"The Little Diomede Affair" Chapter 4

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Links to :Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 continued Chapter 3


The wiley Kuryakin flashed his most sincere look to Irina Lezarev, and using those baby blues of his that had send chills down an enemy's spine; he easily swayed her, even though he was a complete stranger to her.

Like Napoloeon, Illya had his powers of persuasion, though he rarely used them to seduce a woman.

“Ivy, I am sure there is nothing ominous going on,” he lied, knowing it was for the best.

“You think so?”

“What else could it be but that? I am sure the government does not want to get the village’s hopes up about laying pipes, yes?”

She smiled at that as plumbing would be wonderful. “But where are my manners? Could I offer you some tea? It’s a chilly day out there and I think some snow’s on the way. You have somewhere to stay?”

He finally let a half-smile escape at his success at winning her over so quickly. “No, I have just gotten here. I will need to find that as well as where people are being hired.”

“Well I have a spare room I can rent you for a fair price...and only rent mind you, no funny business.”

“I was not planning on it.” He allowed himself to blush ever so slightly.

“Oh I apologize, I didn’t mean to insinuate…”

“I was not offended so your apology is unnecessary. Now that tea would be good…if you do not mind?”

He followed her into the kitchen, checking it over as well.

“Outhouse is out back but when it gets too cold, well a bucket is a bucket,” she spoke matter of factly.

Illya he cringed at the thought of going out in sub-zero temperatures to relieve himself in an outhouse; though that too brought back memories of his childhood home again, unpleasant ones at that.

The family dacha outside of Kyiv had no such thing as indoor plumbing, but the family managed. He did remember his home was warm and full of love, until the war came.

Kurakin seated himself at another small table with only two chairs while Ivy prepared to make their tea.

The kitchen had a sink, a small counter on which to work, and an oil stove. A small refrigerator most likely run on a generator outside the old house. The doorless cabinets on one wall were stocked with canned goods, and two loaves of Wonder Bread sat on the counter.

In a corner were stacked several large sacks of flour, rice and beans. There was a large plastic drum that housed her water.

Ivy saw him looking at her water barrel. “Fresh water comes from a  spring, but it’s unreliable. By late winter we have to melt snow for drinking.”

The walls had the same paneling as the sitting room, and most likely it was used throughout the entire place, helping to insulate.

“This was my grandfather’s house,” Ivy said, striking up a conversation as she watched him looking about. She plugged in an electric kettle to boil the water, no doubt a luxury.

“It was built in the19th century when the island was used as a weigh station for whalers, but those days are long gone. Electric’s run by a main  generator that takes care of this part of the village, but you probably already guessed that. I only use it for the lights and making my tea,” she chuckled. “Oil lamps suit me well enough to read by, and they help warm up the place.”

“Do you work here on the island?”

“Yes, I’m the teacher; only six students right now ranging from pre-school age to early teens.”

He nodded his approval, now understanding the amount of books she had on her shelves in the sitting room.

“Well let’s get you settled,” Ivy slapped her hands on her thight as she stood.

Illya was shown to his room; it was no surprise that it was simple like the rest of the house.

“It’s not much, but you’ll be warm, and you can take your meals here too.”

“Thank you, that will be fine.”

A cot, beside it a nightstand whith an oil lamp on it; he knew that smell instantly... seal oil. Making that was hard work as it required hunting. The meat would be allowed to freeze and the blubber pounded with a hammer, and as it melted the oil oozed out.

He recalled during the ‘Yukon Affair,’ Murphy had told him once that was how it was done.* Blubber, ugh...not exactly one of his favorite foods either.

There was no closet, not that he needed one, just a rickety chest of drawers standing against one wall, with a pitcher and a wash basin atop it along with a neatly folded white towel.

A flue pipe from the kitchen stove ran up through the floor and out the ceiling...this would be the only source of heat in the room.

Several heavy wool blankets were layered on top of the bed. He drew back the curtains on the only window, gazing out at the silo, finally seeing people walking behind it out of view and presumed the entrance was there. Illya returned his attention to his room, spotting a framed photograph, the only thing hanging on walls.

It was of Ivy and a dark-haired young man.

“That was my brother Randy,” she explained.”This was his room.”

“Was?”

“He’s dead. Killed while out on the ice. He was hauling in blue king crab two years ago. He’d done good, caught about seventy but he got greedy and set more crab pots. The sea ice broke and he drowned.” She said it matter of factly with no show of emotion.

“You have my condolences.”

“Hey life out here is hard....I still miss him though. Well, let me leave you unpack. I have to get supper started anyway.”

He dropped his duffel on the bed, not bothering to unpack except for removing a heavier jacket, gloves and a knit cap. Illya drew his communicator from shirt pocket.

“Open Channel D-Waverly.”

“Yes Mr. Kuryakin, what have you to report?”

“I have arrived at the island sir. The place reeks of poverty and it is no wonder THRUSH is taking advantage of the people here.  A local has indicated to me that several of the islanders have disappeared along with some outsiders who also came here to work. I will be leaving to seek employment with our feathered friends as soon as we are done speaking.”

“Very well. I’ll expect your report in five hours and young man, be careful.”

“That is the plan sir. Kuryakin out.”

He tucked away his communicator and after going downstairs, he got the directions from Ivy to the a place called the ‘Diomede Native Store.’  Next door to it a THRUSH representative had set up shop in a trailer that had been helicoptered in from the mainland.  They were always there until after dark.

He headed outside, flipping up his collar and hugging himself as the wind had picked up. Illya stepped towards a well worn trail that would take him to the other end of the village; looking upwards as he moved, having been warned by Ivy about sticking to the trail.

“Don’t go near ‘the castle’ she called it, cautioning him. After giving Illya the details behind her warning; Ivy reminded him there’d be halibut chowder and biscuits for supper.

“Sounds good,” he answered her, still looking quite serious.”I look forward to sampling your cooking.”  With that he turned and walked with purpose along the trail.

The castle was a series of jagged rock outcroppings located on the upper west side of the island.  Located close to the site of a plane crash and even closer to the legend of a woman who climbed up there one day carrying her baby. When she slipped on loose rocks, she fell and was cut in half  by the rocks, according to the myth.

It was also not far from the local graveyard, full of wooden crosses and small boxes for the bodies, which could not be buried in the island's rocky soil. The same rocky spot was close to an area she called Siniktawik in Inuit, which was a sitting place, a good spot to watch for polar bears wandering across the sea ice when the waters froze.

Once he was hired, and he had no doubt that he would; he had no plans to go anywhere but to that silo unless a sudden circumstance took him elsewhere.

Illya wandered along through the village, using a small flashlight to keep him from losing his footing until he looked up, seeg the horizon was suddenly illuminated with bright reds, yellows and greens against the deep blue star-filled sky.  It was the aurora borealis.

Though he knew it was merely a phenomenon which took place whenever solar winds and charged particles collided with the earth’s atmosphere, that at the moment was immaterial to him.

The sight was breathtaking, he’d forgotten how beautiful it was. There were so many things on the assignment that brought back memories for him both bad and good.

Illya paused for a moment, taking it in before making his way toward the silo to check on the location of the entrance. Once confirming his suspicions, he headed to the trailer. It wasn’t hard to find as it was the most modern thing there in the antiquated village..

He paused as he reached for the door knob, taking a deep breath as he readied himself before entering.


Chapter 5

Comments

[irisheitie.livejournal.com]

I love how this is building in suspense! I still hate waiting, though😀

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! Sorry you have to wait until Tuesday as the next chapter ties in with the next Picfic. I think only a couple more chapters left...maybe. "D

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

You can definitely feel the tension mounting. You've got me well and truly hooked with this one.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Oh I like hearing that! Thanks for keeping up with the story and commenting. Only a couple of chapters left....I think. My mind is racing with a lot of ideas. :D