was so cautious with everything else. Stratton dozed off a couple of times. He had not slept properly since leaving England and the rhythm of the car and the relatively safe atmosphere lulled him into the occasional slumber.
The first time Vasily thought he could see a helicopter in the distance was an hour into the journey. He hadn’t been sure enough to say anything to the others. Stratton sensed a change in him after emerging from a short snooze. The man was sitting further forward than before and was gripping the wheel tightly. When he repeatedly glanced up through the top of his windscreen, trying to see between the leafless branches of the trees lining the road, Stratton became curious. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘There’s a helicopter up there. I’ve seen it a couple of times now. It seems to be moving with us.’
Stratton looked up through the crooked branches into the bright sky beyond. He could see nothing but blankness. White sky. But as he scanned further ahead he saw something. He continued to look in the same place until a gap in the trees revealed the small black object that Vasily was referring to. It was indeed a helicopter, several miles away and travelling on a parallel track.
‘Helicopters are not common around here,’ Vasily said. ‘We’re a long way from any military installation.’
The trees grew thicker but Stratton kept his gaze fixed in the general direction of the aircraft. When the trees thinned again the helicopter was still there but a little closer than before. Stratton judged it to be a sizeable craft. ‘How far are we from the town?’
‘Another sixty kilometres,’ Vasily replied, his tone regretful.
‘Any cover between here and there?’ Stratton was already planning ahead.
‘A tunnel would be nice,’ Jason piped up from the back.
‘Nothing. We are in barren lands. There’s nothing but mines between here and Plesetsky.’
‘We don’t want to go anywhere near the laboratory mine,’ Stratton said.
‘We won’t. I’m taking minor roads well away from it. We will pass the mine by twenty kilometres.’
‘It’s turning more towards us,’ Jason said, craning to see the helicopter through his passenger window.
Another gap in the trees revealed that he was right. The helicopter was on a track that would eventually put it across their path.
‘What shall we do?’ Vasily asked, glancing nervously at Stratton.
‘Why don’t we just stop and see what it does?’ Jason suggested.
Stratton considered it for a few seconds. ‘It makes no difference, ’ he decided. ‘If it’s following this car we can’t stop it.’ The chopper’s presence was still possibly a coincidence. If it wasn’t then they had been rumbled. But then, if that was the case, why hadn’t they been intercepted at the airport or on the train? He could think of another explanation. Perhaps it was Vasily who had been rumbled.
As the helicopter converged on the vehicle’s path it began to take on more of a distinctive shape.
‘It’s a Haze,’ Stratton muttered.
‘Military?’ Jason asked.
‘Troop carrier.’
The craft began to lose height. The windows along its fuselage became clear as well as its markings. Vasily instinctively took some weight off the accelerator and the car slowed a little.
As the helicopter reached a point a few hundred metres directly in front of them it too slowed.
‘They’re stopping above the road.’ Vasily was maintaining his composure but only just. ‘It’s us they’re after.’
‘Easy,’ Stratton said, putting a hand on the dashboard close to the wheel in order to grab it should the Russian do something erratic.
Vasily couldn’t bear the tension any longer and brought the car to a stop, keeping its engine running. Stratton didn’t react. There was little point.
They watched the behemoth as it turned slowly on its axis to face them. After a pause it glided forward. The deep throb of its long rotors rose above the purring of the car’s engine.
The fearsome-looking craft maintained a slow speed, heading straight for them. The pilots became visible and the noise of its engines grew louder. When it was less than fifty metres away it ceased its forward movement and began a slow turn, kicking up a cloud of snow from the ground. The trees caught in the down-draught shook violently.
Bits of ice dislodged from branches struck the car, startling Vasily. The Russian was white with fear. He knew only too well the penalties for being caught working for foreign intelligence services. While Stratton and Jason had a chance of living if they were captured, he had none. The only uncertainty would be the method of