It always struck him how big the interior of the tent was, compared to the outside. It was like a home away from home. There was a carpet, as well as a table and a bed in a corner. There was a TV and TV stand. An assortment of liquor, from brown rum to Grey goose sat on the table. There was also an ashtray tray, in which a joint still smouldered. 

And there were the safes. One very big safe that Andrew knew contained guns in case they were invaded by bandits and two, much smaller safes. One would contain all the gold they've found so far, almost 40 ounces, and the other, the radio sets.

There was something else too, something he never saw before on the few occasions he had been inside the tent. A picture of a little girl, playing in the snow, her face full of happiness.

"My daughter," Boarensky said, answering his unspoken question as he poured a drink. "I'm all she's got, sadly. Mother died giving birth to her in a Moscow hospital."

Andrew took the glass but did not drink. He was wary. In the three weeks, they had been out here, he had doubted whether Boarensky was even human. Now being told that he was a single father was a lot to process. There was an uncomfortable silence as Boarensky sat down. Then he cleared his throat.

"I'd like to apologize for yesterday." He mumbled awkwardly. "I had no right drawing that gun on you."

"No, you didn't." Andrew decided to make him work for his forgiveness. "But you drew it anyway."

 
"You undermined me in front of the men." Boarensky tried. "If I don't have the respect of the men, I have nothing. I couldn't let you-"

"You never had the respect of your men" Andrew leaned back and rubbed his nose bridge. The thought of that little girl as an orphan, somewhere in Russia, bothered him. "You are already a foreigner. You make no attempt to mingle. You rarely show your face at the pits. And the men are dying and falling ill and you put gold in front of summoning help? What do you expect? Thank you notes from the men?"

Boarensky's face grew more red with each word Andrew flung like daggers at him. 

“There’s one way out of this.” Andrew was hopeful. “Break camp early. Radio for help. We have almost US$70,000 in gold after just three weeks. More than enough. In fact, this is the biggest haul we’ve ever had on one trip!”

“This?" Boarensky's voice changed subtly, becoming smooth. "What exactly is this?" 

Warning bells went off in Andrew's head. Did he know of the plot? How could he know? Boarensky waited, a dangerous look in his eyes.

"This… the death and illness of nearly all your staff." Andrew waved his hand for emphasis. Boarensky looked disappointed.

"Oh…" Boarensky looked at Andrew's still full glass of bourbon and made an attempt to smile. It was clear that smiling did not come naturally to the Russian. Far from putting Andrew at ease, it made the hairs on his arms raise. "Aren't you gonna drink? Let's make merry and put this behind us."

Andrew put the glass on the table and it was like all the warmth had suddenly been sucked out of the tent. Boarensky wasn't smiling now.

"You and the men are planning something," Boarensky growled. "I want to know what it is."

"Planning?" Andrew had always sucked at lying and this time was no exception. "What do you-"

For a large man, Boarensky got up so fast that Andrew wasn't prepared. The Russian towered over him, even as Andrew slowly rose to his feet. 

"You take me for fool? You think I wouldn't see you and the Indian meeting, in dead of night? What are you planning!"

Andrew just mutely shook his head and for a second he thought Boarensky would reach out and strangle him. But the Russian seemed to gather himself, exhale and stepped aside so Andrew could pass.

"Get out," Boarensky said coldly. Andrew was only too happy to oblige.