Page 122 of Dead Fall

Without waiting, Harvath approached the door that led to the rampart. Over the radio, he told Krueger to begin firing at the rampart.

As soon as the shooting began and he heard the machine gun open up, Harvath pulled open the door and lit up the man out on the rampart.

“Tango down,” Harvath radioed. “Cease fire. Prepare to move.”

While Krueger went to help Jacks carry Anna’s stretcher, Harvath carefully exited the anteroom. Scanning every rooftop and every window for threats, he put two more rounds into the machine gunner, just to be safe.

Moments later, Krueger’s voice came over the radio. “Ready to move,” he said.

“Copy that,” Harvath replied. “Overwatch secure. Move now.”

Guarding the two men as they exited the front door with the litter, Harvath watched as they safely crossed the courtyard and disappeared into the mechanical room.

That task complete, he exited the rampart, stepped back inside, and went to check on Hookah.

“You good?” Harvath asked, seeing him in the anteroom. He had let his rifle hang from its sling and was trying to pull an Israeli bandage from his IFAK.

“Bullet’s in pretty deep. Hurts like hell. Feels like it’s against the bone. I can’t move my arm.”

“Can you handle your pistol with your opposite hand?”

Hookah nodded and Harvath helped to pull it from his holster and handed it to him. As the man kept watch, Harvath tore open the Israelibandage as well as a package of gauze. After packing the wound, he did the world’s fastest wrap, using the bandage to create a makeshift sling that would keep Hookah’s useless arm pressed against his chest.

Transitioning back to his rifle, Harvath said, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Hookah nodded and once Harvath made sure that it was clear, they both stepped into the hall.

Harvath had lost track of how many Ravens they had killed. The only thing he was certain of was that they hadn’t killed all of them. How many were left, and where they were, was anyone’s guess. The situation was still very hot and still very dangerous. The sooner they got out of there, the better.

His senses hyperalert for any sign of danger, they were creeping past one of the final doorways on the opposite side of the hall when he heard something that caused him to freeze in his tracks—a child crying.

Harvath looked at Hookah. He had heard it, too.

Blading his body so as to present the narrowest target possible, Hookah raised his pistol with his good arm and, pointing it at the door, nodded to Harvath.

Harvath tried the knob. It was locked.

Standing back, he raised his boot and kicked the door in.

As he and Hookah charged through the splintered wood, two Ravens, their faces painted like skulls, began firing at them.

Harvath dispatched the first with two rounds through his head, but Hookah’s shots were going wide of his target. Adjusting his aim, he double-tapped skull face number two, killing him dead.

They were in a large bedroom. In the corner, locked in a dog kennel, was the source of the crying—the vintner’s two little twins.

“Watch the door,” Harvath ordered as he cleared the rest of the room, the closets, and the bathroom.

The little girls were beyond terrified.

Approaching them, Harvath removed their family picture, which he had taken off the Novator’s dashboard and carried with him.

“Druz’ya,” he said, pointing at himself and Hookah as he unfolded the photo and showed it to them.Friends.

Sliding it through the wire, he encouraged the girls to take it. One of them tentatively reached out and did so.

A length of knotted cord had been used to secure the kennel door. As he spoke softly to the girls in Russian, explaining that he was an American here to help them and take them back to their village, he let his rifle hang from its sling and removed his knife.

He was slicing through the cord when he suddenly heard gunshots behind and practically right on top of him.

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