Arctic Storm Rising Dale Brown (literature books to read TXT) 📖

them to let us know, I guess. Even if it’s pretty late in the game.”He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Those guns we left behind might have come in handy.”

Korenev grunted in agreement. Combat models of the Ka-60 were often equipped with two pod-mounted 12.7mm machine guns. They’dbeen taken off to save weight for this long-range, low-level penetrating flight into hostile territory. And even though hedidn’t expect the ragtag American unit they were targeting to put up much of a fight, there was no question that the extrafirepower would have been useful. He shrugged his shoulders. “No plan survives contact with the enemy. This one won’t be anydifferent.”

Crow Field

That Same Time

Colonel Alexei Petrov gunned the motor of the snowmobile to force the vehicle up the last few meters of the hill overlookingtheir camp. He came out over the crest moving too fast and braked hard, skidding and weaving across the hard-packed snow ashe slid to a stop. With a feeling of relief, he shut down the motor and brushed off his goggles.

One of Bondarovich’s ex-soldiers came over to greet him, pushing up the night vision goggles he’d been using to scan the surroundingterrain. “A little trickier running one of those snowmobiles than flying a plane, eh?” he said with obvious amusement.

Petrov forced himself to smile. “Trickier, no. Different, yes.” He climbed down off the machine.

The mercenary shrugged. “Well, you’ll have time to pick up the technique during the trek out to Canada.” His eyes flickereda little when he said that.

You’re a poor liar, friend, Petrov thought with hidden amusement. He was surprised that Bondarovich had let Grishin and Voronin’s plan for him slip like this. The former Spetsnaz officer should have kept that to himself until the very last second, right before they put a bullet into the back of Petrov’s skull. The old proverb “Three men can keep a secret if two of them are dead” floated through the colonel’s memory. It seemed particularly apt, just now. Neither the oligarch nor Voronin were foolish enough to leave him alive a moment longer than necessary. To them, Petrov was just a tool—someone to be used and then discarded when his particular skills were no longer needed.

Then again, perhaps that was fair. After all, his own views of Voronin and Grishin were just the same. All along, this hadsimply been a race to see whose goals were achieved first. And what the other two men could never have realized was that hisown hidden plan was always bound to come to fruition before theirs.

“Where’s everybody else?” the sentry asked.

Petrov nodded toward their camp. The camouflaged tents were completely invisible in among the trees. “Getting some rest.”

“Lucky bastards,” the other man said enviously. “Guess I pulled the short straw.”

Petrov laughed. “Maybe.” He turned away to look out across the valley. “Any more signs of trouble?”

“Nothing, Colonel,” the sentry assured him. “It’s been quiet ever since that other big plane made its pass and flew away.”He slapped at his arms and legs. “Mother of God, though, it’s cold enough to freeze my ex-wife solid.” His mouth twisted ina sour grin. “And I can tell you that she was one hot-blooded woman.”

“Well, cheer up, you’ll be warm soon enough,” Petrov assured him smoothly. “And rich, too.”

The other man’s smile broadened. “There is that.”

Pleasantly, Petrov held out the steel hip flask in his left hand. “Since that’s the case, how about a little nip to celebrate?”

The sentry’s eyes lit up with anticipated pleasure. Everyone in camp knew the colonel only drank the best. “Absolutely.” Hepulled down his face mask and tilted his head back to drink.

Without hesitation, Petrov drew his 9mm pistol, shoved it hard against the other man’s stomach, and squeezed the trigger.Muffled by close contact, the sound of the shot was no louder than a car backfire might be somewhere far off.

The sentry’s eyes widened in horror. He dropped the flask and staggered backward. Brutally, Petrov kicked his legs out from under him. Then he raised his booted foot high and stomped down hard on the other man’s exposed neck, crushing his trachea with one swift, savage motion. For a few seconds, the dying man’s heels drummed spastically, kicking up snow . . . and then they stopped.

Petrov looked down at the blood spattered across his fur-lined parka with a hint of disgust. Then he shrugged. Before long,he would no longer need the coat to shield him from this miserable weather. He bent down to retrieve his flask, remountedthe snowmobile, and sped off down the hill toward the sleeping camp.

Thirty-Five

Kodiak Force

A Short Time Later

Nick Flynn moved cautiously out onto a patch of dark ice just below a massive boulder half-buried in the hillside. One misstepand he’d take a long, painful spill down the steep side of this rugged spur. Slowly, he edged out into the middle of the icepatch and crouched down. His flashlight beam flicked out, catching what looked like a trail of rust splotches across the surface.

More dried blood, he thought with satisfaction. Along with parallel depressions sliced into the top layer of ice. Which meantthey were still headed the right way. He shook his head in amazement. To have made it across this part of the slope withouttipping over and tumbling end over end downhill, Major General Mavrichev must have been driving that snow machine flat outat top speed. The Russian general had also been incredibly lucky, Flynn decided, though that was probably the wrong way tolook at it—considering that he was almost certainly dying at the time.

Flynn rose back to his feet and looked around. Counting him, eight men were spread in a skirmish line along the flank of this half-mile-long spur. It ran roughly south off a longer, higher ridge that separated this valley from the next. A couple of hundred feet below and a few hundred yards to the southwest, he could make out the small moonlit shapes of two more of his troops, Rafael Sanchez and Noah Boyd,