Nikita Looks For Maulana

Two months had passed since their escape from the gulag. James, Laura, and Maulana found themselves on a steamship, the rhythmic chugging of the engines a stark contrast to the tension that simmered between them.

"You think we escaped?" Laura asked, her voice low and cautious.

James, sitting on a wooden box, replied with confidence, "Of course we did."

Maulana's eyes narrowed. "Think once again, James."

James's smile faltered. "What do you mean? I'm sure we escaped. They can't catch us here."

Maulana's expression turned serious. "No... I said that because you're sitting on a TNT box."

James's eyes widened as he leapt off the box, staring at the TNT label in horror. Laura and Maulana burst into laughter, the tension momentarily broken.

Two more months passed, and the trio found themselves in a warehouse in Narym, sharing a meal of egg salad. Karl, a man with a kind face, arrived with fried fish, his green shirt and brown pants a stark contrast to the drab surroundings.

"Here, Maulana," Karl said, placing the plates on the table.

Maulana's eyes lit up with gratitude. "Thanks, Karl. I... I don't even know what to say or how to thank you."

Karl smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, stop it, Maulana. You're the one who paid my bills when there was no one. You made them pass me, and now I have this job... not worth it, I mean."

The group laughed, the sound echoing off the warehouse walls. Karl continued, "But it's better than nothing. I owe you with my life."

The knock on the door was sudden and jarring. "Karl, you inside! Get out right now... your break is over... the cops are here, want to check in."

Karl stood up, his expression calm. "Hide, I'll take care of them."

Outside, Karl negotiated with three guards, his voice smooth. "What's the matter? It's like I have opium or something... huh?"

Maulana, hiding behind the boxes with James and Laura, made a face as one guard started shouting. "Who's inside with you?"

Karl's voice was calm. "Ummm... officer... it's ducks."

The guard's voice rose. "Who?"

"My wife, Clara Ducks," Karl replied, his eyes fixed on a duck swimming in the nearby lake.

Laura's foot slipped, and she stepped on an empty glass bottle, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the warehouse. The guard's voice was suspicious. "What was that noise?"

Karl's voice was smooth. "I said it's my wife... she just came to meet and she's shy... we were just enjoying our meal... look... I'll just send her back and be back for work, okay?"

The supervisor slapped Karl, his face red with anger. "Yeah! Like I'm working for you, yeah... you just have 2 minutes... go in and come out..."

Nikita arrived, his presence commanding attention. "What happened?"

The supervisor explained, his voice stumbling. Nikita pushed him aside, his eyes scanning the warehouse. "Alright! The smell tells me... something is off here or purple... ha! You see what I did there."

Nikita took out his gun, his voice cold. "Maulana... I'm going to start shooting at all sides in this room... and the catch is the bullet may go through the head of your wife... 3, 2, and should I recite Bismillah..."

Maulana, James, and Laura emerged from their hiding spot, Nikita's gun still trained on them. "And here we meet again," Nikita said, his voice dripping with malice.

As they left the warehouse, Maulana turned to Karl, his expression stern. "Learn to make a f*cking excuse..."