"Oh, hello," Lynn said as she stepped out from behind the counter.
"You folks lookin' for a guide? We usually get advance notice of fishermen headin' our way by the Mounties down at Jackson's Bluff."
"We flew in from Juneau," Sagli said, eyeing the old woman.
"From Alaska, but you are Russian, right?" the heavyset woman said as she gained the counter, and stepped behind it, looking at her granddaughter.
"Grandmother, this is Lynn. Lynn, this is my grandmother Helena, and — I don't know your name," she said turning to Sagli.
The Russian didn't say anything, he looked at Lynn and then put his gloves back on.
"So, I take it you are traveling up the Stikine?" the grandmother asked.
Lynn was about to answer when Sagli slapped one glove against the other. "We will be doing some exploring and sightseeing."
"Sightseeing? Along the Stikine?" the woman said with a smile and a raised brow.
"You'll have to excuse Grandmother, she gets in these moods," Marla said as she came from around the counter. "But she's only concerned; the Stikine can be a very dangerous place if you don't know what you're doing or exactly where you are going. The river can be calm one minute, and with just a small thunderstorm up north, can become a raging torrent the next."
"We are well equipped for any contingency, young woman," Sagli announced.
"Many a fool has gone into the forest, the mountains, and the Stikine Valley well equipped, and we would find some of that fine equipment floating back down a week or two later," the grandmother said as she unlocked the cash register. "Now, is there anything we can help you with before you go?"
Sagli eyed both the young girl and the old woman, then he took Lynn by the arm and pulled her toward the door. Lynn tried to look back, but the Russian kept a steady pressure on her by squeezing her arm so that she knew there would be no more conversation exchanged.
After the two left the store, Marla turned to her grandmother, who was watching the activity outside with interest.
"You don't like that man, do you?" she asked.
Without turning to face the girl, the old woman said, "Russian."
"Grandmother, we do have Russian in our blood. You said it yourself: There are so many Russians in this area of Canada, you can't throw a rock without hitting one."
The old woman just looked at her granddaughter and then smiled. "Come now, help me with the baking. You need to earn your keep before you go back to school."
The girl shook her head and then headed for the back, but the old woman stayed and watched as the newcomers inflated giant Zodiac rubber boats, eight of them in all. Then she watched as the helicopters lifted off and then disappeared over the giant trees. All the while, the Russian who had been in the store watched her through the window.
"Goddamn Russians," was all she said.
Before she turned away, she noticed the face of the smallish woman looking at her. There was something in her stance from that distance that told her that there was trouble. Then the old woman's eyes went to the men loading the supplies onto the boat and she couldn't help but notice the plastic-wrapped items being stored at the bottom of each boat. She knew what they were loading, and they weren't your standard hunting rifles — they were automatic weapons.
She eased herself away from the window and went into a back room just outside of the kitchen. There was an ancient rolltop desk with all the stores financials laid out on its top, and above that on the desk's upper most reaches, was a large radio. She picked up the old-fashioned microphone and then hit the transmit button.
"Charlie, do you have your ears on down there?" she said into the mike and then waited.
"RCMP, Jackson's Bluff," came the answer through the wall-mounted speaker.
"Charlie Kemp, is that you?"
"Helena, how's things up to the camp, eh?"
"Charlie, I think we may need a few of your Mounties up this way. We have visitors, and I don't think they're here for the fishing."
7
TWENTY-SEVEN MILES NORTH OF WAHACHAPEE FISHING CAMP
THE STIKINE RIVER
Lynn watched as the first four large Zodiacs pulled onto the rocky shoreline of the river. She had been surprised they had traveled as far as they had after the sun had set as the river was one large twisting and turning roller-coaster ride since they started out from the fishing camp. As the men piled out of the huge rubber craft and their two hundred horse-power Evenrude engines were shut down, Lynn was cognizant of how quiet the woods were around them. The sound of the fast-flowing Stikine helped with masking the sounds of the men unloading equipment, but she could tell that when all was said and done, the wilderness would let you hear for miles around.
As she stood at the rear of the boat, her wrist was grabbed by Dmitri Sagli. He held a Remington.306 hunting rifle with a twelve-power scope in his other hand. His eyes met hers, and then darted away, scanning the area around their landing site.
"I will post no guard on you," he said, finally turning back to look at her. His eyes turned silver in the light of the rising moon. "This area is inaccessible; escaping would only hurry the process of your demise, so once we have made camp, think about what I have said. You may stand a small chance with us, but against a hungry bear, or a pack of wolves, you'll will have no chance at all." He let go of her wrist and then started walking away to the area he had chosen to make camp just inside of the tree line. "We will wait for my partner to join us with the last two boats. We will be here for at least twelve hours; use that time to rest — it will be the last chance you have before we push on to our destination."
Lynn rubbed her wrist and then looked around. She had not noticed before, but Deonovich and several of his mercenaries were also nowhere to be seen; as a matter of fact, she hadn't seen him since they left the fishing village.
Lynn stepped free of the Zodiac and started up the shoreline. She looked at the ancient and very foreboding trees that lined the Stikine, and shivered. She had been in wilderness areas before, but she could never remember being in a place where she felt as though she were an entire world away from civilization. As she looked skyward, she swore she could see every star in the universe as they twinkled and winked far above her. It was like looking at an incoming tide of luminescent water as it rushed to shore.
The men were quick and efficient at setting up large five-man tents. As they worked, Lynn could see that they all shouldered automatic rifles and all kept a wary eye on the river. They also watched the very tree line that held their small camp safely hidden. As they set the last of the tent poles and made their ropes tight, Lynn saw several boxes of large caliber ammunition. What were these men preparing for, a Canadian Mountie's full-scale invasion — or maybe something else?
"Lions and tigers and bears, oh my," she said under her breath nervously, trying to take her mind off the pain in her hand.
* * *
It was two hours later and Lynn had been supplied with a tin plate with rich beef stew almost overflowing the rim. She had discovered she had been near starvation. She had greedily shoveled the food into her mouth as the Russian mercenaries watched her with large smiles, shaking their heads. After she had eaten, she was shown to a small two-person tent and told that was where she would sleep. Not trusting the men she was currently keeping company with, Lynn silently pulled a small fallen branch into the tent with her. Once inside, she saw that an electric lantern had been placed in with her. She turned it on and saw a brand-new sleeping bag and a large bottle of drinking water, and beside it were three painkillers.
Lynn grimaced as she placed the small tree branch over her knee and tried to break it. The leafy branch was still too green to snap cleanly. She redoubled her effort and was rewarded with a snap. It didn't break through all the way, but she knew it would work out. She bent and twisted the branch until it broke and then she pulled, slicing the limb into two separate pieces, with one end sharper than the other. She smiled and tossed the blunt end away, keeping the smal
l jabbing spear and poking at the air with it. At least she could poke someone's eye out with it if she were attacked in her lonely nylon-built domain.
Now that she was armed, she pulled out of her jacket, it being warm enough outside to make the night at least comfortable. She lay down on the sleeping bag and listened to the little spits of laughter coming from the men outside of her tent as she swallowed the three painkillers. Listening to the men, it was as though these bastards were on a vacation. She shook her head and closed her eyes.
An hour later she awoke to the strangest noise she had ever heard in the field. It seemed as though it came from miles away. As she sat up, she heard men as they unzipped their tents and stepped out, also questioning what it was they were hearing. She didn't understand the Russian language, but knew that the sound unnerved the men.
Lynn stood and cautiously approached the tent's flap and slowly slid the zipper down. She saw men standing around one dwindling fire pit. The soft glow showed her that they were, indeed, looking to the north, far past where the Stikine turned at a sharp angle. As she cocked her head to listen, the men were shushed to silence by Sagli as he stepped from his own large well-appointed tent. He was bare-chested but held the.306 at the ready; he went as far as to pull the bolt back and chamber a round.
The noise dwindled, and then picked up in intensity. It sounded like several people slamming large sticks against the trunks of trees. The sound echoed down through the river valley of the Stikine, bringing with it a set of cold chills, the likes of which Lynn had never had before.
As suddenly as the strange banging had started, it stopped, and the dark world around them became silent once more. Lynn saw Sagli lower his weapon and then gesture for the others to get back to sleep or to take up their guard stations once more. Sagli looked up at the giant trees as they swayed in the slight wind that had sprung up. As he turned away after slinging his rifle around his shoulder, he saw Lynn as she looked out of her tent flap. He smiled, with not one inch of it actually reaching anything other than his lips. Did he know something about the strange noise and wasn't offering an explanation, or was he as taken back as the others had been, herself included?
"Beavers slapping their tales against the water," he said as he passed.
Lynn decided to brave a comment from the small safety of her flimsy nylon fort.
"Sounds like wishful thinking."
Sagli stopped for a moment and faced her.
"Does it really matter? Anything out there would be doomed to challenge this group of men — now get to sleep, you will have a hard day tomorrow."
Lynn watched Sagli disappear into his tent and then his light go out. Just as she was starting to zip up her own flap, she looked once more into the darkness.
"Beavers, my ass," she said, and then gave out a slight shiver.
Around the camp the night grew still once more, and little did the Russians know that their presence in the valley of the Stikine had just been announced.
The few Russians on guard continued their watch, but now they listened far more closely than before. Most of the veterans of war-torn Chechnya and other embattled places felt as though they were once more in hostile countryside as their survival senses became active, and they knew as all old soldiers knew. They were being watched.
TEN MILES OFF THE COAST OF PUGET SOUND,
WASHINGTON STATE
As the drone of the large twin-engine Grumman thrummed in Jack's ears, his thoughts turned to his sister, where they never drifted very far away from. He was having a hard time recalling her face. He knew that happened from time to time with others in his life, so he knew he had to think of Lynn in context. Recalling her childhood was the easiest. Her smiling face as he pushed his seven-year-old sister down the hill outside of their parents' house, trying desperately to teach her the balance she needed to, as in her words, ride a big person's bike. He remembered being so proud that she kept her balance all the way down the minislope, and then the sheer horror he felt when she wobbled, and then dumped the bike moments before striking the picket fence that lined their front yard. He smiled at the memory. She had bounced up and wanted to go again.
"Colonel, you awake?"
Jack tuned his head, losing the smile and the memory at the same instant. "Yeah, Lieutenant, what's up?"
Ryan could see Jack's face in the soft green glow of the mapped-out hologram on the split windscreen. He looked tired, and thought seriously about not asking him.
"Uh, you think you can take over for a while? I have to rest my eyes for an hour or so. During our twelve-hour layover at the Columbia River, I didn't get much sleep."
Jack sat up straight in his seat with a worried look on his dark features.
"Don't worry, Alice installed one really nice autopilot; she'll fly herself. You shouldn't have to do anything but monitor the threat board right in front of you, but we're flying low enough that we shouldn't be picked up by anything outside of a seagull with Doppler radar."
"Okay, Ryan, don't you go far, and if I call, don't drag your ass getting back here."
"Yes, sir." Ryan undid his safety harness, and half stood beneath the overhang of the flight controls.
"Tell me, Ryan, does it feel good to be flying again?" Jack asked as he looked at the twin steering wheels of the Y-shaped yoke in front of him as they moved up and down, and left and right on their own.
"Yes it does, boss, we have an old saying in the navy: Just don't take the sky away from me."
Jack smiled at the look on Jason's face. He nodded and then gestured for Ryan to get some rest.
* * *
"So, my little Sarah, since my left leg has gone completely to sleep from your nonweight, take my mind away from it and tell me about your Colonel Collins, and his little sister."
Sarah shook her head. She was tired, but the constant bumping of the ancient plane kept her from relaxing, so she and Farbeaux had kept a steady chatter going since refueling in Oregon.
"Henri, you may not believe this, but until yesterday, I didn't know Jack had a sister."
"Would you two be quiet for a while? That damn Frenchman's voice has a worse tone to it than those ancient piston engines," Everett said from the tight seat across the aisle. He had an old fedora that he had relieved from Henri's secret basement pushed down over his eyes.
"Sorry," Sarah said as Jason Ryan squeezed through the small opening separating the cockpit from the cabin. She watched him as he looked around, and then finding no seat to sit in, started to lie down on a pile of supplies.
"No, Jason, here, take my place," she said as she stood and removed herself from Farbeaux's leg. "Believe me, it's more comfortable than that mountain of camping stuff; that is if you don't mind Henri hitting on you."
"Touche, my dear, touche!" Farbeaux said as she stood.
"Jesus, can you people take it outside?" Everett said.
"Here, here," agreed Charlie Ellenshaw, who had his head propped up against Punchy Alexander's large chest, who in turn had one leg draped over Will Mendenhall's lap and two rolled-up sleeping bags.
Sarah apologized and picked her way around the crowded cabin and headed for the cockpit.
"You better keep your hands to yourself; I heard what you Frenchmen are capable of," Ryan said as he sat hard onto Henri's leg.
"Oh, you haven't heard the half of it, Lieutenant, believe me," the Frenchman said angrily as Jason crushed his leg.
* * *
Sarah poked her head through the small curtain that separated the cabin and cockpit. The four-foot entryway was something a hobbit would have a hard time going through, but Sarah figured she and Ryan would have no trouble.
"Mind some company," she asked, "it's a tad crowded back there."
Jack didn't turn to face Sarah and acted as though he was still reading the hologram readout on the windscreen.
"Hi, babe. No, sit down, silence in here would no doubt be preferable to Farbeaux's chatting you up."
Sarah squeezed into the pilot's seat and loo
ked around. The hologram with its see-through detail cast a green and blue glow on her features. She chanced a look at Jack and attempted a smile.
"Anyone trailing us?" she asked just for conversation.
"We had a close one just south of Seattle, but Ryan ducked into a valley just below Mount Rainier, he lost them pretty fast."
Sarah waited for more, but she saw that Jack wasn't going to add anything to his answer. She swallowed and then turned her head to the left, a large cloud slid by, almost luminous in its while veil because of the moon. She closed her eyes at her own reflection.
"Jack?"
Jack was reaching over and was turning the small knob on the overhead console that automatically adjusted the altitude because he had seen on the readout that the old Grumman had drifted up by about ten feet. When he was satisfied, he looked over at Sarah and half smiled.
"Tell me you love me," she said, her eyes boring into his.
The look on Jack's face wasn't exactly what she had been hoping for. He bit his lower lip, and then after a second, as though the slight frown had never been there at all, he actually smiled. "You know I love you, and one of the reasons I fell in love with you was your confidence in yourself. You, of all the women I have ever known, didn't need reassurance on a constant basis. You knew how I felt."
"You surely don't have a clue about women, Colonel Collins," she said, still holding his blue eyes with her own.
Jack chuckled and then nodded. "Okay, I love you, and I hope that makes up for all the other times I wanted to say it, but couldn't."
Sarah smiled and batted her eyelashes, which Jack saw and shook his head.
WAHACHAPEE FISHING CAMP
STIKINE RIVER, BRITISH COLUMBIA
Helena Petrovich waited silently on the long, covered porch of the store. She had been awakened early by the signals throughout the night by the Chulimantan. The constant hitting of the trees and the unrhythmic beat made her toss and turn. It had been almost twelve years since they had heard the beating of the clubs so close to the camp, and she asked herself why they had ventured this far down from the north. It was causing her a sleepless night.
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