The blue-and-white Aeroflot A-321 came to a smooth stop at the arrivals terminal. Within seconds, the passengers and crew began to disembark from the plane. Grant and his people joined the steady stream of people heading for the baggage carousel.
“Ever have a feeling of déjà vu?” said Maclean to Grant as he watched the luggage drop onto the conveyor belt.
“Yeah, but thankfully, this was a relatively short flight,” replied Grant.
“I’m going to do some shopping,” said Kristina.
“Okay, but keep it legal this time,” replied Grant. “The last thing we need is the police on our backs.”
“Don’t worry,” said Kristina, flashing a platinum-colored credit card.
Elena waited until Kristina was gone. She shook her head. “You know that card has to be stolen.”
“I doubt there’s a single thing on her person that isn’t borrowed or stolen,” said Grant.
“Did the boss say how he knew this woman?” asked Maclean.
“No, he didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. All I care about is that she gets us what we need when we need it, so we can find Jeremy and get him home safely.”
“I don’t trust her,” said Elena.
“Unfortunately, she’s all we’ve got,” said Grant.
“I doubt she’s working for the Russian government,” mused Maclean. “I bet she’s a former agent who now does freelance work to pay the bills. Whatever the colonel has on her must be huge.”
“Perhaps,” said Grant. “I think Winston Churchill once said that Russia is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, and our new best friend is most certainly that.”
Kristina returned with a smile on her slender, pale face.
“I take it you got everything you were after?” said Grant.
“Da,” said Kristina. “I’ve rented us a brand-new Land Rover SUV. A driver’s been dispatched to bring it to the front of the terminal for us.”
“Nice,” said Maclean. “Can I drive?”
Kristina tossed Maclean a spare set of keys. “Sure, why not?”
“Any other news?” asked Grant.
“I’ve rented an AW-109 helicopter for the next few days, starting tomorrow at nine in the morning. And I’ve also secured us rooms at a Four-Star hotel near the airport.”
Elena raised a hand. “Folks, as the only civilian in the group, aren’t we being a bit overt? I thought our mission would be a little more covert in nature.”
“Ms. Leon, if you think your arrival in Russia hasn’t gone unnoticed, you’re fooling yourself,” said Kristina. “Everyone from the FSB on down will have taken notice of you.”
“FSB?” said Elena.
“The Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation,” explained Kristina.
“It’s kind of like our FBI,” added Grant.
“You’re here to find your friend, are you not?” asked Kristina.
“Yes,” said Elena.
“Then we have nothing to hide. The more in the open you are about your activities, the less the FSB will feel the need to keep you under surveillance.”
“What about you? Aren’t you bothered that the FSB is keeping tabs on us, and by extension, you?”
“No. I told them you were coming,” said Kristina dryly. “Now, shall we load up our bags and head to the hotel? I’m famished and could use a nice meal.”
Grant shook his head. Kristina—if that was her real name—was one cool customer. Nothing seemed to faze her. For the moment, Grant couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or not.
A light rain fell from the cloudy sky.
Grant, Maclean, and Elena waited inside the helicopter rental terminal while Kristina explained to the pilot and co-pilot the route she wished them to fly to Yaksha and back. The news that Gabrielle had gone missing added to the angst the group was already feeling.
Kristina joined her colleagues at a small table. “They were hesitant to fly in this weather, but a few thousand extra dollars helped them change their minds.”
“So, when do we leave?” asked Maclean.
“In about thirty minutes,” replied Kristina.
“Time for one more coffee.” Maclean stood. “Anyone?”
“No, thanks,” said Elena. “My bladder’s full already.”
“How long is the flight to Yaksha?” asked Grant.
“About an hour,” said Kristina. “I’ve called ahead and arranged for two vehicles to be waiting for us at the landing pad. The crash site is about twenty-five kilometers to the east of the village, so it shouldn’t take us long to get there.”
“Police?” said Elena.
“A sergeant will be there to guide us to and from the wreckage.”
“You think of everything,” said Grant.
Kristina smiled. “I try.”
The pilot slowed the AW-109 and lowered the landing gear.
Grant turned in his seat and looked out a side window as the helicopter came down to land inside a forest clearing. An old police car and a Russian Army Jeep that were both probably older than Grant waited on a side road.
The pilot brought the chopper smoothly down and switched off the engines.
The passenger-side door slid open. A police sergeant with a rumpled blue uniform waved at everyone. “Good day, I am Sergeant Dimitri Kulikov,” said the officer in passable English. “I have your vehicles ready for you.”
Grant unbuckled himself, jumped down onto the ground, and offered his hand in greeting. “Thanks for your help, Sergeant.”
“Think nothing of it,” said Kulikov, shanking Grant’s hand. “It gets me out of my office. I am sorry for the loss of your friend.”
“Were you the investigating officer?”
“No. A lieutenant flew in from Perm to conduct the investigation. Like now, all I did was provide him with transport.”
Convenient, thought Grant. He glanced over at the vehicles. “So, how do you want to do this?”
Kulikov ran a hand over his unshaven chin. “The two women can ride with me while you and your blond friend follow in the Jeep.”
Grant chuckled. “I thought you’d say that.”
“My God, that’s a Gaz-69,” said Maclean, eyeing the rust-covered Russian Army Jeep. “I bet it’s more than sixty years old.”
“Fifty-three, I think,” said Kulikov, “but it’s still running, and is the best vehicle I could find on such short notice.”
“Okay, let’s mount up and get going,” said Grant. “Next stop is the crash site.”
The first sign they were approaching the wreck was a piece of yellow barrier tape stretched across the narrow mountain trail. Kulikov got out of his car and pulled it aside so everyone could carry on.
“Damn,” said Maclean as the remains of the Mi-8 came into sight.
Grant leaned forward in his seat. If he hadn’t seen the shattered rotor blades lying on the ground, Grant would have had a hard time identifying what had crashed into the side of the mountain. The fuselage of the helicopter was a blackened jumble of twisted metal. The grass and trees around the debris had burnt to a cinder.
Maclean brought their Jeep to a halt behind Kulikov’s car and switched off the engine. Both men got out and stood there, staring at the wreck.
“My God, no wonder no one survived,” remarked Elena.
“You don’t mind if we take pictures, do you?” Grant asked the sergeant.
“No, of course not,” he replied. “Take as many as you want.”
Elena brought out her camera and started to take pictures.
Grant walked to where he believed the cockpit should have been but had a hard time telling if he was looking at the front or the back of the helicopter. “Looks like the chopper collapsed in on itself like an accordion when it smashed into the ground.”
“Yeah, sure looks that way,” said Maclean.
Kristina picked up a piece of flattened metal and showed it to Grant. “It must have burned at an incredible temperature to cause the outer skin of the helicopter to melt like this.”
“That’s why we had a hard time identifying the bodies,” said Kulikov. “Everything was charred beyond recognition.”
“Where are the remains now?” Grant asked.
“They were flown to Perm, where they’ll process the bodies before shipping them back home to Saint Petersburg.”
“And the wreckage?”
“A heavy-lift helicopter is coming here next week to pick up the wreck and take it to Perm as well.”
“Sergeant, the initial report said that the chopper was an hour into its flight when it went down. Is this correct?”
“That’s what I was told.”
“What are you thinking, boss?” asked Maclean.
“I’ll let you know later,” replied Grant.
Elena put her camera away and shuddered. “It’s like looking into someone’s grave. To think people died here is very sad.”
Kulikov removed his cap. “A terrible tragedy.”
“Well, I think I’ve seen enough,” announced Grant. “Let’s get these vehicles turned around and head back to the helicopter.”
After thanking Kulikov for his help, Grant boarded the chopper and took a seat in the passenger compartment. The pilot revved the engines and took off slowly before banking over and heading back the way they came.
“Do you have military maps of the local area?” Grant asked Kristina.
“No, but I can get some,” she replied.
“Please do.”
“I take it we’re going to expand the search?” said Maclean.
“Damn right, we are,” responded Grant. “Tomorrow morning, I’d like to fly an hour to the east of the wreck and see what we can find. If there’s a dig still ongoing, perhaps we can spot it from the air.”
“We may have to arrange for fuel along our route,” said Kristina. “These helicopters can fly for hours, but they go through fuel like it’s vodka.”
“Do what you must. Also, we may need some special supplies, if you follow my drift.”
Kristina looked at Elena. “What about Ms. Leon?”
“Comms gear, a Taser, and a collapsible baton should be fine for her,” said Grant. “The rest of us need to be prepared for the worst.”
“Do you honestly believe your friend is still alive?”
Grant nodded. “More than ever. That crash site was a sham. It was too perfect. Whoever set it up should have allowed for some of the bodies to be found outside of the wreck.”
“I’m with Dave,” said Maclean. “Jeremy’s alive.”
“Kristina, could you please find out all you can on Viktor Nazarov and his connection to the dig Professor Hayes was initially working on?” asked Elena. “Also, if possible, could you see what you can learn about a man called Ivan Nazarov and something called Operation Thunderbolt.”
“You’re expecting a lot from me,” protested Kristina. “Viktor Nazarov may be a billionaire, but he is a very private person. I’ll do my best, but don’t be surprised if I come back empty-handed.”
“I’m sure you won’t let us down.”
“How much time are you going to need to get everything we’ve asked for?” Grant asked Kristina.
“The supplies shouldn’t take me more than a couple of hours,” said Kristina. “As for the info on the Nazarovs, that could take me all night.”
“So be it. Let’s all meet for supper in the hotel restaurant at seven-thirty, and you can fill us in on how things are going.”
“Da,” replied Kristina.
Grant sat back in his seat and checked his watch. Flying to and from Perm was eating up too much time. But there was nothing he could do about it. He looked out the window at the lush, green forests, which reached all the way to the horizon. Grant knew the odds of finding Hayes were about as good as finding a needle in a haystack. Still, he had to try. To give in was not in his nature.
“Penny for your thoughts,” said Maclean to his friend.
“I was thinking about how hard it’s going to be to spot an archeological dig from the air through all of these trees,” replied Grant.
“Don’t think like that. If he’s out there, we’re going to find him. Trust me; tomorrow’s another day.”