"I don't know how you found me in this remote spot," Karla said.
"It wasn't hard. The university told me where you were. Getting here was the difficult part. I hired a fishing boat to bring me in.
When I didn't see anyone at your camp, I followed your trail. The next time you go off on an expedition, please make it closer. I'm getting too old for this kind of thing." He cocked his ear. "Hush."
They sat in the silent darkness, listening. They heard muffled voices, and the scrape of boots against rocks and gravel at the mouth of the cave. Then the darkness was leavened by a yellowish light as the bushes blocking the entrance were moved aside.
"Hey in there," a man's voice called in Russian.
Schroeder squeezed Karla's hand in a signal to be silent. It was an unnecessary gesture, because she was nearly frozen with fear.
"We know you're in there," the voice said. "We can see where someone cut the bushes. It's not polite not to answer when people are talking to you."
Schroeder crawled forward a few yards, where he had a view of the cave's mouth.
"It's not polite to kill innocent people, either."
"You killed my man. My friend was innocent."
"Your friend was stupid and deserved to die," Schroeder said.
Hoarse male laughter greeted his answer.
"Hey, tough guy, my name is Grisha. Who the hell are you?"
"I'm your worst nightmare come true."
"I heard someone say that in an American movie," the voice said. "You're an old man. What do you want with a young girl? I'll make a deal. I'll let you go if you give us the girl."
"I heard someone say that in a movie too," Schroeder said. "Do you think I'm stupid? Let's talk some more. Tell me why you want to kill the girl."
"We don't want to kill her. She's worth a lot of money to us."
"Then you won't harm her?"
"No, no. Like I said, she's worth more as a hostage."
Schroeder paused as if he were seriously considering the offer.
"I have lots of money too. I can give it to you right away and you won't have to wait. How does a million dollars American sound?"
There was a whispered discussion, then the Russian came back. "My men say it's okay, but they want to see the money first."
"All right. Come closer to the cave and I'll throw it out to you."
The conversation had been in Russian and Karla had understood only part of it. Schroeder whispered to Karla to move deeper into the cave and to cover her ears. He reached into his pack and pulled out an object that looked like a small metal pineapple. He knew that his offer would draw the attackers in like jackals, and, with any luck, he could take out all of them. He stood up. Shards of pain shot up his right leg. The run and climb while carrying the young woman had aggravated the ankle injury.
He moved closer to the entrance. He could see shadows moving closer. Good. There was a slight bend in the cave, and the entrance was a narrow slit, so his aim and timing would have to be just right.
"Here's your money," he said, and pulled the pin from the hand grenade.
As he stepped forward to toss it out of the hole, his injured right leg buckled and he fell, slamming his head against the wall of the cave. He almost blacked out. As his eyes were closing, he saw the grenade hit the ground and roll to a stop only a few feet away. He pulled himself back to consciousness and forced himself to hang on. He lunged for the grenade, felt the hard metal in his hand and again tossed it to the entrance.
His aim was better this time, but the grenade glanced off the wall and came to rest in the dead center of the opening.
Schroeder threw himself deeper into the cave and around the bend, where he gained the shelter of the wall. He clamped his hands over his ears just as the grenade exploded. There was a flash of light and a burst of white-hot metal as the shrapnel peppered the cave in a deadly fusillade. Then came a secondary roar as the entrance collapsed.
The cave was filled with dust. Schroeder lifted his head up and crawled toward the sound of coughing. The light flashed on, but the beam was diffused by the brown curtain of dust that hung in the air.