Syssoi, concealed by a thick grove, carefully watched the rustic cabin, surmounted by a small column of smoke that escaped from its chimney flue. It must have been a logger’s shelter, and yet he detected two people inside, one familiar: Nadezhda. The other must have been her kidnapper, but he didn’t think it was the priest or his Italian sidekick. A little further, in a clearing, a Kamov helicopter was waiting among the wild grasses. The vampire reflected. By the smell, he could have sworn that the machine still contained enough kerosene but, in this case, why had his enemy not taken the girl further, to a place where they would both be safe from reprisals. He must have had an idea in mind. He had barely formulated this thought when the cabin door opened. An individual dressed in a militar
