Araseli's Web by Michael Shayne

Author:Michael Shayne
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798989189427
Publisher: Michael Johnston
Published: 2023-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 42

Narva River, Three Miles North of Lake Peipus, Russia

Sunday, March 31, 1996

1:05 a.m.

In his newly purchased 1991 Autokam Ranger, Malik Anzorov held the map beneath the dome light in one hand and the steering wheel in the other as he navigated the pitted, narrow, unlit gravel road north until it crossed the low bridge traversing the Vtroya River. The bridge couldn’t have been more than ten meters long, meaning the width of the so-called river had to be less. To the west, it emptied into the much larger Narva River that divided Russia from Estonia.

Pulling to the side of the road, he studied the map. He needed to stay on 41K-164 for another four kilometers before taking a left onto another road that paralleled the Narva River on the Russian side. Ten minutes later, he arrived at the T, then turned south.

It was still too dark to enjoy the landscape, but he knew the border with Estonia ran down the middle of the Narva, and immediately ahead, on the Estonian side of the river, would be the ruins of Vasknarva Castle and the first twinkling of a streetlight. When he saw it through the still bare trees, he pulled the Ranger to the side of the road and killed the engine.

After jamming his pistol deeper in the waistband of his trousers, he took the backpack from the passenger seat, retrieved the flashlight from the glove box, locked the Ranger, then started his trek through the forest along the narrow footpath until he arrived on the east bank of the Narva. He could hear the gentle flow as it made its way to the Gulf of Finland and then, fifty kilometers to the north, the Baltic Sea.

Raising the flashlight and aiming it at the ruins across the river, he pulsed the beam three times. Then twice more. Then once. Then—he waited.

A few seconds later, a flurry of pulses responded from the distant bank before he heard the purr of a trolling motor.

It took a few minutes before he could make out the dark shape of a bass boat easing its way through the black water and the outline of the two men aboard. One was carrying a large sack, and both men were clearly holding pistols. As instructed, Malik flashed his light once more to give away his exact location, and the boat ran ashore a few meters from where he stood.

The man operating the trolling motor leapt to the bank and held the boat while the second man with the sack stepped off ,and they both paused, eyeing Malik through the darkness. Their pistols in silhouette by their thighs.

“Do you have the money?” one man asked in broken Russian, his accent clearly Estonian.

Malik held up the backpack. “I need to inspect the merchandise first.”

He watched as the Estonian reached inside the sack and came back with what looked like a handful of string. After setting the sack down, the Estonian walked the short distance to Malik and passed him the length of wire.

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