Nine Layers of Sky Read Online Free PDF Page B

they’ve changed their clothes along with their name,” Elena murmured. “After all, they’re supposed to be the good guys now.” Which was true enough, she reflected, if you compared them with the
Mafiya
or Islamic fundamentalists.
    Atyrom shifted uneasily in his seat. “Good thing this wasn’t on the way to Tashkent.”
    Elena looked at him. “And why not?”
    “Well . . . those spare parts I got hold of, the ones I sold along with the videos . . .”
    “What about them?”
    “I’m not sure where some of them came from, that’s all.”
    “You told me they were all seconds from the factory.”
    “Well, yes. Most of them were.”
    Elena sighed. She couldn’t bring herself to feign surprise.
    “Good thing this didn’t happen on the way to Tashkent, then,” she echoed. She wondered uneasily about the penalty for handling stolen goods, and also about other possibilities. She remembered the ambulance driver, robbing the pockets of the dead: It was by no means an unusual situation among the authorities. She slipped the envelope containing her share of the money out of her handbag and tucked it deep under the seat. After a moment’s thought, she slid the ball after it.
    One of the men was beckoning them forward. Atyrom started up the Sherpa and they rolled along the road. When they were level with the little crew, a man leaned in through the window and said, “Open the back, please.” It was a clipped, official voice, the kind that didn’t even expect
nyet
for an answer, and she could not place the accent.
    “What are you looking for?” Elena asked, smiling as charmingly as she could.
    “Just open the back of the van, please.”
    Atyrom shrugged. “It’s empty,” he told the man, but he got out of the Sherpa and complied. Elena squinted into the driving mirror, trying to see what they were doing. The search took some time, and seemed exhaustive. They had some kind of device. She heard one of the men say, “Are you sure the scanner’s working properly? We’re on the other side of the border. . . .”
    His companion answered, “I told you. The thing will be difficult to detect if it hasn’t been activated. But we have to try.”
    Elena frowned. The man came back.
    “Get out of the van.”
    “Why? It’s freezing out there.”
    The man jerked his head. “Just get out of the van.”
    Sighing, Elena got down and found herself spreadeagled against the side of the Sherpa, beside Atyrom and Gulnara. She braced herself. Her pockets were swiftly rifled. The men were looking in the front of the van; she saw one of them run a hand beneath the seats and held her breath. A voice in her ear said, “All right. You can go.”
    Atyrom was already impatiently holding open the door of the van. “Come on. Hurry up.”
    “What in the world was that all about?” Gulnara asked as they climbed into the cabin.
    “I’ve no idea. Who cares?
Militzia.
They had some sort of scanner. They’re probably looking for drugs.”
    “I don’t think they’re the police,” Elena said doubtfully. She put her hand under the seat, but to her relief, the money and the object were still there.
    Atyrom shrugged and pulled away. They came level with the customs post. Elena groped in her bag for her passport, waved it at the official, and they were once more back in Kazakhstan.
    “We’ll press on, yes?” Atyrom said. “We can make Almaty by midnight. I’ll stop in Dzhambyl and pick up some food.”
    “Fine with me,” Elena said. She leaned back against the headrest. She felt tired and hot, though the cabin was only just beginning to warm up again. She could see her breath steaming against the glass, forming patterns as it faded. It was an effort to keep her eyes open and eventually she gave up the struggle. She began to doze, waking fitfully as Atyrom flicked through the radio stations. A white mushroom dome appeared out of the sleety darkness. Other yurts lay beyond it. Atyrom pulled off the