25

Petrovitch held his arms up: his weight proved difficult for the wiry Josie and the athletic Newcomen to manage, but they struggled on and got enough of his torso through the window that he was able to drag himself clear.

“How heavy are you?” asked Josie.

“Couple of hundred kilos. Titanium’s dense compared with bone.” Petrovitch sat down on the snow and used handfuls of it to scrub as much of the soot off his parka as he could. “So, George. Any idea what you’ve got yourself mixed up in?”

“No one said anything about dead guys. Just the RV.”

“This was Jason Fyfe, a Canadian citizen. He worked with my daughter. He was going to rescue her, because she’s missing up on the North Slope. Seems she saw something she shouldn’t, and some people are desperate that she doesn’t pass that on. Desperate enough to kill this good man.”

Josie hunched over and looked sourly at the black hole of the RV’s back window.

Newcomen cleared his throat, and pulled his collar away from his mouth. “Did you, uh, see anything? In the sky, on the ground?”

“Might have done. Depends how much more trouble it gets me into.”

“We know a lot about it,” said Petrovitch, “except we don’t know what it actually looked like. So we’d appreciate it if you just said what you saw.”

The Inuk carried on thinking about it, so Petrovitch tried again.

“Yeah, we’re trying to stop World War Three here, amongst other things. No pressure, though.”

“War?” Josie looked up sharply. “Who said anything about war?”

“We’re not the only ones interested in what happened that night. The Chinese, for one.”

“The Chinese?” Josie looked down again. “This is crazy.”

“You Yanks and the Chinese knocking the crap out of each other might be amusing to watch, but I’m very aware that fallout doesn’t respect national boundaries.”

Josie glanced at Newcomen, almost as if he were asking permission. Newcomen shrugged in his dense coat.

“It doesn’t look good,” he said. “Anything you can tell us might help.”

“It was after midnight. Bright light in the sky, going from east to west. Brighter than any shooting star, sharp enough to make shadows, almost like you couldn’t look at it. It seemed to flicker, then there was one big burst of light before it went out. We lost our TV signal, some of our computers stopped working. Radio still isn’t fixed.” Josie jerked his head towards his sled. “They gave me a new one.”

“And you saw this yourself?” said Newcomen.

“The dogs started barking, so I went to the window: couldn’t see it from there, but I could see something. I went out, and there it was. Lasted maybe twenty, thirty seconds.” Josie shrugged. “Could have been less, but it seemed that way. I was standing out in the street with some of the others, and we were talking after the flash. There was this sound, like thunder. That went on and on. Bouncing off the mountains, I guess. It must have been a real big bang.”

Petrovitch looked away to the north. “You were this side of the Brooks, right?”

Josie nodded. “Something fell from space, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Something Chinese?”

“We’re trying to work that out.” Petrovitch straightened up and patted away the snow still clinging to him. “Looks likely, though.”

“So why is it just you two out looking? Why isn’t everyone working on it?”

“I’m sure they are, but not only is no one telling me anything, they seem determined to make it as difficult they can. Like this.” Petrovitch pointed at the RV. “What was the point in killing Fyfe? They could have slashed his tyres in the night and had done with it. There was no need. No need at all.” He reached down for Josie’s arm, and pulled him upright with seemingly no effort at all. “That’s the sort of person you’re working for, George. I’m not impressed.”

“They never said anything about dead Canadians. Just stopped me in the middle of nowhere, up where Bettles used to be, told me where to wait during the day.” Josie looked grim. “I don’t get what I’m supposed to do now, though.”

“You do what you’ve been told to do. Tell your handler that we were here, and we’ve seen Fyfe’s body – you might want to add that you didn’t enjoy that little surprise – then forget you ever saw us.”

“Hold on,” said Newcomen. “You want to give our position away?”

“If George doesn’t tell Ben and Jerry we were here, how can we go on to report the location of Fyfe to the Canadians?”

“Why do we have to tell them? Can’t we just…?”

“No. I’m thinking about Fyfe’s parents. Not about us.” Petrovitch realised he was still holding on to Josie’s arm. He let go with a murmured apology.

“I’m sorry too,” said Josie. He nodded at Newcomen. “He’s right: this isn’t good.”

“There’s still a chance to redeem yourself,” said Petrovitch. “You could tell your friends – your real friends, not the ones that give you expensive toys and lie to you – that we’re on our way. We need help finding Lucy, and they’ve been on the ground throughout: ask them to let me know what they’ve seen and heard.”

“Will they get into trouble if they do?”

“I can’t promise that they won’t. But I can promise it won’t be me giving them grief. I’m not a bad man, George, no matter what you’ve heard.”

Josie didn’t say what he’d heard. Up in Alaska, Reconstruction hadn’t bitten quite as deep, and for men like him, the border with Canada didn’t have the same iconic status as it did for most Americans.

Petrovitch was counting on swaying the man, turning him to his cause.

“Bear in mind what I’ve said, George. It’s just me and Newcomen searching for my girl, and frankly, he’s not much use. Some say she’s dead already, but I’m certain she’s not. The faster we find her, the better, and the more eyes and ears we have, the happier I’ll be.”

“I can’t promise you anything useful will happen, but,” Josie nodded slowly, “I’ll do what I can.”

“Give him his rifle back,” Petrovitch said to Newcomen.

“Are you…?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Newcomen wasn’t, but he lifted the strap over his head and passed the gun into Josie’s waiting hands. He kept hold of the breech. “Do you know how lucky you are?”

“What d’you mean?” Josie jerked his head at Petrovitch. “Him?”

“Him. He’s supposed to put a bullet in your head about now, or one through your engine block so you’ll freeze to death, slowly.” Newcomen frowned. “Instead, he’s being nice to you.”

Petrovitch looked on, amused. “I shoot everybody in the head, apparently. That’s what it says in the bumper book of Petrovitch, right?”

“Something like that,” said Newcomen.

“I just want to be left alone. You wouldn’t think it’d be too difficult to manage, but no: govno like this happens, and suddenly we’re in a whole world of pizdets.” He took one last look around. “Just let go of the rifle and get back on the plane. We’ve been shown what they wanted us to see, and now it’s time to leave.”

Newcomen released his grip, and Josie drew the gun close to him.

Petrovitch started away from the RV, ploughing through the loose snow to the road, where it was more compact. He could hear Newcomen dragging after him, then catching him up.

“He could still kill us,” said the agent.

“In your binary world, people are either full-square behind you and can be trusted completely, or they’re criminals who’d sooner slit your throat than look at you. The truth, as ever, lies somewhere in between.” Petrovitch shifted his shoulders. “He won’t shoot. Well, he won’t shoot me, at least.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The plane’s door popped open, and Petrovitch scaled the ladder. He glanced around at the top: Josie was still standing there by the pile of snow he’d dug, wondering what had just happened.

He’d call his handlers for certain. Whether he’d pass on the message to his North Slope friends and family remained to be seen.