“No. Try starting her now.”
Dixon did so, and the car roared to life.
“Just a bit temperamental,” Graham said, giving the hood a pat once he’d closed it up. “She was feeling a bit needy, is all, and now she’s calmed down.”
“Hedoesn’t get to be temperamental,” I said, putting a definite emphasis on the pronoun. “Heis a car, and he can bloody well keep his emo moods to himself, because we have murderers to catch up to. Thanks for the lunch, Tabby. Can I pay you for our sandwiches—that’s very sweet of you, thank you.” I climbed in beside Dixon and pointed in the direction the Essex team had taken. “Home, Jeeves, and don’t spare the horses.”
JOURNAL OF DIXON AINSLEY
2 August
5:55 a.m.
Yekaterinburg, Russia
We are exhausted. I’m waiting for my turn at a communal bath. Paulie is asleep. She snores. Just a little, and it’s kind of cute, but I can’t help but think I shouldn’t point that out to her.
It’s been a hellishly long day, and we have the Essex team to thank for much, if not all, of that.
It began at the border crossing from Kazakhstan into Russia.
“It should be fairly quick,” Roger told us before dashing off with Sam and Tabby to check on the other camera team, who evidently had been in a minor accident. “There’s an official agreement with Kazakhstan to pass people through quickly. Just show them your visas and passports and this note from the government tourist agency, and you should be fine.”
“So long as they don’t go all Soviet on us,” Paulie said darkly, but tucked the government document away in the logbook.
We were at the crossing a short time later and lined up behind a car filled with ducks going to market.
“How do you feel about blood sports?” Paulie asked out of nowhere.
I gave her a curious look. “I don’t care for them. How do you feel about them?”
“I’m with you.”
“What brought that up?”
She pointed to the ducks. “I feel bad for them. I mean, I know people eat them, and they were raised to be eaten, but still, they’re cute little duckies.”
“You ate chicken last night,” I pointed out.
“Chickens are not quite as high on the cute meter as ducks, although I will admit that they have their points.”
“Lamb, I suppose, is right off your diet?” I inquired.
“Oh, absolutely. No way I’d ever eat one. Or a deer. Or any of those cute things that are trendy to eat now, like emu and buffalo.”
“Alligator?” I asked.
She made a face. “Not cute, but still wouldn’t eat. I used to be a vegetarian, but kind of slacked off into eating chicken and fish.”
“That seems fairly healthy. Ah. We’re moving at last.”
We jerked forward when an official lowered a barricade and gestured for us to stop on a black-striped line on the ground.
“Don’t look now,” Paulie said out of the side of her mouth, staring straight ahead in a manner that could be viewed only as uncomfortable and highly suspicious. “But there is a man with an Uzi standing on the other side of you.”
I looked.
She smacked me on the arm. “I said, don’t look!”
