‘You can wait here if you prefer,’ he called out to Lydia.
‘No.’
‘Then get in.’
She scrambled up beside him on the front bench and Igor jumped up after her. Alexei kicked the truck into gear.
49
‘Relax, Lydia, enjoy the ride.’ He gripped the steering wheel as it almost jolted out of his hands and the truck bounced its way across a narrow ditch, making Igor grunt.
‘Don’t they have guards on patrol?’ Lydia demanded. ‘Snipers in the trees?’
‘Of course. That’s why we’re in an army truck. No one will take any notice of it.’
‘And what happens when we get there?’
‘We’re not driving up to the front door and knocking on it politely, if that’s what you mean. Don’t worry.’
‘I am worried.’
Alexei glanced at his sister’s face. This wasn’t the Lydia he’d travelled halfway across Russia with. That Lydia would have been brimming with excitement.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked quietly.
‘Chyort! What do you think is the matter with me?’ She blinked hard and stared ahead through the windscreen. ‘It’s this insane driving.’
‘You said you wanted to see the layout of where Jens Friis is working?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then hold on tight.’
At that moment he swung the heavy wheel, both arms working hard, and abandoned the gravelled track.
‘This way,’ Igor indicated off to the right.
The side window was caught by a low branch and Lydia flinched at the crack it made. She was jumpy as hell. For half a mile Alexei concentrated on nothing but wrestling the damn truck through the trees, avoiding gulleys and mounds of packed snow that formed traps which wouldn’t melt till spring.
‘What’s the matter, Lydia?’ he asked again when he struck a stretch where the terrain grew smoother.
Her hands were huddled like little corpses in her lap, unmoving and stiff. ‘Let’s focus on our father,’ she murmured in a low voice. ‘And this crazy ride.’
‘If that’s what you want.’
‘It is.’
‘Are you all right? Has something happened?’
‘I’m fine.’
One of her gloved hands crept off her lap and settled in the valley between his thigh and hers. It curled up there as if needing warmth. He stamped on the brake pedal to avoid a jagged stump and jinked the truck so its wheels slid into a sideways skid. One wing brushed along the length of a bough that was draped in icicles and gave off a noise like the rattle of buckshot.
‘Alexei, do you have any idea where the hell we’re going?’
For a split second their eyes met and he knew she wasn’t talking about the forest.
‘How about to the top of the tree?’
She smiled.
He looked away quickly and just missed crunching into a blackened pine trunk.
‘Is this it?’
‘Yes. This is as far as we go, the rest is on foot.’ Alexei was pushing to move on fast.
They clambered out of the truck, the air bone-white with a mist that twisted in and out of the trees like beckoning fingers. Igor threw a canvas pack on his back.
‘It’s just up ahead,’ he said.
They moved off in single file, keeping close to the dark trunks. In this mist it would be easy to lose touch. The remnants of the snow were heaped into hunched shapes by the wind, and underfoot the cracking of brittle pine needles betrayed their movements. Alexei slipped the gun out of his pocket.
‘Sentries?’ Lydia whispered.
He nodded. ‘They patrol the forest in pairs. But the guards are cold and bored and after months of tedium they expect to find nothing, so they pay scant attention to what is in the forest. They spend more time patrolling the complex itself.’
‘Alexei, why did Maksim come? It’s a bitterly cold day and he looks ill. Even back there in the car it could be dangerous for him if he’s found and questioned. It wasn’t necessary.’
‘Yes, it was. To remind his vory who is their pakhan.’
‘To remind the thieves? Or to remind you?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes.’
It wasn’t a question he chose to answer. Instead he silenced her by placing a finger to his lips, so that they crept forward more cautiously, Lydia right on his heel. Igor watched the rear. The forest ended abruptly, switching within the space of ten paces from its own private twilight to an open expanse of slippery white sky. An area the size of a village had been flattened within the heart of the forest; an efficient clearing of timber had carved out a rectangle which was hidden from view by a brick wall erected around its perimeter. Ten metres high and topped with razor wire, while around its base more strands coiled like a sleeping, spiny serpent.
‘Not very welcoming,’ Lydia whispered in Alexei’s ear.
He grimaced. ‘It’s not meant to be.’
‘So how do we get in?’
‘We don’t.’
‘I thought we were here to observe the complex they’ve built. That’s what you said.’
‘That’s right.’
‘But the wall hides it all from view. I can’t see anything.’
He leaned back against one of the pine trunks, merging his silhouette with its rough bark. ‘You will,’ he promised.
‘Time to go, Lydia.’
Alexei looked up. His sister was still peering intently through Zeiss binoculars high up in one of the pine trees, a good fifteen metres off the ground. She looked small up there in the shadows of the canopy, and he could tell by the concentration on her face how much she wanted to stay.
‘ Lydia,’ he said quietly, aware of how sound carried in the heavy damp air.
She removed the binoculars with reluctance. ‘Bring me down.’
Igor played out the rope and dropped her down from her perch so fast that Alexei was surprised her legs didn’t break as she hit the ground. She handed the binoculars back to Igor.
‘Spasibo,’ was all she said.
She’d been surprised by Igor. By the way he’d looped a strap of leather between his ankles and around one of the narrow trees that was set back from the forest’s edge. Using the foot strap and another one between his wrists, he shinned up the trunk as fast as a polecat, his plump stocky legs pumping away with unexpected strength. Lydia had watched, mouth open, astonished. Alexei had smiled. He’d seen it before in the streets of Moscow at night. That’s how Igor scaled the drainpipes of apartment houses. Once up in the canopy he’d hooked a rope from his backpack over a branch and rigged up a sling on a simple pulley. So now Lydia had seen over the wall, exactly as Alexei had promised.
‘It’s a hangar,’ she said, keeping her voice low.
‘A massive one.’
‘What’s in it?’ Her eyes were huge, shining with the excitement he’d expected to find earlier. This was more like Lydia. ‘And what do you think all the sheds are for?’
‘The sheds are for storage of equipment. We’ve watched them haul machinery on trolleys over to the hangar.’
‘There are some big containers outside it. What are they?’
‘They look like petrol tanks to me. And the brick shed over to the right is the guard house.’
She nodded, her hat tumbling off. She jammed it back on. ‘I spotted that, the soldiers coming and going in and out of it. Dogs as well.’
‘It’s an interesting complex they’ve constructed here. A vast expanse of open space sliced out of a forest and walled in for secrecy. What the hell are they up to in there?’
‘A new kind of aeroplane?’
‘Maybe. But Jens is not-’
Her fingers gripped his wrist so hard they seemed to drill into the nerves, but he barely noticed. Her face was as white as the mist that draped itself over her shoulders.
‘I saw him,’ she whispered.
‘What?’
‘I saw Papa.’
‘No, Lydia, Jens would be inside working. They wouldn’t be allowed to wander around at will. And anyway,’ he gave a small snort of impatience, ‘you’d be unlikely to recognise him after all these years.’