“Why the hell didn’t Jake tell us?” Toni demanded.
“Jake doesn’t even know you’re involved,” Anna explained.
“I didn’t mean me personally.” Toni had become extremely defensive, as if she had been not only deceived as she had, but not deemed trustworthy. “The two of you knew this in Oslo. You knew this and we still raided Victor Petrova’s estate. Who else knows?”
“Other than Petrova and his men,” Anna said, “just Jake. As far as we know. We’re guessing Petrova had anyone in Russia who knew either killed or shipped off to Siberia. Regardless, they’re probably dead by now.”
Toni took a deep breath, calming herself. “All right. It doesn’t matter. If Petrova gets the gems he can buy all the weapons he needs.”
“That’s what Jake thought,” Anna said.
“Does anyone have any idea where Jake would stash those gems?” Toni asked.
Kjersti pulled a small map from her pocket and unfolded it. “There are only a couple roads between Falun or Mora, Sweden and Hamar. This is the best route.” She pointed to a remote highway.
“That’s a long stretch of road,” Toni complained.
Anna thought for a moment. “Are you familiar with GPS games?” she asked. Nobody answered so she continued, “In the past year Jake and I have done some geo-dashing and geo-caching.”
“What the hell is that?” Toni asked.
Colonel Reed spoke up. “I’ve heard of geo-caching. You get a GPS coordinate and the first person or team to get there wins…something. But what’s geo-dashing?”
Anna got onto her cell phone and asked for a pen and paper. Kjersti handed them to her. Anna smiled and scribbled a series of numbers onto the paper. Then she hung up. “Geo-dashing is usually done by placing GPS receivers somewhere, and then the first to get to various dash-points or waypoints wins. Jake and I do it once in a while in Austria and Switzerland. The waypoints can be out in the middle of the forest or in a trash dumpster in a city.”
“What did you get on the phone?” Kjersti asked Anna.
“I started thinking. Once in a while Jake would leave me a message on my machine with a GPS waypoint and have me meet him there. It usually resulted in…sex.” She glanced embarrassedly at Toni.
“He left you a message?” Toni asked her.
“Yeah.” She smiled. “But it’s coded. He probably didn’t trust that Victor Petrova wouldn’t find the message.” She looked at the numbers and converted those quickly to other numbers. “Here we go. Got a location.”
“All right,” Kjersti yelled. “Let’s punch that into my GPS and rock and roll.”
The four of them hurried into the chopper and strapped in. As the rotors started to spin faster, Anna punched in the GPS coordinates. Now they had a direction, but would they get there in time?
34
Jake had plenty of time to consider how he wanted to play this. After all, he knew that Petrova would keep him alive to get his gems back. Jake even guessed how many men Petrova would bring with him for insurance, and he had only been off by a couple men. He didn’t think most of the crew would be dwarfs, trolls and other such little people. Regardless, they were probably all pawns to Petrova. Yeah, Jake had thought this through from the moment he found the box in Svalbard. Well, not exactly. At that time he thought the contents were the deadly flu virus. In that case he would have turned the box over to the U.S. Army scientists, tell Petrova he still had it, and meet in a remote location to isolate him.
This location was Jake’s turf, even though he had only been there once before. He knew the northern forests. Understood them much more than he understood urban areas. His turf. Petrova couldn’t manipulate the situation to his own favor. He’d try, Jake knew.
They had driven toward the Swedish border and turned down the remote road heading north. Jake sure as hell didn’t need a GPS to find where he had stopped the car on the side of the road and buried…
“Pull over here,” Jake said. They were a quarter mile from the real location.
The driver pulled to the edge of the road and Jake turned to see the car behind them pulled in behind them. The forest came right up to the edge of the road, with large trees surrounded by thick alders and huge boulders dispersed among them. The ground was spongy moss with pot-holes of water. A little stream meandered through the lower areas.
“This is it,” Petrova said excitedly, scampering out of the car.
The driver got out and opened the door for Jake, who stepped out onto the road. By now the others from the second car were also on the road.
The numbers ran through Jake’s mind. Number of men. His GPS location. Number of seconds it would take them to react. Numbers.
“All right,” Petrova said. “As we discussed on the way, there will be no funny stuff. No playing around. Oh, it’s here. No, it’s here. I thought for sure I put it here. None of that crap.”
“May I at least have my GPS?” Jake asked.
The little man who had Jake’s backpack looked to Petrova for guidance. Petrova nodded, so the spike-haired little guy found the GPS and handed it to Jake.
Jake turned on his GPS and punched in a series of numbers. “Here we go.” Jake started walking, when he heard the guns click rounds into their chambers. He stopped and turned slowly, finding them all pointing their guns at him. He looked at the GPS and said, “I’m only picking up around five satellites, making this accurate to around fifty feet. That’s a lot of forest to dig up.”
Victor Petrova lowered the guns of two of his closest men. “I’ll hold the GPS,” he said, and he took it from Jake.
So far so good, Jake thought.
“This way,” Petrova said, pointing down the road.
There were two big Swedes, three little people, four counting Petrova, and Jake. Six to one. Time to even the odds somewhat. Twisting to his right, Jake planted his foot in the knee of the closest Swede, heard a snap, and didn’t wait for the man to hit the ground screaming in pain. Jake had timed his kick just as they were passing a grove of large trees, which he rushed into now. The first couple of bullets hit the trees near his head as Jake weaved behind a huge spruce.
Petrova yelled at his men not to fire. They still needed Jake alive.
Jake ran as fast as he could through the thick underbrush, jumped the little stream, and turned to the north to run parallel with the road — though he couldn’t see anything through the forest. He jumped rocks and fallen trees and kept on running. His only problem was being on the wrong side of the road for what he had planned.
He vectored back toward the road, his pace slowing now to keep down the noise of his progress. He had to believe the other Swede had been sent after him. Petrova’s little men would have a hard time negotiating the forest. They would travel down the road. Jake had to beat them to his spot.
As Jake got closer to the road, he could see a pair of the little men about a hundred yards back. Petrova had probably sent two one way and the other in the opposite direction. He would remain by the cars, just in case Jake swung back around. But Jake had stopped here for a reason. The road curved to the right here. So at least Petrova would not see him cross. His men might, though.
Hesitating on the edge of the forest, catching his breath, Jake knew he had to make his break now. Mustering strength, Jake rushed across the road as fast as he could run. Bullets rattled onto the road at his feet, but he didn’t stop. He hit the other side of the road at full speed and flew through the underbrush.
The next thing he knew, he was on his face in a soggy hole. He had hit a deadfall on his shins, the pain shooting up his legs. Willing himself to his feet, he limped ahead, pain throbbing at both shins.