Suvarov nodded, but kept his doubts to himself. “We have pursued him for months. I would like to see him taken.”
“Have no fears. My men will take him.” He turned his back to the wind that was blowing down from the mountain. It was not a strong wind, but cold, very cold.
“It will be an exercise for them. Get them in shape for the real thing. This could not have come at a better time.”
Suvarov looked up at the mountains. Here there was some snow on the ridges and a huge bank of it under one ridge.
“You are from the Ukraine?” Suvarov looked at the mountain again. “Have you traveled mountains in the winter?”
“A little. No matter; my men can handle mountains. They can handle anything.”
He looked around. “Personally, I’ll be glad to get into the hills. Get away from some of this wind.”
Rukovsky glanced at Suvarov. “I’ve a bottle in the car. How about a nip of vodka?”
“Why not?” Suvarov stood up, nervously. “I thought I smelled smoke?”
“You probably did. My men have fires; they’re making tea and having a bite.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “They’ve not much longer.”
Suvarov took a swallow from the bottle and passed it to Rukovsky. “I hear Comrade Shepilov has recruited trappers to find the American.”
Rukovsky smiled. “No matter. We will get him first.”
“That’s rough country up there,” Suvarov gestured. “I have not seen it myself, but I have heard stories.”
He took another swallow from the vodka and reached for his teacup. He filled it and stood up. “I say, that’s an awful lot of smoke!”
Rukovsky got to his feet. It was quite a lot. Suddenly he was angry. “They’ve let their fire get away from them!” He swore and reached for the radio. He asked a question and then began barking orders.
“Get in. We will see what’s going on.” They scrambled into the car, and the driver stepped on the starter. It whirred, but nothing happened. The driver stepped on the starter again, and at that moment the smoke billowed up, a cloud of it swept over them, and they saw a wall of flame racing toward them ahead of the wind. The grass in the small valley was dry, and the fire was coming fast. “To hell with the car!” Rukovsky dropped to the ground and started for the rocks. Suvarov and the driver were only a step behind him.
They scrambled up in the rocks where there was very little growth just as the flames swept down the valley. They hit the car and rolled around it, and then the flames got to the gas spilled around the tank. Flames roared, flames leaped up, and then the car exploded. For a moment the flames shot skyward and then roared madly as the remaining gas burned.
Rukovsky swore again. “I will find who is responsible for this, and I’ll — !”
The line of flames raced down the little valley, leaving the grass charred and black behind it. Only a few of the soldiers had suffered minor burns, most of them in attempting to save equipment or food.
“Sir?”
Rukovsky glanced around impatiently. Suvarov said, “Before you assign the blame, it would be well to think of the American.”
“What do you mean?”
“He could have set the grass afire.”
“Nonsense!” Rukovsky spoke and then paused to consider. “Is it likely? Would he attempt such a thing?”
Suvarov repeated the story of the helicopter. Of numerous traps, “It is guerrilla warfare. He’s very good at it.”
“Come! Let’s go see where the fire started.”
Soldiers were beginning to climb down from the rocks where they had taken refuge. Most had escaped with their arms; some had escaped with rations. Three vehicles had been destroyed, the last one a truck just beyond the line of the fire.
“This one was set afire after the fire had passed, Colonel. See? It was over this rise, out of sight of most of the command.”
“Is anything missing?”
Several cases of rations had been ripped open and both food and ammunition taken. An AK-47 was missing.
Reports came in slowly. Most of the food supplies had been burned and much equipment damaged. The fire had been sudden and unexpected and had moved swiftly ahead of the wind. Most men had saved their weapons; some had rations upon them; some had been hastily gathered among the rocks and out of reach of the flames. Not enough remained to keep the command in the field.
“Did anyone see him?”
Nobody had seen anything, but it was apparent that the flames had come from several points. “Fire arrows,” somebody said.
“What?” Rukovsky turned on him.
“In the films, sir. I saw it when I was a boy. The Indians used fire arrows to set wagons afire, and sometimes they shot them over the walls into forts.”
Rukovsky swore. “Is there a radio working?” he asked then. “I want a ration drop, and I want supplies brought in. I am going in there after him.”
Lieutenant Suvarov said nothing. He was only a liaison officer here, and he wished he was anywhere else. It was cold here, and it would be worse up in those mountains. He was a city man, more at home in the homes of top officials and embassies than here. Why did he not get that assignment to Japan, the one he wanted if he could not have Paris? His father had been an important man with connections. The trouble was, there were others with important fathers who were still alive. And Colonel Zamatev had actually asked for him, which was a great honor, but one he was beginning to question.
The radio was still working, and after a time they picked up a reply. Nothing could be done until tomorrow or the day after.
“No matter,” Rukovsky said. “We can equip several squads, and we will send them out. Let’s keep moving.”
In the shelter of a huge boulder they built a fire, and two soldiers built a shelter for Colonel Rukovsky and Suvarov. It was cold, but spring was not far off. Suvarov said as much, and Rukovsky snorted. “In this country? Is there ever spring?”
He leaned back against the trunk of the tree that formed the back of their shelter. “Is this man really an Indian, Lieutenant?”
“He is, sir. A very fine flyer, too, by all reports. He had been testing one of their latest fighters, among other things.”
“One doesn’t think of a Red Indian doing things of that sort, but I know little about them.”
“Alekhin’s hunting him, sir. Somewhere about here, in fact.”
“I wish he’d catch him. Or that somebody would. No, I would like to do it myself. A flyer, you say? An officer?”
“A major, sir.”
“Where are the rest of the men?”
“Down the valley, sir. Those who are not out on patrol. There was a more sheltered area for that number. But we’ve sentries out.”
“Sentries? Here?”
“The American is somewhere about, sir. And we do not know just where he is. This is a big country.”
It was cold, but one of his men had found a ground sheet and some blankets in an incompletely destroyed truck. Colonel Rukovsky found himself liking the campfire and said as much.
Suvarov said, “Yes, sir. It is pleasant.” Yet he did not think so at all. How had he ever got into this, anyway? If he could not be in Tokyo or Paris, why not Moscow?
He drank some of the tea the guard had prepared and put the pot back beside the fire. The Colonel was falling asleep, so Suvarov drew his blanket around him and huddled closer to the fire.
He had been asleep for some time, he supposed, when he opened his eyes and saw the man sitting across the fire from him.
“Good morning, Lieutenant. Have you slept long?”
Colonel Rukovsky opened his eyes and sat up. The man across the fire was dressed in furs, goatskins he believed, and he had an AK-47 across his knees. His right hand held the gun. His left a cup of tea.
“I hope you don’t mind, Colonel. Your tea is excellent.”
The man had two braids of hair falling down on his chest. He had a lean, dark face and startling gray eyes. Perhaps it was only that they looked startling from such a dark face.
“You are the American?”
“Major Joseph Makatozi, at your service.” The American smiled. “I have a hard time remembering that. I am afraid I’ve reverted to what my people once were.”
“You will be captured, you know? My men are all about.”
“Lying about, you should say, Colonel. I am afraid I had to tie them up. We mustn’t leave them too long, or they’ll freeze.”
“Have you come to give yourself up?”
The American laughed. “When I am in command? Of course not. To be frank, I am just debating what use I might have for you and the lieutenant, but sadly enough I find you’d be more of a trouble than of any value.