"L'Amour, Louis - Last_of_the_Breed40" - читать интересную книгу автора (L'Amour Louis)

"The pilot did you no harm," Joe Mack said. "Besides, he's a family man. Let them free themselves and find their way back. However," he added, "I've had some experience with these mountains. I would suggest the first things you do is build a fire and a windbreak. Then get settled for the night. It is too late to get anywhere today."
He circled once as they took off. The men were on their feet, struggling to free themselves. He turned the helicopter and headed off to the west; then, when some distance away, he circled back to the east.
"Where?" he asked Yakov.
"To the mountains east of Semychan," Yakov suggested. "I've a place there." He took up a map board. "Here, I can show you." He glanced up. "How are we on fuel?"
"No more than an hour's flying time. Perhaps less. I will take you as far as possible."
He kept the helicopter low, barely clearing the treetops, following canyons and low ground wherever possible. By now there would be pursuit, and when sighted they would be shot down without hesitation. But until they picked up the four men left behind, the pursuers would not know who was involved. And the KGB men would not know him, unless the description fitted one they already had. The braids might be a giveaway. Certainly it was unlikely that anybody else would be wearing such a hairstyle. Yet what could he do? There were no barbers in the taiga, and it had been nearly a year since he had had a haircut.
The air was clear, visibility excellent. He had left the Indigirka behind and was flying toward the Kolyma. When he landed the plane, it was in a small clearing among the trees. "We should chance it no further," he said. "They will be searching for us now. Let's camouflage the chopper. It will take them that much longer to find us."
There were, as in all such craft flying in the area, emergency rations. "We will give you half," Yakov said. "We have friends not far off where we can get more. Luck to you, comrade."
"And to you."
Yakov smiled widely. "You know, of course, that if we met in a war I should shoot you. I do not like our government very much, but I am a Russian."
"Of course," Joe Mack replied. "And I am an American. Let us hope it does not come to that. After all," he added, "we want nothing you have. Nothing but free travel and communication. There are millions of Americans who would like to see Lake Baikal and the Kamchatka Peninsula. If Russia would put the KGB to working on farms and doing something productive, tear down the Berlin Wall, and build more good hotels, we Americans would be all over your country spending money, making friends, seeing the beauties of Russia, and making ridiculous all that both countries are spending on munitions.
"If America had had any aggressive intentions against Russia, we could have moved when only America had the atomic bomb. We did not and would not, so don't worry about it, Yakov."
Yakov chuckled. "I like that bit about putting the KGB to work on farms. I doubt if they could raise enough to feed themselves." He lifted a hand. "Good-bye, then!"
He walked away, followed by Botev and Borowsky. Joe Mack waited a while, watching them go, glancing again at the now-camouflaged helicopter. It would be found, but not soon.
He added the additional rations to his pack, arranged his goatskin coat, and started off to the north.
Nothing moved but the wind. The coarse snow stirred along the frozen ground. Spring was coming, but the earth did not yet know it, holding itself back, waiting for some of the frost to go out of the sleeping earth.
Spring was coming and after it, the brief summer. It would be good to be warm again. He had almost forgotten how it would feel.
Where was Natalya now? Would he ever see her again? Ever hold her hands in his and look again into her eyes? Or had she forgotten already? He could not blame her. After all, who was he? A strange young man who came from the forest and disappeared again into that strange forest. A man whose path had crossed hers briefly and who must now seem like a dream. He grinned into the late afternoon. "Or a nightmare," he said aloud.
There was still forest, although the trees were not as tall, the undergrowth less, and there was more moss, lichens, and tundra. Soon he would run out of cover and would have to seek out other ways in which to hide himself.
In the thickest patch he could find, he built a crude shelter, started a fire with his two pieces of iron pyrite, and made a thick broth as well as tea. The helicopter flight had probably given him a little respite. Even Alekhin would have trouble picking up his trail now.
Twice during the day he had seen the tracks of moose and decided it would be good to kill one and save as much meat as possible. In this cold, it was no problem to keep meat. It froze solid almost as soon as it was killed. Tomorrow he would kill a moose. Tomorrow--

Arkady Zamatev looked across his desk at the Yakut. "Why have you not found him?" he demanded. "Has he outwitted you again?"
"I do not have to follow him. I know where he is going. I shall be there."
"Where now?"
"I go to Gizhiga. There I go inland. He will come that way, and I shall take him."
"So you said before."
"And I shall." Alekhin shrugged impatiently. "Those others, they get in the way." He smirked, his sullen eyes showing his contempt. "He made a fool of Colonel Rukovsky. He destroyed him. Ruined him. How does he explain losing so many men, and nothing to show for it? Rukovsky was a fool to get involved. It was not necessary, and I was there. I would have had him then but that they muddied the waters. I knew where he was."
"And you did not tell?"
"To let Rukovsky or Shepilov get credit for capturing him? He cost Rukovsky twenty-nine men, and Rukovsky must explain."
"The American had nothing to do with the slide."
"You say. I say he knew where he hid. He knew how they must search, and he prepared some traps and led them to others. Of course he knew. He planned it that way.
"What of the fire that destroyed so much equipment? The American started that fire. What of the traps along the trail that killed or injured men? He prepared those, too. He is no fool, this American, but I shall have him now."
He looked up slyly from under his brows. "You still want him alive? It would be easier to kill him."
"I must have him alive. I need three to five days alone with him. He will tell me all I wish to know,"
"He will tell you nothing. Nothing at all. By now you should know this. You may kill him, but he will tell you nothing. He is not afraid of pain, this one. He knows what he can do."
Zamatev shook his head. "Bring him here. That is all I ask."
"He was one of those who delivered Yakov."
Zamatev sat up sharply. "You know this? Why was I not told?"
"I tell you now."
Zamatev swore. "Then he has Russians helping him! I want them rounded up, brought in, every one of them!"
Alekhin looked at his thick fingers with their broken nails, and then he looked up from under his brows. "Be careful, comrade. He has destroyed Rukovsky, this one. Be sure he does not destroy you."
Zamatev snorted angrily. "Destroy me? That is ridiculous!"
Alekhin looked out of the window. "He will destroy you," he said contemptuously, "and then he will return and kill you."
"Bah!" Zamatev said impatiently. "How could he reach me? If he is anxious to kill me, why has he not tried?"
"First," Alekhin said, "he wishes to escape. But to escape is not enough. He escapes to make light of you. Then he wishes to beat you at your own game."
"That's childish! That's nonsense! Why should he care? Anyway, how could you know this?"
"He is Indian. I am Yakut. He is not like you. He is like me. He knows how to hate, this one. He knows how to win. He will make a fool of you, destroy you, and then he will come back."
"Come back to Siberia? You are insane! He cannot escape, but if he should, why would he come back?"
"To kill you," Alekhin repeated. "He has pride, this one. He does not ask reward. He does not care if his government knows. He does not care if Russia knows. It is only important that he knows." Alekhin smiled, and it was not a good smile. "And that you know. When he kills you, you will know he is doing it."