Louis L'Amour: Last of the Breed

“There are good men everywhere,” she said, recalling another.

“Yes,” Zhikarev agreed. “I only wish they had louder voices.”

Then they crossed a border into an uncertain future. Natalya vowed silently to reach America, where, she dared hope, Joe Mack would somehow be waiting for her, to share the dream he had inspired.

Within hours after his arrival at Chersky, Colonel Zamatev had motorized patrols driving slowly along the road, if such it could be called, that led from Chersky to Talovka and along that from Talovka to Ust’chaun on the north coast. The two roads cut across the country east of the Omolon River.

Several patrols would work each road continuously until further notice. There were also patrols along the river, and the guards on the few bridges had been alerted.

A very subdued Kyra Lebedev had arrived the following morning, reporting to Zamatev. He listened impatiently, his mind on other things. He waved a hand of dismissal when she completed her report.

“It is well. They will not be needed. Whatever passed between them does not matter. The Baronas woman is unimportant to us. Our man,” he touched the map, “is somewhere in this area.

“Patrols will be driving these roads, passing constantly. If he is seen, they will follow and apprehend him.

“I have sent Lieutenant Suvarov to visit personally all the fishing ports and villages along the Bering Sea and the Strait, and somewhere out there is Alekhin. There are few places in which to hide out there, and we shall have him.”

He paused. “A man was seen in the Kolyma Mountains north of Magadan. I have sent helicopters to find and bring him in.”

“Do you believe him to be the American?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? What would anybody else be doing in that country?”

He walked to the window and stood there, hands clasped behind his back. “We must be alert, Kyra.” His voice softened. “This means too much to us both. That prisoner must be apprehended. My career depends upon it.” He turned toward her. “As you have surmised, yours does also. You have become too deeply involved in all this, although it was your wish.”

Her lips tightened, but she said nothing. It was true. She had insisted on being involved, and now she wished she had never opened her mouth.

“He cannot escape,” she said. “If we fail, he cannot get past the Buffer Zone and the radar.”

“Do not be too sure. The man is like a ghost, A dozen times we have thought we would take him, and each time he has simply vanishes. I am no longer sure of anything where he is concerned. He is not a man but a phantom!”

Kyra waited, apprehensive but determined. “Arkady?” she spoke gently. “I must talk to you. Something terrible has happened.”

He turned, surprised by her tone. “What now?”

“My sister has been arrested by Comrade Shepilov. It was in connection with the American’s escape.” Carefully, she explained. That Zamatev was irritated, she could see. Obviously he wanted no more to do with Shepilov, and to reach him now, to ask a favor, was almost out of the question.

“What does she know?”

“Nothing, except—”

“Except what?”

“Her husband, Ostap. He was always meeting people who were on the fringe of things, black-market people and such. I went to them for you. Ostap always knows so much, so much that is talked about by such people. Much of it is probably nonsense, of course, but he always knows when something is happening. I believed he might help us to find the American. Also, to tell us what Shepilov was doing. He knew all about that.”

“He did?” Zamatev was skeptical.

“You must understand, Arkady, that people like that always know what is happening. Very little is secret from them. There is always somebody who talks, you know.

“It was he who told me about Shepilov using the trappers and also that they were not anxious to help. They could, of course, if they wished. They do not like Comrade Shepilov, however.”

“Where is this Ostap now?”

“He fled to the forest when Katerina was arrested. I have not heard from him or from her.”

He shrugged. “I can do nothing for your Katerina now. Shepilov would simply say he knew nothing about her, and I could do nothing. It is better that we show no interest. He will discover there is nothing there, and he may release her. If she is sent to prison, well, maybe I can do something then.”

Suddenly he swore. When she looked at him, surprised, he said, “It is probably this Ostap who is causing us trouble. We are looking now for a man who was seen in the forests near Magadan whom some believed might be the American.”

“He could help us. He knows the trappers. He knows what is happening among the dissidents, among the Jews—”

“Do not speak to me of Jews. They are trouble. I want nothing to do with them.”

“This man you are looking for? If it is Ostap, I could talk with him? He might know something, and he would tell me whatever he knows.”

He shrugged. “Very well. If we catch him.”

Joe Mack took his time. Every mile behind him was a victory now, but every mile before him a danger. He overlooked a vast plain now in which there were many small lakes, an area he must avoid. Up here, he could see the lakes easily and the spaces between them. Once down on their level, he would no longer have that advantage and could easily be trapped against one of their shores. The ice, if any, would be treacherous.

His map showed him he was somewhere north of a village or town named Gizhiga. Although there were few roads in the area before him, those few would be patrolled. The area of the search had narrowed, and the search would have grown more intense.

He stood now in a small cluster of larch, carefully examining the country before him, choosing a route to be followed and an alternative if something happened to force him to change.

The air was unbelievably clear, with not a cloud in the sky and no mist in any of the hollows. Far off he occasionally caught a glint of something that might be sunlight on a windscreen. If that was the case, there was an unusual amount of traffic on that road, if such it was.

Nothing moved down below, except near the closest lake, where there were several moose. They seemed to be feeding along the lakeshore.

What he did not know was that Alekhin had landed, only hours before, in Gizhiga. Another thing he did not know was that not two hundred yards away, hidden in the brush, a man was watching him.

Ostap was no woodsman. He had fled Magadan when Shepilov arrested his wife, barely escaping. He had gone to the woods, to a place where trappers sometimes met. None were there when he arrived, but there was food, fuel, and warmer clothing.

He was in serious trouble, and so was Katerina. She knew nothing, but that would not help her and might even work against her. It was always better, Ostap had discovered, to have something to tell.

On this morning he had walked out into the forest and climbed a small knoll. There, in a place sheltered from the wind, he had sat down to study the country. Almost at once he had seen the American, and from the first glimpse he had no doubt who it was on whom he looked.

The man’s very caution was a dead giveaway. Frightened as well as intrigued, Ostap had the sense to remain still. Had he moved, his presence would have been revealed. His heart began to beat heavily.

Talk about luck! There he was, the man they all wanted. If he could only capture him—!

But that was foolish. Whatever else he was, Ostap was no fighter. He was a trader, a conniver, a trickster, if you will. To attempt to capture the American was out of the question. Of course, the idea had occurred, but it fled his mind in the same instant.