“Your buddy. Where is he? I don’t see him in the truck,” the cop said, glancing up at the cab.
“I don’t know. Where’s the next fuel stop? In town?”
“Should be a place open.” The officer eyed Anatoly. “Let’s have a look at your cargo.”
“I don’t understand.”
The cop looked over his shoulder at his partner behind the wheel of the pickup and then back at Anatoly. “We’ve had reports of truckers carrying contraband on this road. Now open the back of the truck, no arguments.”
Anatoly stepped away from the building. He understood what was happening too clearly. The locals were trying to figure a way to fatten their wallets. They’d find some irregularity or invent one, and it would cost a small toll to convince them to overlook it. The petty corruption was pervasive in Russia, but it still annoyed Anatoly that their take was going to be lightened by some local scammers.
“We’re in a hurry to get home. Surely we can work something out so we aren’t delayed…”
The cop’s meaty face broke into a grin. “Let’s see what you’ve got, and then we can discuss it.”
Valery stepped from the darkness. “What’s going on?”
The cop turned to him. “Inspection. Open up.”
Valery shrugged and moved to the rear of the trailer as the second cop climbed from the pickup truck and joined them. Valery felt in his pants pocket for his keys and unclasped the padlock, and then lifted the locking bolt and swung it wide.
The cops shined their flashlights inside the container. The beams reflected off sacks of plaster, cement mixers crusted with dried material, and sundry pumps and gears stacked in the rear, the cache of weapons out of sight behind a false wall that wouldn’t be detected in this sort of cursory inspection. Valery watched the pair of cops calculate the likely paltry value of the odds and ends in the trailer with an amused smile on his face.
Which froze when the second cop’s light steadied on the base of the false wall, where the sacks that had been stacked against it had shifted. The man didn’t say anything, just clamped his light between his teeth and hoisted himself into the trailer.
Anatoly watched with growing alarm as the officer made straight for the gap by the wall base and knelt to inspect the area, and then knocked against it with his flashlight handle. When he turned to face them, his face was unreadable.
“What’s in the compartment?” he asked.
“More of the same. This used to be a refrigeration trailer about a hundred years ago. That’s why the wall,” Valery said, his tone bored.
“Oh, sure. Of course,” the cop said, glancing at the first one. “Let’s have a look inside, then, and you can be on your way.”
Anatoly tried again. “I was telling your partner that we’re in kind of a hurry…”
“I’m sure you are. So open up and we can get this over with,” the officer interrupted.
“I’ve got to get the keys,” Valery said with a resigned shrug. “They’re in the cabin.”
“You keep an old refrigeration compartment locked?”
“It’s the company’s rules. I just drive.”
Valery removed his hands from his jacket, the right one clutching a pistol, and fired twice. The cop in the trailer pitched forward onto the ground, his flashlight clattering beside him. The other officer was turning toward Valery when he shot him through the temple from only a few feet away. The cop dropped lifelessly as Anatoly gaped open-mouthed at the spectacle.
Valery covered the ground to where the first cop was lying facedown and fired into the back of his head. He replaced the pistol in his pocket and bent down to grab the man’s hands. “Take the other one. We’ll throw them into the truck and drive it into a gulch where it won’t be spotted for days. Hurry up.”
Anatoly didn’t need to be told twice and scurried over to the dead cop, ignoring the splatter of blood beside him, and dragged him to the idling truck.
Fifteen minutes later they were bouncing down the road again, Anatoly visibly shaken as the glow of Tynda’s lights illuminated the horizon. Valery eyed his cell phone and confirmed it had a signal, and then placed a call.
Rudolf’s voice answered on the third ring. “What?”
“We had a problem.” Valery described the situation with clipped precision. When he was finished, Rudolf was silent for several long beats.
“You’re to drive all night. By morning you’ll have put, what, four hundred kilometers between you and the bodies?”
“Yes. That’s the plan. But you might want to get someone from the base to clean up after us, just in case.”
“I’ll look into it, but we’re out of time. I spoke with the client. The shipment needs to be at the docks in three days, not seven.”
Valery did a quick calculation. “If we don’t have any more problems, it can be done. It will be difficult, but it’s possible.”
“I don’t pay you to disappoint me.”
“We’ll drive in shifts and be there in three days.”
“Good. Keep me informed of your progress, and I’ll have someone meet you at the port.”