Siberius (13 page)

Of course, Nick was only guessing. Talia knew more than she was saying, he was sure of it. But she wasn’t doing much talking. In fact, she was being annoyingly evasive.

Nick began to circle the cabin. He searched for discernible footprints, but found only violently disturbed snow. Making his way to the back of the cabin, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a pungent odor. Holding his nose, he found the snow here, too, had been dug out and the timbers gouged. Nick also found another mark. Five feet up, a frozen yellow crust covered the logs then ran down in icicles to the snow. There the mark spread into a solid yellow puddle.

Nick gagged at the scent, covered his mouth but found it impossible to avoid. He turned away and ran before inhaling lungs full of air. Trying to catch his breath, he blew out his nostrils, but the smell stuck in his throat like sour milk. He made his way back to the front door, hacking and blowing air from his nose.

Scooping snow in his bare hand, he took a mouthful and waited for it to melt. As he stood before the leaning cabin, the reality of the walls hit him.

The walls.

Nick entered the doorway and saw Talia jamming clothes into a frame backpack.

“
A fortress,” he said. “You’re living in a fortress.”

She made her way to the bookshelf. “
Was
,” she said. “I
was
living in a fortress.” She picked up two books from the floor below a fallen shelf. “I can’t make repairs until the summer.”

Nick stormed over, yanking the books from her hands. “Look, lady” he said. “I want answers. Something took a piss out there that smells so bad, I’ll be tastin’ it for weeks.”

Talia’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t fight back. Nick felt very inconsiderate indeed. But he hated being kept in the dark.

“
Are you quite finished?” she said.

Nick handed back her books. She didn’t take them, though, instead staring statue-like into his eyes. For whatever reason, Nick glanced down at the covers:
Phylogeny of the Felidae
by W.D. Matthew.
Panthera Tigris
by J.K. McRane.

“
Books on big cats,” she said.

Nick looked up at her. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “That supposed to be some kinda
clue
?” She yanked the books from his hands and packed them. Nick threw his arms up and said, “You’re nuts.” He turned and paced the cabin. “Doesn’t make any sense.
You
don’t make any sense.”

             
“I make perfect sense,” she said. “You’re keeping a secret from me. I’m keeping a secret from you. If you want to know what happened last night, try being honest with me.”

             
Nick halted in mid-step. “Am I being lectured, for Christ’s sake?” he said.

             
“Why are you in Siberia?” said Talia.

             
He laughed, shook his head “
That’s
why you’re treating me like an idiot?” he said. “Because you think I’m hiding something from you?”

             
“Well, aren’t you?”

             
He wanted to scream. Of
course
he wasn’t telling her the truth. What kind of OSS agent told the truth?
Hi. I’m Nicholas Elias Somerset, serial number 110866, born in Cleveland in the great state of Ohio, U.S.A. And by the way, I’m a spy!

             
“Mr. Somerset,” she began. Her voice carried a hint of concession. “If we’re going to survive, we may as well trust each other. Because right now, out here, each other is all both of us have.”

             
He glared at her, pacing. Talia watched him, unwavering.

“
Lady, if I tell you-”

             
She spread her arms out and said, “Who am I going to tell?”

             
He stammered, coughed, chuckled, kicked a felled tin. “All right,” he said. “All right, I’ll tell you. But only because you’re not a communist.” A few seconds passed before he added, “You’re not, are you?”

             
She shook her head, but not to say ‘no.’ It was an
I can’t believe you
shake.

             
“Alright, alright.” He took a deep breath. “I came to take photos.”

“
Of what?” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

He hesitated some more.
Doesn’t matter
he thought.
Chances are I won’t
get out of here alive.
His mission to gather photographic data of the Soviet Union’s budding early-warning radar network was now marginal to Nick’s current predicament. “Radar.” He shook his head, paced some more. “I’m taking pictures of radar stations. Geez, lady, I hope you’re who you say you are, ‘cuz if you’re not, I’m the worst agent in the short, proud history of the OSS.”

             
“Thank you.”

“
Don’t mention it,” Nick said sitting on a stool. “Just address your Christmas cards care of Leavenworth.”

Turning to the little table, she picked up a few notebooks and jammed them into the backpack. “What’s the largest cat in the world, Mr. Somerset?”

“Huh?”

“
Do you have any idea?”

             
“You still playing games?”

             
“You told me your secret. Now I’m trying to tell you what I’m doing out here. Isn’t that what you want?”

             
“What I want is a straight answer,” he said. “But okay, I’ll bite. It’s lions. Kings of the jungle. Largest cats around. And I don’t want to hear that lions attacked your cabin last night, because lions live in Africa.”

             
“Lions, then,” she said. “You’re sure?”

             
Suddenly, he wasn’t. “Can we just treat each other like adults for Christ’s sake?”

             
“Fine,” she said, perusing the shelves in the kitchen area, checking the contents of tins. “Lions are the second largest of the big cats. The largest is the
Panthera tigris
. Or if you prefer, the tiger.” She emptied two of the tins into a cloth sack, then stuffed it into her pack. “More to the point, the Siberian tiger.”

             
“Siberian tiger,” said Nick. A breakthrough. “Is that what attacked us last night?” Talia nodded, but it was a sheepish nod. Anyway, it didn’t feel like the truth. “A whole herd of tigers, huh?”

             
“Predators don’t form herds,” she said stuffing some dried meat into another sack.

             
“Okay, a whole
bunch
of them, then. That scientific enough?”

Talia strapped on the backpack and headed for the door.

Nick rubbed his eyes and said, “Tigers. Sheesh.”

             
“You’re not being nice,” she said. Nick remembered why he worked in covert ops. It kept him away from women.

             
Talia stopped at the rhomboid doorframe and said, “Are you coming?”

He sighed and buttoned up his coat. “Do I have a choice?”

“Do whatever you want,” she said. “But I wouldn’t stay here again tonight.”

“
Why? Are your tigers coming back?”

“
Possibly,” she said, and then pushed on the wall. It creaked. “There’s a Chukchi village 20 miles to the north.”

“
Wait a minute,” Nick said. “20 miles to the north? To the
north
?”

Her eyebrows went up and she nodded. “To the north.”

“
But I need to go south. I need to get back to-” he cut himself off, then started again. “I have to get to Bratsk.”

Talia left the cabin and Nick followed her. “That’s south,” she said trudging through the snow toward the tree line. “Actually southeast. Five hundred miles. You might try Mirnyy; it’s closer.”

“How close?”

“
Maybe four hundred miles.”

“
Maybe four hundred miles.
” Nick shook his head. If there was one thing that defined Siberia, it was its shear acreage. No matter where you were, you were always far away from something. “This village,” he said. “Twenty miles, huh? And what do we find when we get there?”

“
Some very warm and generous people,” Talia said.

“
Would these warm and generous people consider driving me at least to this Mirnyy?” Talia stopped, shook her head.

“
The Chukchi are reindeer herders, Mr. Somerset. They would have no use for an automobile.”

“
Well, how do I get there then?” he said, trying not to be discouraged. “I mean, what options are there?”

“
They have sled dogs. You might be able to trade with them.” Talia looked Nick up and down. “If you had something to trade.”

“
Sled dogs?” Nick calculated the distance and made an assumption on how fast sled dogs could go. Even with a good estimated speed, it would still take three weeks to get to this Mirnyy. He didn’t like the sound of that, but it beat walking.

“
Something to trade,” he said to himself. “Something to trade.” He reached into his pocket, found the pistol, pulled it out. Talia frowned.

“
That’s brilliant, Mr. Somerset. Introduce war to the Chukchi.”

“
Take it easy,” Nick said. “I’m just thinking about it.” He put the gun back into his pocket.

Talia stopped at the tree line and pointed south. “That’s the way to Mirnyy.” She pointed a little to the left and said, “And that’s the way to Bratsk.” Gazing into the forest, Nick wished for another choice, one that took him back to Ohio.

“What will it be,” said Talia. “The village or oblivion?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she pulled the parka hood over her head and entered the forest.

Nick watched her hike away. He had no other option, which was not a comfortable position to be in. “Damn it,” he said as he reluctantly entered the forest.

             
They hiked through the woods with Talia in the lead. Nick felt guilty as he watched her trudge through knee-deep snow strapped to a backpack.

             
“Will you let me take the damn thing?” he said. Talia didn’t slow down.

             
“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need your chivalry.”

             
“Twenty miles through the snow is a long way to carry a pack like that.” He had done some hiking too. It was a necessary part of the job, especially going into remote areas like the Yenisey radar installation. But he never carried more than a few pounds, and it was always in a haversack slung over his shoulder.

             
They climbed a gradual rise that grew steeper at the top. Nick harbored some Shangri-La visions of a village on the other side, but he was disappointed when they reached the crest. Beyond and stretching from horizon to horizon was more forest. As endless as it was dull, the taiga spanned an area as large as the continental U.S.

             
“Does it ever end?” Nick said.

             
Talia turned to him, her red cheeks and nose contrasting with the shadows under her parka’s hood. “How old are you, Mr. Somerset?”

             
For whatever reason, Nick hesitated before saying, “Twenty-five. Why?”

             
“My grandmother was eighty-nine when she died and I never heard her complain about anything. And she had quite a bit to complain about.”

             
“Well, whoop-dee-do. You Russians sure are a hardy bunch.”

             
Talia descended to the other side of the hill. Nick pulled his knit cap down over his ears, tightened the collar around his neck, then followed her. He huffed and swore under his breath, but decided it wasn’t worth it. She was company; even better, she knew how to survive the climate and the terrain. It was a bonus that she was pretty. He brightened up and hummed a familiar song.

             
“Hey,” said Nick. “You like the Andrew’s Sisters?”

She didn’t answer. From behind, Talia was a formless shape plowing through the snow with stamina Nick had never before seen in a person.

“No, huh? Well, I love them,” he continued. Her clamming up on him wasn’t going to keep him from talking. “Got me through the war when things were hairy. Them and Bing Crosby.”

             
“I’ve heard of him,” Talia said. She didn’t turn her head and her voice projected forward, but Nick heard her anyway.

             
“No kidding? Good old Bing. He’s done some songs with the Andrews Sister, too.” They entered a thick stand of conifers, and the limited sunlight turned day into a dark shade of gray. Nick started to hum, but it wasn’t enough as the gloom enveloped them. He sang instead.