The Soul Stealer. Alex Archer
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