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"Scattered. I do not know where."
They were on the shore of the bay. She paused, looking back. Only the few
lights were visible.
"Yakov? Have you heard of him? Of Joe Mack?"
He chuckled. "Who has not? He's leading them a dance, I tell you. Has half of
official Siberia strung out, looking for him. One part is afraid the others
will find him first.
"He's off to the northeast now, and they are mustering men. I would go to help
him if I knew how, but he's doing enough by himself."
"Who are you, Yakov?"
"It is better you do not know. Let us say that I love Mother Russia but I do
not love her government. I do not like being tied to a certain piece of work.
I am a wanderer, a free soul, you might say. As you know I have helped people
escape from them. Perhaps I am one of the damned capitalists they talk about,
but I've no capital."
"But you're not alone?"
"Oh, no! There are others of us, but we keep out of sight. That little thing
just now. I do not like such things because they attract attention."
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He looked up the steep path. "You climb this often? With a pack?"
"My father has done it, but I do not wish it any longer. His heart is bad,
Yakov, although he believes I do not know it. He stops outside the door to
recover his breath before he comes in. If I had not come tonight, he would
have come in the morning."
They walked on, and then at the top of the trail and within sight of the cabin
she stopped again. "Yakov, we are going to try to leave the country."
Briefly, she explained, adding the story of Bocharev and his son.
"Bocharev?" He was surprised. "He is a good man, Natalya, and a strong man. He
can do it if he wishes. He can send you over the border. Not even Zamatev has
his power, or Shepilov." He nodded his head. "Yes, it is good that you should
go. That is why I am here."
"Why? Why are you here? What do you mean?"
"The order has been issued by Zamatev for your arrest yours and your fathers.
You cannot wait. You must go tonight."
Thirty-Two
Stephan Baronas got to his feet as they entered. His smile was warm as he
greeted Yakov. "Come! Sit by the fire! It is good to see you!"
"I am afraid there is little time for sitting, comrade. You are to be
arrested. You must leave this place at once."
"Leave it?"
"You have no choice. Zamatev has ordered your arrest. He is picking up all
those who had any contact with the American. You and your daughter are first
on the list."
Natalya was gathering their clothing into bundles, collecting what food they
had. The packs would be large, but the food would disappear quickly,
lightening their load.
She glanced at her father. How would he ever make it? Or would he? Over the
mountains in the dead of winter? At least he would not die in prison.
He must not die! He had too much to offer, he was too good a man, and he was
her father. He was all she had.
All? She thought of Joe Mack. Was there really anything there? Or was it all a
dream? An impossible dream?
What had passed between them? What had been said? What promised? She shook her
head, amazed at herself and at him. There had been nothing, really. Nothing
one could put a finger on and say this was the moment.
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There had been no words of love, no passionate clinging together, only a quiet
understanding, something rich and warm and beautiful. Somehow, from the moment
they met, there had been no doubt. She had not really considered it; she had
not thought about it or dreamed of it. Suddenly he was there and she knew.
Now, packing swiftly, she puzzled over it. What had he said? What had hedone ?
How had he aroused this feeling in her? She had always been a cool, sensible
sort, but this was a man on the run, a man of an alien people, even of a
different race.
He was an Indian, what had been considered a savage people. That, he said, was
true no longer of his people, but it was true of him.
Could he be savage? She thought of that and admitted it was more than
possible. How else could he exist out there in the wilderness? In the snow?
And now, with the terrible winter more than half gone, he was still alive,
still out there, still somehow avoiding capture.
She turned on Yakov. "Could it be morning? A few hours' sleep would prepare us
for it."
He shrugged. "The further you are away, the better. I can come with you but a
little way. I must not be found here, or found at all," he added, somewhat
grimly. "I can help you for a few miles, and then I must be away."
"Father? Get some sleep. We all must." She turned to Yakov. "Before daybreak,
then?"
He shrugged. "It is a risk."
Yakov built up the fire; then he took an AK-47 from his pack and checked it.
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