36

“You’re leaving me here?” The look in Bob’s eyes made Annja’s heart ache. She could tell it was taking all his strength to maintain his sanity.

“Your wound is too critical to try and get you out of here myself. It could tear open the sutures, and you’d bleed out before we got out of the village. I can’t have that.” She took his hand. “I saw you die once already. I’m not going through that ordeal again.”

He sighed. “And the psycho doctor?”

“He says he’ll take care of you.”

Bob smirked. “You believe him?”

“I don’t have much choice. I’m kind of stuck here.”

“What’s he get out of the deal?”

“Amnesty. His partner, the one I killed, takes the fall for all of this stuff, and he plays up the role of the victim in it.”

Bob frowned and cleared his throat. “The poor village priest caught up in the middle of some horrible experiment. Tidy. He’ll come out looking none the worse. Meanwhile, all sorts of people are dead.”

Annja slid her parka on. “It’s the best solution to the problem we’re facing here.”

“It’s not a solution at all. That guy will get off and be free to keep doing what he’s been doing. More people will die.” Bob sighed. “I’d almost rather you killed him now and not worry about me.”

“I can’t do that,” Annja said.

“Kill him or leave me?”

Annja smiled. “Leave you, pal. I’m getting you out of this situation intact. I swear it.”

Bob nodded. “Where is he now?”

“Cleaning up the place so there’s no evidence tying him to this. I don’t know. Hell, he could be getting back into his priest robes for all I know.”

“Don’t be long,” Bob whispered.

Annja squeezed his hand. “I won’t. I promise. I’ll be back as soon as I can get some real medical help to transport you back to Magadan.”

Bob’s eyes shone in the dim light. Annja gave him one last squeeze and turned away.

Back in the laboratory, Dzerchenko had indeed changed back into his robes. Annja shook her head. As a priest, he looked utterly disarming and kindly. But she knew what he really was—a monster of the worst magnitude.

“I’m leaving.”

“So I see.”

Annja thumbed over her back. “You keep an eye on him. Both eyes. And you’d better make sure he’s good to go. As soon as I get back, I’m getting him the hell out of here.”

Dzerchenko smiled. “I still know how to take care of people, Annja.”

“Yeah, I know. You did a good job patching him up. Just make sure he stays that way. You’re his guardian angel now. And if you screw that up, you won’t like what I do to you.”

Annja turned and left the laboratory. She quickly traversed a dimly lit tunnel to the set of stairs that led to the kitchen of the church. Annja stood in the doorway looking at the dim gray light of dawn just starting to peek into the church. The old lingering scent of incense hung in the air, and Annja took a deep breath.

Please keep him safe.

She ducked down the center aisle and then opened the front door. A breeze blew into her, but the air felt warmer than it had overnight. For the first time in a couple of days, Annja could see clear sky overhead. A break from all of the snow would be a welcome change. She headed down the main street of the village. She needed a truck or a car, something she could use to drive back to Magadan and get help.

She looked around. Most of the village looked to be one giant snowdrift. And even though there was no more snow falling, the wind blew the light, fluffy flakes up like a desert dust, clouding her vision. Annja could see piles of snow, but couldn’t figure out if any vehicles lay beneath them.

She needed help.

A thin plume of smoke wafted out of a stovepipe by the café. The windows were fogged up. Annja smiled. The cook might help her if she asked.

She knocked on the door and waited. Another brisk breeze sent a puff of snow into her face. She felt it melt and the ice-cold water run down her face.

On the other side of the door, she could hear the clicks of a bolt being thrown back. There was a grunt and then the door swung open.

A blast of hot air belted Annja like a right cross. She leaned back and then smiled. “Good morning.”

The cook recognized her and smiled. She stepped back and invited Annja inside.

Annja stepped in and looked around. No one else was in the café. The tables were all set. The cook rested her hands on her hips and smiled broadly. “Da?”

Annja frowned. Communicating was going to be a challenge. “I need a car. Or a truck.”

The cook looked at her and frowned.

Annja sighed. “Automobile? I need to get to Magadan. My friend is injured badly and he needs a doctor.”

At the mention of Magadan, the cook’s face lit up. “Magadan.”

Annja nodded. “Yes.”

The cook made a shape with her hands and then the appropriate car sounds. Annja smiled. “Da.”

The cook nodded and then pointed to a seat at the table. “You. Sit.”

Annja sat at the table and took a breath. Something smelled delicious. She hadn’t realized how famished she was.

The cook returned from the kitchen with a plate of what looked like scrambled eggs and some type of meat. She brought a cup of steaming coffee and set it in front of Annja.

“You.”

Annja smiled. “Thank you. But I have to get back to Magadan. My friend is hurt.”

The cook frowned, shook her head and pointed at the plate. “Eat.”

Annja picked up a fork. Perhaps it wouldn’t make a difference if she bolted a bit of breakfast first. At least this way, she’d be in good shape for traveling.

The cook watched her eat. Occasionally, she’d nod and say something indecipherable in Russian.

Annja shoveled forkfuls of food into her mouth. She couldn’t stop eating the breakfast. “It’s really good,” she said around mouthfuls.

The cook sipped a cup of coffee. “Magadan?”

Annja nodded. “Yes. Da. My friend is hurt.” She made a show of impersonating someone who had been injured.

The cook laughed.

Annja sighed and pushed the plate away. “That was fantastic. Thank you so much. But I really need to get going now.”

The cook shook her head and pointed at the clock high up on the yellowed wall. “Magadan. No.”

Annja frowned. “What? You mean it’s too early? No one’s up yet? Something like that?”

The cook just looked at her. Annja sighed and stood. “I need to get going. I’ll find someone else to help me with the car.”

The cook stood up and tried to push Annja back into the seat. “Nyet!”

Annja dodged her and set her feet. “Cut it out. Don’t try to stop me. I need to get back to Magadan.”

The cook’s face fell. “Nyet, nyet, nyet.”

Annja slid her gloves on and walked to the door. “Thanks again for breakfast. Really. I appreciate it.”

She pulled the door open and walked outside.

Weird town, she decided. I need to get out of this place. With Bob.

She looked up and down the street. Where to find a car?

She headed back to the hotel. Maybe Tupolov’s wife would have the keys to a vehicle she could take. She smirked. It’d be the least she could do, considering her husband was a dead nut.

I’ll have to tell her, Annja thought.

But not right now. Her priority was getting the vehicle and driving back to Magadan. When she got back, she could break the news.

As she approached the inn, she could make out several muddled sets of footprints in the deep snow. By the look of it, people were at least awake now.

She stepped into the inn.

Small puddles of water lay about the floor just inside the door. She could see coats hanging off the line of pegs stuck into the knobby wall by the fireplace. There were several pairs of boots underneath them.

“Hello?” Annja’s voice rang out, but she could hear nothing. There seemed to be no activity within the inn.

She walked over to the kitchen and pushed through the swinging door. The kitchen was rustic but functional. Big iron pots hung from a rack suspended overhead. A block of wood housed several large knives. In the back, she could see a bunch of garlic garlands dangling from another rack. And the air smelled of last night’s big meal.

Annja walked through the kitchen and toward the back pantry. She thought she could hear something.

Static?

As she approached the back of the pantry, Annja could see a small radio transmitter. A base microphone sat nearby.

Maybe she didn’t have to drive to Magadan after all. Maybe she could radio for help.

She sat down on a nearby chair and flipped a few of the switches and dials. Sharp bursts of static echoed throughout the pantry. Annja keyed the mike.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday. Trying to reach anyone in Magadan. Over.”

Nothing but static replied.

Annja frowned and tried to remember anything she knew about radios. With the clear skies overhead, she shouldn’t have any trouble getting reception or transmitting a signal.

Unless the antenna was down.

If the storm wrecked the antenna, Annja thought, I could be wasting my time here.

She changed the frequency and was rewarded with a break in the static as a voice came from the speaker.

“Hello?”

The static burst cleared again. “Amerikanski?”

Annja grinned. “Hello? Can someone help me? I need help from Magadan.”

Static reclaimed the airwaves and Annja swore under her breath. She’d heard someone and they’d heard her. She had to keep trying.

The static cleared then. “Magadan?”

Annja keyed the mike. “Yes, Magadan! I have a friend here who is injured. I need medical help sent immediately.”

She released the send key and waited. Through the static, she heard the voice again. “Magadan. Magadan. Da. Okay. I hear you. You are okay?”

Annja keyed the mike again. “Yes. I’m okay. My friend is not okay. He needs help.”

The voice came back immediately this time. “Where are you? I will send doctor.”

Annja exhaled a rush of breath. “Thank God.” She keyed the microphone again and cleared her throat. “Thank you, thank you. We’re in—”

“Stop.” The voice came from behind her.

Annja turned.

The innkeeper’s wife—Tupolov’s mate—stood there holding a very ugly pistol in one hand. The barrel was aimed at Annja’s heart.

Annja held up her hands. “Don’t.”

Behind her, the voice at the other end of the radio kept talking. “Hello? Where are you? Hello?”

But Annja couldn’t respond.