Joe had slept well despite his sighting of the Walrus. At breakfast, an unexciting affair of a kind of bread called kleb and processed cheese, he watched for him to appear, but there was no sign of him. They were collected by the manager of the research centre in Lazo, a brisk, athletic-looking woman in her thirties called Iona Petrov. She shepherded them into a six-seater car and asked them to wait while she disappeared back into the hotel. A few seconds later, she came out again with the man from the plane, who loaded his luggage into the back of the car. ‘This is Artem Klopov,’ she introduced him. ‘He works with us as a dog handler. He’s just come back from a training course in the UK. He doesn’t speak much English, though he understands more.’ Artem Klopov nodded to them and clambered awkwardly into the front of the car. Grinning broadly, Peter turned round to Joe and muttered, ‘Very fishy’. Joe was annoyed that he had voiced his suspicions, and a little dismayed at being deprived of his imagined role as detective.
What do You think about Paw Prints In The Snow (2012)?
