by Alex Archer
“But they don’t use slave labor anymore, do they?”
Gregor shrugged. “Depends on your definition of slave labor, I would suppose. Some would argue that the wages paid to the workers are not much better than what the original laborers received.”
A light drizzle fell from the sky, spattering Annja’s face as she saw the lines around Gregor’s eyes deepen. He sniffed the air and shook his head. “Death on the wind is never washed away, no matter how many times God cries.”
Annja said nothing, but felt a cold breeze whip along the sidewalk. Gregor tugged her arm. “I apologize. Sometimes, I reminisce too much. You have a meeting to attend and I am supposed to make sure you arrive there intact.”
“Intact?” Annja asked, alarmed.
Gregor frowned. “In one piece? Is that better?”
“Either one works. I’m just curious as to why you chose those words instead of saying something, I don’t know, less dangerous sounding.”
Gregor smiled. “Robert told me something about you. He said trouble seems attracted to you. It was his wish I guide you along so that trouble this time keeps its distance.”
“Damned thoughtful of him,” Annja said. “Now, where’s the bar?”
Gregor led her down the street, passing a Mercedes dealership. Gregor nodded at it. “Russian mafiya likes flashy cars. They have the money to buy, so the dealerships come to supply them with their wants.”
“Are there a lot of gangsters around?”
Gregor sniffed. “Russia is run by gangsters now. Some of them wear suits, some wear army uniforms. All of them are dangerous men.”
“Lovely,” Annja muttered.
At the next block, Gregor turned right and the streets narrowed. Farther on, Annja could make out a blinking neon sign in red Cyrillic letters. Gregor nodded. “That is the place.”
When they stepped inside, the heat and the smell of alcohol hit her at the same time. Smoke hung in the air, belched out by a hundred cheap cigarettes all bucking for room in the crowded joint.
Gregor nudged Annja ahead. “Robert waits in the back,” he said.
Annja shouldered her way through the rough crowd. Some of them looked like greased pompadour playboys while others had the look of hunted men and women, all trying to scratch out some type of existence in a place that seemed to reek of death and haunting memories.
Annja spied a couple of Naugahyde booths in back and headed for them.
“Annja Creed!”
Rising out of one of the booths like a tall, rail-thin weed, Robert Gulliver rushed to hug Annja. To Annja it felt as if she were hugging herself, so lean was Biker Bob’s body. Still, she knew that despite his lack of weight, he was lithe and sinewy, with a great deal of strength from all the cycling he did.
“Nice to see you, Bob,” she said.
He hurried them back to the booth. Annja noticed that Gregor did not sit with them but lounged near the bar where anyone who wanted to get to the booth section would have to pass.
“Gregor’s not joining us?” she asked.
“Hmm? Uh, no. Gregor will keep an eye out so we aren’t disturbed,” Gulliver said.
Annja frowned. “And he said you think I’m the one who attracts trouble.”
“We can get into that later, if you don’t mind.” Gulliver leaned back and helped himself to the pitcher of beer on the table. “I’ve got a glass all ready for you, m’lady. Can I pour you one?”
“Sure,” Annja said.
She watched Bob’s hands grip the pitcher and pour the beer into her glass. Blue veins in his hand snaked their way up his forearm, twisting around bands of thin muscle. “I see you still haven’t porked up any,” she said with a laugh.
“It’s genetics, I think. I was born this way and damned if I can eat enough to gain an ounce,” he replied.
“That and all the biking.”
“Well, sure, but then again, if not for my bike, we never would have met.”
Annja smiled. She and Gulliver had met on the set of Chasing History’s Monsters a few years previously. Biker Bob had arrived on the set each day riding a candy-apple-red 1950s five-speed bike complete with a playing card striking the spokes for the required sound effects. Over lunches and quick dinners, Annja had learned that he possessed an uncanny intelligence and sense for finding unique dig sites. While his methodology was unorthodox, his research and passion were undeniable. Annja had quickly realized Bob had the makings of a true friend.
“So what’s so special that you dragged me all the way over here? I mean, Siberia? That’s a bit of a stretch even for you, isn’t it?”
“You know how much history is locked into this part of the world? We’re in the regions where the Mongol hordes got their start. The legends that exist here are spectacular. And now, with the old Soviet guard finally dismantled, we can actually begin to explore this area like never before,” Gulliver said.
Annja sipped her beer. “And it will look ever so exciting as we tape bouncing along the roads on a bike. Is that it?”
Bob fixed her with a stare. “You know I never call for my video team until I have something to really show the world. This is more of an excursion. I’ve been fascinated with Siberia for years. And when I decided to bike across the northern part of the continent, I thought it would finally be a good time to see what could be seen.”
“And you called me.”
“Of course! Why not share this with the one person I know at least respects my work? I thoroughly enjoyed the time we spent together on set and thought this would be a magnificent way to continue our friendship.”
“I suppose it is.” Annja shivered. “It’s just this part of Russia leaves a bit to be desired.”
“You referring to the poverty, the gangs or the somber mood?”
“Is there an option for all three?” she asked.
Gulliver laughed. “Definitely. I won’t pretend this is a pretty part of the country, because it’s not. But we aren’t staying here, anyway.”
“We’re not?” Annja asked, intrigued.
“No way. Our destination lies farther north. A road that winds its way through some very old places on the way to Yakutsk.”
“Never heard of it,” Annja said.
Gulliver downed his beer and poured himself another. “Remote doesn’t begin to describe it. I hear that when the Soviets ran things, even they didn’t dispatch much in the way of bureaucratic might to the area. Even to those guys, there were places in their own country that they deemed better left untouched.”
“I wonder why?” Annja asked.
He clapped her on the arm. “That’s what you and I are going to find out!”
Annja shrugged. “Well, as I was just lying around my loft feeling bored and restless, this is, I suppose, a great way to relieve the boredom.”
Gulliver nodded. “That’s the spirit I know and love.”
Annja glanced at Gregor, who was paying more attention to the wood of the bar and very little to the small drink he had in front of him. “Gregor’s not very social,” she observed.
Gulliver smiled. “He’ll nurse that vodka for hours if we let him. But he’s just doing his job.”
“Which is?”
“Well, one part was making sure you got here intact.”
“And why wouldn’t I?”
Gulliver sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re young and very attractive. And while I know that you’re more than capable of handling yourself and any trouble that comes your way, the rest of this part of the world does not.”
Annja grinned. “Sounds like you’re protecting them from me.”
“Well, using Gregor to ward off any unwanted attention is a smart move. He knows the ins and outs of this region better than anyone else.”
“How so?”
“Born and raised here. He was an enforcer for one of the local syndicates but he went freelance a few years back.”
“And they let him?” Annja asked.
“You might have gott
en the impression it’s not wise to say no to him.”
“He is imposing.”
“They thought so, too. He still does errands for them on occasion, but nowadays, he looks out for numero uno.”
Annja sipped her beer. “And you trust him?”
“I saved his life,” Bob said. “There’s nothing he won’t do for me.”
“Now, there’s a story I want to hear,” Annja said.
“Later. I suspect he might be embarrassed if he knew I was telling you. And embarrassing these guys is never a wise move,” Gulliver advised her.
Annja finished her beer. “What time are we leaving tomorrow?”
“Six in the morning.”
“That early?”
“Sure.” Bob’s eyes twinkled with glee. “I even got you a bike.”
“It’s not candy-apple-red, is it?”
He laughed. “No, but it does have racing stripes.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“I’m kidding.” He rose from the booth. “Now let’s see if we can scare up one final good dinner before we head off into the great unknown.”
3
By the time dawn poked its head over the gray horizon and lit up Magadan to more of a beige hue, Annja had already been up for two hours. She’d slept fitfully, tossing and turning until some time after three in the morning. She’d finally rolled out of bed and started working on her yoga asanas. Before she knew it, she was relaxed and sweaty, and she felt better than she had in bed.
She showered quickly, not for fear of being late, but because the hotel—if you could call it that—didn’t have any hot water. Shivering as she stepped into her clothes, Annja warmed herself up by doing some deep breaths and jumping up and down to increase her heartbeat.
Downstairs, she wolfed down a cup of steaming black coffee and something that was supposed to resemble a muffin. Then she stepped outside and found Biker Bob already there, casually drinking from a Thermos as he looked to the northwest.
When he saw Annja, he took the Thermos away from his lips and smiled. “Good morning!”
Annja waved. “Hi, Bob.”
He offered her the Thermos, but Annja declined as she saw the two bicycles Gulliver had arranged. “What in the world are those?”
He turned and bowed low, spreading his hand out as he did so with a flourish. “Those, m’lady, are our transportation.”
“They look like two-wheeled moon buggies,” Annja said.
Gulliver straightened himself. “NASA should be so lucky as to have such fine chariots as these.” He waved Annja over. “Allow me to introduce you to the very noble and very rugged Yeti 575 Carbon Enduro. The 2006 model. In turquoise, because they don’t have pink with polka dots.”
Annja pursed her lips. “And because you know I would have kicked the snot out of you if you’d shown up with a pink bike for me.”
“There’s that, yes,” he admitted.
Annja ran her hands over the bike’s frame. She could see the front and rear shock absorbers. “It’s good, I assume, for what you have in mind for us?”
“One of the best. And fortunately for me, Gregor was able to get his hands on them for our travels. These bikes retail for about three thousand dollars. And I only had to pay five thousand for these.”
“You paid a two-thousand-dollar markup?” Annja asked, shocked.
Gulliver shrugged. “Cost of doing business in this part of the world, Annja. And besides, it’s tax deductible once I get a dig going on the site we’re heading for. Five grand, ten grand, it makes no difference.”
“Must be nice having all that cash.”
Gulliver smiled. “I’m not ashamed of being a trust-fund baby, Annja. At least I spend my money relatively wisely. I could be like those other idiots and charter three-hundred-foot yachts in the Mediterranean for the better part of a million each week. End up on VH-1 and all that ridiculousness.”
“Your quest is noble, Bob. I’ve never held your family’s money against you,” Annja said.
Gulliver nodded. “That is precisely why you’re along on this trip. Among other reasons.” He pointed at her bike. “You want to try it out?”
Annja nodded and climbed onto the seat. The first thing she noticed was how comfortable it felt. “This isn’t like the last time we went riding.”
“They’ve made a lot of improvements since then,” Bob said. “Comfort and practicality are key. Especially for bikes like this, which are made for all-day touring, mountain climbing and traversing various obstacles.”
“So, you’re saying my ass won’t feel like a pincushion by the time we end our ride each day?”
Gulliver grinned. “I have no idea how your ass will feel. I can confidently assure you, however, that my own posterior has never felt the slightest bit injured after a full day’s riding on these miraculous machines.”
Annja bounced once in the seat. “It’s got a fair amount of give.”
“They call it travel now. The amount of movement the suspension gives the rider. On this model, it’s almost six inches, which is a good amount of give.”
Annja pointed. “You took the black one for yourself?”
Bob shrugged. “I always ride a black bicycle. It’s part of my marketing strategy for myself. The world has come to know me as always riding a black bicycle. What would they think if I showed up riding a red one?” He winked at her.
“Heaven forbid,” Annja said. “So, where are we heading, anyway?”
Gulliver took a folded map out of his pocket and handed it to Annja. “Northwest of here. Out into the Siberian wilderness.”
Annja glanced at the map and handed it back. She looked around the city, now just starting to percolate with signs of life. “As long as we’re getting out of here, that’s fine with me.”
Gulliver nodded. “I understand. There are parts of this city that have a certain amount of charm, but I suppose there’s no denying the awful past of this place. It’s ingrained everywhere. Unavoidable. Perhaps I should have chosen a better staging area.”
“This is the closest city?”
“Yes.”
“Then there really was no other option,” Annja said. “And don’t worry too much about it. I’ve seen my share of horrible places.”
Gulliver smiled. “We should be off, then.”
Annja tested her feet on her pedals and found she could reach them easily enough. Gulliver had estimated her height correctly and ensured she had the right-size bicycle. As she leaned down to see if her water bottle was filled, she heard a sound behind them and looked up quickly.
Gregor skidded to a halt on his own bicycle. Annja glanced at Bob. “He’s coming with us?”
“A trusted comrade is always a welcome thing out in the backwaters of a potentially unfriendly environment,” Gulliver said.
Gregor smiled at Annja. “Good morning.”
Annja nodded. “How are you feeling today?”
Gregor pointed at his ribs. “They have a nice blue to them. You have done very well in marking me up. But nothing that vodka and aspirin cannot handle.”
“Sorry about that,” Annja said sheepishly.
Gregor shrugged. “I was not careful. Not your fault. You were just defending yourself. As I would have done in your spot.”
Annja turned around and saw Gulliver tightening the straps on the dual bags that hung over the back of his bike. Annja saw that she had two bags of her own. “You packed for me, too?”
“Gregor did some shopping. Just the necessities, I’m afraid. This won’t be a glamorous event for any of us. Just a recon as it were.”
“As long as the clothes are warm,” Annja said.
“They are.”
Annja looked at Gregor again. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he said quietly.
Annja removed a playing card from her jacket pocket and slid it against the spokes of Gulliver’s bike. He was too involved in his map and didn’t notice. Finally, he folded the map and looked back. “Are we ready?”
Annja smiled. “Let’s roll.”
Gulliver turned, mounted his bike and started pedaling. Instantly, from the back of his bike came the telltale sound as the spokes slid over the playing card.
Annja smiled. Behind her, she heard Gregor chuckle. “He will not notice that for at least three miles,” he said.
GREGOR’S ESTIMATION WAS correct. They pedaled for three miles on the paved highway leading out of Magadan. The road gradually waned from sleek asphalt to pockmarked concrete rife with potholes and bits of wire jutting out of the ground along its edges. More and more, they had to wind their way around obstacles.
Gulliver signaled a halt and they pulled over to the side of the road. He frowned and leaned back, removing the playing card from his spokes. “This your idea of a funny?” he asked.
Annja shrugged. “Yep,” she said.
Gulliver took a swig of water from his bottle and then replaced it. “The road ahead goes from this to more of a hard mud track. It should be easier once we hit it.”
“Less obstructions,” Gregor said from behind them.
“They don’t believe in road repair in these parts, huh?” Annja looked around them. Anything short of a combat tank would have flat tires in seconds.
“Is not they don’t believe in it,” Gregor said. “Just that the officials all have their hands out ready for a little grease. By the time the money filters down to the workers who must actually repair the road, there is none left.”
“Wonderful,” Annja said.
Gulliver waved them on. “I want to at least reach a way point by tonight. And that’s thirty miles away.”
Annja sighed. A thirty-miler wasn’t the best way she imagined to ease back into the bicycling frame of mind, but she knew that once Gulliver had his mind fixed on something, he wasn’t going to budge for anything short of a life in danger.
Gregor sped past her and then overtook Gulliver. He pedaled ahead. Annja marveled at how easily he rode his bicycle.
Bob glanced back at her. “He’s a former military guy. Did I mention that?”
“No,” Annja said.
