The Romanov Cross: A Novel by Robert Masello Read Free Book Online Page B

somehow, and that would have been impossible even in broad daylight, with all the proper ropes and gear. Harley had always harbored nothing but scorn for climbers. It was bad enough to risk your ass crabbing, but at least there was money in it. Why do it for the glory of getting to the top of a pile of rocks?
    The wind tore at the sleeves of his anorak, and the ocean spray forced him to shield his eyes and squint. He strained to hear anything besides the roaring of the wind, to see any sign of rescue.
    But there was nothing. He was going to freeze to death on this island—all those fucking legends were true, and he was going to wind up as one more of the miserable souls that haunted the place—and to make it even worse, he was going to die with the first piece of good luck he’d had in ages jammed into the pocket of his anorak. He could feel the Russian cross, with the emeralds embedded in it, prodding his ribs.
    Hunching down to get out of the wind and placing the flare between his soaking boots, he reached inside the coat, fumbling at the zipper, and took the cross out. It was a heavy thing, silver, with emeralds on one side, and, when he turned it over, some sort of inscription on the back. Even without knowing anything more about it, Harley knew it would be worth a fortune. Charlie would know, or Voynovich in Nome.
    If they ever found his body, that is.
    Once more, he scanned the night sky, and this time, far in the distance, he thought he saw a flashing light.
    Just for a second.
    A flashing red light.
    But then he saw it again.
    He rammed the cross back in his pocket and leapt to his feet with the flare in hand. He ripped the safety cap off, held it high, and yanked the cord.
    The flare rocketed up into the sky, leaving a trail of white sparks,before blossoming—high, high above him—in a shower of green phosphorescent light that bathed the beach in its glow.
    “Here!” Harley shouted, jumping up and down and waving his arms. “Here!” He knew he couldn’t be seen, he knew he couldn’t be heard, but it was enough to get the blood pumping again. “I’m here!”
    There was no way they could have missed the flare, he told himself, no way in the world.
    And even as the green streamers began to break up and scatter in the wind, Harley saw the red lights turning toward the island, and heard—or was he just imagining it?—the roar of the helicopter’s propellers.
    Good Christ, he was going to make it. Maybe that cross was his good-luck charm, after all.
    Or not.
    No sooner had his heart lifted than he caught, out of the corner of his eye, a movement at the far end of the beach.
    Just a shadow, prowling onto the sand and gravel.
    The green glow in the sky was nearly gone, but in its fading light he saw the shadow joined by another. They were moving low, and slowly, as if drawn by the flare, but beginning to find something of even greater interest.
    Harley stared out to sea again and saw the chopper’s lights coming closer.
    Then looked back down the crescent of the beach, and saw that the two shadows had become three.
    Then four.
    His impulse was to shout and make himself plain to the Coast Guard pilot, but at the same time he dreaded attracting the attention of the beasts only a few hundred yards away. He knew what they must be—the black wolves indigenous to the island.
    Or, if you believed the stories, the lost souls of the long-dead Russians.
    He didn’t know what to do, but instinctively ran toward the pounding surf line. If he had to, he’d wade back into the sea and try to cling to one of the nearest rocks. Wolves weren’t swimmers.
    But they were trackers, and as he watched in horror, they appeared to pick up his scent and raise their snouts to the wind. Harley searched for a weapon. The coffin lid lay nearby, but he could barely lift it, much less wield it in a fight. He pried a stone loose from the beach, and then another, and gripped them tightly in his hands.
    The helicopter was hovering closer,