“THE NEST,” MARSHES – 31 JULY 2021

“How is she?” Falco asked, voice low.

Doctor Crow glanced up from her notes. “She’ll make it. But if you had found her even an hour later, there would have been nothing we could do. She’s profoundly weak. The swollen neck suggests repeated, violent vomiting — severe fluid loss. It’s remarkable she survived at all.”

Agatha Crow was a private physician and scientist attached to “the Nest” in Western Gaul — the discreet headquarters of the Scythian Secret Service’s special division, codenamed “the Hammer”.

The unit had begun as Falco’s solitary crusade: crossing into the West to hunt down Scythian fugitives — betrayers, terrorists, assassins, war criminals, fraudsters — who had fled justice. For years he operated alone, leaving no trace. Then Western media erupted with reports of a string of unexplained deaths among Scythian dissidents abroad. No evidence pointed to Falco — reporters never obtained classified details, and he never left any — but in Scythia the connection was obvious. Praise followed and eventually orders to formalise the operation and send reinforcements.

Falco had resisted at first. He was a loner, unused to coordinating with others or bearing responsibility for their safety. The grandiose codename grated. Early collaboration was awkward and strained. Over time, though, he adapted. He even began seeking advice — most often from Doctor Crow.

“I need to show you something,” she said, turning away from the observation window behind which Sandra lay on a stretcher, IV line dripping steadily into her arm.

They had converted a spare room in the Nest into a makeshift sick bay for Sandra. The adjacent space served as both Crow’s laboratory and office, allowing constant monitoring.

Falco followed her inside. The room was cold, faintly musty. She crossed to a white desk tucked in the corner beside a sink, switched on the bench lamp, and retrieved a small transparent container from an overhead shelf. She opened it with care and placed it beneath the microscope.

“Look through here,” she said, adjusting the focus. “I extracted this from her body.”

Falco bent to the eyepiece. At first the image was indistinct — a shapeless white mass. Then, slowly, form emerged: a coiled, segmented worm, inert and lifeless.

“It’s… a dead worm,” he said, voice tight. “And you’re saying this was inside Sandra?”

“Yes. I spotted it on the head X-ray — a foreign body lodged near the shoulder. It was already necrotic when I removed it.” She nudged him aside to take her own look.

“What is it? How did it get inside her? Some parasite from the clinic?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Crow admitted — words Falco rarely heard from her. “An unknown species. Nothing in any database matches it. I’ll send samples to our people in Scythia; perhaps they can identify it. But I can tell you exactly how it entered her system. Come.”

She led him back to the observation window, swiped her card to unlock the ward door, and stepped inside. The room felt warmer, almost comfortable compared with the lab. A monitor beeped at steady intervals.

Crow approached the stretcher and gently touched Sandra’s hand. No response.

“She’s still very weak,” she whispered, rolling up the short sleeve of Sandra’s gown to expose her left shoulder. A neat line of stitches marked the site of the incision. Beneath it lingered a faint yellow bruise — the classic halo of an injection site.

“That’s where I removed the parasite,” Crow said. “And that discolouration… it’s consistent with a vaccine injection.”

“The ByWell shot,” Falco said flatly.

“Precisely. The vaccine must have delivered the organism into her bloodstream. It grew inside her — reaching the size you saw — until it died. Fortunately. It appeared to be migrating toward her spine.”

“What would have happened if it had lived?”

“Difficult to say with certainty. In her condition it might simply have killed her — exsanguination through internal damage, organ failure. Or paralysed her as it continued to feed. Or…” Crow hesitated. “Perhaps it would have integrated. Become part of her. When she wakes, I’ll ask about her symptoms in detail.”

She readjusted the sleeve and drew the blanket higher.

“I was thinking,” she continued, “you might contact your friend in Anglo-Saxon Military Intelligence. If he knew about Von Rotten’s role in her abduction, he may also know something about the ByWell vaccine itself.”

“Yes,” Falco said distantly. “I’ll ask him next time I see him.”

Before leaving the ward, he paused at Sandra’s bedside. He took her hand in both of his and held it for a long moment — cool, fragile, yet still warm with life.

Then he turned and followed Crow out, the door sealing softly behind them.