The Soul Stealer

“You referring to the poverty, the gangs or the somber mood?”

“Is there an option for all three?” she asked.

Gulliver laughed. “Definitely. I won’t pretend this is a pretty part of the country, because it’s not. But we aren’t staying here, anyway.”

“We’re not?” Annja asked, intrigued.

“No way. Our destination lies farther north. A road that winds its way through some very old places on the way to Yakutsk.”

“Never heard of it,” Annja said.

Gulliver downed his beer and poured himself another. “Remote doesn’t begin to describe it. I hear that when the Soviets ran things, even they didn’t dispatch much in the way of bureaucratic might to the area. Even to those guys, there were places in their own country that they deemed better left untouched.”

“I wonder why?” Annja asked.

He clapped her on the arm. “That’s what you and I are going to find out!”

Annja shrugged. “Well, as I was just lying around my loft feeling bored and restless, this is, I suppose, a great way to relieve the boredom.”

Gulliver nodded. “That’s the spirit I know and love.”

Annja glanced at Gregor, who was paying more attention to the wood of the bar and very little to the small drink he had in front of him. “Gregor’s not very social,” she observed.

Gulliver smiled. “He’ll nurse that vodka for hours if we let him. But he’s just doing his job.”

“Which is?”

“Well, one part was making sure you got here intact.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

Gulliver sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re young and very attractive. And while I know that you’re more than capable of handling yourself and any trouble that comes your way, the rest of this part of the world does not.”

Annja grinned. “Sounds like you’re protecting them from me .”

“Well, using Gregor to ward off any unwanted attention is a smart move. He knows the ins and outs of this region better than anyone else.”

“How so?”

“Born and raised here. He was an enforcer for one of the local syndicates but he went freelance a few years back.”

“And they let him?” Annja asked.

“You might have gotten the impression it’s not wise to say no to him.”

“He is imposing.”

“They thought so, too. He still does errands for them on occasion, but nowadays, he looks out for numero uno.”

Annja sipped her beer. “And you trust him?”

“I saved his life,” Bob said. “There’s nothing he won’t do for me.”

“Now, there’s a story I want to hear,” Annja said.

“Later. I suspect he might be embarrassed if he knew I was telling you. And embarrassing these guys is never a wise move,” Gulliver advised her.

Annja finished her beer. “What time are we leaving tomorrow?”

“Six in the morning.”

“That early?”

“Sure.” Bob’s eyes twinkled with glee. “I even got you a bike.”

“It’s not candy-apple-red, is it?”

He laughed. “No, but it does have racing stripes.”

“You wouldn’t—”

“I’m kidding.” He rose from the booth. “Now let’s see if we can scare up one final good dinner before we head off into the great unknown.”

3

By the time dawn poked its head over the gray horizon and lit up Magadan to more of a beige hue, Annja had already been up for two hours. She’d slept fitfully, tossing and turning until some time after three in the morning. She’d finally rolled out of bed and started working on her yoga asanas. Before she knew it, she was relaxed and sweaty, and she felt better than she had in bed.

She showered quickly, not for fear of being late, but because the hotel—if you could call it that—didn’t have any hot water. Shivering as she stepped into her clothes, Annja warmed herself up by doing some deep breaths and jumping up and down to increase her heartbeat.

Downstairs, she wolfed down a cup of steaming black coffee and something that was supposed to resemble a muffin. Then she stepped outside and found Biker Bob already there, casually drinking from a Thermos as he looked to the northwest.

When he saw Annja, he took the Thermos away from his lips and smiled. “Good morning!”

Annja waved. “Hi, Bob.”

He offered her the Thermos, but Annja declined as she saw the two bicycles Gulliver had arranged. “What in the world are those?”

He turned and bowed low, spreading his hand out as he did so with a flourish. “Those, m’lady, are our transportation.”

“They look like two-wheeled moon buggies,” Annja said.

Gulliver straightened himself. “NASA should be so lucky as to have such fine chariots as these.” He waved Annja over. “Allow me to introduce you to the very noble and very rugged Yeti 575 Carbon Enduro. The 2006 model. In turquoise, because they don’t have pink with polka dots.”

Annja pursed her lips. “And because you know I would have kicked the snot out of you if you’d shown up with a pink bike for me.”

“There’s that, yes,” he admitted.

Annja ran her hands over the bike’s frame. She could see the front and rear shock absorbers. “It’s good, I assume, for what you have in mind for us?”

“One of the best. And fortunately for me, Gregor was able to get his hands on them for our travels. These bikes retail for about three thousand dollars. And I only had to pay five thousand for these.”

“You paid a two-thousand-dollar markup?” Annja asked, shocked.

Gulliver shrugged. “Cost of doing business in this part of the world, Annja. And besides, it’s tax deductible once I get a dig going on the site we’re heading for. Five grand, ten grand, it makes no difference.”

“Must be nice having all that cash.”

Gulliver smiled. “I’m not ashamed of being a trust-fund baby, Annja. At least I spend my money relatively wisely. I could be like those other idiots and charter three-hundred-foot yachts in the Mediterranean for the better part of a million each week. End up on VH-1 and all that ridiculousness.”

“Your quest is noble, Bob. I’ve never held your family’s money against you,” Annja said.

Gulliver nodded. “That is precisely why you’re along on this trip. Among other reasons.” He pointed at her bike. “You want to try it out?”

Annja nodded and climbed onto the seat. The first thing she noticed was how comfortable it felt. “This isn’t like the last time we went riding.”

“They’ve made a lot of improvements since then,” Bob said. “Comfort and practicality are key. Especially for bikes like this, which are made for all-day touring, mountain climbing and traversing various obstacles.”

“So, you’re saying my ass won’t feel like a pincushion by the time we end our ride each day?”

Gulliver grinned. “I have no idea how your ass will feel. I can confidently assure you, however, that my own posterior has never felt the slightest bit injured after a full day’s riding on these miraculous machines.”

Annja bounced once in the seat. “It’s got a fair amount of give.”

“They call it travel now. The amount of movement the suspension gives the rider. On this model, it’s almost six inches, which is a good amount of give.”

Annja pointed. “You took the black one for yourself?”

Bob shrugged. “I always ride a black bicycle. It’s part of my marketing strategy for myself. The world has come to know me as always riding a black bicycle. What would they think if I showed up riding a red one?” He winked at her.

“Heaven forbid,” Annja said. “So, where are we heading, anyway?”

Gulliver took a folded map out of his pocket and handed it to Annja. “Northwest of here. Out into the Siberian wilderness.”

Annja glanced at the map and handed it back. She looked around the city, now just starting to percolate with signs of life. “As long as we’re getting out of here, that’s fine with me.”

Gulliver nodded. “I understand. There are parts of this city that have a certain amount of charm, but I suppose there’s no denying the awful past of this place. It’s ingrained everywhere. Unavoidable. Perhaps I should have chosen a better staging area.”

“This is the closest city?”

“Yes.”

“Then there really was no other option,” Annja said. “And don’t worry too much about it. I’ve seen my share of horrible places.”

Gulliver smiled. “We should be off, then.”

Annja tested her feet on her pedals and found she could reach them easily enough. Gulliver had estimated her height correctly and ensured she had the right-size bicycle. As she leaned down to see if her water bottle was filled, she heard a sound behind them and looked up quickly.

Gregor skidded to a halt on his own bicycle. Annja glanced at Bob. “He’s coming with us?”

“A trusted comrade is always a welcome thing out in the backwaters of a potentially unfriendly environment,” Gulliver said.

Gregor smiled at Annja. “Good morning.”

Annja nodded. “How are you feeling today?”

Gregor pointed at his ribs. “They have a nice blue to them. You have done very well in marking me up. But nothing that vodka and aspirin cannot handle.”

“Sorry about that,” Annja said sheepishly.

Gregor shrugged. “I was not careful. Not your fault. You were just defending yourself. As I would have done in your spot.”

Annja turned around and saw Gulliver tightening the straps on the dual bags that hung over the back of his bike. Annja saw that she had two bags of her own. “You packed for me, too?”

“Gregor did some shopping. Just the necessities, I’m afraid. This won’t be a glamorous event for any of us. Just a recon as it were.”

“As long as the clothes are warm,” Annja said.

“They are.”

Annja looked at Gregor again. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” he said quietly.

Annja removed a playing card from her jacket pocket and slid it against the spokes of Gulliver’s bike. He was too involved in his map and didn’t notice. Finally, he folded the map and looked back. “Are we ready?”

Annja smiled. “Let’s roll.”

Gulliver turned, mounted his bike and started pedaling. Instantly, from the back of his bike came the telltale sound as the spokes slid over the playing card.

Annja smiled. Behind her, she heard Gregor chuckle. “He will not notice that for at least three miles,” he said.

G REGOR’S ESTIMATION WAS correct. They pedaled for three miles on the paved highway leading out of Magadan. The road gradually waned from sleek asphalt to pockmarked concrete rife with potholes and bits of wire jutting out of the ground along its edges. More and more, they had to wind their way around obstacles.

Gulliver signaled a halt and they pulled over to the side of the road. He frowned and leaned back, removing the playing card from his spokes. “This your idea of a funny?” he asked.

Annja shrugged. “Yep,” she said.

Gulliver took a swig of water from his bottle and then replaced it. “The road ahead goes from this to more of a hard mud track. It should be easier once we hit it.”

“Less obstructions,” Gregor said from behind them.

“They don’t believe in road repair in these parts, huh?” Annja looked around them. Anything short of a combat tank would have flat tires in seconds.

“Is not they don’t believe in it,” Gregor said. “Just that the officials all have their hands out ready for a little grease. By the time the money filters down to the workers who must actually repair the road, there is none left.”

“Wonderful,” Annja said.

Gulliver waved them on. “I want to at least reach a way point by tonight. And that’s thirty miles away.”

Annja sighed. A thirty-miler wasn’t the best way she imagined to ease back into the bicycling frame of mind, but she knew that once Gulliver had his mind fixed on something, he wasn’t going to budge for anything short of a life in danger.

Gregor sped past her and then overtook Gulliver. He pedaled ahead. Annja marveled at how easily he rode his bicycle.

Bob glanced back at her. “He’s a former military guy. Did I mention that?”

“No,” Annja said.

“He’s used to driving himself hard. One of those guys who measures himself based on how difficult something is. The bigger the obstacle, the better he feels about himself when he masters it.”

Annja nodded. “I know someone just like that.”

Bob grinned. “I thought you might find that a familiar sentiment.”

They pedaled along for another hour. Magadan’s outskirts disappeared quickly as the stark countryside reclaimed the edges of the road for itself. Annja saw the twisted, bent and hooked branches of the spindly trees reaching in for them. She saw little animal life and only a few birds cruised the skies.

“Is it always like this?” she eventually asked.

“Like what?”

“Devoid of life.”

Gulliver shrugged. “Winter’s coming. And soon. Most of the animals have already wandered off to their various hibernation areas. Birds have flown south. And the landscape just seems to be settling down for the harsh snows.”

“We’ve got time, though, right?” Annja asked.

“Yes. Timing was crucial. I’m glad you were able to get out here. With luck, we should find something before we get snowbound.”

“What happened with Gregor, anyway?” Annja could barely make out his bicycle far ahead of them.

“He likes taking point on these things. Takes his job of protecting me very seriously. Says there are far too many threats out here for a man to travel alone. He insists on driving on ahead to spot anything that looks a bit off.”

“Does he cost a lot?”

Gulliver shrugged. “Not by our standards. But he makes a decent wage. Plus, it gets him away from the mafiya . And anytime he can do that, he’s far happier than he is otherwise.”

Annja dropped behind Bob as the road narrowed drastically. From two lanes, the hard-packed mud and gravel withered to barely a single lane. On her right side, the edge of the road fell away as they ascended what looked to be a fairly significant hill.

“Mind yourself,” Bob said. “We’re corkscrewing up the hill. It’s a long way down.”

“Why don’t we use the left side?”

“Anything coming at us from the other way will crush us against the side of the hill. They won’t see us coming.”

“Makes sense.” Annja kept pedaling. Her breathing was coming harder as her lungs got their first taste of serious exertion. She kept herself hunched low, trying to reduce her wind resistance as she climbed the hill. The bike seemed built for a wide variety of terrain and handled the ascent pretty well.

It didn’t make the strain of the pedaling any easier for Annja, though.

Ahead of her, Bob seemed in his element. He used long, steady pedaling to carve his way up the hill. Annja tried to emulate him, but knew that as her body responded to the stress of serious biking for the first time in years, she was going to have a harder time than Bob or Gregor, for that matter.

She settled her breathing and tried to relax.

She heard a sudden sound. She turned in her seat and saw the large truck rumbling up the hill behind her.

She frowned. “Bob!”

He turned and saw the truck. “Oh, crap! Pedal faster, Annja!”

Annja drove her feet into the pedals. The truck sounded its horn. The sharp wail cut through the cold air and sliced into Annja’s back. She looked back, but rather than slow down as another truck might be expected to do when it was climbing an incline, this truck seemed to be accelerating.

And it was headed straight for Annja.

4

Annja pumped her pedals harder, desperately trying to outpace the truck streaming up the hillside road behind her. Her breathing felt shallow, as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her lungs to power her legs. Sweat broke out along her hairline and ran down her face. She knew the signs of adrenaline rush and this certainly qualified.

“Annja!”

Bob’s voice broke through the rural air, and Annja heard him above the grinding roar of the truck. She glanced back over her shoulder. She guessed the truck was a two-and-a-half-ton truck used by militaries all over the world as supply trucks and to convey troops from one region to another.

There was a nasty gash across the radiator grille that gave the front end an almost comical toothy appearance. It looked as if the truck could simply overtake her and eat her alive.

Annja looked ahead and kept jamming her feet against the pedals as hard as she could. She huffed as her lungs worked like bellows. Her breath stained the air with steam and mixed with the sweat pouring down her face.

Ahead of her, Bob was pedaling fast, as well.

The road sloped at a severe angle. The increase meant Annja would have to pedal even harder and she didn’t know if she had it in her.

Keep pedaling, she told herself. She could see the crest of the hill. If she could just manage to make it—

The truck horn blared behind her, jarring her. She glanced back and saw that it was even closer than before. It showed no signs of easing back or slowing down. Whoever was driving that rig was having a lot of fun at her expense.

She couldn’t see through the windshield. For one thing, the entire panel of glass seemed to have a jagged line scored through it. She could see the buildup of bug guts and dirt had stained it so much that being able to determine who was driving was an impossibility.

Her legs felt like lead weights. She wanted to vomit.

Keep going!

She pedaled harder. She could hear the gravel underneath her tires kicking away from the wheels as she sped her way up the hillside.

Fifty yards to the top.

The truck horn blared again.

Annja turned and saw the bumper closing in on her bicycle. There was only twenty feet or so separating them.

He really means to run me over, she thought.

She felt herself growing angry. Furious even. Who the hell would want to kill her like this? Why were they so determined? She hadn’t even been in Russia long enough to annoy that many people.

Annja gave one last, monumental effort, her lungs straining to their capacity. She drove her heels into the pedals and the bike shot forward.

Along the side of the hill, she could see the sheer drop-off, plunging hundreds of feet to the ground far below.

The truck nudged her.

Annja lost control.

“Bob!”

She jerked the handlebars of the bike to the right and then to the left. The truck nudged her again, and Annja headed straight off the edge of the hill.

She was falling.

Annja had the briefest sensation of being weightless—suspended in midair—before gravity exerted its pull on her body and jerked her back down toward the earth.

She hit the side of the hill and tumbled, rolled and somersaulted over jagged rocks, tree roots, upturned branches and forest debris. Somewhere she heard her bicycle doing a passable imitation of her own body as it caromed down the hillside.

Annja tried to relax herself as she bounced her way down the slope.

And then suddenly, she came to a stop.

Blackness came for her.

“A NNJA !”

Her head pounded.

“Not so loud. I believe she has a concussion.”

“Annja.” The first voice was softer now.

Annja blinked, saw the bright light of the gray sky and closed her eyes again, groaning as she did so.

“Annja. Can you hear me?” Bob’s voice sounded as if he might break out sobbing at any moment.

“Unfortunately,” she mumbled.

She heard Gregor chuckle. “Is good sign. She has sense of humor. That tells me she is not too badly broken.”

Annja opened her eyes again. “Speak for yourself. I feel like crap.”

Gulliver shook his head. “My God, when you went over the side of the hill…I thought you were a goner.”

“So did I,” she said.

Gregor frowned. “You should be dead.”

Annja smirked. “That was subtle.”

He held up his hands. “Forgive me, it’s just that you fell so far it is truly a marvel that you are still alive.”

Bob moved away and nodded for Gregor to move in closer. “Check her for broken bones, will you?”

“Hey—” Annja protested.

Bob held up his hand. “Annja, please. Humor me, will you? Gregor has some medical training and knows how to look for these things.”

Annja felt Gregor put his hands behind her neck and then feel his way down the center of her back, pause briefly at her buttocks, and then continue down her legs. Then he ran his hands down her arms and finally peered into her eyes.

“Having fun?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No broken bones.”

Gulliver whistled. “That’ll be one hell of a way to start this show off. A dramatic reenactment of you tumbling over the side of the cliff and then emerging unscathed.”

Annja tried to sit up, but Gregor held her down. “Not yet. Too soon. You rest a few minutes.” He held a water bottle to her lips and Annja took a sip of the cold liquid.

As soon as she swallowed it, she turned and vomited.

She wiped her mouth. “Sorry about that, guys.”

Gregor only nodded. “Concussion.” He looked at Gulliver. “She cannot move too much yet.”

Gulliver frowned. “As long as she’s not seriously hurt.”

Gregor shrugged. “We will see. If she falls asleep and never wakes up again, then that is bad sign.”

Annja sighed. “You don’t say.”

Gulliver looked around. “Can we make this into a campsite?”

Gregor nodded. “It will suffice for our needs.”

Annja threw some pine needles over the small pool of vomit. “Sorry about the smell.”

Gregor shook his head. “No need. It will dissipate soon enough. You should rest now. I will make the camp.”

He moved off and Bob knelt in close. “You okay? Seriously?”

Annja touched her head. “Aside from a raging headache, yeah, I guess so. But what the hell happened up there?”

Gulliver shook his head. “No idea. One minute everything was fine and the next that monster truck was bearing down on you. I crested the hill and got into a small niche up there for safety. And Gregor was already ahead of me in the safe zone. There was nothing I could do. I felt totally helpless.”

“You weren’t the only one.”

He sighed. “I’m terribly sorry to have gotten you into this mess. Christ, you were almost killed! It’s all my fault.”

Annja tried to smile. “Forget it. Our profession has its share of risks. I’m well aware of what these things entail.”

“Yeah, but being driven off the side of the hill by a truck isn’t usually one of them, is it?” Bob asked.

Annja grinned. “You got me there.”

Gulliver sat back on his haunches and sighed again. “We couldn’t even get a good look at the maniac driving the rig. I was so concerned about you when I saw you go over the side of the cliff. My God, Annja, I thought you were dead.”

“So did I,” she said. “I guess I had some lucky bounces.”

Gregor returned, hauling Annja’s bike with him. Annja was surprised. “You found it?”

“Farther down the slope. It is a little banged up, but otherwise okay. Like its owner, I would say.”

Annja nodded. “Hell of a bike.”

Gregor vanished into the woods again. Annja looked at Bob. “You guys rappelled down here?”

“Gregor always carries rope with him on these trips. He claims it’s one of the most important survival tools you can have. After what happened today, I’m inclined to agree with him.”

“How long was I out?” Annja asked.

Gulliver shrugged. “Gregor’s been working on you for almost an hour.”

“That’s some hired hand you got yourself there, Bob. Guy seems like he can do everything.”

“Short of stopping a truck,” Bob said with a small smile.

Gregor returned, his arms laden with branches. He dropped them close to Annja’s feet and then sat down on the ground. Using a large flat stone, he scraped away a portion of the earth and then lined the pit with more rocks. On top of these, he rested a small pile of tinder. Over that, he built a tepee of small twigs for his kindling. When he was satisfied, he stooped low, struck a single match and lit the tinder.