9
Mendenhall slowly made his way back to the rear of the Zodiac, stepping easily past Captain Everett as he slowed the large boat down and threw the engine into idle to ease to silence their approach around a blind corner as they entered into another bend in the Stikine. Will squeezed in beside the food packs and eyed Jack.
“Colonel, how long have you known the Canadian?” he asked, looking away when Collins looked over at him.
“Punchy and I trained together once upon a time in the UK. He was with MI-5 at the time and I was assisting our DELTA teams. We were their garnering some training from the British SAS. Old Punchy never was much of a field man,” Jack said as his eyes went from Will to the large form of Alexander sitting in the bow with Henri, who seemed to have developed a strange attachment to the Canadian, because of late he hadn’t been ten feet away from him. “He and Doc Ellenshaw have that in common—they don’t like bugs or things that go bump in the night. But he is the best intelligence officer I have ever run across”—he again looked at the black lieutenant—“with the exception of my baby sister. His main thing is computer espionage. He can break into most intelligence agencies and steal whatever he wants.”
“Anything else, Colonel? I mean I’ve seen it before, like with Captain Everett: There’s a closeness with people who have lived and almost died together. You and Alexander have that.”
Collins eyed his young lieutenant and was proud of the way Will had progressed; he was starting to develop the leadership skills that he knew he had all along. What’s more, Mendenhall was becoming an observer of human nature.
“In 1989, Punchy and I were dispatched on a recon mission just north of Vancouver to recover something of importance, that’s how we met. There’s nothing more than that.”
“You’re proud of what she’s achieved, huh, Colonel?” Will asked, taking the colonel by surprise.
Mendenhall knew he was treading dangerous ground with the man he had known for three years now. Jack Collins was probably the most secretive person he had ever known—his private life was off limits.
Jack smiled as he thought about Will’s question. “Yes, I am proud of Lynn. Oh, we’ve had our differences: She’s a crusader, one that will bash her head against the wall to do the right thing.”
“Sounds like someone we know, doesn’t it, Lieutenant?” Carl Everett said from his place behind the wheel of the boat as he placed the throttle of the motor to almost full speed as they came to a straight stretch of river.
Mendenhall didn’t say yes or no; he did however smile when he saw the look on Jack’s face—a look that said he didn’t know what Everett was talking about.
“Slow the boat, we have something in the water up here,” Punchy called out as he and Henri traded places in the bow.
Carl eased the throttles back as Punchy Alexander looked at the Frenchman and told him to hold his belt as he leaned far over the side of the rubber craft. He yanked and pulled at something in the water until he finally lifted a body halfway out.
“Goodness,” Professor Ellenshaw said, laying his notebook down and frowning.
The man was pale white, but they could see from the facial features that he hadn’t been in the water that long. The head was twisted almost backward and looked as if his jaw and both cheek bones were smashed.
“Damn, his body is all busted up,” Punchy called back.
“Check his arm,” Jack ordered from behind Farbeaux and Alexander.
Henri reached out and ripped the sleeve away from the shoulder. There was no tattoo.
“Okay, so we now know all of the mercs aren’t Spetsnaz,” Collins said. “Let him go, Henri, we don’t have time for any burials.”
Alexander and Farbeaux let the body go and allowed the river to take him. Ellenshaw leaned over and watched the body slide by.
“I think I would have liked to determine the cause of death, Colonel,” Charlie said as he watched until the river swallowed the young Russian soldier, not knowing if he really wanted to examine it or not, but feeling he should at least say he wanted to.
“I believe you could say his neck was broken, his back snapped in more than one place, and his face crushed, Doctor,” Farbeaux said as he reached over and washed his hands in the Stikine.
“Poor man,” Charlie said as he leaned back into the boat.
“Just remember, Doc, it was a bunch of those good men that tried to ambush us,” Punchy said as he resumed his place in the bow of the boat. “The mercenary bastard looks like he may have gotten a taste of his own medicine.”
Jack watched the exchange between Ellenshaw and Alexander with mild curiosity. Punchy slammed his hands into the bow wake of the Zodiac and washed his hands. Collins saw that his features were stretched with disgust, or was it something else about the body that disturbed him more than just the death stiffness of the soldier?
“He probably drowned and the rocky bottom of the river did the damage to his body, huh, Colonel?” Mendenhall asked.
Jack looked at Will but said nothing. He eased himself beside Everett.
“I think we can probably only risk about another two miles, then I think our little navy has to get out of this thing and start hoofing it—or as we say, do the Jack Collins two-step.”
“Is that what they say?” Jack asked. “Yeah, I suspect we may be running into trouble soon enough if we stay on the water, these bends and curves are a perfect place to set up a river ambush.”
“Oh good, are we going to walk now?” Charlie asked, actually looking excited to be off the water and into the woods.
“So now we can walk into a land ambush. Is that right, Colonel?” Henri said with his always present smile etched onto his face.
“You can always get out and swim back, Henri,” Collins said, this time with his own smile.
“No, I’ll try for the Twin diamonds, but looking at that Russian soldier, I would say that our chances on land may not be as good as we initially hoped they would be.”
This time the smile on Jack’s face widened as he was actually amused by the Frenchman.
“No one ever said you were dumb, Henri.”
WAHACHAPEE FISHING CAMP
Jason pushed through the prickly bushes that covered the forest floor, having endured over a hundred scratches on his face for his efforts. He hadn’t seen Sarah in the past hour, but heard her cuss loudly about fifteen minutes earlier, so he knew she was faring no better than himself in the tangled undergrowth searching for the fuel injector. Of Marla Petrov, he hadn’t seen or heard a thing since their makeshift search party began.
Jason broke through a particular harsh section of undergrowth with pieces of bushes and thorns sticking to his face and Levis shirt, and into a small clearing of which a rippling creek ran through. He took a deep breath as a small fresh breeze sprang up. He instantly felt the clear air that greeted him after the harsh, closed in and fetid air of the thick tangle foot of the forest. He placed his hands on his knees and saw a million of the small thorns had also penetrated his jeans. He shook his head as he went to the clear creek. He washed his face, feeling the pleasant sting of the water hitting his sweat-filled scratches.
Feeling half human again, he looked into the water after drinking a few cupped handfuls. He instantly saw it and stood so fast that he dropped the M-16 he had rested on his bent knees. When he examined the fuel injector closely, he saw it had been wadded up like a piece of discarded paper. He looked around as the woods surrounding the creek became still. He slowly bent over, still watching the trees and retrieved the four-pound injector and the M-16 from the water.
“Damn it,” he said under his breath. “Why in the hell would someone do that?”
When a crashing noise sounded behind him, Jason thought a bear was coming to claim his small person. He dropped the smashed fuel injector into the water and turned with the M-16 just as he saw Sarah trip and stumble into the clearing.
“You okay?” Jason asked as he reached to steady her.
“Water—oh that looks good,” she said as she walked the few feet to the creek and then sank to her knees. She pushed her head into the cool stream and washed her face, and then she cupped her hands and drank. She took a breath and then turned to face Ryan. “We’re not very good at this wilderness thing, are we?”
Ryan walked to within a few feet of Sarah and then reached into the water and pulled up the battered injector.
“So much for shiny things, huh?” he said as he let the fuel injector slide from his hand and into Sarah’s.
“What the hell, did they take a rock to it?” she angrily asked as she stood up.
“They probably didn’t even know they damaged it.”
They both turned and saw Marla standing just out of the woods. She looked fresh as a daisy and didn’t have a scratch on her.
“Okay, who in the hell are they?” Ryan asked, his temper starting to rise. “And don’t give me any of this mystical bullshit.”
The girl looked from Ryan to Sarah; instead of answering, she walked to the creek and took a drink of water from her cupped hand.
“It doesn’t matter about the damaged part, Mr. Ryan,” she said as she finally looked up. “You don’t need it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jason, let her finish,” Sarah said, eyeing the young woman closely.
The girl straightened and then pointed. “About a hundred yards in that direction.” She stepped into the water and then across the creek and vanished into the woods.
“Jesus, can that girl ever give a straight answer to anything?” Ryan said angrily as he watched Sarah quickly follow Marla.
In extreme exasperation, Ryan followed. The woods were thinner here and for that he was grateful. He saw Sarah’s back as she dipped and then straightened to come through the thinning trees. Suddenly, he ran into her backside as she came to an abrupt halt.
Sarah was just standing there, amazed at the sight she was looking at in the large clearing. Jason stepped around her and his mouth wanted to drop open. There, sitting pristine and shining in the bright sunlight were four, brand-spanking-new Sikorsky helicopters. They were the newest top of the line S-76 turbojet models. Their four bladed rotors drooped and swayed in the light breeze. Ryan brought up the M-16 and Sarah followed suit with the AK-47. Marla turned in front of them and shook her head.
“There’s no one here. I came upon them just before I found you. These are the same ones those Russians arrived in.”
“The pilots must have gone with them,” Ryan said as he started to step out from the tree line, but Marla was quick to grab his arm.
“No, the pilots were ordered to stay, I heard that head Russian myself. I just assumed they went back to Juneau or someplace.”
Ryan listened, but still couldn’t grasp any danger. “Okay, we spare one and disable the others.”
“You’re not hearing me, Mr. Ryan, the pilots are missing,” Marla persisted.
“Okay, young lady, you have our full attention, so I think it’s about time you shed a little light on what’s happening around here.”
Marla looked at Sarah, dropping the restraining arm from Ryan.
“Okay, I fear those pilots may have run into the same thing you and Sarah did last night.” Her eyes stayed on Ryan.
“Those gunshots, you mean?” Sarah asked.
Marla just nodded her head once while examining the makeshift landing area where the giant Sikorsky choppers sat. Sarah thought the scene was unreal. The empty helicopters, the wind whistling by the swaying rotors and the open staircases of the four aircraft lent an air of ghostliness to the scene that gave her cold chills.
“Look, Marla, what is happening here?” Sarah persisted with her earlier question.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” Sarah said still looking around, the AK-47 turning as she did.
“You don’t look like the type to believe in myths and legends,” Marla said looking from Sarah to Ryan.
Both of them exchanged looks but didn’t smile at the foolish statement made by the girl. How could she know what they did for a living or the things that they have been witness to?
“We protect one of those legends here, or maybe they protect us, I don’t know. But there are animals in these woods that belong here even more than the Indians that inhabit this area. They were here thousands of years before everyone, and this is their home. I’m afraid those Russians may have done something stupid last night and have paid dearly for it, or soon will. They protect their own.”
Suddenly, there was a crackling sound coming from one of the choppers. It was loud in the stillness that now held sway over the clearing. Sarah looked at Ryan and she could tell he was feeling the same creepiness that overwhelmed her on this bright, clear, sun-filled day. Before she had a chance to ask what the crackling sound was, it came again, and then what seemed like a voice.
“Oh, God,” Sarah said with a loud exhale, “it’s a radio.”
Ryan eased his way past the last of the trees and made his way to the first chopper in line. Sarah and Marla slowly followed. Jason leaned into the first of the well-equipped helicopters and saw that at first sight all looked normal. The plastic-covered interior was immaculate compared to the sparseness of the Bell Ranger they had been working on the night before. The windows sparkled and the carpeting on the floor smelled of its newness. As Ryan tilted his head, he heard the radio in the front cockpit come to life with a crackle and then a Russian voice come out of the speakers. It became insistent when there was no return answer.
As Ryan braced his feet to enter the Sikorsky, he felt a crunch under his right foot. He stepped away from the opening of the helicopter and looked at what he had stepped on. He looked from the object on the ground to Marla. The anger was etched in his features and his eyes were blazing. He kicked the smashed microphone from the choppers radio toward the spot Sarah and Marla stood.
“I suppose you didn’t destroy the only way we had for calling for help?” Jason asked.
Marla held Ryan’s gaze and gave back some of her own.
“I said before, Mr. Ryan, we will not allow the outside world to destroy what we have here. All of the invaders of the high country are on their own. If they’re good, or bad, it makes no difference—you or the ones you are looking for don’t belong here.”
Sarah didn’t know what to say, she was dumbfounded that Marla would go to those lengths knowing what the Russian assault team had done to the Mounties and to themselves.
“We have friends out there, and now it’s time you let us in on your big secret. Jason, pick one of the helicopters, it’s time we go and find Jack and the others.”
RUSSIAN BASE CAMP
Lynn was watching the men as they lowered the tents and started placing the expensive equipment into their waterproof cases. The soldiers started placing heavy packs onto their backs as they made ready to cross over. The boats were filled and Sagli and Deonovich looked satisfied that their goal was within sight.
The search for the missing man had lasted all of five minutes as Sagli declared that he would eventually show up, and that seemed to satisfy most of the men, especially the Spetsnaz who weren’t too interested in searching for the man at any rate. The others looked surprised that more of an effort wasn’t forthcoming and wondered if the same effort would be in place for them if they disappeared. There were a few grumblings, but Lynn knew the men would never show it to Sagli or to the brute Deonovich and their group of hard nosed commandos.
A Spetsnaz came over to where she was sitting on a large stone. His weapon was slung across his shoulder as his dark eyes peered into her own.
“You are now my responsibly and I have orders to break something on your body once we have crossed the river if there is any troubling from you, are we understandings each other?” he asked in poor English.
“Nyet,” Lynn said as she stood.
The man looked confused for a moment, and then he saw that the woman was toying with him.
“Good, then I will enjoy the tasking of my duty to breaking your arm sever-ling times.”
“Okay, just kidding, pea brain. Shall we go boating?”
The man stepped aside, deciding instantly that he did not like the American and how it would be a pleasure to break her bones.
The last of the larger tents still stood and inside Dmitri Sagli threw the microphone down and it struck the radio operator.
“You mean to tell me they didn’t check in last night and you felt it did not warrant informing me?”
The small operator cowered away from the demented eyes of the ponytailed Russian.
“Did it occur to you that we left those helicopters there to be safe, out of harm’s way in case we had company arrive here in the form of the Canadian federal authorities? And now they do not answer their radios at all—four pilots and not one of them is monitoring their radio? Gregori, this man is no longer needed: Dispose of him, we do not need fools from here on out.”
Deonovich stepped forward and pulled the radio operator from his chair. The other technicians in the room stood.
“You wish to comment on my order?” Sagli asked, eyeing each of the soft-skinned men one at a time. “Very well, let him go. If any of you fail in his duty again, and think that I do not need to be informed of any and every development, small or large, you will remain in this godforsaken place, is that understood?”
Not one man spoke as Deonovich let go of the radio technician.
“Now, get to the boats with that radio and the last of the detection gear, and place them with the rest of the equipment. Once we arrive at the area you have designated, and if we do not find what it is we came for, I will shoot every one of you. Now move, we may have a problem that was totally unforeseen, thanks to you fools.”
Sagli pulled Deonovich aside once out of earshot of the others.
“You are sure the helicopters were hidden and the pilots were given orders not to leave them until they were contacted?”
“I am positive, I gave the orders myself.”
“Then we must assume that whoever dealt you that blow at the camp has initiated further hostilities toward us. They will be coming, I am now positive of that. And the only thing that eases my mind is the fact that they have company with them that will forestall any attack on us. And our friend undoubtedly has what we need with him.”
Fifteen minutes later, the seven Zodiacs, brimming full to capacity with men and equipment, shoved off from the southern shore of the Stikine. The current caught them and took them south for the briefest of moments, but the powerful outboards caught hold and pushed them back to their crossing point.
Lynn watched the men around her. Some seemed calm and anticipatory of what they would find across the river, while others looked around nervously. The day was turning hot, but Lynn got the chills as she watched some of the more veteran soldiers among the Russians. They were the ones that were nervously watching the far shoreline, hands on weapons as they grew near to their destination.
Lynn half turned and saw Sagli watching her. Although she hadn’t heard about them not being able to contact their transport at the fishing camp, she knew for a fact that something had changed, and it wasn’t to their benefit, and most assuredly wasn’t to hers.
The first of the large Zodiacs pulled onto the rocky shore, and as Lynn watched technicians and soldiers start unloading their equipment, she knew they may be crossing into a place they shouldn’t be going. It was just a feeling, but like her brother Jack, she was in tune to what those feelings held, and that you should always acknowledge them, for the good, or for the bad.
Jack was leading the group of six men through the woods. Collins and Everett had instructed the rest on how to use the natural elements around them to camouflage their faces and bodies after the loss of their field equipment in the Grumman. Mud was utilized heavily and if it wasn’t for the appearance of Charlie Ellenshaw, the whole process would have been mundane and miserable. As it was, Mendenhall and Everett could hardly hide their smiles behind their hands. To cover most of the professor’s white hair, Jack had encrusted it with twigs and grass, and that conglomeration was held in place by handfuls of drying mud. Everett thought that the colonel had applied everything a tad too liberally.
Farbeaux followed close behind and Punchy was told to follow the Frenchman. Then came Charlie, stumbling every few steps through the tangled undergrowth, and finally Will and Carl. They had been on foot for the past three hours.
Collins suddenly stopped and held up his right hand with spread fingers, then he quickly gestured to the right and then to the left. As Punchy and Charlie stayed in line, Farbeaux went to the left, and as Will quickly turned to cover the rear, Everett went right. As Henri and Everett covered their flanks, only Alexander and Charlie were left to watch Collins as he became perfectly still and watched the area immediately to their front.
Jack heard what sounded like talking and knew they were close to where the Russians could be. The plateau had risen in their view since they started making their way north on foot and Charlie had confirmed it was remarkably like his memory said it would be. The main landmark described in the Lattimer entry in the journal indicated that they had arrived.
As he listened, the voices ceased and boat motors started. Jack, running bent over at the waist, moved silently through the woods, easily stepping over and around the tangle-foot that would trip up most men with the practiced art of stepping, and then sliding the foot back and inch or two in case the toe of his boot had hooked on an obstacle. Collins moved until he could see the river through the trees. He saw the last Zodiac shove off from the south shore of the Stikine. His eyes clearly saw the other six boats as they fought the swift current and angled toward the far shore. He held his ground and waited. Then he saw what he was looking for when the third boat touched the far rocky shore. A large Russian manhandled Lynn out of the rubber boat and shoved her toward a group of men standing and looking into the woods. Lynn shrugged the man’s hand from her and moved forward.
Jack closed his eyes for only a moment to give into the relief he felt upon seeing his sister. He took a breath and then removed the filthy ball cap the old woman had given him.
“That’s her, huh?”
Collins turned and saw Charlie Ellenshaw kneeling behind him looking across the river. Jack angrily looked back at Punchy, who in turn looked at him and shrugged his shoulders, as if saying he tried to stop him.
“Doc, from now on, you don’t move unless you’re told to do so, is that clear?” Jack whispered.
“Oh, uh, yes, I just . . .”
“Don’t worry about it, Doc. Get back with Punchy; we’re going back into the woods about two hundred yards and wait until well after dark before we cross.”
“Oh, we’re going to swim the river?”
“You can swim, can’t you?” Collins asked, worried about what the professor’s answer was going to be.
“Oh, yes, I was on my high school—”
“Fine, Doc, that’s fine. Now come on, we better rest up.”
“But if my memory serves, there is a spot just to the left of their camp that is shallow, and even has a sandbar at its midpoint.”
“Good, we need to hear things like that, Doc. Now go back with Mr. Alexander.”
Jack watched Charlie go and then turned back and watched the men standing next to his baby sister. He hated to see her in the position she was in, but for now there was nothing he could do about it. Even after they crossed, he knew they were outgunned twenty to one. He replaced the baseball cap and then used his hand signals to order the others to fall back. As he did, he was thinking about why the Russians were keeping her alive and now it would be an eternity until Jack could cross the river and get his sister back from these men who murdered as easily as asking for a cup of coffee.
RUSSIAN BASE CAMP
NORTH OF THE STIKINE
The magnetometers started maxing out as soon as they were uncased and turned on. The technicians buzzed with excitement as they pointed northeast and held steady.
“From the signal strength, Mr. Sagli, I would say what we seek is but one mile that way,” the small Russian tech said as he held his hands cupped around the LED-lighted gauge to stop the glare of the setting sun.
Sagli smiled and then looked at Deonovich. He then turned and looked at the small plateau rising ahead of them. He knew that the readings would place their goal at the base of the small climb or at its summit. In either case, it was going to be theirs.
“Now, the other detectors. What is their reading?”
Another of the field technicians walked up, almost anxious to deliver the news his employer wanted the most.
“The M-224 detectors are picking up elevated levels, far more than can be accounted for naturally. We suspect that it is near the other denser metals we are detecting.”
Sagli felt his knees bend, wanting to fold in on themselves as he heard the greatly anticipated news indicating that their partner had been right all along and they now had the justification for leaving behind albeit a dangerous world, but a rich and fulfilling one. The item they wanted was near, and they would have it in the next few hours.
Deonovich started organizing ten of his best men to start the trek into the bush, he felt they had wasted enough time in setting up a camp that they might never have used if they had gone straight to setting up Sagli’s expensive equipment.
“Gregori, we must hold our place here. Our discovery has waited a very long time, so it can wait a while longer; we have instructions we must follow.”
Deonovich stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face his partner. The anger was clearly shown on his features. “It is right there; we can retrieve it and still be following orders. He can examine our find at his leisure.”
“That is not following instructions, my friend, because there is a reason for waiting. Someone is coming who can verify our find; until that man arrives, she is not to be touched.”
Deonovich turned away from Sagli and saw one of the pinpoints of his continuing ire—Lynn. He raised a hand and slapped her onto the ground and was about to bring his tree trunk of a leg back to kick her, when suddenly Lynn had had enough. She kicked out with her own booted foot and struck the large Russian directly to the side of the knee. Deonovich grunted in pain and went to his back, immediately reaching for his throbbing leg. Lynn pounced as if she were part cat, landing on his chest, and then brought up a stick she had found on the ground and took it straight to the side of the Russian’s throat.
Sagli watched from a distance and a smile stretched across his face. He saw the men Deonovich had been organizing to go into the tree line start forward to take the angry American off their boss, but he held up a hand, indicating he wanted to see how this played out.
Lynn placed pressure on the small stick and held it in place just over the pulsing throb of the Russians jugular vein. She pressed even harder when he made a move to try and dislodge her. With black hair hanging in her face, and her cheekbone throbbing where she had been struck, Lynn Simpson was at a point where she didn’t care what the outcome would be, but knew she would make sure this bastard never touched her again.
“That is the last time you’ll take out your inadequacies on me. If you ever raise a hand or one of those fucking hooves to me again, I swear to God the last thing you will ever see is me punching a hole in your throat.” For emphasis, Lynn pressed the dull point of the stick into the thin layers of skin at Deonovich’s throat until she had a nice flow of blood.
“Someone kill this goddamn bitch!” Deonovich hissed as he froze under the onslaught of the smaller woman and her stick.
Without removing the pressure she was exerting on the stick, and without moving her face from the angry eyes of Deonovich, Lynn flicked her own green eyes over to where the smiling Sagli still held his commandos at bay with a raised hand. Sagli just tilted his head, as if he were awaiting Lynn’s decision.
Lynn angrily poked the stick one more time and at the same moment removed her small amount of weight from Deonovich. The man grabbed for his neck and rose as if shot from a cannon. He started reaching for his holstered weapon.
“No. That will not do, old friend. Too noisy and far too premature. We still need her.”
Deonovich still went as far as to pull the weapon. Lynn braced for the bullet that was surely coming her way, still holding the stick as if it were a magic talisman that would ward off the giant ogre. As Deonovich turned and started to raise the weapon, the sound hit them with a force of a hundred loudspeakers.
Sagli turned, forgetting all about the humorous confrontation he was witnessing. The other men bent low as if they had been ambushed for real, other than just audibly assaulted.
The roar of an animal reverberated against the tree line as far away as the southern shore of the river. The sound bounced back and sounded as if the entire camp was surrounded by a herd of whatever it was that made that horrendous sound. The animal cry was unlike any of the men from Russia had ever heard before. Some of the Spetsnaz hailed from the cold and hearty region of the Urals and it seemed to affect these men the most. Unable to think clearly with the continuing echo of the cry coming from the plateau to the north, the technicians, although armed with handguns, backed away from where they had been setting up tripods with motorized metal detectors on them. They watched the bright sunlit woods ahead of them, but still backed away nonetheless.
“What in God’s name is that?” Sagli asked as he turned away from the trees. His eyes fell on Lynn, who was just standing there stiff, just watching the sun-dappled tress before them, her antagonist Deonovich no longer a concern. The small stick she used as a weapon slowly slid from her fingers. The look in her eyes told Sagli she had been taken as far off guard by the roar as they had been.
The men had gone silent with every set of eyes turned toward the tree line. Deonovich forgot all about the assault on his neck and used hand gestures to get his commando team to move. He gestured right and left and then used both hands to point straight ahead, the blood still dripping from his fingers. The Spetsnaz immediately broke into two-man teams and entered the woods at a trot. Deonovich clearly understood at that moment the reason for restraint before entering an area that they basically knew nothing about.
Sagli broke the spell by walking over and taking the American woman by the arm and pushing her toward her small tent.
“From here on out, you are to remain inside. You have now become far more important than you would ever believe.”
Lynn was shoved ahead of the Russian and she decided that she had no desire to be outside with the sun falling lower and lower in the sky.
Sagli turned to Deonovich.
“I should have let that woman cut your throat. You are never to question my authority again or threaten the American. You could allow this whole operation to fail if you continue your unthinking ways. It will not be tolerated by me, or by our partner, I assure you. Is that clearly understood?”
Deonovich holstered his weapon, but made no move to voice an answer. Sagli decided not to push the larger man at this time because he had sustained enough embarrassment delivered by the very much smaller woman.
“Now, we will press into the woods a hundred yards before dark, no farther. We cannot afford to stumble upon our quest in the twilight as that could be fatal. Do you understand?”
Deonovich tuned once more to face his old friend. This time he nodded once and turned to join his men on the perimeter of the camp with the camps doctor walking beside him, trying in vain to place a bandage on his neck.
“Gregori?” Sagli said, looking down at his feet.
Deonovich stopped walking, slapping the hands of the doctor away, and then he turned to look back. Sagli finally looked up at him.
“You are originally from the Urals, as are some of the men. Have you ever heard anything like that before—that animal cry?”
Deonovich looked around him slowly. He knew Sagli was never more than three miles away from Moscow growing up as a child, so he had never before heard the sounds that emanate from the forests. The way they can play tricks on your brain, the direction could be totally opposite of where you thought the roar came from, or the sound itself could have been any number of animals. Instead of saying this, he decided to let Sagli stew in his own confidence of being master of his domain and a slave to his false bravery.
“No, comrade, I have never heard such an animal cry before. It was if a thousand lions roared at the same moment.”
As Sagli watched Deonovich turn and walk away, hiding his knowing smile, he turned and watched the sway at the top of the large pine trees as the wind sprang up. The blow was coming from the north and it brought a sour, primitive smell with it; but of the horrific sound, they heard no more.
“Holly shit, what in the hell was that?” Will Mendenhall asked as he held the cold MRE dinner out to a stunned and staring Charlie Ellenshaw. The beef stew was cold and since a moment before when the sound of the animal reached them across the river, was much anticipated by the cryptozoologist.
Charlie finally lowered his eyes from the trees surrounding their once-again cold camp. He swallowed and turned and looked at the offered freeze-dried ration as if it were a cow patty being held out by Mendenhall, who finally lowered the Meals-Ready-to-Eat package, and then looked into Ellenshaw’s eyes.
“I assure you, Lieutenant, I never really witnessed the animal that lives in these woods, so that noise was as mysterious to me as you. As much as my natural inquisitiveness compels me to investigate, my common sense says to wait until a fresh sun has risen.”
“Doc, do you know what could have possibly made that sound?” Everett asked as he stepped back into the small clearing they were calling camp for the evening with Farbeaux in tow.
Ellenshaw was about to answer, when Jack and Punchy Alexander entered the clearing from the opposite direction as Everett.
“Okay, we need to talk,” Jack said as he took the cold meal from Will’s hand and started eating.
“I would think we would talk about what made that cry across the river, Colonel,” Farbeaux said as he knelt and rummaged through the small box of MREs looking for something palatable.
Jack tossed the bag of cold stew over to Mendenhall, who caught it on the fly, but not before spilling some of it on his green plaid hunting shirt. He shook off some of it by shaking his hand, and then looked at the colonel who acted as though he didn’t even notice what he had done.
“That’s what the doc is along for; I’m sure he’ll come up with something to put in his report,” Jack said, watching the others, his eyes finally falling on Punchy Alexander and then moving on. “You will all be staying on this side of the river tonight.” Jack held up his hand as Will and Everett started to protest. “At ease. This is my thing, my sister, my mission.”
“And if you fail to bring her back?” Everett said as he stepped toward Jack, “We’re supposed to pull up stakes and go home?”
Collins smiled. “No, I want you to kill every one of the sons-a-bitches—but not until I and my sister are dead. After that, you do what you want. Personally, I would avenge your colonel’s death.”
Everett shook his head and Mendenhall looked away.
“I can’t accept that, Jack. I was there when your sister was taken by these bastards and I want in on going after her. I’ve come too far for you to take that from me,” Punchy said, finally speaking up. “Besides, this is all happening on Canadian soil. It’s my bailiwick.”
Jack eyed the large Canadian without saying anything. He then tossed Everett a small chunk of something.
“What do you make of that, Captain?” he asked.
Carl caught the lightweight material in his large hand. It was crumpled and looked as if it had sat in the sun for years. The aluminum was once painted black, faded now to a dark gray.
“Could be anything,” he said.
“May I?” Farbeaux asked standing with his MRE in his hand. He caught the piece of metal when Everett tossed it.
“Aircraft aluminum,” Henri said as he looked it over. “I found several more pieces myself; it’s not gold, and so I didn’t care to report it.”
Jack watched Farbeaux and saw that he didn’t meet his eyes, which meant in Collins’s opinion the man was lying, but ignoring it for the moment, nodded his head and then looked at his watch. “Punchy, in answer to your request—denied, you’ll stay on this side of the river with my people.”
Alexander didn’t say anything, he just shook his head.
“May I presume, since I am not under your command, I may accompany you in the pursuit of my payment?” Farbeaux asked as he opened his plastic MRE and poured a small amount of water inside to mesh the dehydrated food into the mashed conglomerate that it was.
“If you attempt to come across that river before I return with my sister, Colonel, Mr. Everett will shoot you in your head until you are convinced to stay put.”
Farbeaux looked at Carl as he mashed the contents of the MRE together as Everett just nodded his head as if to say Jack was not lying.
“I’m sure that would break the captain’s heart,” Henri said, finally opening his meal.
The sun had about fifteen minutes until it disappeared over the western edge of the plateau above them. Sagli was pleased so far with the artifacts they were finding. Small pieces of metal that his non-Spetsnaz men had yet to notice were gathered and placed inside of a pack so the rest of his men couldn’t see. As most of the trusted commandos stood guard around the perimeter of their search area, Deonovich kept regaling the mercenaries from the regular army about the tales of gold and diamonds to be found. The Spetsnaz pretended not to listen, even though they would prefer the stories of gold over what they knew to be the real truth. To Sagli, none of it mattered as he looked through the direction finder at the next signal that the detector had picked up.
“We keep picking up these trace amounts of aluminum and steel, nothing of a major volume. Have you thought that maybe the trace amounts of uranium we are picking up is just residual, and that what we are looking for may not be intact?” the radiological technician said as he looked at the LED readout as Sagli looked through the directional scope.
“My concerns are that you keep within your parameters of expertise. Do not go into territory that is none of your business.” He finally looked up at the tech. “You are being paid handsomely either way.” He watched the man until he returned to his clipboard. Satisfied, he returned his right eye to the scope. As he refocused the lens that shot a laser across the hundred yards ahead of him, he caught what looked like a shadow through the scope mounted above the laser. The darkness was large and seemed to disappear into the shade of the giant trees. “What?” he said as he tried to find the strange shadow once more.
As Sagli was searching for his phantom shadow, a Spetsnaz standing near a technician’s small field table looked up just as a warning beep was heard. He watched the technician move the laser he controlled left, and then right.
“What is it?” the former Spetsnaz asked.
“I don’t know; our passive motion detectors have picked up movement, about a thousand yards ahead.”
“Where exactly?” the commando asked as he waved Deonovich over.
“I’m not sure—everywhere I think,” the technician said anxiously.
“What do you have?” Deonovich asked.
“Possible movement ahead of us, we don’t have an intruder count yet.”
“Silence that weapon and take a man forward, only a hundred yards, take our little friend here with you,” Deonovich said, slapping the tech on the shoulder and tossing a silencer to the Spetsnaz.
The experienced soldier smiled as a look of apprehension came across the tech’s face. He removed his handgun from a shoulder holster and then started screwing the silencer onto it. The man next to him did the same, and then the first man reached out and took the tech by the arm and made him rise from the small field desk.
“Gather your sensors and let’s go.”
The movement caught the attention of Sagli who had failed to see the shadow again. He nodded his head at Deonovich in approval of his action. Once he saw the three men walk forward of their line, he leaned back to the scope. After all, if they ran into something, it would give them far more knowledge than they had at that moment.
Ten minutes later, the technician had not recorded the same motion as he did earlier. The trees ahead were still and the area totally silent as he swept the area with his handheld detector. He shook his head at the nearest man. The sun was now gone and twilight had set in.
Just as the lead Spetsnaz was going to motion them back to the rest of the group, he caught wind of something on the breeze. It was a pungent odor, an earthy smell that came from all around them. Then he strained his eyes as he caught sight of a large tree ahead of them. He had sensed it more than actually seeing movement. He raised a hand and caught the attention of the other commando on the far side of the technician. He waved him forward. As he approached the large pine, the shadow broke free of its cover. It moved so fast that the Russian couldn’t react. He brought the automatic up and shot three times, but he knew his silenced bullets struck nothing but the tree and the air. The shadow shot back into the trees in a frenzy of dark motion.
The commando eased forward and then leaned against the same tree where he had seen the strange shadow. He saw a bullet hole where one of his rounds had struck, and then he looked down. His eyes widened when he saw the soft sand around the base of the giant tree. The footprint was larger than two of his feet, in width and length. He kept the pistol’s aim outward as he kneeled down to examine the impression. The toes were distinct and the heel had been planted hard enough to leave a depression eight inches deep in the soft earth and had actually crushed one of the thick, exposed roots of the giant pine tree. He looked up in more wonder than fear. Whatever had made the print had to weigh in access of a five hundred kilos. He straightened, and then he saw a darker area on the tree where he had seen the shadow. He touched a finger to the spot and it came away with rich, copper-smelling blood. The soldier wiped the redness onto his pants and then motioned the others back toward the camp. His weapon never wavered from the area to their rear as they moved south toward the very welcoming sounds of men.
The forest was silent as the men moved. The breeze didn’t seem to penetrate the woods on this side of the river as much as it had on the south side. The absence of wind made the forest seem depressive.
As the three men finally turned away and made their retreat faster than before, twenty more of the shadows broke free of their cover and went north. The forms were large, twice the size of most men, and they moved with an upright gate that made them swift and confident in their long strides.
The forest north of the Stikine River was coming to life.