he obeyed.
As he removed his wet clothing, she pointed to the cot against the wall. “Wrap yourself in the blankets.”
Doing as she asked, he wrapped them around his body and joined her at the fire.
“More logs,” she ordered, and once again he obeyed.
With the fire burning hot and bright, she gestured for him to sit down in front of it.
The warmth of the flames felt good—almost as good as having her so close.
“Close your eyes,” she told him.
He looked up at her but couldn’t see her face.
“You’re safe now,” she whispered. “Sleep.”
He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to pull her to him and breathe her in. But she had cast a spell on him, and, powerless to resist, he felt his eyelids begin to close.
The last thing he remembered was Lara helping him lie down as he fell into a dark pit of deep and dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 22
* * *
* * *
When Harvath awoke, it was to the fading echo of Lara’s voice. “Don’t let the fire die,” she warned.
Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he allowed his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness.
The only light in the cabin came from the glowing embers in the fireplace. He had no idea how long he had been asleep.
Glancing to the left of the fireplace, he saw the seated figure wrapped in furs. Even without sufficient light, he could tell it wasn’t Lara, although they both had one very big thing in common. They were both deceased.
It was probably the cabin’s owner. Based on the way the man was dressed, as well as the rusty devices hanging on the walls, he was a trapper.
He appeared to be somewhere in his seventies, although appearances in Russia, especially when it came to age, were often deceiving. He looked to be one of the Sámi, the collection of indigenous people sometimes known as Laplanders, who inhabit northern Sweden, Norway, Finland, and this part of Russia. Under the Soviets, they had been very badly treated, even forcibly removed from their lands. The resentment and hostility lingered to this day.
Getting up from the floor, Harvath moved in for a closer look.
There was no apparent trauma. The man had probably died from a heart attack. How long ago was anyone’s guess. The subzero temperatures would have helped to preserve the body.
Turning his attention to the fire, he threw on a couple of logs. They were well seasoned and caught instantly. With the increasing heat and additional light, he could reconnoiter the rest of the space.
The first thing he noticed were his boots and the pile of wet clothes nearby. He remembered falling through the ice, but not much after that. It was as if he had witnessed it at a distance, as if it had happened to someone else.
He knew what hypothermia and severe cold could do to a person. He was incredibly fortunate not only to have survived the river but also to have made it to the cabin. How he’d had the presence of mind to get a fire going and get out of his wet clothes was beyond him. Somebody, somewhere, he figured, was watching out for him.
In a space that appeared to be used for preparing food, he found a bucket of water almost completely frozen. What small portion had thawed had probably done so in response to the gradual warming of the cabin from the fireplace. Until this moment, he’d had no idea how thirsty he was.
Raising the bucket to his mouth, he drank all of the liquid water. Then he took the bucket over and placed it near the fire so the rest of the ice could melt.
Returning to the food prep area, he opened its lone cupboard and did a quick inventory. There wasn’t much. A few cans of what looked to be vegetables, plus a little tea and coffee, sat on the shelf. He’d lost more in the river than what was stored here. There had to be more.
Propped next to the front door was an old pump-action shotgun known as a Baikal, along with a box of shells. He placed both down on the table and kept looking.
He found a small toolbox, an old flashlight, kitchen items, and a few pieces of clothing, including some heavy wool socks. Tossing the blankets back on the cot, he put on the clothes and spread out his wet items to dry in front of the fire. He was almost beginning to feel human.
Removing a hammer from the toolbox, he