get out of China. And I can't imagine myself as an underpaid illegal laborer on some construction project along the Lena or the Yenesei.'
Logan nodded again. 'Okay, well, we'd better get moving. What do you guys want to do? We can't very well take you back to Khabarovsk with us, but--'
'Oh, we'll be all right. The car appears to be undamaged--that really was remarkable shooting--and one of my colleagues is a very expert driver. We have contacts we can call on,' Fong said, 'telephone numbers, a safe address in Belogorsk.'
Logan noticed that a couple of the Chinese men were examining the dead men's weapons, handling them in quite a knowledgeable way. Some scientists. He wondered what the rest of the story was. Never know, of course. What the hell.
'So you may as well be going.' Fong put out a hand. 'Thank you again.'
Logan took it. 'Don't mention it,' he said. 'A satisfied customer is our best advertisement.' **** 'So,' Misha said, 'you think it's true?'
'Right now,' Logan said, 'I don't know what the hell I think about anything.'
By now they were about three quarters of the way back to Khabarovsk. The moon was well up in the sky and the Trans-Siberian Highway was clearly visible below the Mil's nose. Perfect conditions for IFR navigation: I Follow Roads. Back in the cabin, Yura was sound asleep.
'He could have been making the whole thing up,' Misha said. 'But why?'
'People don't necessarily need a reason to lie. But,' Logan said, 'considering the situation, I don't know why he'd want to waste time standing around feeding me a line.'
'Those people,' Misha said, centuries of prejudice in his voice. 'Who can tell?'
'Well, if Fong was right, there's going to be a hell of a lot of вthose peopleв coming north in another couple of years--maybe sooner--and then it's going to get nasty around here. Even if Fong's story was 90 percent bullshit,' Logan said, 'we're still looking at big trouble. Those poor bastards have got to be pretty close to the edge already, from all I've heard. If things get even a little bit worse--' He turned and looked at Misha. 'I think we don't want to be here when it happens.'
Misha sighed heavily. 'All right. I see what you mean.'
In the distance the lights of Khabarovsk had begun to appear. Logan looked at the fuel gauges. They'd cut it a little close tonight; they wouldn't be running on fumes by the time they got home, but they'd certainly be into the reserve.
Misha said, 'Where are you going to go, then?'
'Hell, I don't know.' Logan rubbed his eyes, wishing they'd brought along a Thermos of coffee. 'Back up north, maybe.'
'Ever think of going back to America?'
'Not really. Actually I'm not even sure they'd let me back in. I've lived outside the country almost twenty years now, and anything over five automatically gets you on the National Security Risk list. Anyway,' Logan said, 'things have gone to hell in the States, and not just from the weather and the flooding. It's been crazy back there for a long time. Even before I left.'
Misha said, 'Canada, then?'
'Canada's harder than this country to get into, these days. Especially for people from the States. Alaska, now,' Logan said thoughtfully, 'that might be a possibility. They say the secessionists are paying good money for mercenaries. But I'm getting a little old for that.'
'You weren't too old tonight.' He could just make out the pale flash of Misha's grin in the darkness. 'Man, I'd forgotten how good you are.'
'Bullshit. No, I think it's Siberia again, if I decide to pull out. I know some people from the old days, we've kept in touch. You want to come along? Always work for a good pilot.'
'Maybe. I'll think about it. We had some pretty good times in Siberia in the old days, didn't we? And now it wouldn't be so damned cold.'
Khabarovsk was coming into view now, a sprawl of yellow lights stretching north from the river. Moonlight glinted softly off the surface of the Amur, limning the cluster of islands at the confluence with the Ussuri.
'Going to take Lida with you?' Misha asked.
'I don't know.' Logan hadn't thought about it. 'Maybe. If she wants to come. Why not?'
He sat upright in his seat and stretched as best he could in the confined space. 'You understand,' he said, 'I haven't made up my mind yet. I'm not going to do anything until I've had time to think this over.'
He stared ahead at the lights of Khabarovsk. 'Right now I've got more urgent matters to take care of. Starting with a long private talk with Yevgeny.' **** But next day everything got crazy and there was no time to think about Yevgeny or the Chinese or anything else. A perfectly legitimate scientific expedition, some sort of geological survey team, called up from Komsomolsk in urgent need of transportation services, their pilot having gotten drunk and disappeared for parts unknown with their aircraft.
And so, for the next couple of weeks, life was almost unbearably hectic, though profitable. Logan was too preoccupied to pay much attention to anything but the most immediate concerns; he barely listened when Yura came in to say that he was taking off for a few days to check out something he'd heard about.
But at last the job was finished and life began to return to a less lunatic pace; and it was then, just as Logan was starting to think once again about old and new business, that Yura showed up at the office saying he'd found something Logan ought to see.
'You come,' he said. 'I have to show you.'
There was something in his face that forestalled arguments or objections. Logan said, 'Will we need the Mil?'
Yura nodded. Logan said, 'All right. Let's go find Misha.' **** 'Well,' Misha said in a strangled voice, 'now we know what the wolves have been eating.'
Logan didn't reply. He was having too much trouble holding the contents of his stomach down.
'Bears too,' Yura said, and pointed at the nearest body with the toe of his boot. 'See? Teeth marks too big for wolves.'
There were, Logan guessed, between fifteen and twenty bodies lying about the clearing. It was difficult to be sure because some had been dragged over into the edge of the forest and most had been at least partly dismembered.
'Tigers, some places,' Yura added. 'Not this one, though.'
'How many?' Logan managed to get out. 'Places, I mean.'
'Don't know. Eleven so far, that I found. Probably more. I quit looking.' Yura's face wrinkled into a grimace of disgust. 'Some places, lots worse than this. Been there too long, you know? Gone rotten, bad smell--'
'Yes, yes,' Logan said hastily, feeling his insides lurch again. 'I'll take your word for it.'
The smell was bad enough here, though the bodies didn't appear to be badly decomposed yet. At least it was still too early in the year for the insects to be out in strength. In a few more weeks--he pushed the picture out of his mind. Or tried to.
'And these places,' Misha said, 'they're just scattered around the area?'
Yura nodded. 'Mostly just off old logging roads, like here. Always about the same number of Chinese.'
Logan wondered how he could tell. The bodies he could see were just barely recognizable as human.
'They came up the logging road,' Yura said, pointing. 'One truck, not very big, don't know what kind. Stopped by those trees and everyone got out. They all walked down the trail to right over there. Chinese all lined up, facing that way, and knelt down. Four men stood a little way behind them and shot them in the back. Kalashnikovs.' He held up a discolored cartridge case. 'Probably shooting full automatic. Some of the Chinese tried to run. One almost made it to the woods before they got him.'
Misha was looking skeptical; probably he wondered if Yura could really tell all that just by looking at the signs on the ground. Logan didn't. He'd seen Yura at work enough times in the past.
'Did it the same way every place,' Yura added.
'Same truck too?'
'Couldn't tell for sure. A couple of places, I think so.'
'Poor bastards,' Misha said. 'Packed in the back of a truck, getting slammed around on a dirt road, probably half starved--they'd be dizzy and weak, confused, easy to push around. Tell them to line up and kneel down, they
