“What did you do?” Sam asked.
“I took the money and fled to Moscow. I hid most of the money, but spent enough to get an education. As it turned out, I had a strong ability in mathematics and the sciences. I studied geology and that led to my interest in volcanoes.”
Sam smiled at the revelation. “Why did you study geology of all things?”
“Because I was angry at Botkin. I was certain he’d lied to me about how my father had died, and that the money was his way of offloading some guilt — although at the time I had no idea about what.”
“So, you studied geology?”
“I was angry. In the course of a single week I’d lost my entire family. We weren’t local to Oymyakon. My father had moved us there only the year before to be closer to work, but we were outsiders and never really belonged within the close-knit community.”
“And you wanted revenge?”
“Yes. Stupidly, I assumed that if I became a leading geologist I could ruin Botkin.”
“You planned your revenge nearly a lifetime ago?”
“Sure. It was a crazy idea and by the time I finished my first degree and then moved to the U.S. to study my doctorate at Harvard I’d lost all interest in revenge and turned my efforts toward volcanology.”
The helicopter banked to the left, dipped its nose and ran along the Yana River. “What changed?”
Demyan sighed, as though serendipity was hard to swallow. “I watched the BBC.”
“Come again?”
“About ten years ago the BBC did a program on the Batagaika Crater, a tadpole shaped thermokarsk of melting permafrost in eastern Siberia, for the Discovery Channel. In the recording there were a few people from one of the local villages, searching the base of the crater searching for ice-age fossils to sell to interested archeologists. It was extremely dangerous work because of the constantly shifting and collapsing nature of the landscape. As it was, I happened to spot my father among the scavenges.”
Sam’s lips curled in an upward and incredulous smile. “You recognized him from a nature show?”
“Yeah. I had to contact the network and buy a copy just to get a better look, but it was definitely my father.”
“What did you do?”
“I flew out meet him straight away.”
“How did that go?” Sam asked, intrigued.
“He was in complete denial. He didn’t recognize me. Told me his sons had died years ago.”
“That must have been hard.”
“Yeah, it was devastating. I kept coming back to the Batagaika Crater to talk to my father. Some days he would talk, other times he would ignore me completely. Sometimes he would assume I was the ghost of his lost son and he would tell me things. That’s how I learned about the colony and what Leo Botkin had done.”
“I bet that stirred up some old wounds.”
“Yes. The desire for revenge raged like it had never done before. I thought about killing Botkin, but it was too easy. Instead, I needed him to suffer. I needed to ruin him. I needed to bankrupt him until he was destitute living on the street. Then and only then would I come to him, and let him know that I was the cause of all of his misfortune.”
“How did you set about doing that?” Sam asked with genuine curiosity.
“I studied with a man who worked on high frequency microwaves for the HAARP project. Have you heard of it?”
Sam nodded. “The High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program was initiated as an ionospheric research grant to investigate the potential for developing ionospheric enhancement technology for radio communications and surveillance.” He grinned. “But the conspiracy theorists all assumed it was related to mind and weather control.”
Demyan nodded. “Right. Mind control through microwaves was nothing more than science fiction, but weather control was conceivably possible — if the UN hadn’t expressly sanctioned against such research.”
“I was told some of the intellectual property was sold,” Sam said.
“And I was the one who bought it.”
“Why?”
“My friend failed because he lost funding for his specific research at HAARP. Out of a job, he approached me for another possibility. I used my knowledge of geology and high pressures alongside his microwave technologies to produce high quality, undetectable, synthetic diamonds.”
The Ka-32A11BC helicopter circled a small village. Its pilot picked out a landing site, hovered, and gently set down on a small field of frozen soil. The pilots switched the engines off, and the alternating rotor blades began to slow.
“It was you that set about to crash the diamond markets?” Sam asked.
“Yes.”
“And destroyed Botkin’s property?”
“Yes. He’s been suffering a long run of bad luck for nearly two years now. But he’s always been protected. He’s too big, to rich, and too well insured for me to cause any lasting damage — until now.”
“Until now,” Sam repeated. “If we do this, it will destroy everything Leo Botkin has worked on for more than twenty years!”
Chapter Sixty-One
Sam followed Demyan along the unsealed road into the village of Ese-Khayya and up to a log-piled house at the edge of a gently sloping hill. It was dark and both needed flashlights just to follow the road. The darkness was less unusual in this part of the world, given that it was early winter.
Demyan knocked loudly several times until a man came to the door. A combination of urine, feces and continuous rot wafted from inside. The stranger was unkept and obviously malnourished. He walked with a significant limp, due to what appeared to be a once massively crushed lower leg.
“Sam Reilly, meet my dad, Anotoly Yezhov.”
Sam offered his outstretched hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
Yezhov rejected it. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“He’s a friend and he needs your help.”
“I don’t have any help to give anyone.” Yezhov threw his hands downward, in frustration. “Can’t you see, I can’t even look after myself!”
Demyan glanced at the putrid mess from inside the house. “I thought I told you to get some help?”
The old man held his palm outward in a placating gesture. “With what? I’ve got no money!”
“Dad!” Demyan shook his head. “I gave you one of the best diamonds in the world what did you do with it?”
Through heavily aged creases, Yezhov studied Demyan. “That was you, was it?”
“Yes. What did you do with the diamond? That was supposed to let you live out your old age in comfort and peace. Away from all this cold and hardship.”
“I gave it away.”
“You gave it away?” Demyan sighed heavily. “Dad, that was a hundred-million-dollar diamond!”
“I didn’t want it.”
“But you can’t live like this.”
“Did you ever stop and question if maybe I liked the cold and all this hardship. I deserve it, you know. I might as well have killed my entire family.”
“No, you didn’t dad. You were just trying to do what you could to provide for your family. That was all. I’m still alive.”
Yezhov studied Demyan’s face. “Your eyes are the same. I’ll give you that. But you’re not the same man I left all those years ago. Demyan’s dead. He drowned in Boot Lake along with his brother, and there’s nothing I can do about that except repent. You want to help me? Let’s have a drink.”
Demyan nodded and followed him inside. This was where he’d gotten to a hundred times since he’d found his father still alive. He would have intermittent periods of lucidity, followed by the utter gibberish of a confused old man. But when they drank vodka, his father would treat him as a drinking buddy and no longer a stranger. His dad had always been an alcoholic. Even in Oymyakon, their family were outcasts, because of the violent way his father became when he started drinking — and he drank every day.