The Romanov Ransom

84

The suitcase was wedged between the seat and the floor, inconveniently on the starboard side, where the wing had been sheared off. A wall of ice bearing down on the seat prevented them from being able to move the suitcase, and the space was too narrow for Sam or Dietrich to get to. The two leaned into the seat, pulling up, trying to make more space for Remi. “Can you get it?” Sam asked.

“It’s not budging,” Remi said. “Wait. It moved. I can feel something. The buckle. We’re not going to be able to get it out.”

“Maybe there’s something inside we can use.” Sam braced his feet against the seat behind them, applying leverage.

“Do that again,” she said. “I’ve almost got it.”

Dietrich moved in close to Sam, both men pushing. Finally, they were able to shift the seat above the suitcase enough so that Remi was able to unbuckle it.

“Any luck?” Sam asked.

“I can only get my fingers in. The bottom of the seat’s stopping it… I feel something… Papers…” She pulled out a few and held them up.

Sam took them from her. “Anything else?”

“More papers,” she said. “And something soft beneath. Clothes, probably. Whatever it is, I can’t quite reach it.”

“So much for our great find,” Sam said, handing the papers to Dietrich before reaching down to help Remi to her feet.

“Anything interesting?” she asked.

Dietrich took the flashlight, reading the typescript, an odd expression on his face. “Isn’t that what you were telling me about? Unternehmen Werwolf…”

“Operation Werewolf,” Sam said. “The reason the Wolf Guard exists.”

“Maybe it tells something about the Romanov Ransom?” Dietrich said.

“A mystery that’ll have to wait,” Sam replied. “Let’s get back into that cockpit and finish bracing our tunnel.”

“What about the papers?” Dietrich asked.

“Give them to Remi. I promise she won’t start reading without us.”

“Me?” Remi said, looking far too innocent for her own good. When he and Dietrich finished bracing the tunnel and returned down to the hold a few minutes later, she aimed the flashlight on her pack, taking out the papers. “A little light reading to catch up on. Part of it at least.” She handed them to Dietrich, no doubt to help get his mind off their situation.

Sam waited while Dietrich read. “Any talk of the treasure?”

“Not by name.” Dietrich scanned the first page, then turned to the next. “This seems to be a synopsis of more detailed plans to sabotage the peace efforts. Bomb Russia and blame it on the Americans, bomb America and blame it on the Russians — apparently, they were waiting on the money to finance it. The goal was to start the war again…” He looked up at them. “If the treasure was on this plane, then I guess it’s a good thing it went down.”

“Except for Klaus,” Remi said.

He nodded, returning the papers to Remi, who read them herself, then returned them to her pack.

They spent the remainder of the night keeping warm, taking turns on checking the tunnel, telling stories about the various places they’d been. Dietrich had never traveled beyond South America and was fascinated by their adventures. “How is it you two met?” he asked.

“The Lighthouse Cafe,” Sam said. “A bar in Hermosa Beach, California.”

“In fact,” Remi added, “we were on our way there when we landed here. Sort of.”

“Listen.” Sam turned on the flashlight, aiming the beam at the cockpit. “I don’t hear any wind.”

“Not again,” Remi said, shivering. It seemed colder now than it had been the previous night.

Dietrich got up. “My turn. I’ll check.” He took his flashlight and climbed up the ladder. They heard him moving around up there. “It’s still open. But the wind has stopped.”

Sam joined him in the cockpit, looking through the tunnel. “He’s right,” he called down to Remi, who was holding on to the ladder behind him.

“When can we get out?” she asked.

He looked at his watch. “My guess is, they’ll be waiting for morning to start the search. We’ll call first thing.”

The three settled in for the night. The cold seemed even harsher. When morning came, Sam climbed up, disappointed to see that the snow had once again covered their tunnel. He grabbed the shovel and started clearing the entrance. This time, though, when he broke through, it was to a clear, sparkling sky.

“That’s a welcome sight!”

Once the three were free of the plane, snowshoes strapped on, they worked their way down the mountain far enough to get a clear signal on the satellite phone. Sam called Nando.

“Good news!” Nando said before Sam could get a word in edgewise. “Julio is already on his way. He’s insisting on piloting the search and rescue himself.”

“We’ll be at the rendezvous point. What about his brother?”

“Fine. Made it back, but wracked with guilt.”

“Tell him not to worry.”

“I will!” Nando said. “We’re celebrating tonight. Big dinner. And your friends said to tell you they’re waiting for you.”

“Who is?”

“Yes. See you soon!”

Nando disconnected before Sam could clarify further. He stared at the phone a second.

“Well?” Remi asked.

“He’s more excited about our rescue than we are. Celebratory dinner. And our friends are waiting for us.”

“Tatiana and Viktor?” Remi asked.

“I hope that’s who he meant.” Sam tried calling him back. This time, there was no answer. “Odd. I’ll call Selma. Maybe she’ll know.”

Selma, however, had no idea what he was talking about. “As far as I know, Tatiana and Viktor are still in Mendoza. That’s got to be who he meant.”

“Of course it is. I’ll give them a call.”

“I’ll see what I can find out on my end.” But neither Tatiana nor Nando answered their phones. He left voice mails on each, then pocketed his phone. “I’d feel better if we knew which friends he was talking about. Especially considering Tatiana and Viktor are the only ones who know we’re up here.”

“Surely,” Remi said, “Nando would suspect if two strange men showed up at camp?”

“Let’s hope so,” he said as the air began thrumming from the approaching helicopter.

Dietrich pointed. “There it is!”

Sam looked up. “Better late than never,” he said, watching as the helicopter approached, flying over the top of the ridge, circling back and then down the pass — something Julio had never done.

Remi even noticed. “Why’s he coming that way?”

“Good question,” Sam said, shielding his eyes against the glare, trying to see if it really was Julio piloting. It definitely wasn’t the same craft.

The helicopter seemed to shudder as it hovered over them, before banking sharply. Remi reached out, grabbing Sam’s arm. “Something’s wrong.”