A Matter of Honor

Adam began reciting to himself the thirty-seven plays of Shakespeare. How his old English master would have been delighted to know that after all those years of drumming the complete Shakespearean canon into a reluctant student, Adam could still recall them at a moment’s notice.

Henry VI, Part One, Henry VI, Part Two, Henry VI, Part Three, Richard II …

Stravinsky picked up the tube of collodion glue, removed the cap, and smeared two lumps of it on Adam’s chest.

. . Comedy of Errors, Titus Andronicus, The Taming of the Shrew …

The Russian attached the two electrodes to the glue, taking the wires back and screwing them to the six-volt battery, which in turn was connected to the tiny pulse generator.

… The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Love’s Labour’s Lost, Romeo and Juliet …

Without warning, Stravinsky pressed down the handle of the generator for two seconds, during which time Adam received a two-hundred-volt shock. Adam screamed as he experienced excruciating pain while the volts forced their way to every part of his body. But the sensation was over in a moment.

“Do feel free to let us know exactly how you feel. You are in a soundproof room, and therefore you won’t be disturbing anyone else in the building.”

Adam ignored the comment and, gripping the side of the chair, mumbled to himself Richard III, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, King John …

Stravinsky pressed the plunger down for another two seconds. Adam felt the pain instantly the second time. The moment it was over he felt violently nauseated, but managed to remain conscious.

Stravinsky waited for some time before he volunteered an opinion. “Impressive; you have definitely qualified to enter Stage Two, from which you can be released immediately by answering one simple question. Where is the Czar’s icon?”

Adam’s mouth had

become so dry that he couldn’t speak, let alone spit.

“I did try to warn you, Captain Scott.” Stravinsky turned toward the door. “Do go and fetch the captain some water, Colonel.”

… The Merchant of Venice, Henry IV, Part One, Henry IV, Part Two …

A moment later Pollard was back, and a bottle was thrust into Adam’s mouth. He gulped half the contents down until it was pulled away.

“Mustn’t overdo it. You might need some more later. But that won’t be necessary if you let me know where the icon is.”

Adam spat what was left of the water toward where his adversary was standing.

Stravinsky leapt forward and slapped Adam hard across the face with the back of his hand. His head slumped.

“You give me no choice but to advance to Stage Two,” said Stravinsky. He looked toward Romanov, who nodded. Stravinsky’s thin lips parted in another smile. “You may have wondered,” he continued, “how much more harm I can do with a simple six-volt battery, and indeed having seen in numerous American gangster movies an execution by the electric chair, you will know a large generator is needed to kill a man. But first it is important to remember that I don’t want to kill you. Second, my science lessons didn’t end at Stage One. Professor Metz’s mind was also exercised by the feebleness of this stage, and after a lifetime of dedicated research he came up with an ingenious solution known as ‘M,’ which the Academy of Science named after him in his honor. If you inject ‘M’ into the nervous system, messages will be transmitted to all your nerves many times more efficiently, thus allowing the pain to multiply without actually proving fatal.

“I only need to multiply a few milliamps by a suitable factor to create a far more interesting effect—so I must ask you once again, where is the Czar’s icon?”

… Much Ado About Nothing, Henry V, Julius Caesar …

“I see you are determined that I should proceed,” said Stravinsky, removing a syringe from the floor and jabbing the long thin needle into a vial before withdrawing the plunger until the barrel of the syringe was half full. Stravinsky held the needle in the air, pressed the knob, and watched a little spray flow out like a tiny fountain. He moved behind Adam.

“I am now going to give you a lumbar puncture, which, if you attempt to move, will paralyze you from the neck down for life. By nature I am not an honest man, but on this occasion I must recommend you to trust me. I assure you that the injection will not kill you because, as you already know, that is not in our best interest.”

Adam didn’t move a muscle as he felt the syringe go into his back. As You Like … he began. Then excruciating pain swept his body, and suddenly, blessedly, he felt nothing.

When he came round there was no way of telling how much time had passed. His eyes slowly focused on his tormentor pacing up and down the room impatiently. Seeing Adam’s eyes open, the unshaven man stopped pacing, smiled, walked over to the chair, and ran his fingers slowly over the large bandage that covered Adam’s two-day-old shoulder wound. The touch appeared gentle, but to Adam it felt like a hot iron being forced across his shoulder.

“As I promised,” said Stravinsky. “A far more interesting sensation is awaiting you. And now I think I’ll rip the bandage off.” He waited for a moment while Adam pursed his lips. Then, in one movement, he tore the bandage back. Adam screamed as if the bullet had hit him again. Romanov came forward, leaned over and studied the wound.

“I’m relieved to see my colleague didn’t miss you completely,” Romanov said before adding, “can you imagine what it will be like when I allow Dr. Stravinsky to wire you up again and then press the little generator?”

… Twelfth Night, Hamlet, The Merry Wives of Windsor …” Adam said aloud for the first time.

“I see you wish to leave nothing to the imagination,” said Romanov and disappeared behind him. Stravinsky checked that the wires were attached to the collodion glue on Adam’s chest, and then he returned to the generator. “I shall press down the handle in three seconds’ time. You know what you have to do to stop me.”