Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

The woman who’d wept during injection was now lying on a cot, her body wracked with visible chills. Her temperature, according to the monitor above her bed, was 101.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Her heart rate was elevated. Her respiratory rate was climbing.

Psychological stress had evolved into physiological reality.

The virus was already replicating.

”Observe the speed of symptom onset,” Elizabeth said, making notes. ”Most subjects begin showing measurable physical symptoms within 8-12 hours. The psychological stress accelerates viral replication....the immune system’s response to fear hormones actually creates a more permissive environment for the virus.”

Fear kills faster.

That was the implication.

The woman’s eyes were closed, but her facial muscles were tight with discomfort. Her hands gripped the edges of the cot like she was trying to hold onto something solid while her body betrayed her.

”Will she experience pain?” Dimitri asked.

”Significant pain, yes,” Elizabeth replied. ”Headaches are nearly universal by day 3. Muscle and joint pain typically develop by day 4-5. Respiratory pain develops as pneumonia progresses around day 11-12. By day 13-14, subjects are typically experiencing severe pain that requires medication. We provide palliative care....opioids to manage the suffering, but by day 14, most subjects are unresponsive.”

She was describing the dying process with the same tone someone might use to describe a manufacturing process.

Dimitri looked at the monitoring station. 287 screens showing vital signs. 281 active subjects (six had already died). In forty-eight hours, that number would be down to 250. In seventy-two hours, it would be critical decline.

By day 15....Wednesday, most of the current subjects would be dead.

And new cohorts would continue to arrive.

The cycle would continue.

Unless he stopped it.

***

At 11 PM, when the facility had gone quiet again, Dimitri made his move.

This time, he went to the second floor, the primary research lab.

The secure storage unit containing the viral samples was still there, exactly where it had been that afternoon. The room was locked, but Dimitri had memorized the security code when Chen had entered it.

He worked quickly. The second device was larger than the first....designed to explode outward from the storage unit, destroying the samples and creating structural damage. He placed it behind the cooling unit, securing it with thermal tape, making sure it was completely hidden from casual observation.

Two bombs placed.

Fourteen more to position.

He had one more day to work before his cover might blow. One more day to place as many devices as possible before the moment when someone realized that Dr. Aleksandr Volkov wasn’t actually just a consultant, he was a man on a mission.

At 12:30 AM, Dimitri risked using one of the facility’s monitored computers.

The email was innocuous....a message to a work email address asking for clarification on a research protocol. But embedded in the message, hidden in code, was the operational update:

Devices: 2 placed. Placement optimal. Timeline accelerating. Subjects: 281 active, 42 critical. New cohorts: 6 injected. Deterioration rates: consistent. Cover status: secure.

Marco would receive the email on a dead drop account and understand. Two bombs placed. Optimal locations. The facility operations are proceeding as expected. Cover is still intact.

But the timeline was tightening.

By Wednesday, Dimitri would have to activate the devices. By Wednesday, enough subjects would have deteriorated to critical status that the facility would begin termination protocols. And by Wednesday, his presence would likely be questioned, either because someone noticed his access patterns or because the operation’s security tightened as subjects began failing.

He had approximately 36 hours left.

36 hours to place twelve more bombs in a facility where security was absolute and observation was constant.

36 hours to gather enough intelligence to understand the full scope of what The Covenant was planning.

36 hours before he either escaped with evidence or died trying.

***

Tuesday arrived with the same gray light as Monday.

Dimitri had slept for three hours, the sleep of a man operating on adrenaline and purpose. He’d woken at 4 AM and spent an hour running through mental simulations of bomb placements, extraction routes, contingency plans.

His hands were steady.

His mind was clear.

When he arrived at the research wing at 6 AM, Dr. Elizabeth was waiting with an expression that suggested something had shifted.

”Dr. Volkov,” she said. ”There’s been a change in protocol. I’d like you to observe our termination process this morning. One of our critical subjects has reached optimal stage for observation, and I think you’ll find the data collection valuable.”

Termination process.

They were going to kill someone in front of him.

And he was going to have to watch, document it, and maintain his cover.

”Of course,” Dimitri said, and meant it. ”When?”

”7 AM,” Chen said. ”Basement level two. Specimen 143.”

***

Specimen 143 was the man who’d been injected on Monday morning.

The one who’d been malnourished and fragile-looking.

By Tuesday morning, after approximately 30 hours of viral replication, he looked like he was already dying.

His skin had taken on a grayish pallor. His breathing was labored. Blood was visible on the pillowcase from where he’d apparently been coughing. His vital signs showed a heart rate of 127, respiratory rate of 32, oxygen saturation of 74%.

He was dying fast.

”His immune system has been compromised by malnutrition,” Elizabeth explained, making notes as she observed the monitor. ”That actually makes him more valuable to us. He’s showing the accelerated deterioration pattern that we’re particularly interested in. In an immunocompromised population....which is, frankly, what we’re most interested in for deployment purposes....the mortality curve accelerates significantly.”

A technician prepared an injection. The fluid inside the syringe was clear but different from the viral samples. This was a lethal dose of something...morphine, probably, mixed with something else that would stop the heart.

”We could let him die naturally,” Elizabeth said, ”and he’d likely expire within 24-36 hours. But by administering the termination injection, we can control the exact moment of death and collect comprehensive data on organ failure progression in the terminal phase.”

The technician approached the cot.

Specimen 143 opened his eyes....aware enough to realize something was happening, not aware enough to stop it.

”Please,” he said, his voice a rasping whisper. ”Please don’t.”

”This will ease your suffering,” the technician said gently, and injected the substance directly into his IV line.