CHAPTER FOURTEEN - "This is an 'us' and 'them' society."
It was a cold night, but Illya managed to make a small fire by the river to dry their clothes. They had enough blankets and food to be comfortable, and Trudy wasn't too hesitant about the vodka. Illya was amused as he watched her practice shooting the liquid from the soft flask into her mouth.
"Just keep it away from the fire," he said levelly, covering his amusement.
"Aw comon," Trudy said, aiming the spout at her companion's mouth. "Open up." The smile she got in reply made her forget what she was doing. "You have a great smile," she said with a slight slur. "Why don't you do it more often? You're so serious!"
Illya let loose with a rare laugh, and Trudy about fell over. "I can't help the way I look. It comes in handy in my line of work. Now perhaps you should go to sleep."
She settled down next to the fire and looked at the Milky Way spread across the black sky and realized that this was a rare clear night. It had been overcast for days. "Tell me a story. One about the General. How do you know him?" She was serious now, but was having a difficult time keeping her eyes open.
Illya let out a soft chuckle. "I don't want to give you nightmares. I knew him in the Navy, that's all. He was my superior for awhile."
Trudy's eyes drifted closed and her breathing became soft. "Somehow I think there's more to the tale than that. I'll get it out of you." Her voice trailed off, and she was asleep.
Illya looked down at her and made the fire ready for the night. "If your husband could see you now, Mrs. Kidd, I think he'd be proud," he said softly.
***********
Illya shook her awake before it was even light. "Wake up, sleepyhead, we have to go. It's too risky to stay here."
Trudy groaned and sat up with her hand on her head. "I think a horse kicked me during the night."
"It wasn't a horse, trust me. Here are your clothes, and here is something to eat." He handed her a bundle of things and she frowned at it.
"Did the maid wash our things last night?"
Illya snorted. "Yes. And she told me that checkout time is now, so let's go."
Trudy grumbled as she dressed, and Illya waited for her at the edge of the river. He said that there was plenty of boats further downriver to hitch a ride, so all they needed to do was walk and avoid the road that ran parallel. Navigating the river's edge was easier with the full moon, but the terrain was tricky. By the time dawn touched them, they were both tired and looking for a ride. It didn't take long to flag down a medium sized boat headed east; the coast was where the work was, and the habitants of this area were always willing to help each other out.
The ride was accented with the gas fumes from the engine but at least they were moving. Trudy huddled next to Illya and gave him a critical look.
"Now that my head has stopped pounding, I can concentrate on you," she said. "Do the ribs hurt?"
Illya frowned. "Of course they hurt. They keep getting pounded before they are completely healed, but I can still function."
"How about your arm?" She reached out unexpectedly and squeezed his forearm. He didn't react.
"Amazingly enough, it seems to be doing fine. So is my head. So is the rest of me. Barring a few bruises here and there, I'm just.."
"...fine. I know." Trudy finished for him. "How about the tingling in your hands and feet?"
Illya looked right at her and didn't bat an eyelash. "You have a vivid imagination, Mrs. Kidd. Now I need you to keep an eye out for something."
"What?" she asked, curious.
"There is a military base along this river near the coast with lots of power lines and generators. I need to fire up this thing one more time." He patted the box under his arm. "Look for the power lines. I need to get some sleep."
"Yes, sir!" she said with a mock salute and a smile. Maybe we'll get out of this after all, she thought. It was simply too peaceful right now to even imagine what could happen down the line, and she took advantage of the down time by relaxing in the rare morning sun.
************
Solo checked the Empress for the zillionth time from the dock. He needed that final reading to find his partner, and knew deep down that it was simply a matter of time until it came. The rest of the world and their problems would simply have to wait, just as he did in this peaceful town. In another instance or other circumstances Napoleon Solo would feel at peace here. In this instance and circumstance, however, the passing days only made him more and more tense.
Stevie Inturi did all she could to keep the surroundings calm. She knew that he would be leaving in an instant the moment the information that he needed came through, and part of her was regretting that moment. He was a remarkable man, so proud and sure of himself, and so unlike any of the men her age around her. He was intriguing and exciting and she knew that after this time with him that she couldn't stay in this little fishing village anymore. He made her want to explore the world.
But for the meantime, she would help him succeed and bring this story to a successful close. Inside she knew her father would be saddened by her decision, but proud at the same time. Napoleon Solo was just the catalyst she needed to convince herself to pursue another life.
She watched him standing on the dock as the sun was on its final path to setting, staring to the west. She was sure he could hear his partner speaking to him. It was late in the day, and darkness wasn't far off. He stood there for quite awhile, unmoving, then turned abruptly on his heel. When he was close enough, he took her arm and directed her to the house.
"It's time," he said. "We're leaving. We need to cover about 200 miles of ocean."
Stevie didn't question him. She could see in his eyes that he had, in fact, heard something from somewhere, and simply nodded.
"Load up the radar equipment, and get the technician on board. We are leaving as soon as we're ready."
"It will be done, Solo-san."
***********
Asikov landed at the base early that morning, ordering the pilot to follow the river the whole way. He could see his patrols beginning to close in. When Bratsk's body was found just west of the river he knew what Kuryakin's plan must be. He stationed a patrol at the end of the train's run just in case, but he knew the agent was on this river somewhere or would be soon. The river traffic was perfect cover.
He checked in with the base commander and told him the bare minimum he needed to know about his quarry. The commander put his soldiers at Asikov's disposal, but the General was reluctant to involve any more men. That would require too much explanation and loss of control over the device if it were found. He opted to check the area himself and then arranged to be ferried out to meet the sub later in the day. No one could get by him then, and recovery of a traitor would give him favor in Moscow. He felt that this would be a good day.
************
Trudy couldn't believe that Illya could sleep in the middle of all the ruckus of the boat. The chatter was constant, as was the laughter and other thumping and banging of equipment, but the agent seemed oblivious. She shook her head. It had been hours before they began to see signs of civilization along the shore. The houses were coming more often, and now there were more docks apparent in the water. After awhile, she even saw pedestrians and families on both shores, and what looked like the beginnings of a town of some sort. The sight of patrols on the shore alarmed her, and she shook her companion awake.
"I think something's going on. I see soldiers watching the river. Stay down."
"Asikov has become more efficient since we were last acquainted. All right, we need to get off. It's only a matter of time before the boat is searched." Illya found the boat's captain and they had a short chat. The man gave a hearty laugh, and clapped Illya on the shoulder, and then the agent returned to her. "He's going to take up to the first dock that looks clear. He's also going to notify his wife to look for us at their home. They live near the sea, on the other side of this town, and said they may be able to get a boat for us."
Trudy looked at him in amazement. "Why are these people doing all this? Did you save some of their relatives, too?"
"No," Illya explained as he gathered their things. "This is an 'us' and 'them' society. 'Them' being the government. The 'us' group tends to stick together."
"Ah," Trudy said. She couldn't imagine living in a country with that sort of ethic, and it made her a bit homesick.
They disembarked on a dock clear of soldiers, but very busy with fishermen. They blended into the crowd and were able to move through the village fairly easily as they headed west. In the distance, Illya finally spotted some power lines.
"Must be the base. I can hook up the device for the last time there, but I need to wait until later. Come on," he took Trudy's elbow and the moved a little faster."
"What? Where are we going?"
"I'm dropping you at the fisherman's house first, then coming back. I don't want you anywhere near me when I hook this up."
She tugged on her elbow. "Wait a minute.."
Illya threw her a glare that stopped her voice. "I mean it. I can work faster that way and it's far too dangerous for you to be near me. This way, if something happens, you can still get out."
She hurried along next to him. She didn't care to think about what he thought could happen; she already knew his way of looking at things, and preferred to keep ignorant about his thoughts at this point.
It was fairly easy to pass the patrols as they went through the village. There was a lot of hustle-bustle going on between arriving and departing fishermen, their families, and assorted children. They made it to the other side of the village in good time, and stopped to look at the ancient stone bridge that marked the end of the main village. On the other side were scattered houses, and further on, the sea. The old bridge was the only way out of the village and as of yet was unguarded. Illya had a fleeting thought about Solo's luck again, but didn't dwell on it.
They crossed the bridge and walked closer to the river's edge, away from the road. Illya told her the description of the fisherman's house, and that it was where the river and the sea met. They could see the ocean in the distance, and walked steadily. Trudy noticed him stumble occasionally, but he never fell completely, and she wondered what was going on with him. The constant fever he'd been battling seemed to have lessened, and it was all she could do to keep her hands off the wound dressing. The occasional glance she saw of the area didn't look infected, and she was heartened; perhaps it had cleared up. The slug, however, was still in there and at work. His gait proved that.
The found the humble house without a problem. It was a very weathered blue color, with it's own small dock at the bottom of a long footpath. There was a small trawler tied up, bouncing gently in the dying wakes of passing boats. It looked old and well used, as did everything around here, and Illya made a mental note to check its readiness. It would be no match for a patrol boat, but it was small enough to be stealthy in the dark.
They were greeted by a smiling woman with a weathered face, and two girls hiding behind her skirt. She spoke rapidly as they approached.
"She says to come in because we're so easy to spot. I guess she has been well briefed!"
The woman chattered non-stop as she fixed some food and the girls, who looked to be around 10 or so, hovered curiously in the background when they weren't doing chores. Illya threw in a one-word reply now and again as he lightened his load for the return trip.
"I see why he goes off fishing now," he grumbled as he worked.
Trudy hit him on the arm. "Be nice!" she giggled.
They ate the hearty meal of dried fish and potatoes, welcome for the change from bread. Illya made plans to borrow the boat, and the woman shook her head, chatting rapidly as she cleared the dishes.
"What's she saying?" Trudy asked.
"Apparently, we are to be taken where we want to be in the boat. There's a young man that's supposed to be our chauffeur." He stood, and tucked the device inside his loose shirt. His eyes flicked from the woman to Trudy. "We'll see how that goes. All right, I'm going now. I plan to fire it up just before dusk so I'll have a little light to make it back here. You need to have that boat packed and ready; we won't have much of a window to get to sea. Napoleon will find us out there. I'm assuming it will be somewhere around the 12 nautical mile marker."
"Why there?" Trudy asked, her palms already starting to sweat with nerves.
"That's where international waters begin. Russian fishing rights extend a bit further, but if Solo is caught within 12 miles, he could create and international incident. I don't think our boss would be too happy about that." He tightened down the borrowed tunic and donned a hat. "This will have to do. Lay low."
He spoke briefly to the woman, thanking her. She bobbed her head in response, and patted his arm. He stepped out of the door with Trudy right behind.
"She's going to gather some provisions for us. Load up the boat and be ready for anything."
Meeting his eyes, he could see the fear she was trying to control. "And you are sure that your partner will find us? You have that much confidence in him?"
"Absolutely. "
With a reassuring grin, he patted her hand and she watched him walk back towards the village, one leg visibly dragging compared to the other.
************
Peretyciha base was on the opposite shore from the village. Those villagers that did not fish worked at the base, which made the economy of the small village unusually strong and the population busy. Illya studied what he could from his side of the river, and hopped one of the workers' ferries to the opposite shore.
He blended in easily, and worked his way around the outside of the fence to where a pair of power lines continued out of the base. He followed the lines to the first pole that was out of sight of the base and made ready to ascend. The now constant tingling in his fingers made him fumble as he readied the device and wrapped his climbing belt around the pole. The tingling in his feet made him hesitate a second, wondering if he could pull this off. He looked up to the lines; he had no choice, and began the climb.
He slipped several times, and had to concentrate on his grip, and when he did make it to the top he noticed he was breathing heavily and his limbs were trembling. Mentally he pushed the observations aside, and hooked up the device.
It didn't take long, and he was back on the ground in no time. Quickly, he tucked the device and other things away and headed to the river. On the shore he found a young man fishing from the shore, a small, personal boat pulled up on the ground. Illya approached him and offered the last coin he had for a ride back across. The man immediately pulled in his line, and readied the boat. Illya gratefully collapsed inside and pulled the fisherman's hat down over his eyes for the ride.
**********
Asikov sat quietly in his truck as the driver readied to leave. The milling crowd around the base gates was not unusual; soldiers were a source of income to these poor villagers. Those who did not fish supported the base in many ways. The General's eyes roamed over the crowd, not really seeing them as individuals, but as subservient workers.
His gaze drifted down to the river where he noted the variety of boats collected there. He recalled that his father had a boat quite similar to one docked there, and remembered smugly as it being the main reason he'd joined the army. He hated fishing.
Asikov's eyes jumped across the river, which at this point wasn't very wide, to a dock on the opposite shore. There was a little boat, barely big enough to fit two people, just arriving at the dock. He was thinking about his father and watching one of the two occupants step onto the dock when he noticed the wrappings on the man's arm. He sat up straighter. No! he thought, grabbing the field glasses from the floor.
When he focused on the figure, he saw the shaggy blond hair under the hat, and the profile of Illya Kuryakin as he spoke to the man still in the boat. As he spoke, he turned in Asikov's direction and scanned the horizon. Illya's attention was drawn to the flash of reflected light, and their eyes connected. There was a split second where they both froze, and then Illya took off running for the shore.
"THERE HE IS!" Asikov shouted, standing up in the convertible truck. His driver jumped in surprise, and looked where Asikov pointed. "He's across the river! Where's a patrol boat!" The General shouted orders at the gate guard, who was on the field phone within seconds. With the field glasses, Asikov followed the running man as best as he could as he attempted to mix with the crowd.
The gate guard handed Asikov the field phone, and he listened impatiently for a few seconds. "I don't need that information! I know where the spy is! The patrols across the river need to close the town! The suspect is wearing black pants, a dark red tunic and a hat, and is heading east on foot!" Asikov leaped from the truck and started to run to the dock. He tossed the phone to his driver and ordered the first fisherman he saw to take him across river. The driver followed, as did two guards from the gate.
When they reached the other side of the river they were met by an army vehicle. Asikov shouted where to go, and they were off in a cloud of dust.
*********
Illya ran until he thought his chest would explode, the healing ribs protesting the abuse. Then he walked rapidly, weaving in and out of the crowds on the busy road that paralleled the river. He flung off the hat, and reversed the tunic he wore so the black side was out. He made up an emergency story to a pedestrian in trade for his bicycle, assuring the man that the vehicle would be left at the edge of the town. He hopped on, hugged the device to his burning ribs with his still healing arm, and pedaled steadily. He recalled the sole bridge into the town, and knew he had to cross it before the patrols closed it.
The first patrol that came across didn't give him a second glance, and he was glad he'd reversed the shirt and got the bike. Illya pedaled steadily, each breath painfully making itself known. Another patrol passed him heading into town, and he knew time was running out. Finally, the narrow bridge came into view and he thought that he just might make it when an army truck barreled around a corner in the distance.
Illya knew his luck had run out. He slid the ancient bike to a stop and quickly leaned it against the closest building, and then walked to the river's edge close to the bridge. The device now was excess baggage; he already had the manual for it so he threw it into the swift moving current and watched it sink. Then he stumbled to the bridge base and quickly immersed himself in the frigid water.
Working hard to not make any wake, he could hear the patrol skid to a stop on the bridge followed by the sound of pounding feet as they set up and searched the area. Only half way across and directly under the bridge, Illya steeled himself and took a deep breath.
As he sank below the surface, he was thankful for the darkness of the water, the failing light and the current that pulled him away towards the sea.
It was a cold night, but Illya managed to make a small fire by the river to dry their clothes. They had enough blankets and food to be comfortable, and Trudy wasn't too hesitant about the vodka. Illya was amused as he watched her practice shooting the liquid from the soft flask into her mouth.
"Just keep it away from the fire," he said levelly, covering his amusement.
"Aw comon," Trudy said, aiming the spout at her companion's mouth. "Open up." The smile she got in reply made her forget what she was doing. "You have a great smile," she said with a slight slur. "Why don't you do it more often? You're so serious!"
Illya let loose with a rare laugh, and Trudy about fell over. "I can't help the way I look. It comes in handy in my line of work. Now perhaps you should go to sleep."
She settled down next to the fire and looked at the Milky Way spread across the black sky and realized that this was a rare clear night. It had been overcast for days. "Tell me a story. One about the General. How do you know him?" She was serious now, but was having a difficult time keeping her eyes open.
Illya let out a soft chuckle. "I don't want to give you nightmares. I knew him in the Navy, that's all. He was my superior for awhile."
Trudy's eyes drifted closed and her breathing became soft. "Somehow I think there's more to the tale than that. I'll get it out of you." Her voice trailed off, and she was asleep.
Illya looked down at her and made the fire ready for the night. "If your husband could see you now, Mrs. Kidd, I think he'd be proud," he said softly.
***********
Illya shook her awake before it was even light. "Wake up, sleepyhead, we have to go. It's too risky to stay here."
Trudy groaned and sat up with her hand on her head. "I think a horse kicked me during the night."
"It wasn't a horse, trust me. Here are your clothes, and here is something to eat." He handed her a bundle of things and she frowned at it.
"Did the maid wash our things last night?"
Illya snorted. "Yes. And she told me that checkout time is now, so let's go."
Trudy grumbled as she dressed, and Illya waited for her at the edge of the river. He said that there was plenty of boats further downriver to hitch a ride, so all they needed to do was walk and avoid the road that ran parallel. Navigating the river's edge was easier with the full moon, but the terrain was tricky. By the time dawn touched them, they were both tired and looking for a ride. It didn't take long to flag down a medium sized boat headed east; the coast was where the work was, and the habitants of this area were always willing to help each other out.
The ride was accented with the gas fumes from the engine but at least they were moving. Trudy huddled next to Illya and gave him a critical look.
"Now that my head has stopped pounding, I can concentrate on you," she said. "Do the ribs hurt?"
Illya frowned. "Of course they hurt. They keep getting pounded before they are completely healed, but I can still function."
"How about your arm?" She reached out unexpectedly and squeezed his forearm. He didn't react.
"Amazingly enough, it seems to be doing fine. So is my head. So is the rest of me. Barring a few bruises here and there, I'm just.."
"...fine. I know." Trudy finished for him. "How about the tingling in your hands and feet?"
Illya looked right at her and didn't bat an eyelash. "You have a vivid imagination, Mrs. Kidd. Now I need you to keep an eye out for something."
"What?" she asked, curious.
"There is a military base along this river near the coast with lots of power lines and generators. I need to fire up this thing one more time." He patted the box under his arm. "Look for the power lines. I need to get some sleep."
"Yes, sir!" she said with a mock salute and a smile. Maybe we'll get out of this after all, she thought. It was simply too peaceful right now to even imagine what could happen down the line, and she took advantage of the down time by relaxing in the rare morning sun.
************
Solo checked the Empress for the zillionth time from the dock. He needed that final reading to find his partner, and knew deep down that it was simply a matter of time until it came. The rest of the world and their problems would simply have to wait, just as he did in this peaceful town. In another instance or other circumstances Napoleon Solo would feel at peace here. In this instance and circumstance, however, the passing days only made him more and more tense.
Stevie Inturi did all she could to keep the surroundings calm. She knew that he would be leaving in an instant the moment the information that he needed came through, and part of her was regretting that moment. He was a remarkable man, so proud and sure of himself, and so unlike any of the men her age around her. He was intriguing and exciting and she knew that after this time with him that she couldn't stay in this little fishing village anymore. He made her want to explore the world.
But for the meantime, she would help him succeed and bring this story to a successful close. Inside she knew her father would be saddened by her decision, but proud at the same time. Napoleon Solo was just the catalyst she needed to convince herself to pursue another life.
She watched him standing on the dock as the sun was on its final path to setting, staring to the west. She was sure he could hear his partner speaking to him. It was late in the day, and darkness wasn't far off. He stood there for quite awhile, unmoving, then turned abruptly on his heel. When he was close enough, he took her arm and directed her to the house.
"It's time," he said. "We're leaving. We need to cover about 200 miles of ocean."
Stevie didn't question him. She could see in his eyes that he had, in fact, heard something from somewhere, and simply nodded.
"Load up the radar equipment, and get the technician on board. We are leaving as soon as we're ready."
"It will be done, Solo-san."
***********
Asikov landed at the base early that morning, ordering the pilot to follow the river the whole way. He could see his patrols beginning to close in. When Bratsk's body was found just west of the river he knew what Kuryakin's plan must be. He stationed a patrol at the end of the train's run just in case, but he knew the agent was on this river somewhere or would be soon. The river traffic was perfect cover.
He checked in with the base commander and told him the bare minimum he needed to know about his quarry. The commander put his soldiers at Asikov's disposal, but the General was reluctant to involve any more men. That would require too much explanation and loss of control over the device if it were found. He opted to check the area himself and then arranged to be ferried out to meet the sub later in the day. No one could get by him then, and recovery of a traitor would give him favor in Moscow. He felt that this would be a good day.
************
Trudy couldn't believe that Illya could sleep in the middle of all the ruckus of the boat. The chatter was constant, as was the laughter and other thumping and banging of equipment, but the agent seemed oblivious. She shook her head. It had been hours before they began to see signs of civilization along the shore. The houses were coming more often, and now there were more docks apparent in the water. After awhile, she even saw pedestrians and families on both shores, and what looked like the beginnings of a town of some sort. The sight of patrols on the shore alarmed her, and she shook her companion awake.
"I think something's going on. I see soldiers watching the river. Stay down."
"Asikov has become more efficient since we were last acquainted. All right, we need to get off. It's only a matter of time before the boat is searched." Illya found the boat's captain and they had a short chat. The man gave a hearty laugh, and clapped Illya on the shoulder, and then the agent returned to her. "He's going to take up to the first dock that looks clear. He's also going to notify his wife to look for us at their home. They live near the sea, on the other side of this town, and said they may be able to get a boat for us."
Trudy looked at him in amazement. "Why are these people doing all this? Did you save some of their relatives, too?"
"No," Illya explained as he gathered their things. "This is an 'us' and 'them' society. 'Them' being the government. The 'us' group tends to stick together."
"Ah," Trudy said. She couldn't imagine living in a country with that sort of ethic, and it made her a bit homesick.
They disembarked on a dock clear of soldiers, but very busy with fishermen. They blended into the crowd and were able to move through the village fairly easily as they headed west. In the distance, Illya finally spotted some power lines.
"Must be the base. I can hook up the device for the last time there, but I need to wait until later. Come on," he took Trudy's elbow and the moved a little faster."
"What? Where are we going?"
"I'm dropping you at the fisherman's house first, then coming back. I don't want you anywhere near me when I hook this up."
She tugged on her elbow. "Wait a minute.."
Illya threw her a glare that stopped her voice. "I mean it. I can work faster that way and it's far too dangerous for you to be near me. This way, if something happens, you can still get out."
She hurried along next to him. She didn't care to think about what he thought could happen; she already knew his way of looking at things, and preferred to keep ignorant about his thoughts at this point.
It was fairly easy to pass the patrols as they went through the village. There was a lot of hustle-bustle going on between arriving and departing fishermen, their families, and assorted children. They made it to the other side of the village in good time, and stopped to look at the ancient stone bridge that marked the end of the main village. On the other side were scattered houses, and further on, the sea. The old bridge was the only way out of the village and as of yet was unguarded. Illya had a fleeting thought about Solo's luck again, but didn't dwell on it.
They crossed the bridge and walked closer to the river's edge, away from the road. Illya told her the description of the fisherman's house, and that it was where the river and the sea met. They could see the ocean in the distance, and walked steadily. Trudy noticed him stumble occasionally, but he never fell completely, and she wondered what was going on with him. The constant fever he'd been battling seemed to have lessened, and it was all she could do to keep her hands off the wound dressing. The occasional glance she saw of the area didn't look infected, and she was heartened; perhaps it had cleared up. The slug, however, was still in there and at work. His gait proved that.
The found the humble house without a problem. It was a very weathered blue color, with it's own small dock at the bottom of a long footpath. There was a small trawler tied up, bouncing gently in the dying wakes of passing boats. It looked old and well used, as did everything around here, and Illya made a mental note to check its readiness. It would be no match for a patrol boat, but it was small enough to be stealthy in the dark.
They were greeted by a smiling woman with a weathered face, and two girls hiding behind her skirt. She spoke rapidly as they approached.
"She says to come in because we're so easy to spot. I guess she has been well briefed!"
The woman chattered non-stop as she fixed some food and the girls, who looked to be around 10 or so, hovered curiously in the background when they weren't doing chores. Illya threw in a one-word reply now and again as he lightened his load for the return trip.
"I see why he goes off fishing now," he grumbled as he worked.
Trudy hit him on the arm. "Be nice!" she giggled.
They ate the hearty meal of dried fish and potatoes, welcome for the change from bread. Illya made plans to borrow the boat, and the woman shook her head, chatting rapidly as she cleared the dishes.
"What's she saying?" Trudy asked.
"Apparently, we are to be taken where we want to be in the boat. There's a young man that's supposed to be our chauffeur." He stood, and tucked the device inside his loose shirt. His eyes flicked from the woman to Trudy. "We'll see how that goes. All right, I'm going now. I plan to fire it up just before dusk so I'll have a little light to make it back here. You need to have that boat packed and ready; we won't have much of a window to get to sea. Napoleon will find us out there. I'm assuming it will be somewhere around the 12 nautical mile marker."
"Why there?" Trudy asked, her palms already starting to sweat with nerves.
"That's where international waters begin. Russian fishing rights extend a bit further, but if Solo is caught within 12 miles, he could create and international incident. I don't think our boss would be too happy about that." He tightened down the borrowed tunic and donned a hat. "This will have to do. Lay low."
He spoke briefly to the woman, thanking her. She bobbed her head in response, and patted his arm. He stepped out of the door with Trudy right behind.
"She's going to gather some provisions for us. Load up the boat and be ready for anything."
Meeting his eyes, he could see the fear she was trying to control. "And you are sure that your partner will find us? You have that much confidence in him?"
"Absolutely. "
With a reassuring grin, he patted her hand and she watched him walk back towards the village, one leg visibly dragging compared to the other.
************
Peretyciha base was on the opposite shore from the village. Those villagers that did not fish worked at the base, which made the economy of the small village unusually strong and the population busy. Illya studied what he could from his side of the river, and hopped one of the workers' ferries to the opposite shore.
He blended in easily, and worked his way around the outside of the fence to where a pair of power lines continued out of the base. He followed the lines to the first pole that was out of sight of the base and made ready to ascend. The now constant tingling in his fingers made him fumble as he readied the device and wrapped his climbing belt around the pole. The tingling in his feet made him hesitate a second, wondering if he could pull this off. He looked up to the lines; he had no choice, and began the climb.
He slipped several times, and had to concentrate on his grip, and when he did make it to the top he noticed he was breathing heavily and his limbs were trembling. Mentally he pushed the observations aside, and hooked up the device.
It didn't take long, and he was back on the ground in no time. Quickly, he tucked the device and other things away and headed to the river. On the shore he found a young man fishing from the shore, a small, personal boat pulled up on the ground. Illya approached him and offered the last coin he had for a ride back across. The man immediately pulled in his line, and readied the boat. Illya gratefully collapsed inside and pulled the fisherman's hat down over his eyes for the ride.
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Asikov sat quietly in his truck as the driver readied to leave. The milling crowd around the base gates was not unusual; soldiers were a source of income to these poor villagers. Those who did not fish supported the base in many ways. The General's eyes roamed over the crowd, not really seeing them as individuals, but as subservient workers.
His gaze drifted down to the river where he noted the variety of boats collected there. He recalled that his father had a boat quite similar to one docked there, and remembered smugly as it being the main reason he'd joined the army. He hated fishing.
Asikov's eyes jumped across the river, which at this point wasn't very wide, to a dock on the opposite shore. There was a little boat, barely big enough to fit two people, just arriving at the dock. He was thinking about his father and watching one of the two occupants step onto the dock when he noticed the wrappings on the man's arm. He sat up straighter. No! he thought, grabbing the field glasses from the floor.
When he focused on the figure, he saw the shaggy blond hair under the hat, and the profile of Illya Kuryakin as he spoke to the man still in the boat. As he spoke, he turned in Asikov's direction and scanned the horizon. Illya's attention was drawn to the flash of reflected light, and their eyes connected. There was a split second where they both froze, and then Illya took off running for the shore.
"THERE HE IS!" Asikov shouted, standing up in the convertible truck. His driver jumped in surprise, and looked where Asikov pointed. "He's across the river! Where's a patrol boat!" The General shouted orders at the gate guard, who was on the field phone within seconds. With the field glasses, Asikov followed the running man as best as he could as he attempted to mix with the crowd.
The gate guard handed Asikov the field phone, and he listened impatiently for a few seconds. "I don't need that information! I know where the spy is! The patrols across the river need to close the town! The suspect is wearing black pants, a dark red tunic and a hat, and is heading east on foot!" Asikov leaped from the truck and started to run to the dock. He tossed the phone to his driver and ordered the first fisherman he saw to take him across river. The driver followed, as did two guards from the gate.
When they reached the other side of the river they were met by an army vehicle. Asikov shouted where to go, and they were off in a cloud of dust.
*********
Illya ran until he thought his chest would explode, the healing ribs protesting the abuse. Then he walked rapidly, weaving in and out of the crowds on the busy road that paralleled the river. He flung off the hat, and reversed the tunic he wore so the black side was out. He made up an emergency story to a pedestrian in trade for his bicycle, assuring the man that the vehicle would be left at the edge of the town. He hopped on, hugged the device to his burning ribs with his still healing arm, and pedaled steadily. He recalled the sole bridge into the town, and knew he had to cross it before the patrols closed it.
The first patrol that came across didn't give him a second glance, and he was glad he'd reversed the shirt and got the bike. Illya pedaled steadily, each breath painfully making itself known. Another patrol passed him heading into town, and he knew time was running out. Finally, the narrow bridge came into view and he thought that he just might make it when an army truck barreled around a corner in the distance.
Illya knew his luck had run out. He slid the ancient bike to a stop and quickly leaned it against the closest building, and then walked to the river's edge close to the bridge. The device now was excess baggage; he already had the manual for it so he threw it into the swift moving current and watched it sink. Then he stumbled to the bridge base and quickly immersed himself in the frigid water.
Working hard to not make any wake, he could hear the patrol skid to a stop on the bridge followed by the sound of pounding feet as they set up and searched the area. Only half way across and directly under the bridge, Illya steeled himself and took a deep breath.
As he sank below the surface, he was thankful for the darkness of the water, the failing light and the current that pulled him away towards the sea.