Siberius (31 page)

Radchek resisted the urge to ask what the American was getting at. He thought he knew, though, and he changed the subject. “Perhaps,” said Radchek. “But I’d still rather be out here than locked in a cell.”

“
That so?” said Nick. “This is an old building. I’d bet some good green that they’ll find a way in here. Now, who do you suppose has a better chance, you and your boys out there or the three of us locked up in here?”

“
True,” Radchek said, maintaining his civility even as his tone grew icier. “We may die quickly while you’ll be relatively safe in your little prisons. That is, until you start to feel hungry. Or thirsty.”

             
“Perhaps there is a better solution than dying,” Talia said, breaking up the exchange. “Perhaps we can help each other.”

The captain stepped away from Nick’s cell and faced Jovaravich and Ormskovo. “How long have you two been stationed here?

              Ormskovo replied first. “Eleven months, sir.”

             
Jovaravich said, “Three months.”

             
“Alright, private,” he said to Ormskovo. “You’ve been here the longest. When can we expect a patrol?”

             
The private shook his head. “The last time I saw an army convoy was when they dropped off Jovaravich.”

             
Radchek looked at Jovaravich, puzzled. Scratching his broken arm, the private said, “I was reassigned here, sir.” He looked down at his boots, ashamed. “Disciplinary action. They thought the winter would soften me up.” Radchek nodded, not wanting to know the details.

Ormskovo added, “It was the first convoy I saw since I arrived.”

              “No regular supply line?”

             
“None that I’m aware of, sir. The storeroom has enough supplies for staff of six.” For good measure, he added, “Angara was due to be shut down at the end of winter.”

             
At the end of winter?
Wouldn’t it have been more efficient to close it up before winter?
Radchek was suddenly thankful for the ineptness of Soviet bureaucracy. “The radio?”

             
“I don’t know,” said Ormskovo. “The lion-thing broke into administration.”

             
“Excuse me,” said Talia. “Don’t you have radios in your trucks?”

             
“They don’t have that kind of range, honey,” said Nick clutching the bars.

             
“You still have a convoy out there, captain,” Barkov piped in.

             
Radchek knew that, but the whole point of coming to Angara in the first place was to refuel. Both of the vehicles were dry, and as Corporal Garkin had pointed out to him earlier, there were no fuel stores at the camp.

             
“We need fuel, colonel,” said Radchek.

             
“There might be some in our vehicles,” Ormskovo offered.

             
Radchek said, “What vehicles?”

             
The private stood up, excited. “We have vehicles. West end of the compound, under camouflage netting. They may have fuel, sir.”

             
“Are they operational?” said Radchek with a hint of hope.

             
“I don’t know. We never use them.”

             
“Even if they have fuel,” Barkov said. “You still have to go outside for it.”

“
Where is the nearest army base?” Radchek asked.

             
“Bratsk,” said Jovaravich.

Nick’s ears perked up. Bratsk was his original destination. The Pulskovar farm. Sanctuary. And most importantly, a way into China and safety.
Perfect
.

“
It’s 60 miles south-east of here,” Jovaravich finished.

             
Radchek did some quick computing in his head. “We’ll need at least 20 gallons. More if we take the half-track.”

             
“And what of us, captain?” said Barkov. “How do we fit into your little plan?”

             
Radchek looked at Barkov and said, “I don’t know. It may be just as well to leave you all here with food and water. We can send back a patrol once we reach Bratsk. Besides, we don’t have a key to these cells.”

             
“For God’s sake, captain,” Barkov said with greater energy. “Dead or not, there is a man outside who has the key.”

             
“Searching for a key is the least of my concerns.” The truth was, Radchek didn’t want to take Barkov along. He did, however, see the wisdom in taking the American.

             
“You don’t have to. Delegate someone to go and get it,” Barkov demanded.

             
Radchek looked at Ormskovo and Jovaravich. Both were still full of fear, especially Ormskovo. As their superior officer, he had the right to order them outside. But they were unarmed, and he hadn’t a clue as to what lay in wait for them. If anything.

             
“It’s your duty, captain. Send one of these men out for that key.” Barkov was adamant. “Send one now.”

             
“I am in command, colonel.”

             
“Then command, damn it. This is a military compound. There are weapons here.” He took a deep, meaningful breath. “They’re
animals,
captain. Nothing more.”

             
Radchek didn’t need Barkov to tell him how to command, and Talia shuddered at the thought of Soviet guns opening up on the Smilodons. The rarest species in the world, slaughtered without thought or conscience.

But the colonel was right, and Radchek knew it. They were soldiers. They fought. And they sometimes died. He refused, however, to send a man into a dangerous situation without first gathering some kind of intelligence. He paced the corridor and then stopped at Talia’s cell. “Madame,” he began. “As the one person here who has some knowledge of these animals, and who isn’t a spy-”

              “How do you know that?” Barkov interrupted. Radchek ignored him and continued. “I have no choice but to ask for your help.” Talia nodded. “Unfortunately, I have no way of getting you out.”

             
“I can get her out,” said Nick, and he at once became the center of attention.

35

              The storm had ended hours before, leaving scattered flakes and a miniscule breeze. The woods surrounding the camp were black, desolate. Within the fence perimeter, there was little sign of the ambush. An angelic and smooth winter blanket rippled over the yard, concealing the carnage wrought earlier. In the stillness of the indigo night, the gulag looked as tranquil as a country farm.

The doorway to the administration building, smashed open by a Smilodon, was an irregular hole of broken wood and hinges. Inside, the floor, the furniture and the radio all lay frozen underneath a huge snowdrift snaking in from the outside. Yellowed light bulbs still burned, swaying in the breeze.

              There were no signs of life anywhere.

              “It can’t be done,” said Jovaravich. “That’s a Kamchatka lock.” Nick had in his hand a rusted nail pulled from one of the wood crates. He was trying to pick the lock of his cell. “I should know. I worked in the factory for a year. No one could pick their locks.”

             
Talia stood across from Nick and watched as he concentrated and wiggled the nail. Ormskovo lay in a drowsy stupor across two of the crates while Radchek paced the corridor. Barkov eyed him.

             
“This is a mistake, Captain Radchek,” he said. “Allowing this prisoner to leave his cell is inviting further catastrophe.”

             
“I’m not interested in your opinions, colonel,” Radchek said.

             
“Then you should know that once this is over, I will have you arrested for insurrection and treason.”

             
“That is your right.” Radchek stopped pacing. “But keep in mind that your fate lays with me at the moment. You can’t do anything from that cell. Now please, keep quiet.”

             
“It has been hours. Animals can’t survive the nighttime winter temperatures of the taiga, so they must have gone. Release me and I’ll radio Bratsk, then go to the vehicle yard and secure transport.” Barkov managed a slight smile. “Do that, captain, and I’ll drop all charges against you.”

             
Before, Radchek was sure of himself. Sure of his decisions. Sure of his command. Now, he was losing confidence. What if Barkov wasn’t crazy? What if he had used bad judgment in arresting him? What if the cats were gone, had been for hours? They could be a hundred miles away by now, while he and everyone else were holed up inside the cellblock like frightened children.

             
And what of his own fate? If the Soviet military found him guilty of insurrection, of which there was no evidence, he could be imprisoned for who knows how long. If they found him guilty of treason, his life would end in front of a firing squad.

             
An audible click echoed through the hallway. Radchek turned to see the door to Nick’s cell swing open. He took a deep breath.

Jovaravich looked slack-jawed at Nick. “I can’t believe it.”

              Talia raised an eyebrow and smiled.

             
Nick stayed inside the cell, taking stock of Radchek’s reaction. “May I, captain?” he said. Barkov watched as Radchek, pointing the luger, gave a tentative nod.

             
“Captain, this is your last chance,” the colonel said. “Close that door. He’s going to get away.”

             
“And ruin your chances for a transfer,” Radchek said. “Isn’t that your most pressing concern?”

             
Nick walked out and Jovaravich stepped before him. “I still have one good arm,” the private said.

             
“Of course,” Nick said, patronizing him. He looked at Radchek, who held him at bay with the pistol. “I’m not going to run, captain.”

             
“I know,” said Radchek.

“
Then with your permission?” He pointed at Talia’s cell with the nail. Radchek nodded and Nick stepped around Jovaravich. He slid the nail into the keyhole and went to work.

             
“Your respect for rank is appreciated, but let me make it clear to you,” Radchek said. “You are not a free man.”

             
Jiggling the nail in the keyhole, Nick said, “Believe me, the last thing I feel right now is free.” He looked at Talia and winked. “But I think we need a plan. It would be a good idea, captain, if we all pooled our brain power.”

              Ormskovo stood atop a crate opposite Talia’s cell with the luger aimed at Nick.

             
Jovaravich was inside Nick’s open cell, looking out the window. “I can’t see much of anything.” He smoothed back his wet, gray hair.

             
“Can you see the vehicles?” Radchek asked.

             
Jovaravich strained to make out what he was looking at in the night. The exterior compound lights confused the picture by creating harsh shadows. “I can see the right front fender and grill of your half track,” he said, then added “Uh-oh.”

             
“What?” said Radchek as he entered the cell. He got up on the bed and looked through the window. Only one word came to him, and he said it with about as much enthusiasm as a man who hadn’t slept in 48 hours could muster: “Shit.”

The cab of the Maultier had been crushed by the fallen guardhouse, while the Jimmy lay beneath the heavy timber of the tower’s superstructure. Its cab was likewise in devastated condition.

              “Did the beasts plan that?” Jovaravich asked.

             
If they had planned it, Radchek thought he’d have to reconsider their chances of survival. But he didn’t want to contemplate the big cat’s intelligence right then and cleared it from his mind. He stepped down and exited the cell. Looking at Ormskovo, he said, “How sure are you that there is fuel in your vehicles?”

Ormskovo shrugged. “I can’t even be sure they’re running, captain.”

Nick continued to work the lock. He was having trouble with this one. “Can I help?” said Talia.

Nick smiled at her. “Just hold tight,” he said. “I’ll get it open.”

“I have no doubt,” she said, and then the lock clicked. He pulled open the door and Talia poured into his arms. They kissed, oblivious to the stunned expressions around them.

“I demand that you let me out,” said Barkov. Except for the colonel, everyone gathered around the desk, sat on crates and huddled for warmth. Still holding Nick under guard, Ormskovo stood atop a crate like a guardian angel with the one gun in the cellblock. Talia sat wrapped in a sheet of old canvas.