"They have no radio, and that gives us at least two or three days to find what we came for," Deonovich said by way of making things right with his partner for his failed ambush and the planned murders of the fishing camp family. "That means they either have to go downriver for help, in which case when they return with help we will be gone from this place, or they will come after us. And that will be to our advantage because they will be bringing our…" He stopped talking and looked at Lynn. "Get this woman out of here," Deonovich shouted at the men lining the front of the tent. After Lynn was picked up and moved out, Deonovich continued. "These intruders obviously do not realize who it is they have brought with them."
"Still, the chances of our success have now been diminished at the very least." Sagli turned away in deep thought. He turned back to face Deonovich. "Do you have any idea who these people were?"
"I have no idea, they were expert marksmen I can tell you that, my friend. But the means in which they arrived should rule out the possibility of a government resource, even a Canadian one."
"Your meaning?" Sagli asked.
"The aircraft they arrived in looked as if it had been taken from a museum."
Sagli was confused as to who these intruders at the fishing camp could be. Especially if they had who Deonovich described as their partner on the same plane as themselves.
"Well," he said with a shrug. "The stakes are too high for us to concern ourselves with such a small force. We will watch and wait and continue our search, and when these men arrive, if they arrive, we will kill them all."
As both men stepped aside and allowed the technicians to continue adjusting their equipment, Sagli stopped at the tents flap and saw Lynn facing north across the river. Then he noticed a few of his own men looking in that direction. Before he could order all of them back to work, he heard what it was that had stopped everyone in their tracks. The hammering of wood on wood had started again from deep in the forest across the river. Sagli stepped from the tent and cocked his head to the right side, trying to figure area and distance of the irritating, strange sound. As he did, several more of the distinctive slapping of wood commenced in other parts of the forested wilderness. Some sounded as if they were on their side of the river. Unnerved, Sagli turned to Deonovich.
"I want a fifty percent alert status on watch tonight. I suspect we have Indians indigenous to this area out there trying desperately to get our attention, and I don't know what they have planned, but I want to be ready for whatever it is."
The noise grew in volume and continued for three hours until the sun set behind the western mountains, and then all became horribly still; even the constant buzzing of insects ceased as the moon slowly rose over the Stikine River and its nervous visitors.
The Chulimantan were starting to move south from the small plateau and into the valley of the Stikine.
SIXTY-FIVE MILES SOUTH ON THE STIKINE RIVER
Will Mendenhall had been placed in the bow of the fifteen-foot Zodiac boat. The old river craft had been reinforced at the bow and stern with slabs of plywood, and there was a small cockpit complete with a windshield and an ice-chest stool for the river pilot. Marla's father had built in coolers and the control panel with throttles for the twin Evenrude motors, complete with depth finders and fish locators. As Will looked back at the cockpit where Carl Everett sat, his eyes moved to the colonel. Jack had placed Will in the bow as a lookout, and then had placed Henri Farbeaux and Punchy Alexander at the sides for the same purpose, while he sat next to Everett, cleaning one of the hunting rifles: an old-fashioned.30-.30 Winchester.
Jack had talked nonstop for the past hour, sharing something with Everett. Will wondered what it could be that made the captain sit as still as he had while he listened, being as the colonel had placed the Frenchman and Alexander as far away as possible in the boat so he could talk to the captain. Doc Ellenshaw was constantly writing in an open journal, looking up from his words for a minute of reflection, then delving back into his writing.
As they approached a large bend in the Stikine, Will turned and saw that Collins had changed his position and had come up to the bow without him noticing.
"Colonel," Will said as he lowered the binoculars, and then turned over from where he had been laying against the tall rubber and plywood bow, "you shouldn't sneak up on me like that."
"Getting spooked in your old age, Lieutenant?" Jack said as he slid down beside his security officer.
Mendenhall looked around at the passing scenery of the Stikine and its surrounding woods. The sun was now so low as to set the trees and even the water on fire with its bright orange illusion. The sun was dying and Will could see hope doing the same in Jack's face; this would be a long night of waiting on shore instead of going ahead upriver.
"To tell you the truth, Colonel, I've never been big on camping." Will looked back at Jack with an embarrassing smile that started and then failed to materialize. "I don't know, I guess it's become more acute since we left the fishing camp, but I swear for the past fifty miles…"
Collins watched Will as he failed to say what he was thinking. He glanced back as he felt the eyes of Farbeaux on him from behind. Henri raised his brows, smiling. It was if he knew Will was distressed about his surroundings and wanted to let Jack know that he knew. Collins gave him no indication that he cared one way or another as he turned back to the young black lieutenant.
"It's not like you to not finish a thought, Will, so give: What's on your mind?"
"We're being watched, Colonel," Mendenhall said as he again attempted the smile, and then shook his head at his failure. He turned back to face the front of the boat and the river beyond.
"We just may have something watching us, although I believe we won't run into our Russian friends for another fifty or so miles."
"It's not that," Will said without turning back to face Jack. "It's more instinctual — like walking down a street in Compton, just knowing that there is someone lying in wait for you around the next corner."
"Are images and memories of growing up in L.A. coming back to spook you?"
"No, that I could deal with, now as then. This is something else, like a memory, a very old memory or something. A thing from the past; hell, I don't know what I'm trying to say."
"What you're feeling is the state of loneliness in this part of the world," Collins said as he relaxed and lay against the large rubber wall of the Zodiac, placing the blue, seventy-year-old baseball cap that the old woman had given him before they left at a lazy angle covering his eyes. "I don't know if men… people like you and me that is… were ever meant to be here. Hell, maybe no one was ever meant to be in a place like this." Jack lifted the old Brooklyn ball cap and looked squinty eyed at Will. "And, Lieutenant, in the wilderness there is always something out there."
"Yes, sir," Will said, but was not satisfied as he turned back and looked into the dark woods that slid by the large boat as it moved upriver.
As the boat with its six-man crew moved along the river, the sun began to set and the woods surrounding them began to come alive with the animals that used darkness to hunt. As Mendenhall nervously glanced behind him, he saw Punchy Alexander watching the left side with all the determination of a man truly seeking out the bad things that could harm them. Farbeaux, on the other hand, was looking right at Will, his smile still there. Henri then winked at him. It was if the Frenchman were conveying once more that he had a secret that only he knew. Will figured it was only Henri being the total ass that he was.
Mendenhall finally relaxed when Carl turned the Zodiac in toward shore. All eyes except for the colonel watched as a small clear area presented itself, and the roving band of rescuers had a spot in which to wait anxiously for the rising sun that would signal them another day closer to finding Jack's sister — one way or the other.
RUSSIAN BASE CAMP
NORTHERN STIKINE
The tent that had been set aside for half of the camp to eat in was still crowded as Lynn was given a plastic plate, and then w
atched as something resembling beets and a mystery meat was plopped into it. She was given a plastic fork but no knife. She turned away from the surly brute with the filthy apron and looked about the tent. She saw several places she could have sit down to eat, but decided that she would forgo the splendid company of men that grumbled and shoveled food down their throats and move to the outdoors. She chose a place by the small fire about halfway between the tents and river. The sun was now but a memory as the last of it dipped below the tree line to the west, signaling the true beginning of night.
As she sat down on a large rock worn smooth over a millennium worth of river water running over it, she saw that the guard had been set around the camp for the first of many shifts. They didn't care about her as she watched most of them as they in turn watched the surrounding woods. They were still on edge after the demonstration of noise had ceased about an hour before. The beating of wood on wood had set everyone's nerves on edge and the men didn't mind the reassuring feel of the large caliber weapons each of them held as they watched the darkness envelop the camp.
As Lynn nervously tasted the concoction of red sugar beets and beef, she saw Sagli and the freshly washed and cleaned Deonovich as they stood at the river's edge. They were talking with one of the technicians from the tent that held the lab and mechanical equipment she had seen earlier. Sagli seemed to be doing most of the talking. The ponytailed Russian was gesturing at the far shore of the Stikine, indicating with his hand certain areas she could not see from her place at the fire. She made a face when the beets and meat touched her tongue and then she placed the plate beside her and watched the animated exchange.
Sagli turned and saw her twenty yards away, and then pointed at the smaller Russian technician and then at Deonovich. Both of them turned abruptly and started for the tent brimming with electronic equipment. She noticed that both of the men had shoulder holsters as they passed by her. Deonovich glared at the small American woman and then growled something she couldn't understand as he eventually disappeared into the tent followed by the smaller man.
"We have possibly located something across the river by electronic means."
Lynn turned as the sound of Sagli's voice surprised her. He was standing by the fire looking down at her, but not really looking at her at all. The man was a thinker, and that was when she realized that all of her field reports were not quite telling her the truth; Sagli didn't really have a true partner in Deonovich, he was the man in charge and the other was just his lackey. To her, that could mean some sort of an advantage she could utilize down the road — but how? She didn't know just yet.
"Then why don't you wade across the river and get what you came for?" she asked, watching the man for his reaction.
When he didn't answer, she knew she had touched a nerve, one that he was trying to hide from her, for what reason she didn't know. Instead of answering the American's enquiry, he lowered his hands from the warming fire and then faced her.
"These woods," he said, gesturing around him to the dark tree line and even the flowing river, "what do you know of their history?"
"In case you haven't noticed, Sagli, I'm an American, and this" — she mocked him by gesturing around her, just as he had—"is Canada. I'm a city girl by nature."
Sagli actually looked disappointed that Lynn had not only mocked him, she had also not answered his question. He actually had the look of a man surprised that she hated his guts. He just looked at the fire and acted as though he was warming his hands on a not-so-cold night.
"My men, men who served with me in Georgia and Afghanistan, Spetsnaz all of them, are acting like schoolgirls. The noises emanating from the forest has them" — he finally looked at her as he searched for the right word—"on edge."
Lynn wanted to smile at the killer that stood nervously over the fire, but she thought mocking him again would be a dangerous proposition at best. So she looked toward the river instead.
"I suspect that it may be elk, or deer, maybe it's some kind of mating signal, you know, striking their antlers against trees, deadfalls, things like that. Look, I'm not up to date on Animal Planet; I've been a little busy with work and all."
"It does no good to mock me. And in case you haven't noticed, Ms. Simpson, you are sitting here in camp with us, and whatever is making that noise is growing close to you, as well as to me and my men."
Sagli abruptly turned and started walking toward the technical tent to join his so-called partner. As he disappeared inside, Lynn actually heard a call of an elk somewhere far to the north of them. A far different noise from what she had led the Russian to believe as she did know the difference between what an elk and deer sound like in the woods, and whatever that strange noise was that was plaguing the inner thoughts of everyone in camp. She knew that nothing she had ever read about in all of her education made the noises they had heard earlier. She was also aware that Sagli had been right — the sounds were drawing nearer every time they heard them.
For the first time since her abduction, Lynn wasn't so sure that having Russian commandos standing guard around her wasn't so bad after all.
SOUTH OF THE RUSSIAN BASE CAMP
As soon as they had brought the boat up and out of the water and staked it to the beach after their sixty-five-mile trip up the river, they set up a small fireless camp with no tents, Charlie Ellenshaw wandered off into the surrounding woods, necessitating that Everett go out to find him and admonish the curious side of the crazed professor for being careless.
As for Henri Farbeaux, the Frenchman tossed his sleeping bag onto the ground underneath a large tree, and then sat and watched the others. He placed his hands behind his head and watched Collins most of all. When Jack caught him looking, Henri didn't shy away, he just smiled that knowing smile of his.
"I don't know why you tolerate that man," Punchy said as Jack walked by. "The damn French, you can't trust them."
"Come on, Punchy, you're in charge of the only French-speaking province on the North American continent. Don't tell me Quebec and France still has their problems?" Collins looked from Alexander toward the reclining Farbeaux, who watched the two with interest.
"They have always treated not only Quebec as an ugly little sister, but the whole of Canada. They constantly interfere with our inner workings and still have one of the largest intelligence infrastructures outside of Moscow, and for what? To watch little Quebec?"
"Take it easy, old buddy. I didn't think you were that passionate about the ills of your relationship with France."
Alexander didn't say anything else, he just tossed his sleeping bag on the ground and with a last look at the Frenchman, sat down and started removing his boots.
Collins reluctantly looked away from Punchy and his sudden outburst, and looked at Henri. The man wasn't smiling, he didn't even move. Jack knew the Frenchman had heard the exchange between him and Alexander, but instead of joining the small debate, he just turned over and closed his eyes. Jack then threw his own unrolled sleeping bag down on the ground not far from the anchored and beached boat. Everett soon approached him with one of the Russian AK-47s slung around his shoulder.
"What are our orders for tomorrow, Jack?" Carl asked.
"I want to head upriver about an hour before sunrise, if that map and Charlie and the old woman's guesswork is accurate at all, we'll pull into shore around 0930 and we'll hoof it from there."
"And what makes you think they haven't heard us coming already?" Mendenhall asked, stepping up to the two men out of the darkness.
"Because we haven't been ambushed yet — with these killers, they wouldn't hesitate to kill us all if they knew we were close."
Mendenhall nodded his head and bowed to Jack's and Carl's experience in the field because between the two of them they had more combat and black operations experience than any two men in the country. He turned and went over and unslung his weapon, gently laid it down, and then he followed suit. His eyes were heavy and he knew that tomorrow there would be absolutely no rest.
Charlie Ellenshaw had watched the exchange between Collins, Everett, and Mendenhall and he waited until after Will had settled in to lean over Mendenhall to get his attention. Will had already closed his eyes without unzipping his sleeping bag.
"They wouldn't attack us in the dark, would they?" Charlie asked, startling the lieutenant.
"Jesus, Doc, don't do that!" Mendenhall said as he rolled over.
"Well, they wouldn't, would they?"
"Doc, if they knew we were here, yes, they would hit us in the dark. This isn't the old westerns you saw on television. Regardless of what you've heard, Indians, and Russians commandos, do attack at night."
Charlie looked around at the deep woods surrounding their small landing spot. "That's a comforting thought." As he settled into his sleeping bag, the stillness of the night calmed him. There were no beating of sticks against trees, a sound that had kept him terrified and intrigued since 1968. But for now the only sound was that of the light wind as it passed through the upper reaches of the trees.
"I take it we're not going to eat this evening?" Charlie asked, once more drawing the ire of Mendenhall.
Will removed his bush hat and then glanced over at the professor. "No, Doc, we're running a cold camp tonight, no hot grub, we'll eat some MREs in the morning when we hit the river again."
"Lovely" was all Charlie said as he lay down. "Lieutenant?"
"Good God, Doc, what is it?" Will asked opening his tired eyes for the third time since laying down. "I have the guard in just three hours."
"Oh… uh… I just wanted to say good night."
Will shook his head in the dark, feeling somewhat bad for snapping at the old professor. He knew he was just a little excited, and maybe even scared of being in these woods again. And after the story Ellenshaw told them, Will couldn't really blame him for reaching out. He smiled to himself and relaxed.
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