Valari Kominskiya saw the huge promyshlennik stiffen and raise his weapon slightly. She pulled back a little even though it was impossible for anyone on the trail to see her. She felt a thrill of fear when close to the woodsman and had yet to decide whether she liked it or not.
Vlad, her corporal, knew enough not to kill either of the strangers, and the woodsman had been carefully briefed and thoroughly cowed. Crepov's concern for her safety touched her oddly. She put it all out of her mind when a man skied swiftly through the cut.
He quickly traveled past the promyshlennik, who didn't have time to stop him, and their plan became obsolete. She had to stop him. She lunged out onto the trail, wondered which man she was about to face.
"Stop!" She held the Kalashnikov braced at her hip, ready to fire.
The man wedged his skis against the side of the trail and ground to a quick halt. Nikolai Rezanov glared at her with more feeling in his face than she remembered from their last meeting. What was wrong?
"So you did kill—" she began.
Grigoriy Grigorievich entered the cut. Crepov leaped out of the brush and knocked him off his feet.
"What?" Grisha blurted as he fell.
Rezanov twisted, gripping his ski poles for balance. Valari swung her foot and knocked away the pole holding most of his weight. He fell awkwardly in the snow.
Vlad emerged from the brush and stood behind Grisha. The corporal looked to her for orders. She jerked her head sideways.
"Get on your feet and move up next to your friend there," Vlad ordered.
Grisha got to his feet and picked up his skis.
Valari shook her head.
"Leave the skis," Vlad said sharply.
Obediently, Grisha dropped them and trudged forward. Crepov stayed off to the side, his Kalashnikov at the ready. Except for Grisha's heavy beard, it was just how she had imagined it would be; victory was at hand.
In his clothing Grisha looked like an Indian. He also looked larger than she remembered, probably due to the bulky furs. He still hadn't looked up at her.
"Hello, Captain Lover," she said coyly, a smirk on her lips.
Grisha stopped and his eyes fastened on her. In less than a second she saw astonishment, fear, hate, and death flash across his face.
"What are you doing here?" he spat. His features became expressionless.
"Why, I came by special helicopter to talk to you," she said.
"How did you know where to find me?" His stolidity began to annoy her.
"That doesn't matter," she said quickly. "What I have to say to you is very important, so listen carefully."
He nodded his head and she licked her lips.
"As agreed, we offer you your old life back."
"What do you mean? You aren't taking us back to Tetlin Redoubt?"
God, he could be so thick! "I mean you can have your boat back, or your commission in the Troika Guard."
His steely grin called her a liar. "I think maybe you're offering more than you own."
"We still have your boat."
"You planned to do this to me on purpose?" His face went expressionless again.
"Not at all. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But once you struck Karpov, you became a criminal. You would have been given a year at hard labor." Her lip curled slightly.
"But Karpov, being the pig he was, had to drink too much. He reverted to a situation between us that had been over for years and tried to kill you when you interfered. You were more important than him at the moment, you could drive the boat, so I killed him."
"But why are you meeting me in the middle of Dená country?"
She smiled and licked her lips again.
"After your arrest, we examined your record. You're part Russian and part Kolosh. Historically your people traded with the Dená. You're also an ex-major with extensive military experience and demonstrated leadership qualities. You would be a prize for these traitors.
"By this time they have accepted you into their organization and soon you will be able to go anywhere, see anything. Correct?"
"So? What does the Czar care about a bunch of Indians in the middle of the forest?"
"They are trying to break away from Russian Amerika. They have attacked too many posts, killed too many people—"
"Cossacks," he said with a hungry smile, "they only kill the cossacks, and those who refuse to surrender."
Her jaw muscles tightened.
"The Czar and the Russian Amerika Company want them neutralized." Her voice matched the season. "We know there is a circle of leaders inciting the rest of the Indians to rebellion. We also know there has to be a revenue source to finance this travesty. We need their names and where they can be found."
She wondered why Grisha visibly relaxed.
"Then you're out of luck. I only know a couple of them. Got no idea where they get their paychecks. You'll have to find someone else to get the names for you."
"We know that you've been in Toklat since your 'rescue.' This is a long-term investment. But we need you in on the operation now, before any spring offensives are started."
"How did you know where I was? How did you find me now?"
"I'll tell you later—if you agree to our terms."
"Do you really think I would be fool enough to trust you or any part of the army again?"
She looked down at Rezanov.
"You were supposed to have won him over by this time, or killed him, Captain. Have you been derelict in your duties?"
"Captain?" Grisha said in astonishment.
Nik wouldn't look up. He sat on the trail and stared at Valari's snow-paks.
"I'm sorry I didn't warn you. You can't believe how convoluted this thing is, Grisha," he said calmly.
"Why haven't you enlisted him?" Valari hissed.
Nik looked up at her.
"Because once I saw the birthing of the Dená Republik, I realized how much I hate the blind, despotic greed of the Russian government and those who serve it."
"Birthing!" She kicked him in the face, knocking him back into the snow.
"There is no Dená Republik, you pompous ass!" she shouted. "The Czar will never allow mere savages to dictate to Imperial Russia. They must be stamped out, made an example of—just like the traitors of 1917 and 1935!"
She snapped her mouth shut and pulled back into herself. This won't work, she realized. I must woo them, not break their arms.
She reached down and helped Rezanov sit up again.
"Captain, you have lost your focus," she said gently. "These things happen. Now we must make the best of the situation."
Rezanov's eyes found hers. Blood leaked from his nose, and a dark bruise thickened across his right cheek.
"You only hear what you wish to hear, Captain," he said evenly. "I cannot do this to Grisha, to myself, or the Dená people."
Valari stifled the impulse to kick him again. She glanced at Vlad and Crepov. They stood watching her, close behind Grisha. Her gaze traveled back to Rezanov.
"You are speaking treason, my friend." She patted her Kalashnikov fondly. "You know what becomes of traitors."
"Just to save us all time, why don't you go ahead and execute me right now? That's why I made contact the last time, I want out of this charade."
"If you and your reluctant recruit here don't cooperate, that's exactly what we'll do."
A grunt of pain and sudden scuffling jerked her attention back to the others. Crepov was on his knees, bracing himself up with locked arms, trying to regain his feet. Blood ran freely from a slash across his cheek.
Grisha stood behind Vlad, holding a machine pistol to the corporal's head.
"No, don't," Valari said before she could stop herself.
"I thought I picked out the one you sleep with," Grisha said with a tight smile. "Now drop your weapon or I'll kill him."
She pointed her weapon at Rezanov's chest. "You drop your weapon," she said softly, "or I'll kill him."
"What do I care if you kill your own spy? Go ahead, then I want you down that trail as fast as you can go."
"You don't care if I kill him?" she said, doubt washed over her.
"If you don't care that I kill Corporal Lover, here." He jammed the muzzle of his weapon behind Vlad's ear. Vlad winced and tried to pull away.
Grisha tightened his grip on the corporal's collar. "I have nothing to lose. Now get out of here!"
Something sagged inside her. He was right. She, on the other hand, could lose everything if she didn't handle this correctly.
"Let us all go," she said quickly. "And we'll let you both leave."
The promyshlennik tried to stand but fell into the snow.
"Get away from me or I'll kill all of you," Grisha said.
"You can't get all of us before I get you." Her voice carried more of an urgency than she wanted to exhibit, but she had no time to think. "Do it my way and we all live."
Muscles moved beneath the dark beard. This man had changed a great deal more than expected in a few short months; he was no longer a defeated cuckold. She hadn't considered that possibility at all.
"Okay," he said. "Put down your weapon and carry your dog off."
"You must think I'm stupid, Grigoriy. If I put down my weapon you'll kill all three of us."
"All right then, you use the captain there for a shield and move back down the trail to where it turns. I'll back up with your corporal until I can find cover."
"Then?"
"Then the corporal helps your wolfhound move slowly down the trail—at the same time Rezanov moves toward me. Once they pass each other you won't be able to fire for fear of hitting the wrong people."
Her lips were very dry; she licked them again. Her mind darted over his words, searching for treachery, couldn't find any and knew she hadn't looked closely enough. But there was no more time.
"Da. It will be as you say." She looked down at Nik. "Get to your feet very slowly, with your back to me."
He turned away from her and rose slowly to his feet.
She grabbed his collar and prodded his spine with the Kalashnikov.
"Walk backward," she ordered. "If you try anything foolish I will spread your bowels all over your Creole brother."
He stepped back and hit the toe of her ski with his heel.
"Stop." She reached down and unlatched the bindings with her rifle muzzle. "Now step back over the skis."
Once he was across them, she stopped him again.
"Pick them up and hold them in front of you. If you try—"
"I'll do what you say, damn it!" he shouted. "Just shut up!" He bent over and grabbed the skis.
She glanced at Vlad as he shuffled backward down the trail away from her. This just hadn't worked out according to plan, she thought dully. Rezanov moved backward again.
The slow, awkward journey seemed to last for ulcerating hours. By the time they reached the bend in the trail, her back and legs ached. She peered past her hostage.
Perhaps Grisha outsmarted himself. The range of his weapon was considerably less than hers. But the assault rifle was not known for its accuracy at long distance either.
"Let Rezanov go!" Grisha shouted. His voice echoed down the valley.
Vlad and Crepov staggered slowly toward her. She prodded the traitor.
"Get away from me. There will come a time when I kill you, if your noble savages don't do it for me."
Rezanov hesitated for a moment and looked into her eyes. "There is a saying in the southern republiks that applies to you, Valari, go fuck yourself." He walked away down the path.
She nearly laughed. Sweat ran down her face despite the frigid cold. The men came together and each stepped off the trail slightly to allow the others to pass.
Vlad looked drawn and angry. Blood covered the left side of Crepov's face. How had Grisha done that? They shambled up to her, Vlad released the promyshlennik and slumped beside the man when he fell.
Valari brought her weapon up quickly, but the trail stretched away cold, gray, and empty. They turned toward the distant helicopter.
A shot rang out and the sound echoed through the cut and past them, bounced off the frozen ridges.
They stopped. Crepov raised his head with an effort.
"He—the one that cut me—killed your cossack," he said thickly.
"So it would seem," Valari said distantly. Her eyes squinted in the dim midday brightness.
I wonder if Rezanov told him about the radio before he died?