Snow Wolf (30 page)

"I knew he'd been through a bad time
and didn't trust anyone but himself. He needed distraction and he needed a
father. I did what I could and taught him about the woods and about hunting. I
don't know of anyone who could survive better in those woods than Alex, even
me. It took his mind off things and he gradually settled in. And after
everything that had happened to him he needed space, not people around
him."

"What happened to his parents?"

"He didn't tell you?"

"No."

Vassily thought for a moment, then shook
his head slowly. "Anna, some things a man is allowed to keep private. If
Alex wanted to tell you, he would have. You'll have to let him tell you that
story himself. Now, why don't you fetch some kindling for the stove and I'll
cook these fish."

Anna stepped off the veranda. She looked
back at him as she brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"Vassily."

"What?"

"I like you. I like you very
much."

Vassily smiled before she turned away.
Then he stood up and went inside. At the window he hesitated and saw her disappear
into the woods. Then he went into the kitchen to gut the fish.

An hour later Lombardi saw the sign on
the road, TRESPASSERS KEEP OUT!, and turned the Packard onto the snow-covered
dirt track.

Fifty yards further along they saw the
lake in the distance. Lombardi pulled in and Vince and Braun were already
climbing out as he switched off the engine.

Braun nodded down toward the cabin and
looked at Lombardi. "That's it?"

"That's it. Uncle fucking Tom's
cabin. Ready when you are.

Vince handed out the weapons, and
Lombardi checked that he had the knife in his waistband, then said, "OK,
let's get this fucking thing over with. And Vince, try not to sound like a'
fucking bear coming through the woods, understand?" Braun said, "I'll
take the back, way, you two take the front. And be careful."

Vassily saw the two men come out of the
woods as he stood at the kitchen window.

They were fifty yards away and one
carried a shotgun and the other a carbine as they moved toward the front of the
cabin. He put down the gutting knife and wiped his hands before picking up the
Winchester rifle.

He stepped out onto the veranda and said
to the men, "Didn't you see the sign? You're on private property. Turn
around and go back the way you came."

The fatter of the two strangers appeared
to be in charge, the one with the thin mustache. The younger man beside him was
nervously fingering his carbine.

The fat man smiled and went to move
closer. "Hey, take it easy. We got lost. Maybe you can help us."
Vassily raised the Winchester and said, "No closer, or I'll help you to
the cemetery. I said you're on private property." The fat mail said
boldly, "Put down the rifle, old man. That way you won't get hurt."

Vassily hesitated. "Who are you and
what do you want?"

"Just a friendly talk with the
woman. Where is she?"

Vassily turned pale and cocked the
Winchester's hammer with his thumb. "You step any closer, fat man, and
I'll kill you."

"This is none of your business. Just
bring out the woman and no one gets hurt. We just want to talk with her."

"Is that why you come here with
guns?"

The fat man stepped closer.

Vassily aimed the Winchester. "Drop
your weapons-now. Or I kill you."

"Fuck you," said Lombardi.

The shotgun in his hands came up and
exploded and the shot hit Vassily in the right shoulder and he was flung back
against the wall. As he fell back onto the veranda the men were already moving
toward him, and when he grabbed for the Winchester one of them kicked it away
and he saw the flash of the blade as the fat mail knelt over him. "Too
slow, old man. Where's the woman'? Don't fuck with me. Where is she, or I cut
your fucking heart out, you red-faced hick."

Halfway through the woods Anna heard the
gunshot and her heart skipped.

As she turned she saw the man off to her
right and froze. He held a shotgun in his hands and at first she thought he was
a hunter, but the shot had come from the direction of the cabin and when she
saw the look on the man's face she knew something wasn't right.

The man raised the weapon at her and
grinned. He had a livid red scar on his face.

"Stay where you are."

Anna halted, and as she looked at the
man, confused, he came toward her and she saw the grin widen.

"Nice and easy now. We're going to
move back the way you came."

Her first instinct was to turn and run,
but when she went to move the man came after her and grabbed her savagely by
the hair. As she was spun around she lashed out with her foot. She kicked the
man in the knee and he crumpled, dropping the shotgun, but when she tried to
grab the weapon the man yanked her hair painfully hard and pulled her up.

"You little bitch!"

He struck her hard across the face, again
and again, so hard she thought her jaw had broken, and then his fist struck her
in the back of the neck and all she remembered after that was darkness.

The small harbor in the broad inlet sixty
miles south of Boston known as Buzzards Bay was deserted. The man who walked
across to the waterside hangar with Massey and Stanski was tall and thin, with sad
eyes and a permanent six o'clock shadow. He had a dour face that suggested he
found life an unpleasant experience, and his movements were heavy and
unhurried.

"You know, it's really quite
irregular, Mr. Stanski, especially in this weather. There ain't no cloud but
that damned wind's pretty near sharp enough to skin a dog."

"I appreciate that, Abe."

"What's the big rush that you (yot
to get up to the lake?"

"An emergency."

Abe Barton looked out doubtfully at the
sea and scratched his jaw.

"Well, I ain't too keen about taking
off in those waves and coming back in darkness, but I guess on account of it's
an emergency I can oblige. I wouldn't do it normally, mind."

It had taken Stanski and Massey almost
three hours to drive north to the bay and the tension on both their faces
showed, The harbor town had no more than a dozen wooden houses built around it
and the hangar was at the far end of the sea wall. There was a skid ramp for
launching the flying boat into the water. The hangar doors were closed.

The flying boat worked out of the bay
taking hunting and fishing parties up to northern New England in season, and
Abe Barton was the pilot, mechanic and caretaker. He unlocked the padlock to
the hangar and rolled back the doors, to reveal a bulbous-nosed Seebee
single-engine flying boat inside. A tarpaulin covered the nose and Barton
pulled it away.

He rubbed his stubby jaw. "She'll
need to be refueled. There's just enough in the tanks to warm her up."

"How long will that take?"

Ten minutes should do it. There's fuel in
the storeroom back up at the house." Stanski said impatiently, "Then
I suggest we get moving, We'll leave the car here."

Barton sighed and crossed to the door.
There were a Couple of small two-wheel upright trolleys by the handle bar for
carryin- the fuel barrels and he dragged one out morosely, When he had gone
Stanski said to Massey, "It's going to be dark in an hour. Landing on the
lake in daylight is difficult enough if the water swell's bad. In near-darkness
it's pretty near impossible."

Massey looked over at the flying boat.
"You're sure Barton can fly this damned thing?"

"Judge for yourself. He knows the
lake area pretty well."

Stanski nodded to another trolley in the
corner. "We'd better give him a hand with the fuel or we'll be here all
day."

Five minutes later they all came back,
Barton dragging his trolley like a condemned man. Massey and Stanski quickly
helped him load the fuel with the manual pump.

When they had finally winched the Seebee
into the water, Barton climbed into the cockpit and started the Franklin
engine. It throbbed into life first time.

Anna came awake with a throbbing
headache.

She was lying on her back on the floor.
Vassily was beside her, tied in a chair.

She looked at him in horror. His skin was
white and his eyes half closed, an ugly wound in his right shoulder, blood
oozing from it, his face badly cut where he had been beaten. His head was
slumped to one side and a strange gurgling sound came from his lips.

Anna screamed.

"Shut the fuck up, lady."

When she looked over she saw two men. One
was the man with the scarred face from the woods. He sat in a chair by the
window, smoking a cigarette, a shotgun across his knees as he stared over at
her silently.

The second man the one who had spoken,
was short and fat and bid a thin black mustache. He sat on the table, a sharpe
knife in his hand as he picked at his nails with it and grinned. "So,
you're back in time of the land of the living?"

She ignored them both and struggled to
her feet. There were tears in her eyes as she moved beside Vassily. His eyes
flickered as he recognized her.

"Anna ..."

"No, don't speak, Vassily."

He was still losing blood and she felt
his pulse. It was weak. She looked back at the men.

"He'll die if he doesn't get help.
You have to do something ... Please!" The fat man said, "I'll fucking
kill him if you don't get away from there."

He slid off the table and came over and
grabbed Anna by the hair and threw her into a chair.

"Now you sit there and keep that
mouth shut."

"He's dying ... !"

The scar-faced man stood and came over
and slapped her hard across the face, then his hand gripped her jaw painfully
and he stared into her face as he spoke in Russian.

"Massey and Stanski, where did they
go' '

Anna felt the blood drain from her, a
sudden overwhelming fear in her heart, and she opened her mouth to speak but no
words came, a terrible truth dawning on her, The man slapped her hard again.
"I asked you a question. Where are your friends?"

"I ... I don't know."

The man lifted his shotgun and aimed it
at Vassily. "The truth, or I kill him."

"I ... I don't know ... they left
... this morning .

"To go where?"

"I don't know."

"When will they be back?"

"I don't ..."

The man eased back the hammers of the
shotgun and aimed at Vassily's head. Anna said, "Tonight. They said they
would be back tonight. I don't know when. I'm telling you the truth ... please.'@
For several seconds the man just stood there, aiming the weapon at Vassily,
then he grinned and lifted Anna's face.

The grin vanished as he gripped her face
hard, grinding his teeth as he said, "Don't lie to me. Lie to me again and
I kill you, understand?"

There was a noise from behind and another
man came into the room from the kitchen, young, heavily built, carrying a long
wooden box.

"Guess what I found?"

He put the box down on the table and
flipped open the lid. Anna saw it was the weapons they had used in training
with Popov. The young man grinned. "They were in the back. There's a
trapdoor under the kitchen floor, kind of like a storage room, full of food and
stuff'."

The fat man with the mustache came over
and looked through the box of' weapons, then whistled as he picked up a Tokarev
inachine-pistol.

"Heavy Stuff. Looks like our friends
here are going- to start a war." He looked at the man with the scar.
"What the fuck's going on here, Braun?"

Braun thought for a moment, then flicked
a look at Vassilv. He said to the younger man, "Take the woman outside.
I'll deal with her later." When they had gone, Lombardi said to Braun,
"What's the story here?"

Braun ignored the question, stepped over
to Vassily and slapped his face hard. He was still conscious, but his eyes were
barely focused. Braun said, "What else are Massey and Stanski hiding, old
man?"

Vassily's eyes flicked up weikly at
Braun, but he didn't speak. Braun slapped him savagely across the jaw. "I
won't ask again. Next time I tell my friend outside to hurt the woman. Hurt her
bad. This is your property. The weapons were here. Why?"

"Massey ... brought them. I ...
don't know why," Vassily gurgled.

"What else did he bring?"

"I ... don't know." Braun said
sharply to Lombardi, "Bring the woman back."

"No," Vassily pleaded hoarsely.
"I told the truth."

@"What other hiding places have you
got in the cabin?"

Vassily's head slumped onto his chest and
Braun grabbed his hair and stared into his face. "You want to watch while
the woman's raped'?