"That's a good idea; we missed dinner last night," Sarah said, looking Ryan in the eyes and then using her head to get him to return to the porch.
"You know, it's not polite to keep secrets from strangers," Ryan said, relenting to Sarah's silent request and taking a step back as the girl pulled on his arm.
The old woman watched all three enter the store, then she called out: "Secrets are how privacy is kept, Lieutenant Ryan."
* * *
Two hours later the sun had crested over the small hills that hid the warmth of the new day till the last moment before it actually appeared over the closest of the giant trees.
Ryan stepped out onto the porch and was feeling better about the early morning wakeup call than he had before he ate a full stomach's worth of a breakfast that he knew was going to shorten his life by at least three years. He had never eaten so many eggs, sausage, biscuits and gravy in one setting. He patted his stomach and then made his way down the porch.
As he approached the Bell Ranger, he immediately saw that things were not as they were left when he and Sarah ceased working the night before. The blanket he had laid the fuel injector on was hanging from one of the rotor blades and even their sleeping bags had been tossed about like they were discarded rags. That meant that someone had been there after they had returned to the store early this morning.
"Damn it!" Ryan said angrily as Sarah stepped out onto the porch and saw him jogging toward the helicopter. She quickly followed.
As he approached, he started scanning the ground for the fuel injector. As he looked he saw the old tool box that the Petrov's had given him turned over and the old rusty tools were spread all over the rocky soil.
"What happened?" Sarah asked as she caught up with Ryan.
"Someone is screwing around with us," Jason said as he kicked the tool box upright. "The damn fuel injector is gone."
"Maybe it's on the ground somewhere," she said hopefully.
"All the other parts are here, but the injector is gone. It's large enough where you could spot it right off. Look, here are the hoses, even the housing screws."
"They took the one part that would get us into the air," Sarah said, deflating, as suspects started flashing through her mind.
"Was the part in need of repair shiny — you know, bright?"
They both turned to see Marla standing just behind them. She was fully dressed in her work clothes and had bundles of paper-wrapped bait fish piled in her arms.
"Yes, it was shiny aluminum," Ryan answered with hands on hips. "Why, do Indians like shiny things?"
"Grandmother said it wasn't Indians." Marla looked around, and then looked at the river. "As a matter of fact, they don't seem to be showing up this morning for their bait."
Sarah watched the girl as she scanned the river. Then she took a step toward Marla.
"Who took the part?" she asked, not trying to push the young girl too hard.
Marla laid the bundles of fish down on the stony ground. "I think if we look real hard, we may find it out there," she said pointing into the trees. "They usually get bored pretty quickly with things that they steal."
"Who gets bored with the shiny things?" Sarah asked.
"They mean no harm and just as I said, I bet we can find the thing you're looking for. They like shiny things is all," she repeated, scared that Sarah and Ryan were mad at her.
"It's the Indians, Sarah, come on," Ryan said, looking from McIntire to the girl. "Look, Marla, they won't be in trouble, but we need that part. We can't leave our friends out there with no way back. They'll need us, I guarantee you that."
"I'm sorry, I'll help you look. I bet it's not that far away," she said biting her lip and looking nervously about the woods.
"Oh, this is ridiculous," Ryan said as he reached down and retrieved the M-16 from where he had laid it the night before, thinking about why the Indians didn't take the weapon when they took the part.
"Lieutenant, the Tlingit are not thieves. They are the most honest people in the world, if they are guilty of anything, it's pride in what they do — living out here all alone. They live here where no man can survive without assistance from the outside world, they always have."
"Except for your family," Sarah reminded her.
"But that's just it, without the Tlingit, none of my ancestors could have made it here." Her eyes softened. "They did not take your part."
Ryan let out a loud breath, reached down and tossed Sarah her AK-47, and then started for the tree line.
Sarah watched him leave and then looked and made sure there was a round in the chamber of the Russian-made weapon. With a sad look at Marla — feeling she was being far less than honest with them — she turned and followed Ryan into the tree line. The girl quickly followed.
RUSSIAN BASE CAMP
Lynn had managed losing her tag-team guards for a few minutes, just long enough to relieve herself in the woods surrounding the camp. She could smell something that may be breakfast, or something akin to it. As she started toward the sounds and smells of the camp, that was when she saw it — or more accurate — them. There were a series of large footprints, the size of which were enormous, leading from the thick grove of trees to about the spot where Lynn had entered the woods to seek relief. As she bent over and looked closer at the footprints, she saw that they were almost human in appearance, with the exception of the size, as they were at least twenty-four inches in length and twelve inches wide. She swallowed as she turned her head back to where she had been moments before and saw that there were two differing sets, one coming, and one leaving the area. Whatever had made the prints had been watching the camp on the south side of the river.
Lynn stood, her eyes retuning to the giant impression at her feet. With total trepidation she laid her own size six shoe next to it. She closed her eyes when she realized that her small foot only covered the large toe of whatever creature made the print. Every legend and myth about the dark woods of the northwest came flooding back into her memory from childhood. When she found that she had actually stopped breathing, she opened her eyes and allowed the intrusion of the real world to flood back into her senses once more.
As Lynn took another deep breath, she first heard, and then saw several men running toward the large electronics tent. There were shouts and angry sounding orders being given, and then Sagli stepped out and looked around until he saw Lynn standing at the edge of the tree line. He quickly walked up to her, his hair hanging free and wild.
"Where have you been?" he asked stepping up menacingly.
"I assume I am allowed to use nature's facilities?" she asked, raising her brows, trying to get her emotions under control. She shuffled her feet across the closest foot impression as she stepped forward.
"You will ask for escort next time."
"I think I'll pass on presenting your men with a peep show so early in the morning."
Sagli looked as if he wanted to say something, but turned on his heels instead. Lynn watched as he started shouting orders. With one look back at the path she had just taken, she wondered if something was nearby — a thing that could not possibly exist, but evidently had escaped from the annals of B-Moviedom.
Deonovich soon joined the men as they started looking around the entire camp. It was as if they were searching for something. Lynn decided she would risk a backhanded strike from the large Russian and approached him.
"What happened, you lose something?" she asked.
Deonovich turned and saw Lynn and then grimaced. He started to turn away but stopped and then looked back at her.
"You slept out by the fire last night, am I correct?"
"Yes, I figured the tent was a little restrictive for a prisoner."
"Being a smart-ass American is not as endearing as you would believe. If we did not need you, I would throw your very mutilated body into the river."
Lynn didn't respond to the angry glare and threat as much as she wanted to.
"We are missing a man. Did you see anything out of the
ordinary last night?" he asked.
"You mean outside of a bunch of Russian commandos out camping in the Canadian wilderness? No, not at all."
Deonovich raised his large hand to strike Lynn and actually managed to start it forward, when a shout stayed his punishment once again. Sagli was walking up, using a leather string to tie his hair back.
"Join the men in the search." He stared at Deonovich until the large man moved angrily away.
"Ms. Simpson, we have not only lost a man, but also the signal from our metal detectors from across the river. Do you have any idea how this could be?"
"Some of your men don't look to be the brightest, so—" Lynn started but stopped. She could see in the dark eyes of Sagli that he wouldn't brook another of her insults. "No, I don't."
Suddenly, several of the remaining twenty-five men started shouting from the edge of the river. Sagli turned and quickly left. Lynn, for her part, slowly followed as if only casually interested.
When they arrived, the men had calmed down. Sagli, expecting the worse — a drowned soldier — saw what they had been shouting about and the curious look on his face told Lynn that what he was seeing was something he had not expected. Lined along the rippling shoreline of the fast-moving Stikine, were arrayed four of the small round devices she had seen the large soldier shoot across the river the day before. From the look of them, they were still operating as lights flashed on and off. She saw Sagli look around and then down again at the metal detectors. Then he turned to the small technician who quickly leaned down and retrieved one on the small objects.
"Well, do you still have a pinpoint location to start the search? We no longer need these, am I correct?"
The small bespectacled man looked up. "Yes, sir, we triangulated a starting point last night from the devices. The radia—"
Sagli waved the man into sudden silence before he could complete his answer. He looked around him at the other soldiers who had started to wander away, continuing their search for the missing guard. Satisfied they hadn't heard anything, he looked at Lynn, but she had been smart enough to turn her back on the conversation soon after hearing the technician's slipup.
"Good, now how did these get over on this side of the river?" he asked, looking from the technician to once more eye Lynn. "It doesn't matter. You men" — he shouted out—"prepare the camp; we are moving across the river."
The men started splitting up as Lynn watched them move away. Deonovich waited and then waved Sagli over to the where he was standing with one foot in the river. Lynn stood her ground and watched, and they didn't seem to care that she was there. Sagli stood in front of his partner, and then looked down when Deonovich indicated something down upon the riverbank. The ponytailed Sagli bent to one knee and then reached and felt the wet soil. Then he stood and gestured for Lynn to come over.
"Tell me, have you ever seen anything like this before? Being American, you watch far more television than I or my friend here."
Lynn looked at him curiously, and then lowered her eyes to a spot indicated by the wet boot of Deonovich. Her eyes widened in pretend shock at seeing what she was looking at.
"No, I must say I haven't."
It was only half there, as the missing part disappeared into the clear waters of the Stikine, but she could clearly see the large toes and instep of the creature that had made the same prints inside the tree line. Like the one she had examined a few minutes before, this print dwarfed the boot of the giant Deonovich as he stood beside it. Sagli quickly reached out and scraped his own smaller boot across it, destroying the evidence. The other prints farther up the shoreline hadn't been as defined as they were laid into the larger stones that made up the riverbank.
"Look around and make sure that there no more of these about; check the sandier soil, these rocks would hide anything distinctive," he said to Deonovich. He then turned to Lynn. "You will remain quiet about this discovery, or I will be forced to deal with you."
Lynn didn't respond, she only looked at the disturbed sand where the print had once been. As Sagli started to walk away, she caught up with him.
"Maybe you haven't noticed, but I may not be your only problem. It seems like there may be something out there you didn't account for on this little safari. I think they call whatever is stalking us a Sasquatch, or that little funny name most people laugh at, Bigfoot. Maybe you should have listened and accounted for some of the stories about this area."
Sagli stopped and smiled at Lynn.
"We have accounted for everything, Ms. Simpson — everything."
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 shoulde
r. 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.
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