Before Bodecia could speak, Rudi stiffened to attention.
“I am Pelagian, and I am the ruler of this land on which you trespass.”
“You don’t fit the description.”
“My people protect me. I am described in many ways.”
“None of them mentioned your heavy Russian accent, but they did admire your mastery of five Athabascan dialects.” In Kuitch’an, Major Riordan asked who was the other man in the truck cab.
“You are wasting our time,” Bodecia put all her irritability into her voice. “I have two injured men here who must get medical attention soon. We don’t care who you are, just leave us be.”
Major Riordan said something to the nearest soldier, who immediately vanished into the willows and birch bordering both sides of the trail. The other soldiers continued to cover them with their weapons.
“Madam Bodecia, we care very much about who you are. Our intelligence discovered that you and your husband,” he pointed at Pelagian, “are well regarded locally, therefore you have great value.”
How did these strangers know so much about the area?
“Great value? You plan to kidnap us for ransom?”
“Crudely put, but essentially true. Please surrender the ignition key.” He held out his hand.
She glanced around at the leveled weapons; none had wavered. Bodecia looked up at him. “Russian military vehicles do not have ignition keys; only a button one pushes.”
“That’s true, I had forgotten. Please exit the vehicle.”
“My husband and our friend…”
“Will be cared for immediately.”
The soldier returned followed by five men, two of whom carried collapsible litters.
“What’s the problem, Major?” asked the oldest man in the group.
“We have two injured men, Doctor Revere. What are their injuries, Madam Bodecia?”
She spoke to the doctor, “A gunshot wound in the large man and internal injuries from a long fall in the other.”
The other four men opened the truck door and transferred Rudi onto one of the litters before reaching for Pelagian.
“Who shot him?” Major Riordan’s voice went crisp.
“Russian soldiers.”
“They caught you stealing this truck?”
Doctor Revere carefully removed Pelagian’s bandage and peered at the wound.
“No. I stole this truck because they had shot my husband and I needed to get him home.”
“How long ago was he wounded?” the doctor asked.
“This morning? Yesterday morning? It’s been at least eight to twelve hours ago. I know it’s infected.”
“Quite the opposite, I’m happy to say. Seems to be healing nicely.”
Bodecia pushed through the soldiers and looked for herself. The angry redness had mellowed to a scab-edged pink. She wondered what Rudi had been drinking the previous twelve hours.
“For the record, Madam Bodecia,” Major Riordan said behind her, “you and your two companions are my prisoners.”
“So you’re not really an army, you’re bandits?”
Color appeared high on his cheeks and his voice tightened. “We are the finest mercenary unit in all of North America, and we’re sure not worried by anyone south of Texas, either. You are possible enemy combatants and therefore a threat.”
“Two wounded men and an old woman?” She laughed in his face. “Take responsibility for your actions, Major. You’re really a bully and a thief.”
“Why are you trying to make me angry?” The tightness slowly leached out of his tone, and he focused on her.
“Because I don’t like you.”
His smile bordered on glacial. “I’m beginning to feel the same way about you.” Riordan motioned to a trooper who moved up next to Bodecia. “Corporal Burnett will see to your accommodations. If you cooperate there will be no problems, if you don’t cooperate, you will be the problem.”
“This way, ma’am,” Corporal Burnett said.
Bodecia followed him.
23
Tanana Aerodrome, Dená Republik
Grisha didn’t look down as he moved on crutches toward the aircraft. For an instant, his mind flashed back to the last plane on which he had left this place—they all looked alike to him. He increased his speed as he pressed forward.
“Grisha, please slow down,” Wing said in a low voice, “or I’ll trip you and have you carried in a litter.”
He immediately slowed. He harbored no doubt his wife and adjutant would do exactly as she said. A warm effusion of affection swelled through him and he knew he was a lucky man.
“Yes, Colonel,” he muttered over his shoulder.
“General Grigorievich, welcome to our flight.”
Grisha stopped and stared at the attractive young woman standing at the bottom of the ramp.
“Anita! How is your arm?”
“Thanks to you, it is just fine. It is so good to see you under happier circumstances, sir.”
“This is my wife, Colonel Wing Grigorievich. Wing, this is Anita; she and I have traveled together before.”
Wing smiled and took her hand. “Yes, I heard all about it. So pleased to meet you.”
“And you, Colonel! Now if you will both step this way.”
“Is this the same plane?” Grisha asked, looking around.
“Indeed it is, General.”
Grisha moved up the steps at a slow, but steady, pace. He could sense Wing behind him, ready to catch him if he fell. The leg was nearly healed, but he didn’t want to jeopardize it with undo stress before it fully knitted.
“I’m not an invalid!” he barked over his shoulder.
“That’s fine, Grisha,” Wing said, “because I’m not a nurse.”
He laughed despite himself. She was absolutely the best thing that had ever happened to him. Life without her was unimaginable, and at this point, would be unbearable.
He abruptly stopped on the second-to-last step. Wing immediately grabbed his right elbow. Grisha turned and kissed her astonished mouth. Then he moved into the aircraft.
“That was very unmilitary,” she said as harshly as she could.
“And very satisfying.” He grinned to himself and took a seat, the same one, he reflected, from which he had attended to Anita.
Wing slid past and dropped into the seat next to him. “Where are they taking us?”
“I give you points,” he said. “You’ve waited over fifty hours to ask that question.”
“You mean it wasn’t a military secret?”
“Not from you.”
She punched him in the arm with painful force. “You moose turd! I’ve been going crazy wondering what I should pack for us and you’ve known all along where we were going and could have told me!”
“I’m sorry,” he said instantly. “But I needed to know which came first: the adjutant or the wife. I treasure you on both counts, you know that.”
“So where the hell are we going, General?”
“To a former British Air Corps base in Puget Sound. There we will transfer to a Californian submarine which will deliver us to Angoon, Russian Amerika.”
“Aren’t the Californians and the US navies fighting the Japanese in those waters?”
“I need to tell my adjutant the answer to that?”
“At this moment, I’m a wife. So how much Japanese activity has there been in the area?”
“They’ve moved their focus south, a long way south. The RCN fleet is moving against them.”
“Good.” Wing glanced around. “Do you think the Tlingit Nation will ally themselves with us?”
“Militarily, without a doubt. Politically, I honestly don’t know. The Tlingits are an incredibly stratified society. The kwan leaders have been in power for a millennium.”
“Sounds promising,” Wing said in a flat tone. “So why are we wasting our time?”