Colonel Reed nodded.
“Why did you send us to Svalbard if you knew there was a deadly flu virus involved?” Anna asked the colonel.
“I didn’t know,” he said. “You’ve gotta believe me. I would’ve never sent Jake into harm’s way if I’d known that. Does he know that?”
They had discussed it some on the trip back from Svalbard, but Jake wasn’t sure. “Jake said that people can change for the good and the bad.” As she watched the colonel shake his head, she considered also how Jake had changed over the past years, especially in the past three months, and how he seemed to be changing again. Yet, he had stopped drinking. Then their last encounter flashed before her, how he had brusquely dismissed her at the airport in Sweden.
“I must talk with him,” Colonel Reed said. “Let him know we must talk. I can explain myself to him. Make him understand.”
Maybe he could.
“Are we done here?” Toni asked. She looked like she wanted to rip Anna’s head off.
“Yeah,” Anna muttered. “See you in a few hours.”
Toni and Colonel Reed left the room.
Kjersti came to Anna and put her arm around her. “You all right?”
Anna put her hand over her mouth. She wanted to throw up again, but willed herself to settle down.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“That was Jake’s ex?”
“Yeah.”
“She might have been pretty at one time,” Kjersti said, “but she just seems old and bitter now. You’re much hotter.”
A smile crossed Anna’s lips. “Thank you.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” Kjersti pulled Anna toward the door. “Let’s go find us some brutal weapons.”
28
Jake had gone to a sporting goods store, which wasn’t hard to find in Lillehammer, and he found some gear he needed. Then he went down to the lakefront and rented a boat with cash, with enough gas to let him run all day if necessary.
Now he chugged along in the sixteen-foot canoe, shoving the control arm from side to side to stay perpendicular to the foot-high waves. He couldn’t figure out how the wind was blowing so hard, yet the fog was still so thick, not allowing him to see very far ahead. But he had taken the GPS readings out at Petrova’s estate the night before, and an arrow was now pointing him in the right direction.
He had piled two backpacks of gear in the bow to offset his weight. The GPS had him at four hundred meters out, but that was only accurate to about thirty feet, since he had taken the reading about that distance from the water, back in the woods where the fence ran right into the water and was topped with buoys with warning signs to keep the hell away. Jake guessed the fence probably ran right around the front of the water.
Twisting the throttle, the electric trolling motor slowed. There wasn’t much noise even at full throttle, with the exception of the waves slapping the bow. He couldn’t have asked for better weather. The weather folks on the radio had said the fog would last until evening, and maybe beyond that. It could go on for days. That would make Petrova’s cameras less effective. But it wouldn’t stop the motion detectors or any kind of traps he might have for Jake. Not to mention the dogs. They didn’t give a crap about the fog.
GPS read one hundred meters. He slowed more and looked through his binoculars toward the shore. Couldn’t see that far. Damn that was thick.
Checking his watch, he saw he was behind his schedule. He had wanted to reach the estate by noon, but it was twelve-forty now. Still, he suspected Petrova wouldn’t guess he would make a run at him in daylight. Nor did the little troll have any idea today would be the day. But he would be looking over his little shoulder for Jake, he could bet on that. Had probably not only predicted the outcome, but orchestrated it himself like a series of chess moves. So why was Jake falling right into his trap? That’s what kept running through Jake’s mind. He could have just flown to Amsterdam and have a couple of the Alexandrite gems examined for quality and price. Then he would slowly feed them to a discreet contact, collect the money, and load up his retirement fund. After all, who really owned the gems? Jake had found them in a glacial wilderness with the dead body of his friend.
Peering through binoculars, the trees along the shoreline finally appeared, so Jake cut the motor and let the canoe glide. Quietly he picked up a paddle and feathered the stern to keep the canoe running straight. The waves were so high, though, he didn’t have to stroke once to reach shore — only J-stroke and rudder. He could hear a rubbing sound to his right.
Moments later the bow ran aground onto a patch of grass and tall weeds to the west of the rocky beach. Only now did Jake notice the dock to his right with a speed boat tied to it, the hull gently squeaking against rubber bumpers. He tilted the electric motor up and then worked his way to the bow, trying not to fall out of the canoe.
Once ashore, he quietly pulled the canoe into the weeds and then farther up into thick alder bushes. Satisfied the canoe was out of view, Jake slipped on one backpack and lifted the other from the canoe. Then he moved to the west a couple of steps, stopped, a couple steps more, stopped. He continued this pattern until he was fifty yards into the compound. So far so good. Unless Petrova had already detected him with silent motion sensors.
Suddenly he stopped. He didn’t know why. Looking down to his left, he saw a sensor. Motion. Without moving, his eyes roamed higher on the trees until he saw the flood light. The sensor would flick that light on, so he wasn’t busted yet. Pretty low tech, Victor.
Wait. He knew Jake would find that. It would make Jake move around to the right or left. Shit. Was he second guessing everything? Right, left or straight ahead? Think, Jake. What would he do?
The sensor was too obvious, he thought. Move straight ahead. Taking a deep breath, Jake stepped lightly forward and stopped again.
Wait a minute. Would Victor guess that Jake would guess that this was a ruse to get him to go right or left? Then when Jake moved forward the light would go on and set off an alarm inside. You little bastard.
Jake felt the 9mm automatic under his left arm and wanted to simply pull it and run toward the estate. Screw the damn alarms. Just move forward.
Stepping forward, Jake crossed the path of the motion sensor and stopped beyond its range, cringing, waiting for the light that didn’t come. But maybe the sensor still sent a silent alarm inside. Screw it, Jake. At this rate, he wouldn’t get inside until Christmas.
He cautiously moved forward through the thick underbrush that made the estate almost invisible from the lake or the road. Petrova really liked his privacy.
Finally, Jake came to the edge of the grass that led to the estate. Twenty yards of grass surrounded the huge three-story structure, built in the Georgian style, with tall columns rising two stories to a portico with metal-railed balconies on each window, with, Jake was sure, a splendid view of the lake on days not like this one.
How the hell was he going to cross the grass without being viewed? He sat down into the tall grass among the bushes to contemplate this conundrum.
As he watched in a daze, mostly from the lack of sleep over the past week, a man finally appeared around the right side of the main building. A little man, but Jake could see it wasn’t Victor Petrova. This guy was early thirties with spiked platinum hair, and looked like he pumped iron. He reminded Jake of a midget wrestler from the days before WWF or WWE. But this guy was different. He had an MP5 sub-machine gun strapped over his shoulder. Based on his trajectory, he would swing right in front of Jake. He had to move fast.
He left one bag there, camouflaged among the ferns, and scooted around to his left, making his way around the opposite perimeter of the house. Moving slowly, with purpose, he could now hear talking toward a garage structure. When another man, a near clone of the first, only with dark, curly hair, appeared around the edge of the garage, Jake stopped in his tracks and slowly sunk to the ground among the bushes. This little man would swing around and probably tag-team the other guy about halfway around the house. Jake couldn’t take out one without the other seeing him do so.