Murder on Matia by D W Ulsterman

Author:D W Ulsterman [Ulsterman, D W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kindle Press
Published: 2017-05-08T22:00:00+00:00

17

In his left hand, the Russian held a white plastic garbage sack. He paused at the trailhead to reach into a pocket with his other hand and withdrew a phone, which he promptly held up to his face. Initially he spoke in Russian but then switched to English.

“Yes, I make drop now. No, this time it was good—nobody here. Yuri, there are no worries. They are too busy chasing fires.”

Sergei turned to his right and appeared to stare directly at Adele, who remained crouched and still, hoping the darkness would be enough to keep her from being discovered.

“I do not know if he told them about the drop. I only know there is nobody here now. If he is lying, I deal with it. Yuri, when have I ever failed you? This is all nothing. These people, they are frightened children. We do what we want on these islands. It is good. Nothing has changed. You are separated from all of this. You remain protected as always. Cattle Point will be yours. Yes, of course. OK. I return to Vancouver soon.”

Sergei slipped the phone back into the front pocket of his black wool jacket. His dark eyes remained fixed upon the shrub behind which Adele was hiding. He dropped the garbage sack, reached back into his jacket, withdrew a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and proceeded to have a smoke. Each time he expelled a cloud of tobacco-laden air from his lungs, the Russian would mumble to himself, take another long drag, breathe out, and start mumbling again. Eventually, nothing remained of the cigarette but the filtered stub, which Sergei promptly flicked into the darkness. Adele looked down to see it smoldering against the heel of her boot.

“Got to take piss.”

Adele clenched her fists as the Russian strode toward the shrub, unzipped, and proceeded to relieve himself directly on the other side of the bush no more than a few feet from where she huddled. Sergei let out a satisfied groan as his urine stream struck the branches. His head fell back against his shoulders, allowing him to look up at the moonlit night sky. From somewhere deep within the island forest, the forlorn cry of an owl echoed across the waters of Rolf Cove. Sergei began to mimic the owl’s call, chuckling to himself as he did so. This was followed by a shockingly loud blast of flatulence, which elicited even more laughter from the Russian.

Having fully emptied his bladder, the Russian turned, picked up the garbage sack, and began walking briskly up the narrow hiking path toward the bathrooms. Adele watched Sergei enter the second building on the north side furthest from the dock and then quickly reemerge, though this time he was holding a black garbage sack in his hand. He half jogged back down the trail with the sack swinging loosely at his side. Adele could hear his boots thumping against the dock planks. She moved out from behind the shrub in order to better see Sergei as he stepped onto the boat, watching as he disappeared inside.

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