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Before Alexandra could power down her cell phone and change out Popov’s SIM card, Harvath already had his atlas out and was speeding the Jeep Cherokee towards their destination. They would have to hurry. The last thing he wanted to do was to give Stavropol enough time to set up an ambush.
Chapter 45
A winter storm, accompanied by a brutal cold front, was in full effect when Scot and Alexandra dropped the rest of the team and then pulled into a desolate farmer’s field bordered on all sides by trees on the outskirts of Tova.
As the Jeep’s wipers fought to keep up with the heavily falling snow, Harvath alternated between staring at the temperature reading, which was now down to minus fifteen degrees Celsius, and staring out the windshield toward the far edge of the field.
When the appointed time arrived, he heard the staccatowhump, whump, whump of helicopter rotor blades cleaving the frigid air. The low cloud cover and inclement weather made it impossible to see the craft as it circled above them and then moved off to the far edge of the field where it hovered still out of view.
Harvath assumed the helicopter was equipped with forward-looking infrared, also known as FLIR, and was right now sca
With first-generation FLIR capability, it wasn’t impossible to blend in with trees and avoid detection. To be successful, though, several factors needed to be taken into consideration such as how long a person had been in the cold, what they were wearing, how much activity they had undergone just prior to the engagement and if they were carrying anything hot, like a recently fired weapon. Though second-generation FLIR could even spot the heat signature of a recently deposited hand-print and engage an automatic detection and targeting system, fooling a low-hovering, first-generation FLIR enhanced helicopter was by no means a walk in the park. It was still one of the hardest pieces of technology on the battlefield to beat.
Alexandra held up a pair of plastic flexi-cuffs and asked, “Are you ready?”
“Not really, but we don’t have much choice, do we?” replied Scot as he placed his hands behind his back.
“Don’t forget whose idea this was,” she said as she loosely secured his wrists.
“Don’t remind me,” responded Harvath.
Exiting the Cherokee, Alexandra swung Harvath’s pack over her shoulder and urged her “prisoner” forward. They walked toward the middle of the clearing as a biting wind tore at their clothing. With his arms behind his back, the best Harvath could do to avoid the weather was hunch his shoulders and tuck his chin into his chest. Alexandra kept her silenced Walther trained on him the entire way.
Suddenly, the sound of the rotors grew louder, and Harvath looked up through the snow to see the underside of a Russian-made Mi-17-1V Assault Helicopter as two long lines were kicked out the doors and a pair of commandos fast-roped to the ground on each side.
“Spetsnaz,” mouthed Alexandra, who then cemented upon her face a look of austere professionalism.
Harvath turned his eyes away from her and watched as the men, intimidating in dark uniforms and black balaclavas, fa
“I already checked him” she shouted in Russian, holding up his backpack. “His weapon is in here, along with several other pieces of equipment provided by his government.”
“Orders,” snapped the Spetsnaz operative, who then made his way over to her. Waving his gloved hand, he indicated in a very condescending ma
Alexandra made a show of being very displeased at her treatment. After which, the Spetsnaz operative began to frisk her in a very inappropriate ma
Alexandra nodded her head.
“And the keys?”
“Also in the car,” she responded.
“You couldn’t have parked any closer?”
“And if someone had come along while we were waiting and asked us why we had driven off the road into the field? What should we have told them?”
“Good point,” said the soldier who got back on his walkie-talkie. He instructed the second team of Spetsnaz troops, who had secured the landing zone, to go get the Cherokee and drive it over to the helicopter so they could load the nuclear device onboard. As he finished his communication, he unshouldered his rifle and directed Harvath and Alexandra toward the helicopter, which was just touching down.
“He’s my prisoner!” insisted Alexandra as they approached the bird and she pushed Harvath ahead of the soldier, “I will see to him.” As soon as they stepped on board, all hell broke loose behind them.
Seeing Harvath and Alexandra climb into the helicopter, Morrell gave the go command over his throat mike. “The playground is ours. I repeat the playground is ours.”
Avigliano, who was hidden in the woods next to Morrell, dropped both of the Spetsnaz troops nearest the helicopter with perfect head-shots from his silenced M4, while Carlson and DeWolfe, who were hidden on the other side of the field, did the same to the other two soldiers approaching the Cherokee.
Back in the helicopter, Harvath wasted no time in slipping out of his flexi-cuffs and charging the cockpit. When the pilot happened to peer into the cargo bay and saw Harvath racing up the aisle, he immediately went for the nine millimeter Gyurza pistol strapped to his flight suit, but it was too late-Harvath was already on top of him.
Harvath landed a vicious punch to the man’s jaw and wrestled the pistol away from him just as the copilot grabbed the microphone of his helmet to radio for help. What happened next was more reflex than anything else. There was no time to think. Harvath pulled the Gyurza’s trigger and sent two rounds into the co-pilot’s head, killing him instantly. Turning the pistol back on the pilot, Harvath disco
After Morrell and the rest of the team had stripped the Spetsnaz soldiers of their uniforms and deposited their naked bodies in the woods, they pulled the SUV alongside the helicopter, offloaded their improvised tactical nuclear weapon and then ditched the car.
When everyone was onboard, Alexandra climbed into the co-pilot’s seat and with her silenced Walther P4 pointed right at the pilot’s privates, ordered him to take off.