"L'Amour, Louis - Last_of_the_Breed30" - читать интересную книгу автора (L'Amour Louis)

"Nonsense! Not through my men. They will take him."
"He's very elusive, sir."
Studying the map, Suvarov considered the problem. They had been out for three days now and had advanced more than thirty miles and had seen nothing.
Because of the terrain, the line was considerably further south at its eastern end, and here and there, despite the best efforts of the officers, the thirty-yard interval had proved impossible to maintain. Despite that, Suvarov had to admit the sweep had been thorough. Yet there had been no sign of the man they sought.
A Udehe hunter among them had come to Suvarov. "I see tracks," he said.
Suvarov looked up impatiently; then recognizing the man, he asked, "Can you show me?"
The Udehe was a skilled tracker. He pointed out something on the ground that Suvarov failed to see and then led him up a long slope through the trees,
The sound of a motor stopped them. It was Colonel Rukovsky. "What is it. Lieutenant?"
"This man has found some tracks. He is very skilled. He says our man came right through here last night."
"That is impossible," Rukovsky said. "Our men were camped right up there, stationed all along the ridge."
The Udehe had gone on ahead. Such discussions were nothing to him. He found the curve of a heel at the edge of some snow. He showed it to Suvarov. "Unty," he said, "a shoe made of skin. He went up there." He pointed up toward the campsite.
Getting down from his car, Rukovsky followed, watching. He was fascinated. Most of his life had been lived on an axis that included Moscow, Kiev, and the Crimea. Now he was silent, watching the Udehe with interest.
At the hollow tree the Udehe stopped. Bending over, he peered into the opening and then disappeared inside. Some of the rotting wood on the inside of the trunk had been knocked down and lay on the earth inside the hollow. Rukovsky joined him.
"He here," the Udehe said, showing them places where the wood had been brushed or broken off. "Climb up there while people look for him."
Rukovsky swore and turning to Suvarov, he said, "You were right, Lieutenant. This man is elusive."
He ducked out of the opening and straightening up, brushed off bits of bark and wood. "Came right through us, did he? We shall see about that!"
He glanced at the Udehe. "That's a good man. Keep him around. We will need him."
He slapped his thigh with his gloves. "The question is, where did he go? Where is he now?"
"Colonel Zamatev is inclined to think the fugitive is trying to retrace the old route his people may have taken when they migrated over the Bering Strait to America, That would mean he's going northeast."
"It would, indeed." Rukovsky slapped his leg again. "But northeast of here is the Kolyma. A hard river to cross and well guarded. You say this man was a major in the American air force? Then he will be intelligent as well as a good woodsman. I suggest he went west."
"West, sir?"
"West, of course. The Kolyma is well guarded. If he goes further east he restricts his arc of movement. You say he is a man accustomed to the wilderness. Very well, he will go west. He will try to lose himself in the mountains."
"Do you suppose he knows our country that well?"
"We must suppose he does. One thing, Lieutenant, never underestimate an enemy!"
"I shall have to communicate with Colonel Zamatev."
"By all means!" Rukovsky agreed. "Tell him I am prepared to cooperate to the fullest. The man interests me, and I'd like to be present when he is taken."
Suvarov hesitated, and then tentatively he suggested, "There are others in the field, sir. Comrade Shepilov wants him also, wants him first."
"Shepilov?" Rukovsky's face was bland. "Of course! But Colonel Zamatev is GRU is he not? I have every admiration for Comrade Shepilov and wish him success, but we in the military, we must work together, must we not?"
Rukovsky looked toward the soldier; the Udehe was waiting. "Let's get that man seeking out the trail, Suvarov. He seems to be a good man on a trail."
"Yes, sir. Comrade Alekhin is in the field, too, sir."
"Alekhin? And where is he?"
"Nobody knows but Alekhin and perhaps Colonel Zamatev. He reports only to him, but I do know he is very anxious to be the one who takes the American. There is something personal between them."
"How could that be?"
Suvarov explained about the brief meeting shortly after the American was first taken.
At the car Colonel Rukovsky got out his maps. "Suvarov? Let's recall our men and transport them west. Let us make a base of Oymyakon." He folded the map. "He covers country, this American. How does he do it?"
"He is an Indian. Some of them are said to be great runners. The man was an athlete."
"Come, Lieutenant, let's move." He turned and glanced at Suvarov. "Let's make this an army operation, Lieutenant. I've flown over those mountains and know them a little. We will take him ourselves."
"Colonel Zamatev will appreciate your cooperation."
"He shall have it. This American of yours intrigues me. I'd like to take him." He paused, making room for Suvarov to get into the car. "Shepilov, is it? A very capable man, Lieutenant, but never very friendly to the army. Never friendly at all."

On a rocky point under some low-growing, wind-torn spruce, Joe Mack squatted on his heels looking down the valley. At the distance he could see very little, only that the soldiers were being recalled. He had seen the car, even heard it in the cold air.
An officer, probably, a commanding officer taking his men from the field.
Why?
He had eluded them. Had they discovered how? The Russians were good players of chess, and now they contemplated another move. There must be a reason for suddenly leaving the field. They would not be quitting the chase, so they must be changing direction. Had they guessed what he was attempting?
When he got where he was going, would they be there, waiting?