'Lida,' he protested, 'I'm really tired.'
She slid a long smooth leg over him and moved it slowly up and down his body. 'No you're not. Maybe you think you are, but you're not. Not yet. See there,' she said, rising up, straddling him, fitting herself to him, 'you're not tired at all.'
Logan's watch said it was almost one in the morning. He shivered slightly as a chilly breeze came in off the river.
Not too many years ago, at this time of year, the river would have carried big floes of ice from the spring thaw; but now there was only the smooth dark water sliding past in the dim light of a low crescent moon, and, away beyond that, a dark smudge that was the distant China shore.
The island was about half a mile long and maybe fifty or sixty feet across. As Yevgeny had said, it wasn't much more than a big sandbar. The upstream end was littered with brush and washed-up dead trees, but the other end was clear and open and flat in the middle, with plenty of room for the Mil.
He dropped his hand to the butt of the Kalashnikov and hefted it slightly, easing the pressure of the sling against his shoulder. Beside him, Misha squatted on the sand, his face grotesquely masked by bulky night goggles. 'Nothing yet,' Misha said.
'It's not quite time.'
'I know. I just don't like this waiting.'
Logan knew what was eating Misha. He hadn't wanted to shut down the Mil's engines; he'd wanted to be ready to take off fast if anything went wrong. But it wouldn't have done any good; as Logan had already pointed out, with those twin Isotov turbines idling they'd never hear a border patrol unit approaching until it was too late to run for it, and, after all, where would they run to?
Somewhere on the Russian side of the river a wolf howled, and was joined by others. Standing in the shadows nearby, Yura said something in a language that wasn't Russian, and chuckled softly.
'Wolves all over the place these days,' Misha said. 'More than I've ever seen before. I wonder what they're eating. I know, the deer population is up, but I wouldn't think that would be enough.'
'It's been enough for the tigers,' Logan pointed out.
'True… speaking of tigers,' Misha said, 'I've been thinking. Maybe we ought to start giving that big male some special attention, you know? Take a pig or a sheep or something down there every now and then, get him used to visiting that clearing. A tiger that size, he's money in the bank for us if we can count on him showing up for the clients.'
'Hm. Not a bad idea.'
'Have Yura put out some of his secret tiger bait powder.' Misha dropped his voice. 'You think that stuff really works?'
'Who knows?' Logan wished Misha would shut up but he realized he was talking from nerves. 'Could be.'
'Those tribesmen know things,' Misha said. 'Once I saw--'
He stopped. 'Something happening over there.' He reached up and made a small adjustment to the night goggles. 'Can't really see anything,' Misha added. 'Something that could be a vehicle, with some people moving around. Can't even be sure how many.'
A small red light flashed briefly on the far shore, twice. Logan took the little flashlight from his jacket pocket and pointed it and flicked the switch three times in quick succession.
Misha said, ' Shto za chort? Oh, all right, they're carrying something down to the river. Maybe a boat.'
Logan wished he'd brought a pair of goggles for himself. Or a night scope. He listened but there was no sound but the night breeze and the barely audible susurrus of the current along the sandy shore. Even the wolves had gone quiet.
'Right, it's a boat,' Misha said. 'Coming this way.'
Logan slipped the Kalashnikov's sling off his shoulder, hearing a soft flunk as Yura slid a round into the chamber of his rifle.
Misha stood up and slipped off the goggles. 'I better go get the Mil warmed up.'
A few minutes later Logan saw it, a low black shape moving toward the island. There was still no sound. Electric motor, he guessed. As it neared the bank he saw that two men stood in the bow holding some sort of guns. He reached for the Kalashnikov's safety lever, but then they both slung their guns across their backs and jumped out into the shallows and began pulling the big inflatable up onto the sand.
Several dark figures stood up in the boat and began moving rather awkwardly toward the bow, where the two men gave them a hand climbing down. When the fifth one was ashore the two gunmen pushed the boat back free of the shore and climbed back aboard while the passengers walked slowly across the sand to where Logan stood.
The first one stopped in front of Logan. He was tall and thin and bespectacled, wearing a light-colored topcoat hanging open over a dark suit. In his left hand he carried a medium-sized travel bag.
'Good evening,' he said in accented Russian. 'I am Doctor Fong--'
'I don't want to know who you are,' Logan told him. 'I don't want to know anything I don't need to know. You're in charge of this group?'
'I suppose. In a sense--'
'Good. Get your people on board.' Logan jerked the Kalashnikov's muzzle in the direction of the helicopter, which was already emitting a high, whistling whine, the long rotor blades starting to swing.
The tall man nodded and turned and looked back at the boat and said something in Chinese. The boat began to move backward. The tall man spoke again and the others moved quickly to follow him toward the Mil, lugging their bags and bundles.
'Let's go,' Logan told Yura. ' Davai poshli.'
Off down the river the wolves were howling again. **** The road was a dark streak in the moonlight, running roughly east-west, across open plain and through dense patches of forest. There was no traffic in sight, nor had Logan expected any. This had been one of the last stretches of the Trans-Siberian Highway to be completed, but the pavement was already deteriorating, having been badly done to begin with and rarely maintained since; very few people cared to drive its ruinously potholed surface at night.
'Should be right along here,' Logan said, studying the map Yevgeny had given them. 'That's the third bridge after the village, isn't it?'
Beside him, Misha glanced out the side window at the ground flickering past beneath. 'I think so.'
'Better get lower, then.'
Misha nodded and eased down on the collective. As the Mil settled gently toward the road Logan felt around the darkened cockpit and found the bag with the night goggles. The next part should be straightforward, but with people like this you couldn't assume anything.
Misha leveled off a little above treetop level. 'If there's one thing I hate worse than flying at night,' he grumbled, 'it's flying low at night… isn't that something up ahead?'
Logan started to put on the night goggles. As he was slipping them over his head a set of headlights flashed twice down on the highway, maybe a quarter of a mile away.
'That should be them,' he told Misha. 'Make a low pass, though, and let's have a look.' **** Misha brought the helicopter down even closer to the road, slowing to the speed of a cautiously driven car, while Logan wrestled the window open and stuck his head out. The slipstream caught the bulky goggles and tried to jerk his head around, but he fought the pressure and a few seconds later he saw the car, parked in the middle of the road, facing east. He caught a glimpse of dark upright shapes standing nearby, and then it all disappeared from view as the Mil fluttered on up the road.
'Well?' Misha said.
Logan started to tell him it was all right, to come around and go back and land; but then something broke surface in his mind and he said, 'No, wait. Circle around and come back up the road the same way. Take it slow so I can get a better look.'
Misha kicked gently at the pedals and eased the cyclic over, feeding in power and climbing slightly to clear a stand of trees. ' Shto eto?'
'I'm not sure yet.' Something hadn't looked right, something about the scene down on the road that didn't add up, but Logan couldn't get a handle on it yet. Maybe it was just his imagination.
They swung around in a big circle and came clattering back up the road. Again the double headlight flash, this time slower and longer. 'Slow, now,' Logan said, pulling the goggles down again and leaning out the window. 'All
