“Oh my God,” Lago whispered.
The skeleton was at least seven feet tall, with disproportionally long arms and legs. The facial bones were different than a human’s, elongated, with deep eye sockets. The figure was dressed in a black robe that had withstood the years better than the body. A golden crown… just a band of gold with a large black gem set in the very center… had fallen off the skull. In the right hand was a slender rod, a foot long, two inches thick. On the end of the rod was the head of a lion with ruby-red eyes.
“What is that?” Lago was pointing at the rod.
Mualama reached down and carefully removed the rod from the dead hand. It was surprisingly heavy. He turned it in the light, the setting sun glinting off the rubies and precious metal.
“I believe this is the key.”
CHAPTER 10
“Why are we stopping here?” Turcotte asked.
The landing strip outside the bouncer was a desolate piece of concrete cut out of the surrounding tundra. The flight had been a long one… even for a bouncer… north and west over the pole. They’d crossed a large part of Siberia also. Turcotte had followed the route Yakov directed on a map and knew they were now outside the northern Russian town of Tiska about three hundred miles from the island where Section Four had been headquartered.
Yakov stood and headed for the top hatch. “Information. I think it best if we proceed somewhat cautiously. Would you not agree?”
“The clock is ticking,” Turcotte said. He could see a truck heading out from the small control tower building.
“I know that,” Yakov said, “but I have learned it is better to go into a strange situation a little slowly with more knowledge than quickly in complete ignorance.”
Turcotte agreed with that reasoning, but he also knew it was his country and not Yakov’s that was being threatened.
Yakov threw open the hatch. “I have someone waiting for us who might have some useful information about who destroyed Section Four, and possibly about the key itself.”
Turcotte grabbed Yakov’s arm. “What do you mean?”
“I did not want to say anything at Area 51,” Yakov said, “but Section Four did not have all of the Airlia artifacts that the Soviet Union gathered. There is no doubt that the KGB also hoarded whatever they found. I have heard rumors that the KGB has an archive of such things hidden somewhere. Perhaps the key is there.”
Turcotte gave orders to the pilots to stand down, then followed Yakov. As soon as he cleared the hatch, a bitter-cold wind cut into his exposed skin. A tall figure covered in heavy furs got out of the truck. Yakov wrapped the driver in both arms.
When Turcotte got close, Yakov let go and turned to introduce the driver. “My American friend, Captain Turcotte, this is Katyenka.”
Turcotte extended his gloved hand and shook the woman’s. He estimated she had to be at least six feet four.
“A friend?” Katyenka repeated as she pulled back the hood on her long fur coat. Her face was startlingly beautiful, with high cheekbones, flawless skin, and deep gray eyes. “That is high praise,” she said. “Very few people have been Yakov’s friend. I often worried I was the only one still alive he has so branded.”
“Let us get out of the cold.” Yakov jumped into the driver’s seat as Turcotte and Katyenka crowded in next to him.
Yakov floored the pedal, throwing Turcotte back against the cracked vinyl. He gripped the edge of the seat as Yakov tore across the runway onto a snow-covered road at a rate of speed certainly too fast for the slippery surface.
As they fishtailed around a turn, Katyenka looked over at Turcotte. “Yakov tells me you saw Colonel Kostanov die.”
“Yes.”
“He was one of Yakov’s friends,” Katyenka said. “And yours,” Yakov said.
Katyenka nodded sadly. “And mine. He was a good man.”
Yakov leaned over to Turcotte and tapped him on the chest. “He was once… for a little while… to her what your Dr. Duncan is to you.”
Katyenka gave Yakov a glance that Turcotte couldn’t interpret. Before Turcotte could say anything, Yakov skidded the truck to a halt outside the small building next to the airfield tower. Yakov jumped out of the truck. He threw open a door and stomped in, leading the way to a small office. Throwing his black coat onto a chair, he gestured for Turcotte to take a chair. Katyenka took off her coat and sat on the edge of the desk.
“A drink?” Yakov held a clear bottle in his hand.
“Something warm?” Turcotte suggested.
Yakov laughed. “What can be warmer than vodka?” He poured three tall glasses.
“How long will it take us to get to the base from here?” Turcotte asked.
“In the bouncer? An hour, no more.” Yakov pointed north. “It is on the northern edge of Novaya Zemlya, an island off our north coast. Above the Arctic Circle. We put Section Four there because it is remote. Much more remote than your Area 51. Much of Novaya Zemlya is uninhabitable due to nuclear testing.”
Turcotte hadn’t yet taken a drink from the large glass of vodka. “When do we leave?”
Yakov sighed. “I know you are worried about the danger from above, and I agree it is a dire and immediate threat, but we must also keep our vision on the big picture, and that is knowing the truth about the past. We have been attacked by both groups… the Guides/Mission and The Ones Who Wait/STAAR. There may come a time when we have to choose between them. Indeed, if we find this key Lexina wants, it is not automatic that we should hand it over to her. We must have more information first.” He nodded at Katyenka. “Tell us what more you have learned about Tunguska.”
Katyenka got up and walked to the small bar. Turcotte thought it quite bizarre, but typical of Russia, that there would be a bar in the office at such a small airfield. He knew Yakov was right once more about gathering information, but he itched to be moving, to be searching for the key.
Katyenka poured herself another glass of vodka. “Not much more than is common knowledge. The commonly accepted theory is that a meteorite exploded in 1908 over Tunguska.”
Turcotte found her accent intriguing. He imagined if she had lived in the West, she might have become a model… in Russia she became a spy.
“Exactly who are you?” Turcotte asked.
“She is Katyenka,” Yakov said simply.
“That’s a name,” Turcotte said, “which means nothing to me. Who do you work for?”
“I am not Section Four,” Katyenka said.
Turcotte had already checked her hand and not seen the large ring that indicated a Watcher, but the ring could be hidden. “Who do you work for?” Katyenka spread her hands. “I am GRU.”
Turcotte turned to Yakov. “And you brought her into this?”
Yakov laughed. “How do you think I am still alive? How do you think she is still alive? She is the spy the GRU picked to infiltrate Section Four. I knew they… and the KGB… would send someone. So we sent spies to infiltrate the GRU and the KGB. It is the way things work in Russia. Except my dear Katyenka decided that she was working for the wrong people after getting a glimpse of what we were doing in Section Four.”
“I realized the alien threat was larger than the Section Four threat,” Katyenka explained simply.
“So she came to me and offered to be a double agent for us,” Yakov said. “That was over six years ago. It is all part of not knowing who to trust. You had a group called STAAR working in the United States, did you not?”