Page 42 of Radar

Orest Kalinsky got in almost twenty-four hours before him.

Orest’s bags had not, in fact, been searched upon landing, and Orest had spent his day unencumbered by the Fairbanks FBI because their supervisor was disinclined to do the DIA or the CIA a favor. They even gave Finley’s supervisor, Frost, a cold shoulder.

The play of words in that thought brought a momentary smile to Xander’s lips.

Throughout his career, Xander had learned the importance of keeping things light along the trail. The dark was a burden that wore a man down.

Gallows humor was a survival technique.

Xander conscientiously looked for a reason to smile or laugh along the way. And, too, Radar was with him. Cerberus drummed it into Xander that Radar thought that work was play. And Radar would hardwire with Xander’s emotions. If Xanderwanted a working dog that actually worked, Xander would have to embrace the idea that work was play for himself as well.

And so Xander practiced keeping things chill as the dangers heated up.

Once he had his bag, Xander would head to Lumberjack, Alaska, a town with a population of 129.

Lumberjack was a dot on the map, so small that Xander had a hard time convincing the GPS search mechanism that it existed at all. Lumberjack was, in fact, two hours out in the pristine nothingness of Alaska. That’s where Orest had kenneled his dogs for the last number of years.

With nothing there but trees and snow drifts, why else would Kalinsky be here but to see the dogs?

Here was the big question: Was Orest there, or was he in the wind?

“Once I have the car,” Xander told Hiro. “I’m heading right for the lodge. You got me reservations, right?”

“Yeah, about that,” Hiro said. “We had to hack in and remove a different reservation to get you in at all. Why it’s so popular at this time of year is a mystery to me.”

“Wait, did you say youhackedthe system?” Xander asked.

“Not me, I used that high school hotshot code breaker who works for us after school and on weekends. Look, I did what was necessary to get you a place to stay. It’s too cold to camp in Alaska this time of year. It’s a six-dog night, at least, and you only have the one,” Hiro said. “I was looking at the weather forecast, and you're in for nippy weather. I hope you brought mukluks with you.”

“First thing I packed.” Xander wished he had a good pair of indigenous seal-skin mukluks. The best he could do, given the spur-of-the-moment assignment, was to throw some extra thermal socks in his bag. If that didn’t work in Slovakian temperatures, he knew his boots weren’t up to double-digitnegative numbers here in Alaska. At least he had a Russian fur hat with flaps that kept his brain toasty.

“In order to find you a bed,” Hiro was saying, “we had to find a new arrival, someone you could beat to the registration desk. I wasn’t able to get you right next to Orest. There are two rooms between you and him. Burns and Orest have signed in. Burns is first in the row. Then Orest, two rooms, you. Best we could do, but it makes surveillance harder.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Xander said. “Tell me more about beating someone to the desk.”

“Get your bag, grab the car, pick yourself up some fast food, and book it to the lodge. The couple coming in has a note on their registration saying they’ll be coming straight from Fairbanks Airport and will be late checking in. If everything goes to plan, you’ll be tucked in bed. And according to the law, that means you win the race.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the effort. But I hope something opens up for those people I’m displacing. That’s not cool.”

“But a nuclear winter sure is,” Hiro said. “Think of it this way, Xander, while they may be inconvenienced, their sacrifice might prove pivotal to the continued existence of the human race. Man, I gave myself a chill. It’s almost like I can hear the Doomsday Clock ticking in my ear. I’m eating a peanut butter and potato chip sandwich, pretending that the good guy always wins in the end.”

“You and me both, brother.” After Xander ended the call, he worked the plan.

He liked to think it was a good omen that everything was going smoothly. The car was ready. Radar was being his best-boy self. The food was tasty, the coffee hot, and the drive was interesting enough that Xander wasn’t forced to sing along with the radio to stay awake.

But it was winter in Alaska, so now that it was dinner time, it was dark out.

The front desk lady handed out his key card with a “Welcome, Mr. Belov, enjoy your stay. The lodge staff lights the evening fire at seven. We allow dogs if they're on leash and under supervision.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Xander pocketed his key card while taking another look at the map, protected under glass on the check-in desk.

The apple-cheeked woman put her finger on his room. “Just out the door and turn to the right. The numbers are visible. You're down toward the end there.”

“Thank you, again.”

In his doggie shoes meant to protect his paws from frostbite, Radar comically high-stepped by Xander’s side. Together, they moved along the boardwalk past the dining room. There, sitting alone at a four-top, was Orest Kalinsky. Xander had only seen the man in photos and videos, but he knew it was Orest by the way Xander pressed his weight into his heels and his perception expanded, preparing him for a fight.

Here was the enemy.

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