The End is Coming

Chapter Fifty

They had reached the main entrance to the mu-seum from the side, by circling behind the struc-ture—and the guard there, a young, florid-faced man who looked very tired, had pretended they were invisible, never acknowledging their pres-ence, never following with his eyes as they had gone up the steps toward the heavy doors.

Vladov used a key—two of the men went through first, the third in a guard position in the shadow beside a pillar at the head of the stone steps.

Vladov was checking his watch—then he said in English, “Hurry—inside.” Natalia went through, Rourke behind her, Vladov after them, closing the door as his men came through, then locking it from the inside. Vladov rasped, “That way—hurry!”

The figures of two fighting mastodons domi-nated the central hallway, Rourke running past them waved on by the two Special Forces men who had gone through first, toward mezzanine stair-ways, Natalia taking the stairs three at a time in a run, Rourke behind her, doing the same, Vladov and the third trooper behind him.

At the head of the stairs, the two Soviet SF men waved them down a left-hand corridor, Natalia following, Rourke beside her now, Vladov giving an order in Russian to the third trooper to stand guard by the mezzanine and stay out of sight.

They slowed their run, walking in dark shadows, a golden light ahead of them. The two Soviet SF men turned right into a side chamber, Rourke and Natalia after them—Rourke stopped. At the far side of the chamber—perhaps some sixty feet away, was a man, huge in his bulk, but of average height and not more. His face was a com-bination of sternness and the warmth of a home-less dog, his uniform tunic open, his feet moving as though it hurt him to stand. Natalia ran into his arms, the man seeming to smother her.

“That is Comrade General Varakov,” Vladov said with obvious pride. “I am sure that as the friend of the major you will not, but should you attempt to harm the comrade general, I would willingly—even gladly—die in his defense.”

Rourke studied Vladov’s eyes, saying, “You know—I think you would.”