Clandestine pursuits
Mar. 27th, 2007 12:31 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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groznyj_gradAll clear. Good.
Initially, Ippolit had despaired of ever slipping past all of the fortress's watchful eyes. However, careful observation had revealed that there were often short gaps in the patrols, just long enough for a man to slip through, if he was quick. He had bought himself some extra time with an item he had found in the storeroom, wedged between a splintering crate and the wall. Ippolit sometimes saw things other people didn't.
A glance around the corner confirmed that the soldier whose route went by these particular offices was indeed neutralized for the time being. Honestly, he couldn't see what was so engrossing about women in black garterbelts, though it did also contain an interesting story about aliens by a man with a name like a fish.
Ippolit darted down the hallway, his hand moving to the other object his earlier foray had borne, nested safely beneath his coat. He'd been very careful not to ruin the shape. C3 was, after all, pliable.
The door was unlocked. Ippolit smiled to himself. The Colonel's reputation would be enough to keep most intruders at bay.
Ippolit kept his eyes straight ahead and his mind on the objective, refusing to be distracted by seeing in what kind of environment a man like the Colonel would live. There was no time to fall into a trance.
Withdrawing the object from his pocket, he held it up to his eye, examining it critically. He adjusted a few of the petals, ensuring that they were well defined. Detail was important.
Alone in the center of the massive desk, the small shape was striking. Delicate among brutality, artistry among ruthless efficiency, dangerous and, if he said so himself, beautiful. A single white carnation. Forming it had been difficult, but Ippolit had a dextrous bend, and, besides, the symbolism was ideal.
Fascination.
Deed done, Ippolit made his escape, taking care that his egress was unobserved.
By the time he arrived at the more populous parts of the fortress, he let himself feel a giddy tingle of relief. It was only a gesture, but it felt like a victory.
He even had an alibi.
Rakitin strode toward Liadov's office, ready to take on the day's interrogations.
Initially, Ippolit had despaired of ever slipping past all of the fortress's watchful eyes. However, careful observation had revealed that there were often short gaps in the patrols, just long enough for a man to slip through, if he was quick. He had bought himself some extra time with an item he had found in the storeroom, wedged between a splintering crate and the wall. Ippolit sometimes saw things other people didn't.
A glance around the corner confirmed that the soldier whose route went by these particular offices was indeed neutralized for the time being. Honestly, he couldn't see what was so engrossing about women in black garterbelts, though it did also contain an interesting story about aliens by a man with a name like a fish.
Ippolit darted down the hallway, his hand moving to the other object his earlier foray had borne, nested safely beneath his coat. He'd been very careful not to ruin the shape. C3 was, after all, pliable.
The door was unlocked. Ippolit smiled to himself. The Colonel's reputation would be enough to keep most intruders at bay.
Ippolit kept his eyes straight ahead and his mind on the objective, refusing to be distracted by seeing in what kind of environment a man like the Colonel would live. There was no time to fall into a trance.
Withdrawing the object from his pocket, he held it up to his eye, examining it critically. He adjusted a few of the petals, ensuring that they were well defined. Detail was important.
Alone in the center of the massive desk, the small shape was striking. Delicate among brutality, artistry among ruthless efficiency, dangerous and, if he said so himself, beautiful. A single white carnation. Forming it had been difficult, but Ippolit had a dextrous bend, and, besides, the symbolism was ideal.
Fascination.
Deed done, Ippolit made his escape, taking care that his egress was unobserved.
By the time he arrived at the more populous parts of the fortress, he let himself feel a giddy tingle of relief. It was only a gesture, but it felt like a victory.
He even had an alibi.
Rakitin strode toward Liadov's office, ready to take on the day's interrogations.
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no subject
Date: 2007-04-05 02:53 am (UTC)Resignedly, Ippolit wondered whether his mind had broken or merely bent.
No call to advertise it, in any case. Not, he thought vaguely, to someone who seemed to constantly be sizing up your weaknesses, judging whether or not it would be worth his time to leap for your throat.
"Yes," he said instead, softly and with sorrow. "It is."
Rakitin pushed his thoughts to business, like a Viking shoving a funeral barge away from the shore.
"The sedative was a kind most often administered through injection. No needle marks were apparent on the parts of the flesh that were intact. But most of it...wasn't."
Ippolit's lips pressed into a thin line.
"If we had the missing limbs, I might be able to tell for certain."
Something that had been nagging at the back of Ippolit's mind chose that moment to rise to the surface.
"Has any attempt been made to find them? They can't have been easily disposed of. Burning is a possibility, but it takes extreme heat to destroy bone. A foray out into the jungle to bury them would surely have been noticed."
no subject
Date: 2007-04-05 03:32 am (UTC)"That's a good point, Rakitin."
And it was.
Something he should have thought of.
"The body was stuffed in a barrel, which exploded when the greenhouse went down. There were no signs of the missing appendages nearby."
Nika nodded, the idea gaining ground in his mind.
"They must be somewhere."
Then he frowned.
"There's an incinerator on the grounds that would seem like an obvious place for someone to try cremating them. But you're right- it's probably not hot enough for green bone. I bet they're stashed somewhere. We should turn over the grounds."
If they didn't find them now, as soon as the weather warmed up they sure as hell would.
Nika gave an unconscious shudder.
You never got used to the sweet dead smell of flesh.