The Boy from Reactor 4

By “Imaqliq,” he must have meant the Russian Island, Big Diomede. By “Ignaluk,” he must have meant Little Diomede. Five kilometers was a little more than two miles. Big Diomede was in the way, but the fog would protect them. The Russians had no reason to know Nadia and Adam were coming anyway. The lookout would never see them.

Nadia pulled out her compass and looked at the Chukchi. “Where is Big Diomede?”

The Chukchi frowned.

“Imaqliq. Where is Imaqliq?”

The Chukchi turned and pointed forward into the fog at a forty-five-degree angle to the right. “That way,” he whispered. “Close. Real close, though.” He pointed to Nadia’s compass. “Fog lift soon. You see Imaqliq and Ignaluk. Beach on Ignaluk on west side. Remember, though. West side.”

Nadia and Adam stepped carefully out of the boat onto a massive sheet of ice. The boy was no longer sullen. He was oddly cautious, looking to step where she’d stepped. The Chukchi tossed them their bags and two pairs of webbed rubber spikes. Nadia and Adam stretched the rubbers and slipped them over their boots for traction.

“Russian side—sea is warm. Chukchi warm. Many pieces ice,” the Chukchi said. “American side island—sea is cold. America cold. Big ice, though. Travel good, other side. Tell cousin said hello.”

“Cousin?” Nadia said.

The Chukchi didn’t answer. He and his partner turned their boat around and disappeared into the thick white clouds.

Nadia helped Adam with his backpack and other bag, and he did the same for her. She studied the compass and pointed south with her arm. They took three steps and stopped.

A strange mechanical noise sounded above them. Nadia looked up into the fog. It sounded shrill, like a motor, grew louder as it approached, and became deafening. Adam squatted to the ice out of sheer instinct, as though he feared they were about to be bombed. Nadia stood tall, to appear brave for the boy, but when the noise got even louder, she bent down beside him.

Under her breath, so that Adam couldn’t hear, she began a constant rotation of Hail Marys. Halfway through her third round, she realized she was squeezing Adam’s arm tightly. She pulled her hand away, repulsed she might have shown weakness. If this was going to be the end for her, so be it.

But she’d be damned if she went out any way other than fighting.

CHAPTER 70

KIRILO RACED DOWN the stairs behind Major General Yashko and the soldier who’d met them at the heliport toward the observation room at Gvozdev. He could hear Victor and Deputy Director Krylov trying to keep up behind them.

“I have a helicopter, my friend,” Kirilo said, “but I’ve never been on a flight like that before.”

“That is the Bering Strait,” Major General Yashko said.

Krylov staggered in behind them, looking like a sweaty piece of moldy cheese. Victor looked a bit winded but otherwise unaffected, like the immortal bitch that he was.

Another military officer introduced himself as a colonel and the commander of the island.

“Are your men in position?” Major General Yashko said.

“They are leaving the garrison as we speak,” the colonel said.

“And the helicopters? Why are your helicopters not in the air?”

The colonel appeared flustered. “Why… We agreed to wait… to allow you safe landing… prevent a collision.”

Major General Yashko slammed his fist on a table. “Well, I’ve landed, dammit. Why are they not in the air?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We prefer them alive rather than dead,” Kirilo said, “but above all, Colonel, we must have the bodies and their possessions. Don’t let them drown. Do we understand each other, Colonel?”

The colonel appraised Kirilo hesitantly, reluctant to take orders from a man in a suit. Yet he couldn’t disobey someone powerful enough to be on Gvozdev right now. He turned to Major General Yashko for guidance.

“Don’t even let them get wet,” Yashko added.

CHAPTER 71

THE NOISE IN the air stopped abruptly.

The small hard-rubber spikes gripped the ice well and provided excellent traction. Nadia and Adam scampered twenty feet forward before they had to make their first jump. Although the gap was only two feet wide, the leap still unnerved her.

The water deep below was hypnotic. It lapped the edges of both blocks of ice and reminded Nadia of harsh reality. She was standing on the Bering Strait, halfway between Russia and the USA, nothing but the principle of freezing keeping her from the bottom of the sea. No one had told her there would be gaps in the ice. The strait was supposed to be frozen. This was not the plan.

The second jump came thirty feet later. This time the gap was closer to four feet. Adam took off his knapsack, bent low, swung his arms back, and leaped.

He flew through the air like an Olympic athlete, landing four feet in on the other block of ice, covering twice the necessary distance. He slipped, fell, and righted himself. He got up, rubbing his left hand.

“You okay?” Nadia said.

He nodded.

Nadia threw their bags to him. He caught them and motioned for her to jump.