seat belt and squeezed back into the rear cabin.
Lia was already outside. As Dean landed, the engine whipped back up and the plane shot forward, almost instantly lifting into the sky.
“So?” he asked Lia as it circled away.
She didn’t answer.
“This is Surgut?” he asked.
“No, we’re a little north of Surgut.”
“How far?”
“Two hundred miles.”
“That’s a little?”
“It is out here.” She stopped, spun around slowly for a moment as if checking her bearings, then took what looked like a small cell phone from her pants pocket. Unlike most women, she didn’t have a handbag.
“What about the radio in your head?” Dean asked.
He meant the question sarcastically, but she took it seriously. “Doesn’t work everywhere or all the time. Here, we’re out of range.” She punched some buttons, waiting for a connection. “It’s a satellite phone, Charlie,” she said sarcastically, as if he had asked. “Yes, it’s very small. Yes, it’s secure.”
Lia shook her head, as if he had said something stupid.
“Hey,” she said into the phone. Whoever was on the other end must have told her something, because she answered by saying, “Well, kick ass then,” and hung up. She slipped the phone back into her pocket
“All right, come on,” Lia told Dean.
She began walking along a path crusted with thick tire tracks, the sort a tractor would make in mud. The field lay at the edge of a swamp and, in fact, had drainage ditches nearby; it had obviously been part of the swamp at one time. Lia’s shoes were low-slung affairs, the sort that might be called sensible on a city street but here were barely up to negotiating the clumpy dried mud and ruts on the scratch road. Still, she labored on. Dean grabbed her once as she lost her balance; she pulled away without thanking him, and the next time she slipped he let her fall.
The road curved out from the field through a set of green rushes, past a scummy pond to a larger road. This road wasn’t paved, but it was wide and flat, or at least flatter than the one they had taken from the field. As they walked along it, a swarm of bugs flew up so thick that they seemed like rain. Dean swatted and batted them away, but the swarm was thick and persistent; bugs flew into his eyes and nose and against his mouth. Finally he broke into a trot, running ahead, then twisting and turning like a kid playing keep-away on the school ground. The swarm was not easily dodged, however; finally he got away from the thickest part of it by running full blast for about twenty yards and dropping to his knees.
“They’re a bitch, aren’t they?” said Lia when she caught up.
“You have bug spray?” he asked.
“No.” She kept walking. It might have been his imagination, but the swarm didn’t seem to be bothering her.
“You get used to them?” he asked.
“Are you crazy?” She stopped. The land around them had gradually become drier; on their right a long, narrow field stretched to the horizon. Dust rose in the distance, a cyclone bent on its axis.
“You’re the only woman I ever met who doesn’t carry a pocketbook,” said Dean.
“You don’t get around much, do you?”
A small van materialized in front of the approaching cyclone. Except for its oversize double tires and a raised suspension, the truck looked like a standard GM panel van, the type a small florist in the States might use for deliveries. Its radiator grille had a symbol made of Cyrillic characters; otherwise it had no markings.
“Took you long enough,” said Lia, who had to reach up to pull open the door when it arrived.
“Hello to you, too, Princess,” said the driver.
“You’re in the back,” said Lia when Dean tried to follow.
“Don’t worry. She’s always on the rag,” said the driver, a large blond man of about twenty-three wearing a Yankees cap. Dean walked to the back of the truck, half-expecting that it would take off and leave him stranded. He opened it and got in; cabbage leaves were strewn across the floor and there was an old wooden vegetable crate, but otherwise the rear was bare. Dean shut the door behind him and made his way toward the front, which was open except for a wide double bar with hooks for securing cargo.
“Name’s Magnor-Karr,” said the driver, twisting around from the back. He stuck a thick hand out to Dean. “First name’s Kjartan, except nobody calls me that.”
“What do they call you?”
“Asshole,” said Lia.
“Tommy,” said the driver. “Or Karr.” His hand was callused, as if he did heavy work. His accent sounded as if he were from Hoboken. He reminded Dean of a kid who’d worked the counter for him at one of his gas stations before his overextended business went south.
“Charlie Dean.”
“You’re our baby-sitter, huh?”
“Not really,” said Dean.
“Can we please get moving?” said Lia.
Karr rolled his eyes for Dean, then turned and put the truck into reverse. He didn’t seem to use the mirrors and wasn’t going particularly slow.
“If we go off into the swamp, I’m not pushing,” said Lia.
“Not a problem,” answered Karr. “We’ll sink so fast you won’t have a chance to escape.”
“Hmmmph,” said Lia, crossing her arms.
“You up to speed?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said.
“I meant you, Charlie Dean,” said Karr. “You like ‘Charlie,’ right?”
“If you’re a friend,” said Lia, in the sarcastic tone of a fifteen-year-old girl dissing friends at the mall.
Karr laughed. He turned around — not to look where he was going but to talk to Dean. “You follow baseball?”
“Sometimes.”
“Man, I wish the Yankees would bring that kid Rosen up, don’t you think? Kid throws ninety-seven miles an hour, and he’s a friggin’ lefty. I mean, what are they waiting for?”
“If you’re going to talk about baseball, I’ll just barf now,” said Lia.
“Don’t do it on your clothes,” said Karr. “We don’t need to see you naked.”
“You’d give your right nut to see me without clothes.”
“Trashy mouth, too. All the ugly ones are like that. Some sort of compensation thing going on there,” said Karr. He turned and whipped the wheel of the van so hard Dean flew against the side. As he struggled to regain his balance, Dean realized they hadn’t tumbled off the path but merely come to a paved road. The van’s tires squealed as they accelerated down it.
“You’re some driver,” said Dean.
“Thanks. I can cook, too.”
“A real man’s man,” sneered Lia.
As if in answer, Karr veered sharply to the right, following the road. Dean once more lost his balance, this time slamming against the back of the seats.
“God, kid,” he said. “Give me some warning. Jeez. You drive like that for your boss?”
Tommy laughed.
“Is that where we’re going?” added Dean, sitting back up.
“How’s that?” asked Tommy.
“Are we going to see your boss? The person running the mission,” said Dean.
Karr laughed again. “I’m the boss, Charlie. I know you’ve been in the dark the whole way out,” he added. “Don’t take it personally. It’s kind of a culture thing, you know?”
“Not really,” said Dean.
Lia turned around. “You wouldn’t think they’d put a jerk like this in charge of sensitive operations, would you?
