Panthera Spelaea

Viktor didn’t come back into the room. Lunch was delivered, and when the door opened, I caught a glimpse of a uniformed officer sitting outside my door. I was hungry, but Nurse Svetlana explained the bland food and soup had a purpose. “You have not eaten anything in a week, Mr. Cantwell. Your body might reject what your eyes want.” She pressed buttons to raise the head of the bed so I could eat.

Svetlana was gorgeous, with ice-blue eyes and blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and a ring check came up with nothing. She spoke English, which helped. “Please, call me John. Can I get one of these off so I can eat?”

“I can check,” she said. She popped her head out and spoke in Russian to the policeman. I knew that “нет” meant “no.” She came back in and sat down by my bed, moving the tray closer. “I’m sorry, but I am not allowed.”

“I guess you get to feed me then,” I said as I looked into her eyes. I was pleased she looked at me with compassion, not fear or anger. It was a welcome change from the way Viktor looked at me or the detached behavior of the doctors.

She put a towel under my chin and started with the soup, which looked and smelled a little like a soup I’d had in base camp but not quite. “Is that Kalya?”

“Kalya is made with fish, while this is Rassolnik which uses beef or pork kidney. Here in the hospital, it is vegetarian. The pickled cucumber, potatoes, pearl barley, onions, and carrots will digest slowly for you.” She fed me a spoonful of broth, and it was good. “It is believed to be a hangover cure, though there is no medical basis for that.”

I could imagine such a dish would be popular. I’d learned early in the expedition the wisdom of never trying to out-drink a Russian. The hangover the following day had me begging for a quick death. Come to think of it, the first thing I’d eaten was a bowl of Kalya. Maybe there was something to it. “I’ve never been to Moscow,” I mentioned. “Do you like it here?”

“It is big and crowded but exciting,” she confessed. “I grew up in Rybinsk, about two hundred and fifty kilometers northeast of here. My father has a good job working at the hydroelectric plant and sent me to University to get my nursing degree. I was lucky enough to find a job at this hospital.”

“Why here?”

“This hospital treats a lot of politicians, VIPs, and foreigners with money,” she said in a whisper. “I speak Russian, English, and French, so I often end up caring for patients like you. The good news,” she said as she glanced at my handcuffs, “is that you can’t grab my ass while I’m treating you.”

“Is that a statement or a challenge,” I teased?

Svetlana laughed, and her smile was lovely. “You are far younger and better looking than most who try, but I’ve learned a few techniques along the way,” she told me.

“I don’t physically assault beautiful ladies trying to do their job,” I said. “I find it tedious fending off the constant clumsy advances, inappropriate touches, and sexual harassment that come with being a single student in the paleobiology program.” I teased a grin from her. “It’s true. I have professors and students constantly objectify me like I’m a specimen under their microscope. That’s why I had to head to the far reaches of Siberia to get some sleep.”

She laughed louder at this, smacking my arm gently. “You’re going to make me spill your lunch.”

“Do you love your job?”

“I like helping people, so yes,” she told me. “Tell me about your schooling.”

I told her about how I rebelled from my father’s plans, disappointing him to no ends, to follow my dreams. “I guess I’m fortunate. By accident of birth, I never had to worry about money. I love what I do.”

“What did you do in Siberia?”

I told her about our team finding and removing the intact Wooly Mammoth and the Cave Lion underneath it. “My team was successful in freeing the lion and bringing it out of the cave. A fully intact, perfectly preserved adult Cave Lion? It was the highlight of my life as we walked out of that cave with it.”

“What happened then?”

“We put it on the boat to take it back to Belaya Gora. I think Vitali Semchenko, our expedition leader, had air transport arranged to take it to the University of Moscow for further study. It’s all about timing; the longer the cave lion was exposed to above-freezing temperature, the more of the specimen that would thaw and start to decay. I pushed off the boat from the riverbank and jumped in the front, with Vitali and Nicole in the stern with the local boat operator. We were maybe halfway there when a gust of wind uncovered the cave lion’s head. I moved over to cover it up, and that’s when I felt it.”

“Felt what?”

“Pain. It was like an electrical shock; I couldn’t move, everything hurt, and then I blacked out. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up in this room.”

“You remember nothing of what happened?”

I shook my head, no. “I got hit with a taser once when a few buddies and I got rowdy at a bar, and that was nothing compared to whatever this was. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, all I felt was pain and then blackness.”

Svetlana looked at me with sorrow in her eyes. “You don’t know, do you?”

“No one has told me a thing.”

“You’re the only one they found alive,” she told me.

“Nicole?”

Svetlana shook her head. “It was on the news. They fished three bodies out of the river, and the cave lion was missing.”

The door burst open, and Viktor stood there, furious. “сейчас,” he barked. Svetlana immediately got up, collecting the empty dishes and leaving the room. I could hear yelling in Russian after the door closed.

Three things were clear in my mind. One, the Russians had the room bugged. Two? I wasn’t supposed to know the other three were dead. Three? Someone took the priceless Cave Lion, and I was the prime suspect.

The handcuffs made a lot more sense now.