Siberian Red

looked to Kirov like the inside of a miniature volcano. Then Deryabin pushed past him and opened the gate to the tender. Nuggets of coal the size of apples rolled out on to the floor of the engine compartment.
    ‘Let me tell you something a man like you will never understand,’ shouted Deryabin. ‘When you work on a machine and you live with that machine, you become a part of it and it becomes a part of you. And one day you realise that the machine is more than just the number of its parts. There is life in it! Like there is life in you!’ To emphasise his words, Deryabin jabbed a finger against Kirov’s chest, leaving an inky smudge against the cloth of his tunic.
    Kirov swatted his hand away. ‘Have you not realised yet that I am a major of the NKVD?’
    ‘And have you not yet realised that you are in the wilderness, where a man’s rank is judged by his ability to stay alive and not by the stars on his sleeve?’
    Kirov was too stunned to reply.
    Deryabin snatched up a shovel and handed it to Kirov. ‘Make yourself useful, Comrade Major of the NKVD!’
    Obediently, Kirov began shovelling coal into the furnace. Before long, he was drenched in sweat. When he leaned out of the compartment, he felt the moisture freezing into scabs of ice across his forehead.
    The Orlik was gaining speed now, hammering along the tracks.
    With a flick of his foot, Deryabin kicked the door of the furnace closed. He turned to Kirov. ‘She’s had enough!’ He snatched the shovel from Kirov’s hand and tossed it into the corner.
    ‘Is everyone out here as crazy as you?’ yelled Kirov.
    ‘Of course,’ replied Deryabin serenely. ‘That’s how you know you’re from Siberia!’
    Until now, Kirov had been completely preoccupied with getting to Pekkala before his kidnappers led him across the border into China. Now that he was finally close, the dangers that lay ahead were rapidly coming into focus. He hoped that the mere presence on the tracks of an armoured train would be enough to persuade the kidnappers to abandon their hostage, but there was no way of telling what such desperate men might do. As for the convicts, he did not care if they escaped. His only purpose now was to bring Pekkala back alive. With fear prickling his skin, Kirov took out his gun and made sure it was loaded.
    *
     
    The moment Pekkala opened his eyes he sensed that something was wrong.
    Kolchak lay asleep nearby, his beard a mass of icicles.
    Pekkala nudged him with his boot.
    Kolchak’s eyes flipped open. Breathing in sharply, he sat up and looked around. ‘What is it?’
    ‘They’re gone,’ whispered Pekkala.
    Kolchak followed his gaze to where the Ostyaks had been sleeping. They had vanished, along with their sledges.
    Both men clambered to their feet.
    ‘They left some time ago,’ said Pekkala, pointing to where snow had partially filled the indentations of their bodies.
    ‘How is it possible we did not hear them?’
    ‘They never make a sound except on purpose.’
    ‘But why?’ In a gesture of angry confusion, Kolchak raised his hands and let them fall again. ‘I promised them gold ! Their work was practically done. What on earth could have possessed them to vanish in the middle of the night?’
    Pekkala was not sure. Perhaps they had finally realised the trouble they would bring upon themselves by helping the prisoners escape. That may have been the reason, but Pekkala couldn’t help remembering the look on the Ostyak’s face when he realised he’d been talking to the man with bloody hands. Klenovkin’s words came back to him. ‘They fear almost nothing, those Ostyaks, but believe me they were petrified of you.’
    By now, the other Comitati were awake, shrugging off the cloaks of snow which had blanketed them in the night.
    ‘What if they have gone ahead to take all the gold for themselves?’ asked Lavrenov, wringing his bony hands.
    Tarnowski shook his head. ‘They don’t know where it is. I made sure of that.’
    ‘And what if they have gone to turn us in and collect some kind of reward?’ Lavrenov seemed on the verge of panic.
    ‘Then they’d be signing their own death warrants!’ replied Tarnowski. ‘Without them, we would still be in the camp! They’re gone. That’s all we need to know. What we have to do now is carry on without them. When we have found the gold, we will build our own sledges to transport it across the border. From here on, all we have to do is keep to the tracks. Where the line divides ahead,