Page 92 of Dead Fall

The Novator’s forward-looking night-vision camera hadn’t seen any movement. It was late. Any people still living down in the village would be asleep.

“Jacks and I are going to dismount for a quick reconnaissance,” said Harvath.

There was a chorus of acknowledgments as the two men checked their rifles and then quietly exited the vehicle.

Stepping outside, he felt the wind and was reminded of how brisk it was. If they didn’t find a decent place to camp tonight, they would have to sleep in the truck.

Besides the temperature, the other thing that was remarkable was the quiet. No dogs barking, no radios, nothing. It was eerie. Powering up his thermal device, he flipped the monocular down and scanned the village. There was not a single heat signature to be found—not even so much as a warm chimney or stovepipe. The entire town appeared deserted.

Turning to Jacks, he asked, “See anything?”

The Brit, who had put on his night-vision goggles, shook his head. “From here, nothing. Maybe if we get in closer.”

“Agreed,” said Harvath.

Once he and Jacks were back in the truck and had closed their doors, he put the Novator in gear and headed down into the village.

He drove through the empty streets. Unlike many villages he had seen, this one hadn’t been ravaged by bombs and bullets. It was pretty much intact. So where was everyone?

As they continued, he noticed that most of the doors stood open and that people’s personal property was scattered about. In his mind, that meant one thing—looting. Someone had recently been through here. Either Russian soldiers or the Ravens. He feared it was the latter.

They soon arrived at the end of the village, where he slowed the truck to a stop and took a final look around. There was another sign for the winery, informing would-be visitors that it was only two kilometers away.

“Everybody stay frosty,” he advised.

He wanted the men to remain on heightened alert. They weren’t out of the woods yet. In fact, there was every possibility that danger was waiting for them just up ahead.

The winery was fronted by a short, dirt road with rows and rows of what looked like overgrown, untended vines on each side.

As they neared the main building—a long, brick structure with terra-cotta roofing tiles—the dirt road turned into a paved drive.

Harvath kept going. His plan was to do a full loop of the property, to get a feel for who and what was there, before coming to a stop and getting out.

There were multiple support buildings as well as a wine garden with picnic benches and strings of overhead party lights. In any other situation, it probably would have been quite festive, especially on the weekends. Right now, however, it was as somber as a graveyard. There wasn’t another living soul to be found.

They parked the Novator around back, out of sight from anyone who might be entering from the main road, and climbed out. It was now time to see if these guys had what it took when it came to room clearing.

They would tackle one building at a time. He’d leave a two-man team outside to stand guard while he took the other two inside with him. He’d then switch it up at the next building.

Explaining his plan, he, Hookah, and Krueger then made entry into the first building while Jacks and Biscuit took up positions outside.

The majority of the ground floor was a tasting room with benches and long wooden tables. There was broken glass and puddles of wine all over the place. Bottles had been smashed against the walls.

They cleared the tasting room, as well as two bathrooms, a small kitchen, an office, and a storage area—all of which had been ransacked. Upstairs were several more storage areas that had also been turned upside down. Hookah and Krueger had done plenty of house-to-house urban combat in Iraq and knew what they were doing.

Harvath switched it up for the wine-making building, taking Jacks and Biscuit inside with him while Hookah and Krueger stood guard. From the crush and fermentation areas to the lab, bottling, and casing departments, the Brit and the Canadian did a good job. And while Biscuit wasn’t as experienced as his teammates, his basic skills were solid.

Once he had a feel for what they could do, he kept switching the room-clearing teams up—Hookah and Jacks, Biscuit and Krueger, et cetera—as they moved through the rest of the buildings.

One of the last structures they tackled was the vintner’s residence. It was a modest, traditional Ukrainian structure, with a feature they had been seeing across the property—a ramp.

Inside was a table full of family photographs. The house appeared to belong to a family of four—a mom, a dad, and two twin daughters about four or five years old. The father was in a wheelchair.

They did a quick sweep of the house. Everything had been ransacked—drawers pulled out of dressers, chests upended, even the medicine cabinet had been hit.

Exiting the house, Harvath pulled the list of hidden Ukrainian art from the pocket in his chest rig.

“What kind of art were these guys protecting?” asked Krueger as he saw him reading.

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