Siberia (19 page)

I was looking down into a valley, a shallow rift in the heath. In the bottom there was a big sleek black vehicle with caterpillar treads. I’d seen the light of its headlamps. Beside it stood a group of men. Two of them were wearing sheeny, square-shouldered dark coats, and sable hats: they had a look of power, but they didn’t look like officials. The word that came to my mind was
Mafia.
The men with them were rougher, and carrying guns. Except for one, who was in uniform, a tunic with collar flashes, a peaked cap, and high boots. It was Yagin, of course.

He wasn’t carrying a gun, but he had a shiny pole in his hand. As I watched, he folded this shiny pole up on itself.
. . .
I had seen a telescope at New Dawn.

It was Yagin who had been watching me.

He was telling the Mafia men something: explaining something. One of them beckoned, and an armed guard came up, with a flat case. Yagin took it, looked inside, and nodded. I couldn’t hear a word. But I’d seen enough.

I shot backward, and rolled to the bottom of the slope, getting a mouthful of snow. “It’s Yagin!” I gasped, thrusting my arms into the sledge harness. “He’s been here all along, he’s been watching us! He’s sold us to the Mafia! We’ve got to go, straightaway, anywhere, we’ve got to get out of here!”

I set off at a frantic pace over the iron-hard, uneven ground, the sled bouncing and jarring. I was lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Suddenly the desperate rush went out of me. What was I going to do? Where was I running to? I let the harness slip from my shoulders, and sat on my roped bundles. The cold sparkle of the snow glittered between my feet, every broken and jumbled flake distinct.

Yagin is here. The words drummed in my head.

I had realized he must know about the Observatory. I’d been expecting him to turn up. But this place, so silent and lonely, had put me off my guard. He had sold me to the Mafia, I was sure of that. But why here? Why not before? And why had he been
watching
me, when he could have just grabbed me? Don’t try to understand him, I told myself. Just think. Think of a way out.
. . .
Yagin had been in uniform. That told me he was still playing his double game, even now. His men might be near. Could that help me, somehow?

I had everything I needed, I could set off right now across the ice. But I would be on foot. My enemies would come after me on motor sleds.
. . .

A soft growl made me start. Nivvy had slipped out of my jacket, and I’d let him go; I knew he wouldn’t stray. I looked around and saw that my Nivvy had become a bigger animal, the same sinuous body but much stronger and longer, with thick dark hair, a snarling muzzle. A pair of evil yellow eyes gazed at me with anxious love, a paw with claws like razor-sharp meat hooks lay on my arm.

“Nivvy?”

He jumped up, and rubbed his face against my cheek. The air was full of his stink. Nivvy excited was always quite strong, this was much stronger. I hugged him, feeling the formidable muscle under his fur. I must keep calm! If I got scared he would go into that cascade of change, and die like Nosey.

“Nivvy, I’ve got a sort of plan. Come on! Back to the Observatory!”

I marched, under the stars, Nivvy bounding beside me. When I finally reached the point where I could see the Observatory, I found out I’d been right about the Fitness Police. The snow cruiser was there. They hadn’t been able to get it onto the headland: it was parked on the heath, its security lights glowing, lighting up that lying promise emblazoned on its side.
Protecting Your Fragile Environment.
Yagin had been here on his own, with his telescope. But the young officers had caught up with him. Had he sent for them, by radio or something? Or had they come without instructions—and nearly caught him at his double-dealing?

There were lights inside the Observatory too. The police would have found the proud entry I’d made in the diary book this morning.
Trial run . . .
Now they were waiting for me to get back.

I had planned to come back here and hide: hide and watch them search for me, and steal what I needed, the same way as I had done at the fur farm. Now things would move faster than that.

Nivvy’s nose bumped against my hand.

“Let’s find the sleds,” I said.

I jogged down the slope. I knew I couldn’t be seen or heard from inside, not unless I went and knocked on one of the snowy windows, but when I got closer I moved very cautiously. The three motor sleds were in a row by the woodpile. I left my laden sled at the top of the cliff path, and crept back. I chose the one with the fullest fuel gauge. One of the young officers had left his rifle in the sled: I decided I would take that too. Then I opened the engine housing on the others, pulled at whatever would pull, opened the fuel caps, and quietly, carefully, tipped them over into the snow. We made two trips to the shore: first I took the laden sled, then I went back for the motor sled. It was a slow, awkward business getting it down the path, kicking it with one foot, and trying not to make a sound. When it was done, I was shaking.

I realized I hadn’t eaten for hours. I forced myself to stop, and get that fire inside burning. The stars burned down on me as I sat there in the icy dark, on my bundles, and ate a jar of con and pickled peppers; and a chocolate bar. And by my side my magic guardian kept watch. His teeth were daggers, his tufted ears turned this way and that, alert for any danger, his coat was richly dappled. His eyes were still full of the same love. I licked oil and herbs from my fingers, and tied the board-sled on behind the motor sled. . . . I’d need it when the fuel ran out, and anyway, I didn’t have time to transfer everything. I hugged my Nivvy, burying my hands in his beautiful soft ruff. “This is it. Here we go.” He jumped up beside me. I turned the key, gripped the steering bar, and away we went. The whine of the engine sounded horribly loud.

North. What other direction could there be? All my life, north had been the dream, the way to freedom. I felt sick with excitement, and clutched the steering bar with a manic grip. We shot out of the mouth of the bay, onto the open sea. The stars were burning in the black sky, the sled bucked and bounced, leaping over the frozen crests where I would have stumbled and toiled; it was as if I were flying.

Suddenly I
was
flying. I was in the air, the stars cart-wheeling. I landed with a crash, on my bum, and collapsed in mortal terror, praying for luck I didn’t deserve, while Nivvy sniffed anxiously at my face. I got up slowly, testing my arms and legs, and retrieved my cap. The knapsack was still on my back. I took it off, and checked the kits. They were all right, just scared. They looked up at me in bewilderment. “It was a little accident,” I whispered. “Nothing serious. It won’t happen again.”

The motor sled was on its side. I righted it and turned the key: it started.

I hobbled over to fetch the wooden sled, collected my scattered gear, counted the bundles, and packed everything securely. I slung the rifle over my shoulder and knotted the sledge harness where it had snapped. “So that’s how easy it is,” I muttered. “That’s how easy it is to wreck everything, and die.” Fear gripped me. It was a long, cold time—only minutes, but long ones—before I could convince myself to get on the sled, and start again. I found out how to use the steering bar—don’t clutch it, hold it gently—and how to use the brakes. I found a pace that wasn’t too fast and wasn’t too slow, and kept an eye on the little dials that lit up all by themselves in the dark. I could recognize the compass, and the fuel gauge, and there was a clock, and a thing that might be measuring distance. Nivvy pressed himself against my shins, his chin on my knee, and we flew north by the stars, until my hands wouldn’t grip the bar. Why are my hands getting so clumsy? I wondered, vaguely annoyed.

I slackened my speed, we glided to a halt. Fear opened up and swallowed me, but I forced myself to do what would take the fear away. Hug Nivvy, feel his warm breath and his rough tongue. Bury my frozen face in his beautiful soft fur. Drink water, and
eat something sweet,
quickly. Unpack the tent, inflate it, drag everything you need inside, crawl inside with this big Nivvy who is still Nivvy.

I filled my stove with fuel, lit it, and heated a can of stew. Nivvy wouldn’t touch it, so I ate it all myself, and lay down wrapped in my quilt. Never do that again! Never let the fire inside burn low! Your brain will stop working, you’ll do something stupid, you’ll die, and it will all have been for nothing.
. . .
It was a long time since I’d taken any of my clothes off, they were stuck to me with grease and dirt. Somewhere under this filth is Sloe, still dressed in the pretty clothes Little Father gave her.

I must sleep.

When I woke, the sky outside my tent was brilliant blue, and the sun felt warm. Nivvy wasn’t with me. There was no sign of land, anywhere. I was alone in the white emptiness, and it was as magical as I had ever dreamed.
. . .
Only where was I? When I checked the mileage on the sled, it seemed to say I had covered forty miles. Nearly two-thirds! But the fuel gauge said I was soon going to be walking. I took out the nutshell and ate a can of cold stew, talking to the kits and reading the notes I’d made about the route. Nivvy must have gone looking for something to eat. I wished I’d thought of bringing along some frozen rats. Could I cut a hole in the ice and catch a fish? But the thought of a hole in the ice made the fear rise up. I must remember the fear was just under the surface, and do nothing to wake it. I must keep telling myself that this strait was narrow, and that people like me crossed it all the time.

Another twenty miles, except it wasn’t quite that simple. There were currents where the sea rarely froze past the brash, the broken soup stage; and other places where the ice was liable to crunch up into ridges, sastrugi, like a nest of vipers, and I would break my legs trying to get through.

“
Nivvy!
”

I shaded my eyes. I couldn’t see him, but the ice was deceptive. It had lumps and blue towers, that you thought were the size of a fist, then you’d realize they were tall as houses. He could be close by, and out of sight.
. . .
I looked all around again, and saw a black dot, coming out of the south. The fear washed over me, and vanished as if it had never been. I had no time to be afraid now. I stuffed everything really precious inside my clothes, slung the knapsack on my back, stripped out the bivvy tent, and stowed everything in about two minutes flat. I shouted again for Nivvy, but for once in his life he didn’t come to me.
. . .
Go, then, I thought. Stay away, don’t come near. And if you see me taken, live whatever life you can. I tied the wooden sled behind the motor sled, jumped on board, and turned the key, and immediately felt hopeful again, because I was moving.

When I looked back, grim reality returned. The devil was gaining on me fast. I couldn’t win this race. He knew how to use a motor sled and I didn’t. He could fly. If I hit rough ice I would have to slow right down or—

I was flying again.

I lay on my side, my head spinning. I had smashed into a huge lump of ice, I couldn’t work out how I hadn’t seen that coming. The sled lay in a crumpled heap, my gear was scattered. I heard the whine of the other engine, suddenly cut off. I heard, with my ear to the ice, the crunch of his boots, and I saw the rifle within reach of my hand. I rolled over, grabbed it, and struggled to my knees.

“Don’t come any closer!”

Yagin was not close at all, he was about twenty meters away. He put his hands in the air. “Sloe! You haven’t enough fuel!”

“I can walk.”

“I have fuel here. I brought it for you.”

I kept the rifle trained on him while he stooped, reached into his sled, and brought out a can. He walked toward me, steadily, holding it up. He was hypnotizing me.
. . .
Then I realized he was
wading.
He was crossing a wide river of brash, that I had crossed without knowing it. My hands started to shake.

“You’re on their side. You want to destroy the Lindquists.”

“I’m trying to save them.
. . .
Sloe, listen to me. I’m a Fitness Officer, but I’ve been working for another cause all along. I had myself put in charge of the hunt for you so nobody else would get the job. I could have handed you over time and again. I’ve had you in my hands and helped you to escape.”

“Yes, and I know why. The other cause you serve is
Yagin.
You sold me to the Mafia. I saw you with them, on the heath, taking their money.”

“They aren’t the Mafia,” said Yagin. “They are just powerful businessmen. I convinced them I had to gain your trust or you would destroy the kits. I had it all figured out: how I could do my deal, and still get you safe to your mother. I told them it was better to let you run, with me using my powers as a police officer to stay close, until you were on the last lap. I was going to take you across the ice. That tent you’re using, and the supplies, I brought them here, for us.”

I could never have pulled the trigger, even if I’d known how to use a rifle.

“If you hadn’t run away from the cabin, that’s the way it would have been. But you ran, and my trusting young men found me, and that made things more difficult.”

He walked up and took the rifle from me, and tossed the weapon into that river of mashed ice, where it sank out of sight. I had
longed
to trust him.
. . .

“Now give me the knapsack, and let me explain—”

“No!”

I fought him, but it was useless. He peeled the knapsack off my back.

“You traitor! You
traitor!
”

“You have to die, that’s the only thing that works. They know something about the imprinting. They want you, as part of the package, and I’m not going to let that happen. So you die, trying to escape. I save the goods, and that’s the end of the hunt. Don’t you see, Sloe? I tell them I saw you drown.”

He had pulled out the nail box. He had the lab case in his hands. He ripped it open, and stared at me.

“Where are they?”

I shook my head, backing away from him. I could hear thunder, I thought it was the sound of my world falling apart. But there was something else, a message, a thin, fine, secret singing that seemed meant for me alone.
. . .
Yagin, his fist full of doll’s house glassware, turned to look behind him, and cursed.