Revolution Read Online Free PDF Page A

with me.”
    Uttering a grunt of disgust, he made a motion
to level his gun, but Harry clamped down on the agent’s forearm.
“We’ve got it covered. I don’t think he’s going to run. We need to
talk to him.”
    The agent made as if to enter and now, truly
pissed off at the other man’s attitude, Harry shoved him back.
“He’s staying here.”
    “You don’t get it, kid,” the agent said in a
peeved tone. “This is my job. I need to bring him.”
    “No, you don’t,” Anastasia called out.
“ You need to call Farrell. We need to talk to this
guy first.”
    The tone in her voice meant do what I say
or you’ll be eating your pistol in five seconds. With a slow
and careful motion, the agent holstered his weapon. He pulled out
his cellphone and started pushing buttons. “I’ll call it in,” he
said.
    With an expression that spoke of someone
who’d just eaten ten lemons, the agent walked off with the parting
words of, “Remember, he belongs to us.”
    “Justice for all,” Harry murmured, slamming
the door shut.
    He went over to the couch where Anastasia and
the new arrival were sitting. The latter huddled in a small ball
with his arms around his torso and with a wary look on his porcine
face. “I heard what you just say,” the pig-man said. “I do not
understand.”
    “What you just saw is our version of law and
order,” Harry remarked, entirely without irony. “Okay, start
talking.”
    His eyes darting wildly, the pig-faced man
swung his head back and forth, licking his lips with a small pink
tongue. “Come on,” Anastasia prodded. “We’re like you. You can
trust us.”
    “My name is Istvan, Istvan Antos,” the
pig-man said after a fashion. “I was born in Hungary, in Budapest.
My English is... not so good. Please listen to me. I was... student
in university and then I was taken away to place in the woods.”
    His words tumbled out. Between the speed with
which he spoke and his accent, it was more than a little difficult
to make out what he was saying. However, between the gasps and
pants, his story emerged. Growing up in Budapest, he had a normal
life until his first year in university. “I was always small,” he
said. “I am what you call a little person—a midget?”
    “Yeah, that’s right,” Anastasia said. “Go
on.”
    Istvan turned his gaze to the ground. “I got
sick,” he said. “It was my appendix. I go in for operation. The
doctor, he take my blood and say something to someone else. I do
not know what he say. I have operation and then they leave me
alone. My parents come to visit me. I think I will go home
soon.
    “Then new doctor come one day. I was in bed,
too weak to understand. His name is not Hungarian. It is
Russian.”
    “Describe him to us,” Harry said.
    Istvan shut his eyes and recited, “He was
tall, very skinny and smoked, even in the hospital ward. He sounded
intelligent and said that he was a doctor interested in genetics. I
do not know what genetics have to do with me. I have simple
operation, but he seemed excited.”
    The description seemed to set Anastasia off,
as she growled and spit out a name. “Grushenko,” she said with a
tone of supreme loathing, as if the name itself were poisonous.
    Istvan nodded rapidly. “Yes, yes, that is the
name. Grushenko, his name is Grushenko. He spoke Hungarian to my
doctor in my hospital. The doctor, he leave, uh, left and this
Grushenko, he said that he could... help me become to be
better.”
    Anastasia began to growl softly, her eyes
narrowing second by second. She’d gone through the same thing, and
if she was recalling her experiences, Harry knew that she’d erupt
in anger sooner or later. Probably sooner, he figured. “So what
happened then?” he pressed. “Did he do experiments?”
    Istvan nodded. In a hushed voice, continued
his tale. “I didn’t know what would happen to me. I was given pills
to help with pain, so my mind is dreamy. I sign paper. Grushenko
said no worry. We will help you. The next