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“Yes,” Morozov admitted, his voice tight with tension.
“What does this mean?” Lauren demanded, feeling fear clutch her heart. “That they’ve already peeled off on that trail and they’re moving toward the ambush?”
“Yes,” he said, frustration in his tone. He slowly stood up. “Now we must run half a mile back, the same way. There’s the ambush trail at that point. We will follow that and pray we are not too late to warn them…”
Lauren stowed the scope inside her cammo jacket and buttoned it up, her fingers trembling as she pulled on the glove. “We’ll be coming up behind them. That could make them think they’re being attacked from their six. They could turn and fire on us.”
“I’ve thought of that.” Morozov shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do. We must hurry. You must give this your all. Run as hard as you can…”
“Do Petrov and his men have any infrared scopes among them?”
“Yes. Do you know if the Special Forces has one?”
“I don’t know,” Lauren lamented. She rearranged the balaclava. It had shifted as she’d ran.
“Come. No time to waste.”
“How long is that trail to the ambush site?”
“Only half a mile,” he said grimly.
Lauren gripped his belt, and turned swiftly. He nearly flew down the small slope, no longer trying to cut his stride for her sake. Alex and the Army team were on the ambush trail!
They tore down the slope. They had half a mile before they could branch off to the real trail to try and catch up with them. Lauren stumbled, nearly fell, crashing into Morozov’s back. He slowed, grabbing her by the arm, preventing her from going down. She bit back a cry, feeling his strong arms lift her to her feet.
Gasping, Lauren gripped his arm. “Go! You’re faster than I am! You HAVE to get to them! You won’t make it with me along.” She felt him tense.
“Very well. Come as fast as you can. The trail is easy to find. Bear left.”
Nodding, Lauren whispered raggedly as she thrust the scope into his hands. “Just go! Hurry!”
Without another word, Morozov whirled around, running swiftly down the trail. Lauren dug her boots into the soft leaves, racing after him. She didn’t have the stride of a man who was taller than her, but she wasn’t weak, either. Wind tore past her as she kept her eyes on the path. Soon enough, she lost sight of Morozov as the land dipped and sloped downward.
Hurry! Hurry!Lauren gulped draughts of air into her burning lungs, pushing herself. If they didn’t arrive in time, Alex and the soldiers would be ambushed and killed.
Lauren tried to brace herself for gunfire. She knew what an ambush was designed to do. And these were Spetsnaz-trained men who aimed and killed for target mass. And they didn’t miss. She grabbed the AK-47 into both hands, unsafing it, knowing there was a round in the chamber, worrying that if Morozov moved silently up behind Alex and the soldiers, they might become startled, turn and shoot him. He was dressed as a Russian. They wouldn’t hesitate. Oh, God, this was a mess!
Lauren spotted the path off to the left and she sped up, digging her boots in, unable to see anyone ahead of her. The land dipped again into a series of rolling slopes. If the firing began, none of the AK-47’s had muzzle suppressors. The flashes of fire from the bullets ripping out of the barrel would be easy to spot. It would show the position of the shooter. She knew Alex also carried an AK-47. The Special Forces might have muzzle suppressors on their rifles. She didn’t know. It made them much less of a target to find, unlike a rifle with no suppressor. It was practically like waving a flashlight and saying, “Over here! I’m over here!” She groaned inwardly, breath tearing in and out of her mouth. Her body was dripping with sweat, the canvas clothing rubbing her raw here and there. Adrenaline pushed her ahead. The terror of losing Alex, him being killed, made Lauren want to call out for him.
If he heard her voice, he’d stop.
But then, if they were too close to the ambush, Petrov would hear her too. Lauren realized, with a sinking feeling, that if she yelled out, it would only draw attention their attention to her. And then bullets from both friendlies and enemy, would come her way. All it would do was set off the firefight. And she wouldn’t live to see who won.
For a second, Lauren glimpsed Morozov cresting another hill. He was running hard, running straight into the fray without regard for his own safety. She was gasping for breath, burning in her leg muscles as she pushed herself beyond her limits. If only Alex knew his best friend was coming to try and rescue him.Again.She would never forget Nik Morozov. Not ever. He was a brave man in a terrible dilemma. And yet, his heart remained true and utterly loyal to his friend. Despite everything, Morozov was heroic. Years of combat had not killed his morals, integrity or values. He’d retained them just as Alex had. She wanted everyone to survive. No one to get hurt. But she knew that was idealism, not reality. They were racing head-on into a firefight that would take lives, tear men’s bodies apart and there would be death.
As she ran, Lauren ripped off the dark gloves, needing her fingers free. She reached down as she ran, slipping off the safety strap across her Glock 19. She wanted that pistol free so she could reach down and pull it swiftly out of the drop holster. The downward slope speeded her up. One more hill! She was slowly catching up to Morozov. How much time had elapsed? Had they run half a mile yet? She had no idea, feeling as if the world were holding its breath. Waiting. Waiting…
CHAPTER 17
It was aboutto become a deadly game of chess. Alex lay next to Killmer, an infrared scope on his sniper rifle. They lay on a slight slope thirty feet above the rest of the land below, between two spindly jungle trees. The ground was soft and wet. Alex sensed Petrov was near. It wasn’t anything factual he could point to. Just a feeling. And he’d never not pay attention to such an instinct.
“There they are,” Killmer said in a low voice over the radio. The other two operators were covering opposite directions, making sure no one could sneak up on their position. “Four tangos.” Killmer handed Alex the rifle. “Take a look. Pan left to right. First tango is sitting under a rock overhang.”
Alex pulled down his NVG’s. He settled the butt of the .300 Win-Mag rifle against his shoulder, he was glad he’d been working with American weapons the last three months. They were different in small, but important, ways from Russian weapons. Placing his eye about an inch away from the Night Force scope, Alex could see heat signature on a man who was sitting down. The scope couldn’t show fine details, so Alex couldn’t identify him. What he could see was that the man’s hands were resting on something across his thighs. A rifle gave off no heat unless it was fired and the barrel was hot. Nonetheless, Alex was sure it was an AK-47 resting across the man’s lap. He then scanned slowly to the right and picked up three more heat signatures. It was a classic L-shape ambush.
“It’s them,” he confirmed lowly. They were only three hundred yards away from the ambush point. Whispers could be picked up far more easily than a person speaking in a low tone of voice. “Four. Not five.” Where was the fifth man?
“Might be with Lauren?” Killmer suggested. “Holding her prisoner?”
