Both men laughed, feeling their tension evaporate with the almost certainty of a happy ending to their quest.
Buhrman stepped up and pounded on the side of the fuselage.
They waited. He pounded again. No response.
“How do you open these damn things?” Buhrman asked with a sidelong glance at Smolst.
“Do I look like I know anything about aircraft, Colonel?”
“No. Sadly enough you look as ignorant as I feel. Let’s try and figure this out.”
125
Over the Yukon River
“There are people down there!” Ivan shouted over the roar of the engine.
Georgi banked and brought the Sikorsky back around for another look.
Magda shouted, “He’s right! They’re waving at us!”
Georgi landed on the river and cut the engine.
Magda stared through the window at the fuselage of the P-61. From this angle she could see the closed, frosted cockpit and the lack of a body out on the ice. She burst into tears.
Georgi opened his door and shouted at the people on the ice.
“Who are you?”
“Colonel Buhrman, RCA, and Lieutenant Colonel Smolst, ARA.”
“What is ‘ARA’?” Georgi shouted back.
The helicopter blades ceased revolving and reduced the background noise.
“Alaska Republik Army!” shouted Colonel Buhrman.
“Is good, is good, no need to shout,” Georgi said.
“We’re trying to see if there’s a downed pilot inside this bird. Can you help us?”
“We are here to search for Lieutenant Colonel Yamato,” Georgi said.
“That’s who we’re looking for! Who are you people?”
Magda unhooked her harness and stepped up between the two pilots. “I’m Magda Haroldsson. Jerry Yamato is my fiancé. We flew in from Delta to help look for him. Is he still alive?”
“We don’t know, Miss Haroldsson. We think he’s still in there but we haven’t been able to rouse him.”
“Please, it’s Magda, Colonel Buhrman. Isn’t there a latch or something?”
“That’s what we were looking for when you folks showed up.”
Captain Georgi Fedorov emerged from the helicopter. “What kind of a plane was this?”
“P-61 Eureka,” Magda shouted over the sudden gust of wind. The snow striking her face felt like tiny slivers of glass and she pulled her parka hood up.
“I don’t know that kind of aircraft.” Georgi stared for a moment. “But it is much like a Yak. Therefore…” He moved close to the fuselage and ran his hand along the base of the canopy.
“Aha!” He pulled a handle and the canopy popped back a few inches.
Colonel Buhrman tried to climb up on the wing stump and the fuselage rolled toward him, pushed by the wind. He scrambled to keep on his feet.
“Well, damn!”
“Pull the canopy back,” Smolst yelled over the cutting wind.
Buhrman grabbed the canopy and jerked it aft. The wind caught it and ripped it free of the fuselage and whirled into the air over their heads. It disappeared in the blowing snow.
Jerry sat hunched over in the cockpit, completely covered by the wolf pelt parka.
Magda scrambled up to him and pulled the hood back.
“Jerry! Jerry, are you all right?”
He stirred as if deep in sleep. One eye cracked open.
“M-Magda? Is that really you?” He sounded weak and disoriented.
She felt tears well up. “Of course it is, you silly man!”
A long gust of wind blew a shower of snow crystals over them and Magda tried to cover his face.
Buhrman, Smolst, Georgi, and the two dog mushers all helped pull him free of the wrecked plane and carried him to the helicopter. Without stopping, they slid him into an insulated sleeping bag brought for that purpose.
“Can we go now?” Magda asked. “I want to marry this guy before he gets away from me again.”
“I feel warmer already,” Jerry mumbled deep in the sleeping bag.
126
Klahotsa on the Yukon
“So the whole idea is to shoot as many elected officials as possible when they are presented to the public?” Riordan asked.
“Exactly. Think about it. It would devastate everyone there. Chaos would reign. All it would take is a voice of authority to bring them into line.”
“And that would be you, right?”
“Who else, Mr. Riordan?”
“That’s Major Riordan, thank you.”
“Of course.”
“Even if they have no idea in hell as to who you are?”
“Won’t matter. Pass me the bottle, please.”
Riordan regarded the whisky bottle as if it were a relic.
“I think it may be empty,” he announced, and threw the bottle over his shoulder with force.
It smashed against something.
“Hell, I can fix that,” Bachmann said. He pulled himself out of his chair and staggered behind the bar. “Let’s have the good stuff. Nobody ever buys it anyway.”
“When do I get paid?” Riordan asked.
“For what?”
“For being the officer in charge of your troopers. Whattya think?”
Silence reigned and Riordan twisted around to peer at Bachmann on the other side of the store.
“But you got them all killed. Why should I pay you anything?”
Riordan suppressed the instant flash of rage. He willed it to evaporate like dew on a sunny morning. This was important.
“Who was in charge of this entire plan?” Riordan asked as nonchalantly as possible.
“Well, I was.”
“So whose orders did I follow to the letter, like it or not?”
“Mine?”
“Exactly. It was your plan that got them all killed, not mine.”
“But you led them—”
“Following your orders, doing exactly what you ordered and exactly when you ordered it!”
Silence drifted through the store.
“What did we agree on?”
“Two hundred fifty in gold,” Riordan said.
“Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.”
“Sure.”
As soon as he heard the office door close, Riordan leapt to his feet and hurried to the back of the store. He eased the door open and through the crack saw Bachmann opening a door built into the wall of the building.
I would have never found that.
He pulled out his pistol, opened the door, and stepped into the office.
Bachmann whirled about and yelled, “I told you to wait!”
“Too late,” Riordan said, and shot him through the head.
127
Over the Yukon River
“Colonel Buhrman,” Ivan said from the pilot’s seat, “there is a radio message for you.” He handed him the headset.
“Buhrman here, go ahead.”
They all could hear the crackle of the voice in the earphones but none of the words were intelligible.
“Does that tally with our body count? Okay. I’m sure Captain Fedorov told you we found Jerry. He’s cold but he’s alive. Thanks, Buhrman out.”
He handed the headset back and turned to the others.
“Our people have accounted for every one of the attackers except for Riordan and his buddy, N’go. The store at Klahotsa was empty except for the body of Bachmann. Someone shot him in the head at close range.”
“When thieves fall out…” Smolst muttered.
“But where the hell are they going to find shelter in this weather?” Buhrman asked.
128
Klahotsa