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“They are.”
Annja looked at Gregor again. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he said quietly.
Annja removed a playing card from her jacket pocket and slid it against the spokes of Gulliver’s bike. He was too involved in his map and didn’t notice. Finally, he folded the map and looked back. “Are we ready?”
Annja smiled. “Let’s roll.”
Gulliver turned, mounted his bike and started pedaling. Instantly, from the back of his bike came the telltale sound as the spokes slid over the playing card.
Annja smiled. Behind her, she heard Gregor chuckle. “He will not notice that for at least three miles,” he said.
G REGOR’S ESTIMATION WAS correct. They pedaled for three miles on the paved highway leading out of Magadan. The road gradually waned from sleek asphalt to pockmarked concrete rife with potholes and bits of wire jutting out of the ground along its edges. More and more, they had to wind their way around obstacles.
Gulliver signaled a halt and they pulled over to the side of the road. He frowned and leaned back, removing the playing card from his spokes. “This your idea of a funny?” he asked.
Annja shrugged. “Yep,” she said.
Gulliver took a swig of water from his bottle and then replaced it. “The road ahead goes from this to more of a hard mud track. It should be easier once we hit it.”
“Less obstructions,” Gregor said from behind them.
“They don’t believe in road repair in these parts, huh?” Annja looked around them. Anything short of a combat tank would have flat tires in seconds.
“Is not they don’t believe in it,” Gregor said. “Just that the officials all have their hands out ready for a little grease. By the time the money filters down to the workers who must actually repair the road, there is none left.”
“Wonderful,” Annja said.
Gulliver waved them on. “I want to at least reach a way point by tonight. And that’s thirty miles away.”
Annja sighed. A thirty-miler wasn’t the best way she imagined to ease back into the bicycling frame of mind, but she knew that once Gulliver had his mind fixed on something, he wasn’t going to budge for anything short of a life in danger.
Gregor sped past her and then overtook Gulliver. He pedaled ahead. Annja marveled at how easily he rode his bicycle.
Bob glanced back at her. “He’s a former military guy. Did I mention that?”
“No,” Annja said.
“He’s used to driving himself hard. One of those guys who measures himself based on how difficult something is. The bigger the obstacle, the better he feels about himself when he masters it.”
Annja nodded. “I know someone just like that.”
Bob grinned. “I thought you might find that a familiar sentiment.”
They pedaled along for another hour. Magadan’s outskirts disappeared quickly as the stark countryside reclaimed the edges of the road for itself. Annja saw the twisted, bent and hooked branches of the spindly trees reaching in for them. She saw little animal life and only a few birds cruised the skies.
“Is it always like this?” she eventually asked.
“Like what?”
“Devoid of life.”
Gulliver shrugged. “Winter’s coming. And soon. Most of the animals have already wandered off to their various hibernation areas. Birds have flown south. And the landscape just seems to be settling down for the harsh snows.”
“We’ve got time, though, right?” Annja asked.
“Yes. Timing was crucial. I’m glad you were able to get out here. With luck, we should find something before we get snowbound.”
“What happened with Gregor, anyway?” Annja could barely make out his bicycle far ahead of them.
“He likes taking point on these things. Takes his job of protecting me very seriously. Says there are far too many threats out here for a man to travel alone. He insists on driving on ahead to spot anything that looks a bit off.”
“Does he cost a lot?”
Gulliver shrugged. “Not by our standards. But he makes a decent wage. Plus, it gets him away from the mafiya . And anytime he can do that, he’s far happier than he is otherwise.”
Annja dropped behind Bob as the road narrowed drastically. From two lanes, the hard-packed mud and gravel withered to barely a single lane. On her right side, the edge of the road fell away as they ascended what looked to be a fairly significant hill.
“Mind yourself,” Bob said. “We’re corkscrewing up the hill. It’s a long way down.”
“Why don’t we use the left side?”
“Anything coming at us from the other way will crush us against the side of the hill. They won’t see us coming.”
“Makes sense.” Annja kept pedaling. Her breathing was coming harder as her lungs got their first taste of serious exertion. She kept herself hunched low, trying to reduce her wind resistance as she climbed the hill. The bike seemed built for a wide variety of terrain and handled the ascent pretty well.
It didn’t make the strain of the pedaling any easier for Annja, though.
Ahead of her, Bob seemed in his element. He used long, steady pedaling to carve his way up the hill. Annja tried to emulate him, but knew that as her body responded to the stress of serious biking for the first time in years, she was going to have a harder time than Bob or Gregor, for that matter.
She settled her breathing and tried to relax.
She heard a sudden sound. She turned in her seat and saw the large truck rumbling up the hill behind her.
She frowned. “Bob!”
He turned and saw the truck. “Oh, crap! Pedal faster, Annja!”
Annja drove her feet into the pedals. The truck sounded its horn. The sharp wail cut through the cold air and sliced into Annja’s back. She looked back, but rather than slow down as another truck might be expected to do when it was climbing an incline, this truck seemed to be accelerating.
And it was headed straight for Annja.
4
Annja pumped her pedals harder, desperately trying to outpace the truck streaming up the hillside road behind her. Her breathing felt shallow, as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her lungs to power her legs. Sweat broke out along her hairline and ran down her face. She knew the signs of adrenaline rush and this certainly qualified.
“Annja!”
Bob’s voice broke through the rural air, and Annja heard him above the grinding roar of the truck. She glanced back over her shoulder. She guessed the truck was a two-and-a-half-ton truck used by militaries all over the world as supply trucks and to convey troops from one region to another.
There was a nasty gash across the radiator grille that gave the front end an almost comical toothy appearance. It looked as if the truck could simply overtake her and eat her alive.
Annja looked ahead and kept jamming her feet against the pedals as hard as she could. She huffed as her lungs worked like bellows. Her breath stained the air with steam and mixed with the sweat pouring down her face.
Ahead of her, Bob was pedaling fast, as well.
The road sloped at a severe angle. The increase meant Annja would have to pedal even harder and she didn’t know if she had it in her.
Keep pedaling, she told herself. She could see the crest of the hill. If she could just manage to make it—
The truck horn blared behind her, jarring her. She glanced back and saw that it was even closer than before. It showed no signs of easing back or slowing down. Whoever was driving that rig was having a lot of fun at her expense.
She couldn’t see through the windshield. For one thing, the entire panel of glass seemed to have a jagged line scored through it. She could see the buildup of bug guts and dirt had stained it so much that being able to determine who was driving was an impossibility.
Her legs felt like lead weights. She wanted to vomit.
Keep going!
She pedaled harder. She could hear the gravel underneath her tires kicking away from the wheels as she sped her way up the hillside.
Fifty yards to the top.
The truck horn blared again.
Annja turned and saw the bumper closing in on her bicycle. There was only twenty feet or so separating them.
He really means to run me over, she thought.
She felt herself growing angry. Furious even. Who the hell would want to kill her like this? Why were they so determined? She hadn’t even been in Russia long enough to annoy that many people.
Annja gave one last, monumental effort, her lungs straining to their capacity. She drove her heels into the pedals and the bike shot forward.
Along the side of the hill, she could see the sheer drop-off, plunging hundreds of feet to the ground far below.
The truck nudged her.
Annja lost control.
“Bob!”
She jerked the handlebars of the bike to the right and then to the left. The truck nudged her again, and Annja headed straight off the edge of the hill.
She was falling.
Annja had the briefest sensation of being weightless—suspended in midair—before gravity exerted its pull on her body and jerked her back down toward the earth.
She hit the side of the hill and tumbled, rolled and somersaulted over jagged rocks, tree roots, upturned branches and forest debris. Somewhere she heard her bicycle doing a passable imitation of her own body as it caromed down the hillside.
Annja tried to relax herself as she bounced her way down the slope.
And then suddenly, she came to a stop.
Blackness came for her.
“A NNJA !”
Her head pounded.
“Not so loud. I believe she has a concussion.”
“Annja.” The first voice was softer now.
Annja blinked, saw the bright light of the gray sky and closed her eyes again, groaning as she did so.
“Annja. Can you hear me?” Bob’s voice sounded as if he might break out sobbing at any moment.
“Unfortunately,” she mumbled.
She heard Gregor chuckle. “Is good sign. She has sense of humor. That tells me she is not too badly broken.”
Annja opened her eyes again. “Speak for yourself. I feel like crap.”
Gulliver shook his head. “My God, when you went over the side of the hill…I thought you were a goner.”
“So did I,” she said.
Gregor frowned. “You should be dead.”
Annja smirked. “That was subtle.”
He held up his hands. “Forgive me, it’s just that you fell so far it is truly a marvel that you are still alive.”
Bob moved away and nodded for Gregor to move in closer. “Check her for broken bones, will you?”
“Hey—” Annja protested.
Bob held up his hand. “Annja, please. Humor me, will you? Gregor has some medical training and knows how to look for these things.”
Annja felt Gregor put his hands behind her neck and then feel his way down the center of her back, pause briefly at her buttocks, and then continue down her legs. Then he ran his hands down her arms and finally peered into her eyes.
“Having fun?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No broken bones.”
Gulliver whistled. “That’ll be one hell of a way to start this show off. A dramatic reenactment of you tumbling over the side of the cliff and then emerging unscathed.”
Annja tried to sit up, but Gregor held her down. “Not yet. Too soon. You rest a few minutes.” He held a water bottle to her lips and Annja took a sip of the cold liquid.
