Oleg and his deputy stood at the head of the column at a fork in the forest, not far from where Romanov and his men had found the drunkard and storyteller. He remembered the map well and knew there was little difference in the route they chose. Looking first at one road and then at the other, Oleg mentally repeated a nursery rhyme and chose the route. Then he motioned to the driver of the lead vehicle in the direction of travel and returned to his seat in one of the trucks.
The column moved off. They weren't moving very fast—this was unfamiliar territory, and Oleg was wary of surprises. However, everything was quiet, and nothing foreshadowed trouble. The forest was just like any other forest: trees, bushes, more trees, more bushes. The sun tried to shine through the branches, but the dens
