Snow Wolf (51 page)

The shock had gone now, replaced by
anger. Somehow he had to get down to the highway. If he could alert the militia
in the nearest town-though he knew that by now the man and woman could be in
Leningrad, or at any other point on the compass-there was still a slight chance
he could catch them. He could alert every barracks along the route and have
roadblocks set up on the highway.

He felt his legs start to warm. He tried
to haul himself up.

As he did so he heard the rustle in the
undergrowth and a low growl.

He instinctively reached for his pistol.
The belt and holster were gone. The rustling came closer.

A magnificent white wolf appeared out of
the woods.

Lukin's heart almost stopped and he
froze.

The animal stood staring at the wreckage,
eyes pinpricks of yellow in the shadows. He lay still as the wolf moved
cautiously out from the trees and nosed toward the wreckage. It hardly seemed
to notice Lukin. When the animal came to the dead pilot it sniffed the half-severed
limb, then started to lick the flesh. Finally, it sank its fangs into the arm,
tore it from its socket, and tossed it to the ground with a shake of its head.

The wolf chewed hungrily at the flesh.

Lukin's heart hammered in his chest.

Wolves were not supposed to attack live
humans, unless provoked, but he guessed any animal would if hungry. And this
wolf looked sleek and hungry.

There was another rustling in the bushes
and a second wolf appeared. This time Lukin saw the animal stare at him.

He tried not to move his head as he
looked around frantically for something to defend himself with. He saw his
empty belt and holster lying among the scattered wreckage. It must have come
loose when he was tossed through the door of the MIL. In horror, he saw that
the pistol wasn't in the holster.

It had been in his hand, he remembered,
he had been firing out through the helicopter's window. Then he saw something
metallic lying off to his right. The butt of a pistol.

The wolf padded out of the forest and
toward him.

Lukin screamed, then twisted his body and
rolled over, jabbing at the gun.

The wolf bared its fangs in a snarl, then
the other started, stopped chewing and growled at him.

Lukin fumbled with frozen fingers, aimed
at the animal nearest him and squeezed the trigger.

Click.

The gun was empty.

Frantically, he grabbed the holster.
There was a slim pocket in the leather for a spare magazine and he wrenched it
and found the magazine, and with fingers shaking desperately tried to load the
pistol again with his one hand.

The wolves were less than two meters
away- He could smell them. They bared their fangs again, growling as they
crouch ready to pounce.

Lukin cocked the pistol and fired in the
air.

The explosion echoed around the forest.
The wolves yelp He fired another shot, then another.

The animals bolted back into the forest.

He wiped cold sweat from his face. The
wolves would stay away for long. They had been threatened, were obviously
hungry , and it was only a matter of time before they resisted coming out again
for food.

He staggered to his feet, ignoring the
waves of pain burning through his arm. He looked toward the highway. Flashes of
headlights flickered through the trees as a convoy of vehicles trundled past.

The road was his only hope.

He stumbled through the forest, his legs
weak, his lungs on fire with the effort. It took him over ten minutes to cover
fifty meters to the edge of the highway.

It was deserted, only tire marks slashing
the white surface Lukin swore, breathless.

Suddenly a pair of headlights appeared up
ahead as a truck came around a bend and loomed at him out of the falling sno.
Lukin stumbled into the middle of the road and waved his gun.

Leningrad.

it was after four and already dark
outside as Vladimir came in with a wrapped parcel. In the kitchen he handed it
to Anna. It's for the journey. It's not much, only bread and cheese and some
vodka, but it should fill your bellies for a while and help keep out the
chill."

"Thank you." Anna took the
parcel as Stanski came back from the window.

Vladimir gave him a rolled-up leather
pouch, a pair of thick woollen gloves, an ancient helmet, and a tattered black
overcoat that smelled as if a dog had recently slept on it.

"The coat ought to keep you warm on
the bike if you can stand the stink, but it's all I've got that's heavy enough
to keep out the chill. There are some tools in the pouch for any minor repairs.
But try not to get a flat, because you'll have no spare tire."

:"Is there enough fuel in the
tank?"

"It's full." Vladimir handed
Stanski some official coupons. "if you have to refill you'll need those.
But finding a fuel station isn't so easy after dark, and especially on remote
country roads you won't have a hope. There's enough fuel in the tank for over
four hundred kilometers if you don't drive like hell, and I've left a full
container in one of the saddle pouches that should give you a further two
hundred. it'll just about get you all the way. But there's only one helmet and
pair of goggles , I'm afraid, best worn by the driver, otherwise that icy cold
out there will cut your eyes out when you get up to speed."

Stanski checked his papers and Anna's,
then looked restlessly at his watch and said to Vladimir, "How much longer
before we can go?"

Vladimir looked out at the darkness below
and scratched his stubble.

"Another hour ought to do it. By
then the traffic should have thickened." He spread the map on the table
again. "Meanwhile, let's go over the route one more time. The last thing
you want is to get lost."

"You want what?"

Lukin looked at the red-faced colonel
across the desk and said, "Every available man you have put at my
disposal. All railway, bus and Metro stations and the airport patrolled and
every passenger checked. Every hotel register in the city scrutinized and the
identity of guests verified. That's just to start with. There'll be more, I
assure you."

"You're out of your tiny fucking
mind, comrade."

"Perhaps I ought to telephone the
Ministry of State Security and you can tell that to Beria personally?"

The colonel's face turned an even angrier
red, then suddenly paled.

"I'm sure that won't be
necessary."

"I'm sure it won't," Lukin
answered. "You've seen my authorization. Please be so good as to comply
with the order."

He replaced the letter in his breast
pocket as the colonel stood up and sighed in frustration. He looked as if he
wanted to hit Lukin for his impertinence.

He was a big, stocky man, with cropped
red hair the color of rust. They were in his large office on the sixth floor of
the red-brick building on Liteiny Prospect which housed the KGB Headquarters in
Leningrad. Lights blazed in the city beyond die broad panoramic window,
flurries of snow brushing against the glass.

There were photographs on the walls, one
of a smiling Beria. Others, more personal, taken in Berlin, Warsaw, Vienna.
Groups of soldiers smiling in the after-ruins of battles. Lukin recognized the colonel
in all of them, hands on hips, his chin and chest stuck out self-importantly.

Next to the colonel's desk stood his
adjutant, a young captain in uniform.

The adjutant looked across at Lukin.

"You're asking a lot of us,
Major," he remarked. "We've already alerted militia patrols about the
car. Have you any appreciation of the scale of such an operation as you're
demanding?"

"Just as I'm quite certain Comrade
Beria would demand your lives if you failed to give every assistance."
Lukin stood and stared at the men. "And I'm sure you'd much rather deal
with me than him." He looked pointedly at his watch. "So, can I count
on your help?"

The adjutant shot a nervous glance at his
colonel, who stood up, nodded at Lukin and gave a heavy sigh, "Very well,
Major," he said reluctantly. "Let me explain the situation and we'll
take it from there."

The colonel crossed to a map on the wall
near the window and Lukin followed. His arm hurt, the stump throbbing. He still
reeked of fuel and smoke. A shower or bath would have been welcome. Down in the
street he saw an elderly woman wearing several thick skirts, sturdy boots and a
headscarf sweeping snow away from the front of the building. The broad frozen
Neva River lay beyond the rooftops of the city that had once been the Tsar's
capital. The battleship Aurora, whose cannonshot had signaled the storming of
the Winter Palace and the start of the Revolution, lay anchored in the ice, the
magnificent island fortress of Peter and Paul behind it, illuminated in a blaze
of arc lights.

Lukin turned back as the colonel picked
up a slim wooden baton and tapped it on the colored map of Leningrad, red flags
pinpointing military installations and barracks.

"You're familiar with Leningrad,
Major?"

"Unfortunately not."

"We're talking about a city of
almost two million inhabitants. There are ten railway stations. One civilian
and three military airfields. A public transport system that includes trams,
buses and a Metro. Perhaps eighty transport stations in all. Major highways
here ..." The colonel pointed to several blue veins leading from the heart
of the city. here, and here."

He gave a thin, flickering smile.
"And this one is the Baltic highway where you stopped the army truck after
your unfortunate crash. We have a patrol on the way there now to recover the
pilot's body and search for the missing colonel."

Lukin ignored the jibe. "What about
hotels?"

The colonel shrugged. "Maybe forty,
large and small, in the city. More on the outskirts. I can have my men do a
check on new arrivals in the last six hours over the phone. That's the easy
part. The difficult bit comes when we go to seal off the minor roads. There are
hundreds leading in and out of the city. Have you any idea of the kind of
traffic volume we're talking about? Over a quarter of a million people in
transit at any one time, and much more during the peak rush-hour periods. You
try to cover everything, you're going to stretch resources."

"How many men can you
assemble?"

"At short notice? Perhaps a
thousand, including militia. Any more and you'll have to wait." Lukin
said, "Very well. If these people have already found refuge with a contact
in the city, as I suspect, it's going to make our task difficult, therefore you
should instruct your informers and block janitors to keep their eyes and ears
open for the arrival of any strangers similar to the man and woman you have
descriptions of-indeed, any strangers. And alert all militia and traffic police
to be on the lookout. Also, as well as civilian, I want any military traffic
stopped and checked."

The colonel snapped. "Military
traffic? But that's ridiculous ... !"

"Hardly. The man has already
impersonated an army officer. He may still be in that disguise, and both of
them using their assumed names, though I doubt it. But I can't afford to take
that chance."

The colonel sighed. "Is there any
category we can eliminate to save time?"

"Animals and children. Everyone
else, I want their papers checked. Disguise is a distinct possibility. And
remember, I suspect the man and woman have already murdered a senior officer.
They'll be armed and highly dangerous. If there's the slightest doubt about
anyone's identity or their papers, they're to be detained or arrested with
caution."

"I can see us filling every damned
jail and barracks in the city," the colonel said irritably. "We are
probably talking about checking the papers of half the population of Leningrad,
you realize that, Major?"

"I don't care if I'm talking about
the entire population. These people must be found. Is that understood?"

Spittle appeared on the colonel's lips
and he looked as if he was going to have a fit. He didn't like being ordered
about by a lower rank, but to hell with him, Lukin thought.

The colonel bit back his anger with a
grim, tight-mouthed expression. "Understood."

Lukin crossed to the door. "Please
arrange everything immediately. As soon as you can assemble more men, cover the
minor roads in and out of the city. I'm giving you an hour to do it. And I'll
need an office, manned with as many telephones as you can provide. Radio links
to all the checkpoints we spoke about. And make sure any mobile patrols have
field radios. I also want a fast car and a driver at my disposal who knows the
city, with a couple of militia motorcycle outriders as guides. If there's any
news, I'm to be contacted at once."

The colonel flung down his baton in
obvious anger. "Anything else while we're here, Major?" Lukin ignored
the sarcasm and said, "Yes, there is. Do you have a doctor in the
building?"

The man looked at Lukin's stump, at the
charred and ragged sleeve of his uniform, and wrinkled his nose at the smell of
burned flesh. The major was obviously in pain but had refused a doctor earlier,
first demanding to see whoever was in-charge. "No. But I can have one
brought here."