Siberian Treasure

46

Marina jammed the phone back into her pocket. She’d given as much as she could from memory of the code before the phone cut out.

She and Gabe were stumbling down a small hillock, toward the water that lapped trustingly below them, knowing their pursuers were on their heels. Hearing them.

A nippy breeze blasted her in the face as she pushed Gabe along the shore. There had to be something … somewhere.

The Skaladeskas had reached the top of the crest behind them, and Marina’s back itched. She felt as though there should be gunfire raining down on them; but there was not.

Something else whizzed through the air and thunked into the ground an inch from where her foot had been. An arrow.

“Pick it up, Gabe!” she shouted encouragement between snagging breaths. “Toward those rocks over there. I can try to call Helen again then.”

As they ran, she tried to look again at the green sheet so she could spit out the code as soon as she had the chance.

Another arrow whizzed by, brushing the top of her hair, and Marina chanced a look back. Some of them stood on the top of the hill, firing; while another group chased them down the hill and along the shore.

Water splashed beneath her feet, cold and dark, and Marina veered away from it. Gabe was slowing down again. Bright red blood soaked his shirt, and flung from his arm as he ran.

“Try Helen again,” he said, gasping.

The rocks were only a few meters ahead; but what good would they do? A quick duck behind them and their pursuers would reach them in moments.

“Black and white cross right to green,” Marina mumbled. The air she managed to drag into her lungs seared her mouth dry, and burned in her lungs. It was thin, and she suspected too late that they were at a high elevation.

And then … she saw it.

A mirage? Good Lord, please don’t let it be a mirage!

“A fucking boat!” Gabe shouted the words before Marina could reconcile it.

They kicked up their speed; the boat, a small cruiser, was sitting just beyond the boulders they’d been aiming for. Hidden. As if waiting for such an escape.

Had Victor known about the boat? The chance for escape?

Marina shoved Gabe the last few inches onto the boat and leaped on after. He was already untying its mooring, and she dashed over to the motor.

“Out of my way. This is mine,” Gabe commanded, and before she could speak, he’d started the motor with a smooth purr. “Call Helen!”

She’d almost forgotten. Pushing buttons frantically, she placed the call.

Pulled the green sheet from her pocket again and started to reread it.

And realized she’d translated wrong.

Not black and white ….orange and yellow. Cross right to left. She read the next line to be sure.

“Helen!” Marina yelled into the phone as the boat cruised into the lake. “It’s not black and white. It’s orange and yellow! Cross right to left!”

No one was on the phone.

“Helen!”

And as she waited, listening for that connection over the roar of the boat, she heard, somehow, the faint call of her name.

She looked up, out over the water.

Victor.

How did he get there? What was he doing?

He was struggling, in the water, his arms raised as he went under. His face glowing white above the dark water.

The Skaladeskas swarmed along the shore; arrows flying. Marina felt like she was in a medieval war zone.

“Gabe!” she shouted, still holding the phone to her ear, still waiting for Helen’s voice. “Look!” She pointed. “Circle around!”

He was going to drown. Surely one of the Skaladeskas would pull him out.

“Marina!” Gabe shouted at her. “Talk to Helen. We have to get out of here!”

“Just one pass. I can’t—”

The phone connected just as Marina felt the answering swerve of the boat. She shouted into the phone, “Helen! It’s not black and white. It’s orange and yellow. Hear me? Orange and yellow cross right to left.” She looked up and saw Victor slide under the water.

None of the others appeared to notice or to care.

The boat wheeled around, and he didn’t come up.

Marina’s heart pounded. She looked at the phone, held it to her ear. Nothing. Nothing!

A shadow rose from the water again. Slower. Barely moving.

Marina’s palms grew wet with sweat. She looked down into the black water; the cold, black, churning water that was waiting to swallow her. Smother her. She couldn’t.

Please come up. Please don’t make me do this. Dad!

She pushed the button on the phone, held it to her ear, listened to nothing. How much time had elapsed?

She looked down over the water again, ignoring Gabe’s shout. It was as if everything stopped, slowed, dissolved away.

Dad or Helen?

Dad or Helen? One man, here … or many men, half a world away?

A hand moved in the water, reaching — she could barely see it — reaching from the inky liquid. Then slid back into the depths.

Arrows plopped into the lake, smooth and sleek, leaving only tiny splashes in their wake.

Why were they shooting at him?

Why weren’t they helping him?

The phone remained silent. Marina’s stomach tightened painfully. She pushed the button again, peering over the expanse of water … looking. Hoping.

Hoping for what?

He couldn’t save himself.

“Gabe!” she turned, slapped the phone into his hand, and stripped off her shirt and pants. “Call her back!”

She heard his angry bellow as she dove over the side of the boat.

The cold water enveloped her like a heavy shroud, and Marina felt the shock through her body. Colder than Lake Superior.

Keep your mind blank. Keep it blank. Don’t think. Just swim.

Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.

She focused on her strokes toward the last place she’d seen her father, tried not to think about the depths below … the blackness that settled far below her. She kicked, swam, breathed, counted ….

And finally grasped the sodden clothing of her father.

His eyes were closed, and thanks be, he didn’t struggle. Marina wasn’t a strong swimmer; but somehow, she managed to hook her arm under his chin and cut strokes through the sparkling, cold water toward the boat.

The Skalas were close now; she could see the hair matted to the forehead of the closest one as he swam through the lake like an Olympic gold medalist.

How on earth had that frail man made it this far?

How had she?

“Marina!” She heard her name and the roar of the boat over the roar in her ears.

Through a glaze, she looked up as the boat came near. She saw Gabe standing, holding the phone to his ear.

He didn’t have to say more; she knew.

“Purple to left. Purple to left! That’s it! That’s all!” she screamed with what felt like her last breath.

The water closed over her; her limbs wouldn’t move.

The boat sluiced through the water next to her, and at last she felt the weight lifted from her arms. She let him go. She couldn’t hold on any more.

She’d saved her father. Somehow she’d saved him. Just as she’d saved Dennis Strand. And others.

And maybe, just maybe she’d saved Detroit ….but herself? She couldn’t move. Her arms were frozen, paralyzed ….

Marina heard a shout behind her and she barely turned in the water; she felt someone behind as he grabbed for her leg.

With a scream that came from nowhere, and a last burst of energy, she kicked, hard, caught something soft, and then suddenly she was lifted up and dragged over the harsh metal edge of the boat.

She tumbled onto the floor, next to something else relatively warm, and as the roar of the motor filled her ears she looked over.

Somehow Gabe had pulled Victor up. And her.

They’d done it.

Had they?

Marina looked up and saw Gabe, grim-faced, staring into the wind that buffeted their watercraft.

“Gabe!” she cried, fearing the worst. That it had been for naught.

He looked down, surprised, and he nodded. A small smile curved his lips.

They had done it.