Shouts of exclamation punctuated tramping feet and activity from the two men, and Marina experienced only a moment of reprieve before someone snatched her up again. He tossed her over his shoulder again with enough force that the edge of his shoulder knocked what little breath she had left out of her.
And he trotted along the path. Closer to the sound of waves splashing onto some shoreline.
Marina took a deep breath. Tried to focus. Paralysis threatened to seize her again, but she forced herself to drag in her breath, and send it out; drag it in, send it out.
And then the shift of her captor’s walking rhythm changed. She looked wildly around and saw him step up onto a metal stair that clanged under his shoes. A dock.
Then suddenly, she was falling … she stifled a scream and instinctively held her breath. Instead of a splash, she made a dull thud as she hit the ground, shoulder first. A fish-scented floor of rough plastic carpet scraped her cheek.
A series of thuds told her MacNeil had met the same fate, and in the dim light, she saw the lump of his foot next to her.
The low rumble of a motor broke the silence and a rocking motion told her they were about to set off in a boat.
The chill breeze became stronger as the boat set into motion, thumping over the waves. Her bare arms were cold and numb, and spray from the water splashed over the side of the boat and made the wind feel even colder.
Based on the cool temperatures and healthy waves, Marina assumed they were speeding over Lake Superior. And she had a terrible feeling that they were either going to be visiting the bottom of the lake, or their captors were taking them to Canada.
“Marina.” MacNeil’s voice barely reached her over the roar of the motor.
“Yeah.”
“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt. Nice try back there.”
Marina wanted to laugh at the irony of it. She hadn’t tried anything; that was pure self-preservation. But she wasn’t about to tell MacNeil that. “I’m fine. They’re probably taking us to Canada.”
They must have driven east from the motel where they’d been kidnapped—only four hours from L’Anse would have put them near Sault Sainte Marie, which was on the border of the US and Canada. Transferring them to a boat to go a short distance across Lake Superior would preclude them from having to go through Customs, despite the fact that it was one of the easiest border crossings in the world, and possibly allow them to dock at a private location in Canada.
Frightening how easy it was to take someone out of the country.
A shiver overtook her, and without warning, she was trembling violently on the wet floor. Her teeth clattered together and Marina tried to think of the hot sun, the white beaches of Grand Cayman, a roaring fire, a strong, warm body lined up next to hers … anything to push away the chill that seemed to permeate her body.
The ride was interminable, but it did, at last, end. The rumble of the motor slowed to a purr, the jouncing of the waves became less pronounced, and their captors began to move around.
The boat jolted against the dock, and suddenly the night air emptied of sound as the motor was cut.
A hand closed around one icy arm and yanked Marina to her feet. With a few slashes near her ankles, they were released from their bonds. Her captor shoved her forward and she stumbled on numb feet, falling once more to the rough ground.
He dragged her upright again with a mutter under his breath, but this time he waited until she got her balance before prodding her along.
She could see. The sun was beginning to glow at the edge of the earth and the black of night was giving away to the greys and blues of shapes and shadows.
They walked from the boat onto a wooden dock, then along a narrow path in a thickly-wooded forest. The silence was unnerving.
“What do you want?” Marina finally asked, pausing on the path. They hadn’t dumped their bodies in the lake, they hadn’t shot them or hurt them, so she figured she had a right to ask.
“Keep moving. We will talk soon.” An unfamiliar accent tinged the words of the man behind her.
“Where’s my father?”
“Keep moving. There will be time for talk later.” And this time, a flash of metal appeared in his hand.
Marina didn’t budge. Guns no longer frightened her. Much. “You can unmanacle me. Where am I going to go in the middle of the woods at night? And it’s easier to walk. I’ll be able to move more quickly.” She stood in the middle of the pathway, facing the man who wanted her to move along.
This was her first glimpse of his features, and despite the fact they were by moonlight, she could see well enough to recognize that he was not the same man who’d broken into her house. He was perhaps six feet tall, dark hair (the color was indeterminable in the low light) and an angrily grimacing mouth. His nose had a generous hump in on its bridge, and he was clean-shaven.
“Move.” He brandished the gun.
“Marina.” MacNeil’s voice from back along the path carried a note of warning.
Looking deep into the eyes of her captor with the humped nose, Marina scored her gaze into his. Something almost palpable crackled in the air, and she felt rather than saw his indecision. She felt as if she knew what he was thinking, and spoke instinctively. “My father will have their heads if they harm me.”
Those words surprised her nearly as much as they surprised the man in front of her, if the rapid blinking of his eyes and the blanch of his mouth was any indication. “Now why don’t you make this easier on all of us, and unlock my handcuffs. And his too.”
“There are bears and wolves here. You do not dare to run away,” her captor told her as if to excuse his compliance with her demands. “Bran.” He snapped his finger at the other man, who apparently went by the name of a cereal. His companion, who appeared to be as taken aback by the turn of events, urged MacNeil forward so that the group of four stood in a small circle on the pathway.
He dug in his pocket and withdrew a small ring of keys, and shortly MacNeil and Marina were uncuffed.
She’d probably have to answer just as many questions from MacNeil later as she would for her kidnappers.
“Thank you.”
With that, she turned to continue along the path, sensing that she’d pushed her advantage just as far as it needed to be pushed for the moment.
They walked for over an hour, Marina judged by the position of the waning moon and the faint lightening of the sky to her right. Her chilled skin warmed slightly from the hike, but by the time they reached the paved road that appeared in the middle of the forest, she had resorted to rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms in an effort to warm them. Even in the middle of summer, the temperatures rarely reached above eighty degrees. And most often fell to the forties or lower at night.
The paved road turned out to be not just a road, but a private runway … if the small plane on one end was any indication.
Marina slowed her pace as she realized they were headed for the Piper Mirage, and looked back to catch MacNeil’s eye. Damn. Taking them across the border into Canada wasn’t so bad; they couldn’t be more than a few hours from the US border. But factoring in a plane flight put a whole new spin on things.
“Keep moving or I’ll cuff you again,” growled Bran’s accomplice, whose name Marina had yet to learn. He carried a gun, and as emboldened as she’d been earlier, she wasn’t foolish enough to push his frayed nerves. She’d seen the panic in his eyes when she mentioned Dad.
So Marina led the way to the Mirage that sat like a gleaming white moth at one end of the runway. There wasn’t another building, plane, or hangar in sight. It was as if the plane and its private take-off path had been plopped down in the middle of a forest.
A private plane and its private air strip. Just dandy.
“Who’s going to fly that plane?” she asked, eyeing it with a combination of apprehension and enthusiasm.
“You are.”
-23-
July 9, 2007
Siberia
Lev’s frail hands shook as he faced Roman.
Only less than twenty-four hours ago, he’d confronted him about Viktor’s arrival. Now, he had been made aware of another incident of which Roman had again neglected to apprise him. He thrust his fingers into his lap to hide the emotion he needed to suppress.
“Is there nothing else you wish to tell me? No other reports? Nothing untoward that occurred during the test phase?” Lev was gratified to see the faint red that mottled his son’s forehead. Indeed, Roman would keep no secrets from him.
“There was one small mishap; an unexpected glitch at one of the test locations.”
“I am fully aware of the papers that were released with our—Gaia’s—mark on them. How did that occur?”
Roman’s throat constricted, quickly and then stopped as if stuck, then constricted again. Lev heard the friction in his son’s dry swallow. “I do not know. Varden first reported it to me; he managed to gather them up before they were noticed. Even pulled them out of the trash and destroyed them.”
Lev felt only a faint surprise that Roman did not ask how he knew of the problem. It was never prudent to rely on someone else for critical information; and much as he loved his son, Lev did not fully trust anyone, including his own flesh and blood. He’d learned the depth of betrayal from the one closest to him.
“And you did not intend to inform me of that occurrence? What right do you have to keep such information from me? It could have jeopardized our cause, Roman. You are not foolish enough to believe I would not want to know. And would not want you to locate and disable those responsible.”
“Varden collected all of the papers. No one gave them any attention; they were too busy pulling people out of the rubble to notice or care about the papers.”
“But if someone should recognize the mark of Gaia, Roman … .if someone should, then we will be in jeopardy. And that is not acceptable.”
“No, it is not. I should have told you, Father, but I hoped to spare you needless worry. Varden has assured me that no one has given any thought to the papers. He has been intimately involved in the rescue operations in order to ascertain what investigations are occurring.”