“Looks like nobody’s home,” Yulia said once they’d completed their reconnaissance.
“Yes, but someone’s been here recently,” Jet said. “The field’s turned, and you can see where the grass on the drive is flat from tires. My guess is this is a working farm, but the owners don’t live here anymore. They just show up during the day.”
“Where does that leave us?”
Jet motioned at an insulated wire suspended from a tall pole, leading to just below the roofline of the house. “Looks like a phone line. It might be active. I’d say if it is, it’s time to call in the cavalry.”
A pane of glass on the rear door gave way to Jet’s elbow, and she led the group inside. The interior was cold but clean, only a few sticks of furniture in evidence, confirming Jet’s assessment that nobody was living there. She made her way to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and blinked at the light that flooded from the interior.
“There’s some food, and now we know there’s electricity,” she announced.
“What good does that do us if we’re stuck here?” Mikhail groused. “It’s only a matter of time before the cops find us, and they won’t be looking to take prisoners.”
“Look for a telephone,” Jet said, and moved from the kitchen into the small dining room, which was empty except for a square wooden table and two rustic straight-backed chairs. Glass containers clinked from the kitchen as Mikhail and Evgeny ferreted through the cabinets in search of provisions, and Yulia appeared in the doorway a moment later, her penlight illuminated.
“Anything?”
“Not yet.”
A quick search of the ground floor yielded no telephone, and the women mounted the rickety stairs to the second floor. Jet switched on her flashlight and swept the beam along the hallway and into each room. At the master bedroom, she nodded at the doorway.
“Phone’s on the nightstand by the bed.”
Yulia stepped into the dusty space and approached the telephone. She lifted the ancient black handset and held it to her ear. Her eyes flitted to the side and she smiled.
“There’s a dial tone.”
Jet nodded. “I need to use it after you do.”
Yulia dialed a long-distance number and listened as it rang. A guarded male voice answered on the fifth ring, sounding groggy and annoyed.
“Yes?”
“Your man never showed up last night.”
The male voice paused. “Where are you?”
“Somewhere between Kursk and Verkhnee Turovo.”
Another pause. “The middle of nowhere.”
“We’re lucky we made it this far without any help from you. What happened?”
“Stupid. Flat tire. He was a half hour late.”
“Didn’t seem prudent to wait around.”
“I understand.”
“We lost two men. I need help. Now. We’re dead in the water.” Yulia gave a clipped summary of their situation with the police and the van.
Another pause stretched uncomfortably. “Bad news. We don’t have anyone nearby. If you can make it across the border, we have a cell there that will assist.”
“Did you not understand that we’re on foot, with the police scouring the area? I have my own people once we’re across the border. But we’re in trouble right now, and we need help.”
“I got that. But I don’t have any resources that can make it to you in less than…six hours.”
“Six hours? From Moscow?”
“Correct.”
Jet looked at her watch and shook her head. It would be light in three or so more hours, and with dawn would come workers – and cops.
“That’s of no use.”
“I’m sorry. Do the best you can and call when you’re clear.”
Yulia slammed the handset down in frustration. Mikhail appeared in the doorway with a half-full bottle of vodka, the look on his face saying he’d heard enough to piece together the gist of the discussion.
“So we’re screwed?” he asked, and took a long pull on the bottle.
“We need to get to the border,” Yulia said.
“And how are we supposed to do that?” Evgeny asked from behind Mikhail.
Yulia glanced at the vodka with disapproval and held out her hand. “Not drunk. Give me the bottle.”
Mikhail shook his head. “Don’t sweat it. There isn’t much in it.” Yulia moved toward him and he backed up. “Maybe instead of ordering us around, you should figure out how we’re going to make it to the border,” he said belligerently. Jet watched the confrontation and wondered how much of the bottle he’d already downed. “So far this has been a disaster at every turn.”
“You’re out of prison, walking around a free man, so not that bad,” Yulia said, an edge to her voice. “Mikhail, we need to cooperate, not fight. Please don’t waste our energy on this crap.”
He took another deep draught of the vodka and handed it to Evgeny. “Finders keepers. Let me know when you’ve come up with a plan. I’m going to rest for a bit while the female big brains strategize.” Mikhail sneered at Jet and turned unsteadily on his heel.
Jet watched him go and eyed Yulia. “Charming. Now we have a drunk on our hands.”