The Diamond Triangle

By Leonard

A team of geologists comes to Siberia, 5,000 km east of Moscow, in search of the diamonds, called in Russian, almaz or brilliants. Together with the wealthy patriot-sponsors, they are on the mission to save the economically wracked country from the embezzlement and robbery of valuable resources. And they find itthe Diamond Triangle with 50 carat crystals. At the beginning, the explorers do not suspect that it will be hunted down by other adverse forces. The people in the taiga realize their almost unbearable task in time when it is too late to skip off and run away. They come upon many perilous snares among the snowy terrains and mountains and venture into the wilderness of that remote land, which lies east of the Ural Mountains. They are entrapped all around by all kind of bounty hunters, who viciously compete for the premium prize for their heads, appraised in million dollars. The group of faithful committed people turns into the fugitives in the Siberian taiga because they possess, so rare in the present human world qualitiespatriotism and belief.

Then, in a remote corner of Siberia, encircled from all sides by the bounty hunters and very close to a tragic finale, the fugitives hear the battle sounds; help comes from their real friends and brothersthe pomors from the White Sea shores and aboriginal Nenets people, historical owners of the tundra. The sea people pomors, called in the past Ice Vikings, successfully get through that secret century-old route, north of the Arctic Circle, across the Kara Sea and Yamal Peninsula. The route their ancestors once upon a time had traced in deviation of the ruthless tsar guards and Moscows rulers. And now, almost four centuries later, they rediscover the route to freedom and escape from other merciless rulers. Once again, as in the past, the northern people of this enormous country come to help and protect against the dominance of brutal power.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781467896528

Leonard

Leonard Chepel was born in Ukraine; marine biologist-ichthyologist; PhD. Took part in research voyages throughout Arctic and Atlantic Ocean from Greenland-Labrador to Antarctica. Served an Executive Secretary of Northwest Atlantic Fisheries Organization (NAFO) in Halifax, NS, Canada, 1991-2002. Published professional articles in English and Russian.

Book preview

The 

 Diamond 

 Triangle

Leonard

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© 2012 by Leonard. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/02/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4678-9651-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-9652-8 (e)

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Contents

Preface

Introduction

The Lonely Survivor

The Cottage near

St. Petersburg

The Siberian Expedition

The Survey

The Discovery

The Chase

The Crush

Across the Wilderness

In the Primeval Forest

Do not cry the Wolf

The Rescue

The Flight to the 

 Enemy Liar

In the Devil’s Den

Sydor-conformist

Interrogation

The Escape

The Base

On Onega Coast

The Expedition

On the Trail

The Diary

The Deadly Contest

The Way to Silver Dale

The Messengers

The Betrayal

The Old Pomors’ Way

The Battle

To Freedom

About the Author

The geologist’s diary:

‘My childish dreams have been

To cross on foot Siberian land,

Trail cliffs, taiga, without end;

Then suddenly come up to face

That mystic, shiny, gleaming,

Siberian diamond wonderland.’

Preface

In my late literary exercise I’ve perceived this story, as first essay in the very special sequel of Siberian Saga about the challenge of an unprecedented journey across the Siberian wild expanse near the Ice Ocean and all time not far from the Arctic Circle. Sometime ago I heard this story, or rather an incredible heroic tale about the inhospitable land, forest, cold, and indomitable people. The story was in some way a revelation for me because I had spent most life by navigating the ocean and writing about it. In my profession of marine biologist, the narrative about the land, forest, and mountains was less fascinating than my observation of exotic islands, ocean and wonders of 1000m down there below, in abyssal depths. However, our human life has been predestined in such a way that all mariners, or nearly all, would disembark eventually on the land. That’s what I did and honestly thought that I’ve got to get on with the terms and rules of this hardened land life. Then this story-tale struck my mind when I was trying to make more sense of the life and the often-violent world around me

My initial self-prescription to sustain this new life was very simple with strong belief that the universal reflection-slogan of the whole life has always been—῾all that is done is done for the best’. It worked well so far; I had not finished my existence prematurely in 20-meter waves of the Drake Passage or on the frigid Antarctic ice floes. Then it came to my mind that the universal slogan has been a very optimistic and intentional pretext not only for those who run and possess this unsettled world but also for all us, simple people, looking for the ‘happy end’. We forgot or intelligibly tried to fool ourselves against the wisdom of old times and the great concept of the Royal Philosopher, who said once that ‘what has been is what will be . . . there is nothing new under the sun . . .’

And therefore I had changed my philosophic mantra about ‘done for the best’ and turned my attention to this land story, in which I tried to modify that previous conformist concept-statement to other one with less optimistic question—῾What do people gain from all the toil at which they toil under the sun? Eccl. 1:3’. With such an eternal quest I approached the main subject of my narration and ventured together with a small group of people into the most enigmatic part of the planet, about which other world knew close to nothing. I guess not many English books, if any, have ever been written about the Siberia and what people gain?

These heroic events, as a sad mismatch-struggle of a tiny living speck with titanic adverse forces, have been unveiling on the gigantic stage of the Russian north, in Siberian taiga, which, as I personally believe, is a very special plot on the face of earth. Some billion years ago, this planet was ingeniously designed with two earthly lungs or major geographically asymmetric forestlands, special green sub-continents inside of main continuous expenses of the land, with main designation—to supply the flora and fauna with life-giving oxygen. These forestland-lungs are: in the southern Hemisphere—Amazonia and in the northern Hemisphere—Siberia; everything floral-green outside of those would be just supplements, which would never substitute the major two.

The northern forest continent extends all 4000km from west to east and from north to south. Once upon a time I flew across the Siberian green continent for full five hours on a speedy jet and saw just a part of it. Then, some time later, I disembarked on the Atlantic shores, near the estuary of the largest river of this world, and got my lucky chance to touch a gigantic tree on the Amazonian margin, which was extended further thousands of miles west, towards the foot of the Cordillera de los Andes.

My memory retains so far all stories, this one and many others, once narrated by my friend about his northern land and the Siberian kingdom of the thousands of miles of unexplored space-mountains, forests, rivers, untamed wild life, and treasures. Not many parts of this planet would be so beautifully enigmatic tragic and overfilled with the mystical earthly energy. I remembered the words my friend once said: ‘This land preserved the prime energy of our country and this planet similar to the sower, who preserved the seeds for the future; we would probably need these seeds sometime in future.’ He spoke about the very special seeds of our geneses. I believed in such optimism because saw vividly in my past recollection these people struggling through Siberian taiga… And I knew that I have to write about them…

Image22241.jpg

The northern Hemisphere forest-lungs of 10,000,000 square kilometers—Siberia

Introduction

The exploratory trail starts off from the former northern capital of Russian Empire, St. Petersburg. A group of geologists together with the wealthy patriot-sponsors are on the mission to save the economically wracked country from the embezzlement and robbery of valuable resources. After grueling travel along 3000km of non-excitant roads, a secret mission reaches the south of Siberia, ‘Zapadnosibirskaya Nizmennost—West Siberian Lowland’, somewhere at 55-60 degrees north latitude and 65-70 degrees east longitude. From there, they take the Siberian Express and move east towards the main point of departure near the mountainous range that Russians call ‘Eniseyskiy Kryazh—Eniseyskiy Ridge’.

The Ridge begins near the city of Krasnoyarsk by huge apocalyptic extraterrestrial cliffs-pillars and extends several hundred kilometers along the river Enisey. The main bearing of the expedition is northeast, from the point of departure towards the Arctic Circle and tundra. The explorers are trudging through and across the apocalyptic landscape of everything what the earth had long ago resolved to bring onto the surface. The prime assignment of the expedition is the search for transparent almost invisible crystals, which they hope to unearth somewhere on this landscape of nearly one million square kilometers.

The scientists aware about the earthly riches of this huge forestland but they are ignorant of other natural mission. This hardly accessible mountainous country was designed by its creator to hide and guard the other things, which human beings used to call the treasure, produced by the Mother Earth for very special reasons. And the people do not suspect that the hidden treasures have been nominated by the Lord not so much for pleasure but for a unique mission—to test the human soul and unveil the dark wicked side of human foundation. There, in Siberia, the explorers and romantics are about to face the utmost challenge of the mission.

At the beginning, the explorers do not suspect that will be hunted down by other adverse forces. The people in taiga had realized their almost unbearable task in time when it was too late to skip off and run away. They come upon many perilous snares among the snowy terrains and mountains. Without a high nomination to be a dauntless adventurer not any human should step into the shoes of a Siberian explorer and venture into the wilderness of that remote land, which lies east of the Ural Mountains. Encircled by primeval impassable forest, these people thought they were the noble hunters after the perilous treasures of this world to save the world. It was a tragic mistake. Very serious people of the country in their heartless capital city, Moscow, 5000km west, have chosen the destiny and fate of these people far away.

The time is running short for the prospectors because a dreadful cold season is approaching. And it is a moment when they reach that part of Siberian taiga, which has been expected to bring success. The mountainous terrain is hard and treacherous; only the native guides, born in this forest, know and lead them in deviation of deadly traps by rivers, rocks and murky canyons. The high plateau journey appears rewarding at the end… Richard, the chief of the geological team, sees a large boulder-rock and a brook streaming under the one. And then, the wonder and the goal of all hard work during last four months—a shiny glittering spark of light is beaming from one spot inside of the pale alluvium sediments. It is a genuine 50-karat rough diamond-crystal. The young man knows that the grandfather and father’s scientific theory is correct = this is a nucleus of the Diamond Triangle.

By trembling hands he takes it and then hides the crystal deep inside of the pocket; you cannot simply show such magic right away to others around. The magic could be tragic for young and enthusiastic geologists. But a joyful cry of other young excited guy explodes in the taiga silence—‘Diamonds, Almazy!’ They have discovered the richest field in this world, but do not suspect yet that because this they all become a target for adverse dark forces, assembled in Moscow with one aim to appropriate the riches and the fortune of this country into greedy private hands. The chase has begun and the circle has been quickly tightened around them.

But one brave honest warrior-general in Siberia has sent a chopper for rescue; that time the old soldier do not suspect that very soon will pay dearly for this and other patriotic deeds; the illicit wealth does not like patriots. The hectic chase is underway from the Yenisey river westward, towards the Ob River and further north, to Arctic Circle. The angry Moscow’s oligarchs, as Russians call the people with power and billion dollars, give the orders to get all data and eliminate the witnesses. It works for them at the beginning; the enemy shoots, the chopper crushes and people are killed.

The only chance for those, who are still alive, to escape the vicious hunt and endure the hush Siberian winter is to dispatch the messengers across the Ural Mountains and tundra. Two strongest and brave are on the trail, but only one, Richard, has survived, fighting the wolves, eating the wolves and singing with the wolves. This drama takes place at western foot of Ural Mountains, right on the margin with the Western Tundra. In the most critical moment, other historical inhabitants of northern lands, sea people—pomors, come to save him. This time the man has survived and reached, as he happily thought, the civilized world to realize only that fell into the trap set by the enemies.

Nevertheless he and his father, real doctor and professor of geological science, are much more sophisticated and fool the captors. The real patriotic friends help them and devise a plan of disclosure of the discovered diamond fields to the people of this country. And once again Richard embarks on the snowy trail to Siberia, across Arctic tundra and the mountains, on the mission to find his crushed team before the other people find them and get the secret of the diamond fields. They travel through a number of difficult natural and human-made obstacles and finally find the team in a remote log house of Siberian taiga, near the Arctic Circle.

But it is a half-victory only. They are again entrapped all around by all kind of bounty hunters, who viciously compete for the premium prize of Richard’s and his team heads, appraised in million dollars. Their former friends and sponsors cannot help because the former patriots and honest are simply bought by high stakes of billion dollars. The group of faithful committed people turns into the fugitives in Siberian taiga because they possess so rare in the present human world qualities—patriotism and belief.

Then, in a remote corner of Siberia, encircled from all sides by the bounty hunters and very close to a tragic finale, the fugitives hear the battle sounds; help comes from their real friends and brothers—the pomors from the White Sea shores and aboriginal Nenets people, historical owners of the tundra. The sea people pomors, called in the past ‘Ice Vikings’, successfully get through that secret century old route, north of the Arctic Circle, across the Kara Sea and Yamal Peninsula. The route their ancestors once upon a time had traced in deviation of the ruthless tsar guards and Moscow’s rulers. And now, almost four centuries later, they have rediscovered the route to freedom and escape from other merciless rulers. Once again, as in the past, the northern people of this enormous country came to help and protect against the dominance of brutal power.

The Lonely Survivor

At the end of the year, two hunters reached very far to east from the normal hunting ground and arrived to the foot of the Ural Mountains, in the spot with several extended southwest canyons. The Arctic Circle at 66 33’ 44" latitude was just a couple of miles up from the hunting camp, made of a reindeer leather tent, covered by snow layer up to the middle of its height; it looked like an aboriginal chum or igloo. The father and son knew that this distant land, discovered by their forbears 200-300 years ago, was the best area for hunting of Polar Fox and Silver Fox; the treasure game of Russian and pomor people in the past centuries. Needles to say, this special land was a highly secret site, known only for a few.

At the end of November, the sun did not deliver much daylight along Arctic latitudes; the daytime was accounted only for a couple of hours of real visual contact with the environment and chance to spot the most wanted prey—the Polar Fox. After the elegant Silver Fox, this one was the most coveted and expensive fur product for aboriginal hunters. Therefore it was the justifiable reason to come so far to this insecure region, which the white-haired wise people of this northern land have never recommended to visit by a small group and never by two people only.

These two were still young and vigorous but reckless and have calculated all chances. The father was forty-five and the son, just nineteen; two strong men from the real pomors’ coast of Onega Bay, which is on the southern shores of the White Sea. They did not care about any comfort, cold, snow and, as well, the danger. The hunters took the reliable allies with them; two deer harnessed into a light sled, called drowni and a dog, ‘Predanniy—Devoted’, an undisputed wolf killer. They called it in Russian volkodav, the kind of a shy domestic dog with the bite and strength of the bear. The Devoted used to kill the wolves by one simple bite of powerful teeth at the neck. Not first time the men have been venturing into the white desert to get some extra money, actually very good money from the fur trade; they want to build their own brand hew fishing boat, because the old one, really old Pomors’ kotch, was too old. The main devotion of these men, proudly called sea people—pomors, was to get fish and seals in the native White Sea and sometimes in the Barents Sea.

During ten days, the hunters filled up the sledges with twenty nice pelts of Polar Fox and even four Silver Foxes, which was unusual; the Silver Fox was the best property of Siberia, east of Ural Mountains, and very rare in this region. The only reasonable explanation for such hunters’ luck would be that tundra here was adjacent to the large forest canyon-valley, which was going through the Ural Mountains and into the Siberian taiga; the Silver Fox had good chance to migrated across the mountains westward. The father said that these four Silver Fox pelts would be sufficient to buy a powerful engine for the boat.

After that day they got the pelts, all four in one day, the father said that it was a sign to stop the hunting: ‘the time is right to stop in the right time, we got the sign today . . .’. They were extremely busy from the dawn till dark night, nearly six-seven hours of a non-stop ski run all three weeks daily. The decision was to stay this overnight in the portable chum-tent. Very next morning with first signs of daylight, approximately at 10:30, the hunters will be ready to take course true west, to Archangels region, across open tundra and over one real railway road, which connects the Arctic coal city of Vorkuta with the city of Ukhta, at the distance of 600km south.

The date was November 30; the winter weather worked in diligence with strong winds and -20C, as Arctic winter solstice was coming close. And what has appeared really dangerous—the polar night was approaching on schedule; or rather it was already there, with the serious chances to come under attack of large packs of hungry tundra wolves. The vicious creatures were about to begin their winter drifting along the snowy terrains by groups of 25-30 vicious beasts. Such attacks if were occurred, would live absolutely nothing from the human beings, the dog and deer. And nothing could help in such a case if they could kill a half of the attackers even; the leftovers of the wolf pack and a couple of more joining packs could finish the orgy very fast, even the pelts would be devoured by starving animals.

Today the father first time spotted the sign that the hairy toothy creatures, so far lonely, appeared in the forest and tundra; the moony clan has called-howled its winter gathering and in a couple of weeks, these wise social wild entities would aggregate to facilitate the hunting; even a large animal like the grizzly bear would never challenge the tundra packs. The bears preferred to retire into the caves under deep snow, and those of the kind of sleepless walkers, called by Russians ‘shatun’, would keep away from the tundra open terrains. The father was first to take a nap of early hours, between 8pm-2 am; he will wake up to relive the son in the most treacherous nighttime. The dear were placed near the tent in a special grove, dug in snow, and the dog was positioned on its standard spot, right at the entrance; the dog was a shaggy creature and could easily sustain the Arctic cold up to -50C. At present -20C, it was like nice summer cooling breeze for this really devoted monster that not once had met the bears without fear.

The dog gave its first growling signs of displeasure around 1am and the young man on watch felt that it was a clear evidence of the unwelcome tundra drifters around the campsite. The Devoted would never react in such a way at foxes, lonely wolfs, or similar, and would respond only to the real unusual threat to his masters. It was time to wake up the father; but no needs, the father did not sleep, keeping a seven-charges carbine in hands. Next moment, the dog rose in an attacking pose into the dark night on the left side from the tent; something unusual was over there, in the tundra white space.

However, the most surprising was that the deer did not show any signs of concern or distress, what would in the case of a wolf pack or the grizzly bear, the worse danger in this place; the deer were peacefully sleeping in the deep snow grove because did not smell any danger. The Devoted started a slow movement into the dark, but the father stopped it by a strong call; ‘Stay near, do not move, lay down.’ The best position for all would be under protection of the tent, almost invisible in the snow; the two carbines of the sharpshooters with sharp long knifes at hand were ready to any situation. Two special torches, saturated by inflammable tar-resin, were ready to light on in the case of a wolves’ attack.

The son first noticed through the night twilight but not a wolf pack, just one lonely shadow was barely moving in their direction. Then father saw it; from time to time the shaky shadow would disappear for a moment and then show up above the snow, like a slow motion dolphin on the water surface. No doubt there was no any danger to come closer and explore that strange creature; the distance was around 100-150m and the white snow reflected well the dark object on the white terrain, illuminated now by the hazy moonshine. The growling dog was leading the way towards the moving thing. When they approached, the creature remained slumped in the snow without any movement under the pile of fur pelts.

It looked like was a living being, dressed in a long fur coat and fur hat-hood; would be very solid clothes for Arctic weather if were not torn to pieces in many parts. On the top of the overcoat was one more short fur coat, looked like a simple wolf skin with holes to put hands through. The dog readily confirmed this impression by deep growling at the skin; the animal did not like the worst enemies, even their skins. In one minute, the father and son took this pile of fur with something inside into the tent. Strangely enough, a large body no doubt of a human being inside was not very heavy. In a couple of minutes, the father put the fire on of a portable primus-stove to make a hot healthy potion. But first, he got a spoon, 20-30ml of pure alcohol, to pour into the subject’s mouth.

It was a man, the tall and exhausted man; this body was malnutrition to extreme and only that strange pure energy without any physical substance, implanted into humans, has been moving this human being for well-defined reason towards the hope for survival. The hair covered the man’s face all around, creating one dense mask of entangled light-brown curls from head, mustaches and beard; it was probably the main reason that the man’s face has not been badly affected by cold. In some spots, the hair displayed the grey signs or could be snow traces with the evaporating frost from the breaths; however, what would be breath energy in such cold body? After the first aid, the man finally displayed the signs of life; but he was semiconscious. The hands and feet of the stranger needed very urgent attention to prevent freezing, which has already started to work on this body. The father knew how to do it; they got enough seal oil and other Pomor’s medication. The man was in very good hands from this moment.

It happened completely unexpected and the hunters knew that have to extend the stay on this spot for a couple of days more to revive and heal the man; they have to risk their lives for another human being; it was the absolutely unchallenged law of this land and the northern people life. The tent was reinforced and completely covered by snow blocks; it turned now almost a real Eskimo igloo. The deer accommodated in a deeper grove, similar to a snow barn, however without a solid roof; just a couple of large tree branches were placed on the top of the snow banks. It was a very timely preparation; the wolf packs were visible everywhere under ascending full moon, which was climbing up high on the sky. In this almost unrealistic world, through misty fogy air with the temperature of -30C, the high pitch howls of hundreds tundra wolves vocalized the stale-frozen ether by the cacophony of blood freezing sounds.

On second day, the man opened the eyes and asked:

Who are you? Where am I? Where is Mary?

The father said:

"We are Pomor-hunters. This land we call the Great Tundra near Ural Mountains. We found you alone in the snow. Who are you? Did you ran from prison?"—He asked the man about it because the large prison camp was not very far from this place, just 150km north, near Vorkuta city. The prison or rather several prisons of the former Soviet Gulag have been preserved almost unchanged; new generation of this turmoil country and its rulers were in need of prisons.

No, we…—The man looked around like expecting to see somebody else he still has not yet recovered from a delirious state of mind . . . I’m traveling from east, from Siberia… from Yenisey and river Ob… then across Ural Mountains, I guess…

At these geographical names, the father and son looked at each other with disbelief, the positions of those sites were at least 2000-2500km east; the land, which was regarded by most people unreachable and deadly even in summer time. They both were looking on the man like at the alien, who descended from the other planet.

What did you do so far from here?

It was a geological expedition to Yenisey and Lena rivers… I’m geologist…

How could anybody come from there to this tundra by such a way and why? Something wrong happened with this man claiming that he had traveled this distance and was still alive. And they were ready to challenge the stranger by all kind of ‘no’, ‘how’, ‘couldn’t be’ . . . But these people were pomors, ‘Ice Vikings’, who themselves would travel not only by land, but by the Arctic stormy seas many thousands of miles and more often would come back alive, like this fellow. In old times when these people were met on Spitzbergen or Greenland, the Norwegian Vikings, who have always regarded themselves the owners of all Arctic lands, would probably look at the pomors in the same way, asking similar questions. The father only said:

Well, you’ve had a rather extended journey, didn’t you… very long… But where are the others from the expedition?—He asked it and then realized that should not mention ‘the others’. The man’s face changed with anguish painful expression from his memory of something dreadful and he almost cried:

Where are they… Why you didn’t take them… You didn’t save them… And those, they are still chasing after… We should run… Come fast, let go from this land… The railway, go to the railway… wolves… wolves around…

The stranger was emotionally disturbed by the memory of the past and cried, expressing himself by nearly incorrigible language and then, suddenly, wolf-vocalized howl came out of the man’s throat, from deep inside of the wracked human body. The two strong brave men nearby felt mysterious danger and threat. Then the stranger slumped into deep sleep again. The hunters began to understand the main sense of the case; it was an expedition far into the Siberia, and the other people have probably perished; just this one man left. But why they traveled west, across rivers Yenisey and Ob and then Ural Mountains; the easier and only rational way for them would be to go south, along the meridian 90 degrees east, down to the Trans-Siberian Railway. What was the reason to chose such arduous route? The man was completely exhausted physically and emotionally and they did not want to question more. The best choice was to get good rest to all and leave this land as soon as possible, not later then tomorrow by noontime.

At the beginning of December, the bleaks of light were still available for three hours at these latitudes. It happened to be a grueling night, almost on the brink of disaster; they could lose the deer to wolves any moment, and have to shoot at the large pack several times, when the beasts approached the tent very close. The father took the Devoted into the tent, because the fearless dog did not understand the danger and could run after the wolves; it would have been a sure end for the animal.

The wolves’ activity subsided around 9am, the predators retired to hunt the foxes and partridges, hidden in deep snow near the fir trees. The men arranged the sledges with all stuff with the rescued man placed in the center, covered by pelts; he was almost OK, just very weak but now smiling and wished to talk with the people; the stranger was very helpful because knew how to ride the dear sledge. The unusual miraculous strength possessed this stranger. They expected to have a lot of time to talk on this arduous way back home, at the distance of almost1200km.

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Through the tundra and forest on the Polar night and under full moonlight

On this long route, the father and son would ski all this way and have only one hour a lift-rest on the sled in turn; they have to spare the deer, pulling a heavy load with the man, supply, and pelts. The father and the son would exchange the lead, and the devoted dog was running behind, following exactly the wide ski track; this shaggy fella has been on such a track for many years. Further away from the Ural Mountains, in Small Tundra, the wolves’ activity has subsided. The deer cortege arrived home at the end of December, right before the New Year. And they had a chance to hear the unbelievable story of the rescued man about the lost expedition in the Western Siberia and his lonely travel across the Ural Mountain and tundra…

The Cottage near 

 St. Petersburg

. . . His name was Richard, not accustomed Russian name, but well acceptable in that society of hundred nations with deep Western European routes. He was brought in an intelligent family of scientists in St Petersburg, former capital city of Russia. The father was a well-known doctor of science in geology, specializing on the Russian north and Siberia. The mother was a doctor of science as well, working in the same regions, but in the field of archeology. Together, they were a good scientific research tandem, which generated many new ideas and discoveries. The huge Russian unexplored territories were open for researchers, and especially in Siberia. Richard was brought in the atmosphere of research, hypotheses and theories from very young age, as he remembered himself, from the age of one year, when the father gave him a set of fanciful stones from the expedition to the Siberian Plateau; he played with the stones and crystals all his childhood. At the end, such fascinating earthly items became an indispensable part of his profession and life devotion.

Almost 20 years after the first acquaintance with the father’s stones, the son went to first geological expedition to Siberia. It was not only devotion but also a fateful attraction, which takes the people into its gravitation field without any compromise and a chance to get away. On the land, it was similar to the mariners’ oceangoing profession, which imposes a life-long grip with eternal dreams on the land about water, storms and wonders of strange distant lands amidst of oceans. For Richard those were mountains and terrains, filled with minerals and the scientifically priceless nature wonders. The young geologist, a candidate of science, PhD, did not care very much and did not give much thoughts to the notion that the earth wonders would be not only scientifically priceless, but dangerously invaluable by their monetary values, especially in that historical span of 1990-s. I was time his country embarked not only on a healthy rush for all and any kind of valuable sources.

In nice warm August evening, two young strong men knocked at the gate of their cottage on shores of the Finnish Bay. It was a family retreat country home, located on a picturesque site of the Karelia Isthmus north of St Petersburg. The family liked their cottage and a cultured soil bed with tender early real Holland tulips. The uninvited newcomers were complete strangers to the family, and by their appearance belong to a young generation-breed from a rich establishment, driving a new black BMW with tinted glasses even up front. Such illegal preference was paid-off to the famously corrupted Russian police a meager couple of thousand dollars to drive in a hidden style behind tinted glasses. For them, simple poor scientists, with official salary of $200-300/month, these unexpected guests were suspicious; the real Russian mafia-bandits of this new lawless country and could be