The Romanov Ransom (Fargo Adventures 9)

“Of all the bad luck,” Dietrich said, stepping in to help. “This?”

“Definitely lucky,” Sam said.

“How?”

“We were close to the plane for the first avalanche. Had we been any farther away, we’d be buried at the bottom of the mountain. This avalanche, we’re safe inside. Doesn’t get much luckier than that.”

“And to think,” Dietrich said, “I wanted to climb out there to try to call for help.”

“Which shouldn’t be a problem now that the risk is over,” Sam said, using his shovel to scoop down into the hold the snow that Dietrich was digging out.

Icy wind whipped into the cockpit when they finally cleared the tunnel. Unfortunately, most of the wood they’d salvaged from the seats had snapped from the weight of the new snow.

“We’re going to need some way to shore this up,” Sam said, glancing over at Remi, who was watching from the ladder while she held the light for them.

She shivered as she eyed the narrow space and the bit of black sky through the hole. “This may be wishful thinking,” she said, “but any chance we can make a call?”

Sam dug the satellite phone from his pocket, powered it on, and held it near the tunnel. “Not looking good,” he said.

“The storm?” Remi asked. “Or the signal?”

“Both. The wind’s strong, signal’s nonexistent. But the biggest danger’s over, so no harm riding it out until morning.” He pocketed the phone, looking back at her. “Let’s get this tunnel fixed. We have a few more seats we can tear apart, but I’m not sure there’s going to be enough wood.”

“What about that suitcase we found?” Remi said. “I’ll get it.”

The suitcase worked better than he’d expected. “That’s a good start,” Sam said, working the two halves into place. “We need something else to brace it.”

“Snowshoes?” Dietrich suggested.

“We’re going to need those to trek through that snow, once the storm ends.” He climbed down, looking around the fuselage. “Let’s see if we can’t loosen up a couple more of those seats.”

Sam and Dietrich pulled together on one seat back, which broke almost too easily, sending Sam back into Remi, knocking the flashlight from her hand. It hit the ground and spun beneath the seats near the front. She got down on her knees, retrieved it, but stopped and reached for something else.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“Another suitcase under here. I can’t get it out.”

84

The suitcase was wedged between the seat and the floor, inconveniently on the starboard side, where the wing had been sheared off. A wall of ice bearing down on the seat prevented them from being able to move the suitcase, and the space was too narrow for Sam or Dietrich to get to. The two leaned into the seat, pulling up, trying to make more space for Remi. “Can you get it?” Sam asked.

“It’s not budging,” Remi said. “Wait. It moved. I can feel something. The buckle. We’re not going to be able to get it out.”

“Maybe there’s something inside we can use.” Sam braced his feet against the seat behind them, applying leverage.

“Do that again,” she said. “I’ve almost got it.”

Dietrich moved in close to Sam, both men pushing. Finally, they were able to shift the seat above the suitcase enough so that Remi was able to unbuckle it.

“Any luck?” Sam asked.

“I can only get my fingers in. The bottom of the seat’s stopping it . . . I feel something . . . Papers . . .” She pulled out a few and held them up.

Sam took them from her. “Anything else?”

“More papers,” she said. “And something soft beneath. Clothes, probably. Whatever it is, I can’t quite reach it.”

“So much for our great find,” Sam said, handing the papers to Dietrich before reaching down to help Remi to her feet.