Page 121 of Spymaster

Harvath had Tretyakov lie on his stomach. Crouching next to him, he placed his fingers under his jaw, a subtle threat of what would happen if the GRU officer tried to call out through the duct tape over his mouth, or if he made any sound at all.

They waited for what felt like an eternity for the soldiers to pass. There were eight of them, and they were heavily armed.

From where Harvath and his team were hiding in the trees, it was impossible to make out whether these were regular troops augmenting the border patrol, or if they were a more specialized unit. Harvath didn’t want to get close enough to find out. Getting Tretyakov off the ground, they pressed on.

They had only been back on the road for a few moments when they heard a vehicle coming from behind them and were forced to return to the woods again.

It was a truck carrying additional Russian troops, and it was headed into the camp.

Damn it, thought Harvath.They’re flooding the zone.

Whether the troops were just bivouacking at the campground between shifts at the checkpoint or were being spread out in a more organized fashion along the border, it didn’t matter. They were standing between the team and their exfil.

Staelin came over and crouched down next to Harvath. Keeping his voice barely above a whisper, he said, “I’m guessing the plan didn’t involve the campground being full of Russian soldiers.”

Harvath shook his head. “If I’d known, I would have brought more hot dogs.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to avoid contact at all costs. I’m not really in the mood for another gunfight.”

“Agreed,” Staelin replied. “So do we try to go around them?”

For the time being, it seemed like the only possible answer, and Harvath nodded. Getting Tretyakov to his feet, they changed course and pushed deeper into the woods.

It made for even slower going. The ground was uneven and there were plenty of hidden hazards—rocks, roots, and downed branches to trip them up. But it wasn’t as if they were swimming in options. They had no choice but to push forward.

If they could get to the other side of the campground, there would be a small clearing to cross, and after that, Harvath prayed, nothing preventing them from getting to the water. Then, once they had reached Lake Goldap, they could head for Poland, and freedom.

But no sooner had the thought entered his mind than Sloane heard something up ahead and gave the signal for the team, once more, to freeze.

CHAPTER 73

Harvath tightened his grip on Tretyakov, just as a barrage of gunfire erupted around them.

“Contact left! Contact left!” Sloane yelled.

Somehow, somewhere in the woods, the Russians had spotted them. Immediately, the team returned fire.

“Move! Move! Move!” Harvath ordered.

Everyone, including Tretyakov, kicked it into gear.

The wild, indiscriminate shooting seemed to be coming from every direction. The Russians were not only undisciplined, but were also going to end up killing one of their own.

At that moment, Harvath heard a cry from Tretyakov’s duct-taped mouth and saw him drop. He had been shot in the back of the leg.

Slinging his weapon, Harvath helped him back up and forced him to keep moving. It was obvious that the Russian soldiers weren’t planning on taking any prisoners.

Whether they knew Tretyakov was with them was immaterial. They were throwing so much lead in their direction that there was no way they could expect anyone to survive.

Raising his Rattler in his right hand, Harvath fired off a burst to their three o’clock.

The soldiers pursuing them from that side responded, and Tretyakov was shot again—this time in his upper arm.

“Fuck!” grunted Harvath.

They needed to find cover fast, or they were all going to be cut to ribbons. There were just too many guns on the other side of this fight.

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