“We ain’t there yet,” Lucas said. “The crowd’s getting thinner. Stay back.”
“I gotta see this,” Sherwood said.
“Not yet you don’t. Let Shelly and Del do the job,” Lucas said. “Let’s not fuck it up at this point.”
32
Titov thought,Get through it.If he could fake his way through the next five minutes, he might yet survive and prosper. If he failed, he didn’t doubt that Abramova would kill him in one second, turn around, and try to go back to the original idea of crossing the Mexican border. She had a good American passport, driver’s license, and credit cards. That wouldn’t work for Sokolov, but he didn’t doubt that working with Kuznetsov, she could find a way they could cross illegally, even if some border guardian had to die.
Get through it.
Once out of the crush of skiers and spectators around the bar, he hurried ahead, five minutes to the two parked vehicles.
He climbed into the back of the van and when Abramova said, “You were gone…” he interrupted with, “We have a problem.”
“What’s this problem?” she asked.
“I went through to see how people were leaving town, on the other side of the racecourse. There are two police cars, and they are stopping cars to take a look inside. Not search, just look.”
Sokolov: “You think…they look for us?”
“I don’t know what they’re looking for. But they’re looking. Could be local. We need to take a back road out.”
Abramova’s tongue flicked out, across her lips. “We have little choice now. We could go back…”
“After we failed the first time, to kill Leonid…” Titov glanced at Sokolov, saw no reaction. “…we talked about how people who saw us as a group…that was a problem. A woman and three men. Especially if they talked to us, and the woman didn’t sound American. With Bernard and I, it’s not a problem. We both sound American, I have good ID. But you…”
“What do we do?” Abramova asked. “You are the fixer.”
“Bernard and I will take the van. Two men, American accents. You take the red Ford. One woman, she has an accent, but there are lots of Scandinavians here, men and women. We throw the skis in the back…if somebody asks you, you tell them you are a Swedish immigrant, your ID is good.”
Abramova considered for ten seconds, then nodded. “This should work. We should never have been in this position, we should never have come here. But I think it will work.”
“I didn’t know about this ski race until we were committed. I still think it is better than trying to make it to Mexico. The risk is small. Keep a car or two behind us as we go out, no connection will be made.”
She nodded, and a fist-like ball of tension started to unwind in Titov’s gut: he could pull it off.
• • •
White and Capslockhad worked through the crowd, watching Titov’s head as they kept random spectators between them. When they saw Titov approaching a van and a red SUV, Capslock turned around to face White, said, “Look past my shoulder. Don’t make eye contact with any of them.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
“What are they doing?”
“Talking. Walk backwards, we need to get closer.”
They fell in with a group of people moving in the right direction, and Capslock nodded at a man wearing a purple Vikings hat, as White kept an eye on the Russians. “You’re taking your life in your hands with that hat, man.”
“Nah, we’re all friends here.”
“I hope so. We’re from the Cities ourselves,” Capslock said. “I got a Vikings hat in the car, but I decided not to risk getting barbequed.”
The man’s wife had a can of beer in her hand and she said, “Puk-puk-puk chicken.”
Made Capslock laugh and at his shoulder, White said, “They’re trading vehicles.”
Now only thirty yards away, Capslock risked a quick look, and saw Titov, Sokolov, and the woman called Kat pile out of the white van. Titov had a couple of sets of skis and poles in his hands and he looked around as he ran them back to the red Ford and threw them in the back seat. They watched as the three of them talked briefly, then Titov and Sokolov hurried back to the van, got in, did a three-point turn in the narrow street, and started south.
