The River of Bones v5

by Tom Hron

  When someone read the news in the morning, he or she never quite knew what might be in the headlines. Sometimes a homeowner had been killed by a bear in his own backyard. Gunfire might have filled the night, or a prostitute might have been beaten to death, or the cops might have busted another clip-joint casino at three a.m. High rollers and lowlifes, city slickers and hokey-pokey people, crying and laughter, the city was always busy with the potluck of life. The yellow-haired woman could very well be a bad omen as Simon had prophesied. Jake heard her footsteps on the outside stairs and the door open.

  Simon and he turned and faced her, and instantly he thought that she was beautiful. He wondered what foreign country she had come from, since her wolf-fur coat and winter boots weren’t American.

  “Are you gentlemen the ones who find wrecked aeroplanes? The concierge at the hotel told me where to find you.”

  “Yes we do. Come in and sit down and tell us how can we help you?”

  “My father is missing.”

  Then he heard Simon say, “Kuk vaz zavut?”

  She smiled. “Sasha Pavlov.”

  Startled speechless, he heard Simon speak again. “Gde vi zhiyote?”

  “I am from Akademgorodok, near Novosibirsk.”

  He stared at Simon, momentarily forgetting about the woman. “Where in hell did you learn to speak Russian?”

  Simon frowned, then sat as well after the woman had taken a seat. “I studied languages back when I was younger.”

  Jake felt his face flush in surprise, and he hoped Sasha hadn’t noticed his embarrassment. Simon and he hadn’t talked fully about their pasts. Maybe because of the pain when they thought back.

  Sitting down as well, he asked, “Where was your father last seen?” He leaned back, already anticipating the answer. The Russians had been coming over and climbing Denali, the highest mountain in North America and the tallest in the world above the timberline. Incredibly, one had done it in a single day by using a technique called “alpine climbing.”

  The peak had claimed yet another climber, he told himself. Every year, three or four people met their deaths up high, generally on the west buttress, the backbone of precipitous rock and snow that ran up toward its summit. One-hundred-twenty people had been blown off its steepness or frozen to death or slipped at the worst possible time since 1910, when, amazingly, four sourdoughs from Fairbanks had first climbed its heights, carrying a bag of Fig Newton cookies and a long spruce pole, which they had left on top, thinking their barroom friends would see it from town. Simon and he had climbed Denali twice, and that had been enough for them.

  Then he heard her soft voice answer, “My father disappeared last summer in Siberia. He was searching for diamonds in the Sakha Republic, above Lake Baikal.”

  He looked at Simon. His friend’s eyes and mouth were wide open, and he wondered if his own face looked as shocked. What in hell was the woman doing in Alaska?

  “Why isn’t your country looking for him? I don’t understand.”

  “They did for a short time, but gave up. The Yakutsk District Guard said he drowned in a river after a helicopter crash.” Her lips quivered. “There isn’t anyone I can turn to in my country, because I’m so afraid of everyone.”

  He saw Simon narrow his eyes and felt his own face tense up as well. Why should they even believe she was Russian, and what were the feds up to now?

  “Why on earth have you come here? I don’t get it—” Walrus ivory? Polar bear hides? What was the dirty trick going to be? The Fish and Wildlife Service was forever setting up stings to catch people . . . or were the state troopers up to something. Everyone knew Simon and he were desperate for money.

  “The concierge gave me several names of businesses that rescue people and recover wrecked aeroplanes, and your advertisement said that you fly helicopters when I looked online. My father was riding in a Mil Mi-8 when he went down, the one your military calls the Hip. I thought it would be easier for you to understand what might have happened to him.”

  Bingo, she had answered the first question right! The sign out front read—Whirlwind Aviation, Helicopters & Fixed Wing, Flightseeing, Expeditions, Searches & Salvage. Trouble was he couldn’t afford airplanes and helicopters anymore. Simon and he were living hand-to-mouth, begging aircraft and money from friends around town. They had sunk really low in life.

  Still . . . her answer was understandable. None of the other air taxi operators around Lake Hood flew helicopters. Maybe she was for real, but her story didn’t make any sense. Why would she be afraid of her own countrymen?

  “Tell me why you’re afraid of your own people and decided to come to Anchorage. You speak English really well and that makes me wonder about you. My friend and I are just bush pilots and no one has ever asked us to go to Siberia before.” He leaned back once more. Sometimes a sting operation could be turned against the government and you could make a few bucks, which they desperately needed. You simply let them pay and pay with their hundred dollar bills, meanwhile letting them think you meant to break the law . . . someday soon. You simply made sure that you never did. Instead, you gave them excuses. “Oh, my plane broke down last week—that’s why I couldn’t come. Maybe if I had enough money . . .” Eventually, they caught on, but what good did it do them? They couldn’t arrest you for obeying the law or sue for breach of contract, and fat chance they wanted to tell the Department of Justice they’d just been screwed out of a few thousand dollars.

  Finally he heard her say, “Aeroflot comes here, so it’s easy to travel to Alaska. I understand why you doubt me, but if you will listen, you will understand why I’m so afraid.

  “This past summer a stranger came to my father’s office in Akademgorodok and told him that he must help find diamonds in the Sakha Republic . . . a special kind of diamond, rose-colored ones. Father went willingly, but thinking the man might be working for the Mafiya, or someone just as dangerous. My country is filled with corruption and one never knows who he’s really working for, or if you will be simply killed in the end, instead of paid. My father told me that he wanted some of the diamonds for himself.

  “This fall I was told that my father had been lost in a helicopter crash on the Marcha River, drowned in white water. The guard officer who found the wreck gave me a few things belonging to him, clothing and camera equipment.

  “My apartment has been broken into since, and I’ve seen a stranger following me. Pink diamonds are the most precious things in the world, and everyone in Russia would kill for them.”

  Jake felt himself wanting to believe her, but there was the question of why she’d picked Anchorage, of all places. And if she were being watched, how had she arranged traveling without being jeopardized further? In addition, if Simon and he did get involved, there were surely about a million laws on both sides of the international line they’d be breaking—big fat, federal offenses—crimes that got you jailed forever, probably in a gulag the way their luck had been running. Also, why hadn’t she explained where she’d learned such fluent English?

  “I’m still wondering why you speak our language so well. Other than your accent, you sound fine. I’m surprised.”

  Her eyes darkened. “Your friend speaks Russian and do you distrust him? My father and I were first and second chief directorates of the Institute of Geology and Geophysics.”

  Simon shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. “Jake, most Russians speak English, and she would have been required to learn our language for the sake of her position.”

  Quietly, he stood and walked to the window and gazed out again. The day had turned dark and the airport’s red, yellow, and blue lights had been switched on for the coming night. Fresh snow glistened as it fell through the glow, like white moths meeting their deaths. He faced Sasha Pavlov again. Let’s get this nonsense over with.

  “How do you plan on paying us? I hope you understand we can’t take rubles.” He watched her.

  She paused. A minute ticked by. Finally, she reached inside her coat, pulled out a sm
all black purse, opened it, and took out something. She held out a bright object, the size of a pea, in her fingers. “I have four of these and you can have one now. I’ll give you the others after you come to Siberia. I’m so sure my father is alive that I’ll even sleep with you if you want.”

  He heard Simon choke, then his own noisy gulps as he swallowed air. Slowly, he stepped forward and pinched the pink object between his fingers. Deep in his gut he knew what it was, but he walked back to the window and scratched the opalescent stone on a corner of the glass. It cut a thin white line.

  He turned again. “Can I search you? I want to see if you’re wearing a transmitter.”

  She stood up, pulled off her coat, and threw it over the chair. “I understand. You should live in my country, because there is electronic surveillance everywhere.”

  He stepped over to her. She spread her legs, lifted her arms, and stared into space with her blue eyes. He reached for her shoulders and rubbed hard with his fingers, then kneaded her breasts, stomach, crotch, and legs, kneeling as he worked down to her shoes. Then he stood, circled, and checked her back, buttocks, and legs again. Finally, he walked back to the window. She was clean . . . and now her other offer would haunt him forever, because her real beauty was under her clothing.

  She sat and stared at him. What in hell should he do now? He picked up the diamond he’d left on the window sill and tossed it back to her. It flashed under the fluorescent office lights as it sailed across the room, and she expertly caught it with one hand. Simon looked sick because he knew how much they needed money.

  “How did you smuggle that diamond into Alaska?” he asked. “You have made airport security and customs look pretty stupid.”

  “I disassembled my laptop and glued my diamond inside so it looked like part of the motherboard. There was plenty of room and airport x-ray wouldn’t see it as anything but a chip fuse.”

  “How did you get your visa, and what did you tell our embassy?”

  “The Pacific Rim Coal Conference starts tomorrow at your university, and I’m the chairperson for Siberia. I asked to take my father’s place. We often traveled together, even when the communists ruled Russia, although I was very young. It’s all on the internet.

  “I’ve waited and waited to come here, thinking this would be the best place to find help. We Russians think Alaska is where the cowboys live, although some are traveling now to places like Sakhalin Island to drill for oil. Our men don’t act like you.”

  Simon laughed. “I think you mean Texans . . . but you might have just met a couple of cowboys.”

  Her face reddened and she paused again. “Will you help me then?” she asked. “I’ve told you the truth.”

  She probably has, thought Jake, but what good had it done her? Simon and he had no money or aircraft, and the risks of such a crazy expedition were incomprehensible. Why, oh, why, every time the opportunity of a lifetime came along, a million obstacles stood in his way? Then he wondered how many years one got for bootlegging across the Bering Straits. God, he couldn’t imagine all the years!

  “Let’s get a drink and have dinner, because I need time to think this over.” He reached for his winter jacket and watched Simon and Sasha pull on their coats too.

  He followed them outside, locked the door, and walked downstairs. The snow was still falling, but as if it wouldn’t last. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, then stared. Fresh footprints lay on the ground, trailing around the back side of the hangar into the darkness.

  “Simon, watch out for Sasha, stay under the ramp lights, and don’t leave.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go back there. You never know who you’re going to run into in this goddamn town.”

  He saw Sasha Pavlov’s face turn pale and her hands clutch her coat collar. “He followed me—”

  “Who followed you?”

  “I have never seen him, but the man who hired my father.”

  He walked away, following the tracks through the snow. It seemed the person leaving the trail had crept to the top of the stairs, then snuck back down when he’d seen the lights switch off. The closest place to hide had been around the back of the hangar, where it was black as midnight beside the lake.

  When he turned the corner of the building, he stopped, waiting for his eyesight to adapt to the darkness. A storage shed sat at the far end, blocking any escape. Wooden boxes used for shipping aircraft engines were stacked against the wall and fuel barrels lay piled one on top of another. Maybe the snoop had jumped off the embankment onto the frozen lake, eight feet down. Still . . . there were plenty of places to hide. He followed the tracks again.

  Suddenly, he saw a shadow six feet away. He froze. “Who are you and what are you doing back here?”

  Silence. Then he heard a click. Instantly, he realized he’d made the worst mistake of his life. The shadow lunged at him, mumbling something odd.

  “Kto vi?”

  He felt the long knife stick into his belly on the left side, just above his belt. Then everything seemed to move in slow motion. He screamed and punched the shadowy face—so close he smelled bad breath. Splat! Strangely, he sensed that he’d broken the attacker’s nose. He glimpsed a dark silhouette hurtle down onto the snowy lake. Silence once more, everything turning black . . .

  “Jake, hang on. The ambulance is coming now.”

  Simon’s voice sounded so distant . . . and who was the woman kneeling beside him? The siren sounded so close. Then he remembered his stupidity.

  “Simon?”

  “Hang on—they’re almost here.”

  “Call Molly Faircloth.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ANCHORAGE

  “Jake, can you hear me? Please wake up.”

  White ceiling, white walls . . . what was this? He blinked his eyes and things cleared. Whose voice had he heard so close beside him? He rolled his head and looked.

  “How do you feel? Your color’s coming back.”

  “May I call you Molly? Mrs. Faircloth seems too old, and you look wonderful.”

  “I’d be thrilled if you did, and you’ve just made my long flight worthwhile. I spent the whole night worrying about you. Simon said you’d be fine, but I worried myself sick anyway.”

  “What time is it, because I’ve lost track?”

  “Seven in the morning, and I flew all night to get here.”

  “Where are Simon and Sasha? She’s the one who landed me here.” He groaned and eyed the sack of clear liquid dangling overhead, with a plastic tube dropping to a needle stuck in his left arm. Another tube ran out of his white bedclothes to the floor, draining his belly wound.

  “It wasn’t her fault that you were stabbed. I like her a lot, and Simon said she cried half the night. A doctor stopped a little while ago and said your surgery went well, so both left to get some breakfast.”

  The black horror of the past night crept back, and he wiped his eyes with both hands. He had come within inches of getting killed, just to show he was brave. Beautiful women had always been his Achilles’ heel . . . and now there was one with a story a mile long.

  “Are you all right?” Molly leaned forward in her chair.

  “I just remembered how close I came last night.”

  “Why did you ask Simon to call me?”

  “Crazy as it sounds, I want to go to Siberia.”

  Stillness filled the room, and not even the medical devices made a sound. Molly’s chair scrunched across the floor, moving closer, then she said, “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you behind.”

  He hurt himself jerking his head to one side, looking at the woman beside his bed. She laughed and her eyes brightened.

  “For crying out loud, you can’t go. Simon and I will probably get caught and spend the rest of our lives in a gulag, and I don’t even know if he wants to go.”

  “Okay, why did you call me then?”

  “I need to borrow money for two airplanes and my hangar payments.”

  “What did you have in mind
for collateral?” Her eyes were still beaming, but she had stopped laughing.

  “Sasha has a rose-colored diamond the size of a pea, and I thought you could get it appraised in Texas and then we could come to some kind of an agreement. I haven’t any idea what it’s worth, but it must be a small fortune.”

  “Why not get the appraisal done here, and how come you need me?”

  “I wouldn’t dare let anyone in Alaska see an uncut pink diamond. Simon and I would be followed by every prospector in the state until the day we died, and then they would dig up our graves just to make sure we weren’t hiding something after all. This place has more fortune-hunters than anywhere on earth, and the most big blabbermouths as well.

  “And by now everyone has heard I’ve been stabbed, and I can only pray they believe it happened because of a woman, otherwise they’ll follow me just to make sure nothing’s going on.”

  “Simon said the police stopped last night. He told them you’d caught someone trying to break in, so I doubt there will be much in the way of rumors. Do you think they will catch the person who did it?”

  “It wouldn’t do any good, since I couldn’t identify anyone because everything happened so fast.” Suddenly, the horror came back. Thank God the assailant had run off, rather than knifing him again, and he’d always remember the Russian words.

  “Jake, I’ve seen the diamond. How much money do you want?”

  “Two hundred thousand . . .” He watched her eyes, looking for some sign of acquiescence, an indication he could borrow that much by putting up the diamond. He had nothing else to offer her.

  “We need to get the diamond appraised like you said, and I can do that in Texas without causing too much suspicion. I’m sure it’s valuable, but I insist that I go along.”

  “Why on earth would you want to, and don’t you understand the risk?”

  “I suppose I do, but all my life I’ve played let’s pretend, and I’m sick of it. I want to feel like a real person for once. Look at the lives Simon and you lead. You don’t realize how lucky you are, and I want the same freedom. The most excitement I’ve ever had was in the brief time I spent with you last fall.