for it now. His tolerance to the booze wasn’t what it used to be.