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“What’s six doing?”
Alex picked up on the sixth person. “Slowing down. I think he sees number five…”
This was utterly confusing to Alex. The chief of the village had reported FIVE Russians had come through there two days earlier. Now, there are six of them? Where did the sixth come from?
“Their signatures have merged,” Alex reported. “They must be standing together.”
“Not moving?”
“No.”
“Shit, this is getting nuts.”
Alex saw six pull up something to his head, aiming it toward the group of four Russians. “Six is… doing something… I cannot make it out… holding… I cannot see.”
“Are they moving?”
“No. Stationary. About two hundred yards from the ambush.”
“Are you SURE there are no rival mafia teams in this area?” Killmer gritted out.
“Positive.”
“Then how the hell do you explain what you’re seeing? And WHO are they?”
Lauren breathed throughher wide-open mouth so she couldn’t be heard. She’d run up on Morozov, who’d made a sharp signal for her to stop and wait with him. Somewhere ahead, was the ambush. He leaned down, mouth near her ear, and breathed out, “Scope.”
Nodding, Lauren pulled her NVGs down over her eyes and turned them on. Gulping, she rapidly spotted three men about fifty feet apart, a fourth man in another position: the L-shaped ambush. And they were close. Almost too close. She slowly, very slowly, crouched down. To do so rapidly could mean they’d spot the fast movement. Lauren knew they had NVGs as well. If either of them made one wrong move, they’d be in a firefight. Morozov crouched down slowly in unison.
They squatted in back of a large tree with a wide girth. Lauren pressed the scope into his hands and waited. Her heart was thudding slower due to this chance to rest. She knew the enemy had an infrared scope, too. Had they spotted them? Or had they been looking a different way when Nik and her had crouched down to hide? Or not using theirs at all? No, they were ex-Spetsnaz. Someone in that group would be responsible for scanning constantly with that infrared scope. To rest, to not scan for even a single moment, meant they could be attacked. With her NVGs in place, she saw Morozov slowly scanning. He swept the entire area around them, three hundred and sixty degrees. She knew he was hunting for Alex and the soldiers. Holding her breath, she hoped he picked up some heat signatures.
Moving the scope slowly downward, Nik turned, pulling Lauren close, his lips near her ear. “No sign.”
“Where?”
“Unknown.”
Lauren sat still, her mind skipping over possibilities. Had Alex not looked for her? She couldn’t believe that. He loved her. He’d come after her. Had they gotten lost? Missed their tracks? Were somewhere else as a result? That could happen, especially on a black, moonless night like this with the intermittent rain washing out boot treads. Had Alex somehow, out of sheer luck, avoided this ambush?
She could feel Nik thinking, always alert, watching, listening. She felt safe with the man. Now, more than ever, she understood why Alex liked Morozov so much. They were like two peas from the same pod, and she smiled faintly.
There was the soggy snap of a twig behind them.
Lauren instantly jerked around. Her heart slammed into her ribs. It was a Russian!
She didn’t have time to do anything. The hulking soldier rushed forward, his long wicked blade in his hand. He slashed out at Morozov, trying to slit his throat.
Lauren gasped, watching the two men roll and start fighting one another. Morozov grunted and knocked the knife out of the soldier’s hand. They had been spotted! Where were the others? It didn’t matter. She had to help Nik! The men had rolled down the slope, trading lethal punches; each trying to kill the other. Racing and slipping, nearly losing her footing, Lauren carefully timed lifting the butt of her AK-47. As the enemy soldier rolled back around on top, she jammed the butt down as hard as she could on the base of the man’s skull.
The soldier grunted, suddenly going limp, falling on top of Morozov.
Breathing hard, Lauren saw black flowing across Morozov brow and down the side of his face. With NVGs on, blood appeared black. As she crouched, sliding her arm beneath his shoulders, helping him sit up, she gasped. The knife had been sliced down his upper arm, flaying open his cammo jacket. Blood was spurting out of the tear. An artery had been cut! Morozov was breathing roughly, slapping his hand over his bicep, trying to stanch the flow of blood.
Lauren placed her AK-47 down, pulled out a pair of the plastic flex cuffs he’d given her in the cave and leaped up, quickly hauling the unconscious soldier’s hands behind his back. His wrists were thick and large. She fumbled at first, but finally got the cuffs on him, tightening them. Looking up, she saw Morozov grimace, pushing his back up against the tree. In her cargo pocket she carried a blowout kit; the medical items needed to save a life. With a trembling hand, the adrenaline surging through her, she found the nylon tourniquet.
Jerking it out of her pocket, she leaped over to Nik’s side, crouched, and slipped the loop up his arm. “This will hurt,” she warned.
Morozov winced, clenching his teeth. Not a sound came from him as Lauren tightened the tourniquet down and locked it into position so it would hold. He took his hand off his sliced arm. The spurting had stopped.
