Page 25 of Dead Fall

“Gage,” said Nicholas, identifying the member of Harvath’s team back in the States who had been put in charge of assembling the weapons package. “At a glance, it looks like an AK, so he figured it would help you blend in. It’s also compatible with AK and AKM mags, which are all over the place in Ukraine, so you won’t have trouble finding extras if you need them.”

Harvath set the rifle back in its case and inspected the rest of the gear. Gage made an excellent quartermaster. He had thought of practically everything.

In addition to a Glock pistol, which Harvath knew Ukrainian Special Forces carried and which would stand up to a lot of punishment on the battlefield, there was a helmet, night-vision goggles, a thermal scope, a handheld drone, encrypted radios, a land navigation kit, an individual first aid kit (also known as an IFAK or blowout kit), a SERE—survival, evasion, resistance, and escape—kit, a plate carrier with plates and multiple pouches, a battle belt with a holster for the Glock and additional pouches, tactical gloves, chem lights, an envelope filled with cash, multiple cartons of cigarettes, which in war could be even better than cash, and a host of other smart and very useful items.

He was still organizing everything when the train, like some giant beast, shuddered angrily awake and began lumbering forward, crawling out of the station into the darkness.

As they crept out of Przemysl, Nicholas uncorked the wine and invited Harvath to join him for a toast. “A farewell to civilization,” he offered.

Standing at the window, they clinked glasses and, with all the lights in the carriage extinguished, pulled back the curtains enough to see outside.

It didn’t take long to put the city of less than sixty thousand behind them. Twenty-five minutes more and they’d be at the border crossing. Then, after the bogies had been adjusted to accommodate the wider, Russian-gauge tracks, they’d be in Ukraine and “unofficially” at war.

There was something odd about heading into battle via train. It had an antiquated, kind of time-warp feeling to it, like arriving via steamship or on horseback. It was definitely worlds away from parachuting out of a C-130 or being flown in via helicopter. But no matter how you got there, war was still war—and that was very much at the forefront of Harvath’s mind.

There had only been so much that he could tell Sølvi. While she was disappointed that he needed to cancel their weekend, she understood. He wouldn’t have done it unless something critical had popped up. And critical things did often pop up. Such was the nature of their business.

At the same time, she had an uncanny ability to read Harvath and often picked up on what hewasn’tsaying. It was one of the many attributes that made her so good at her job.

She knew that he was going into harm’s way and that this assignment was going to be particularly dangerous. She could feel in her bones that it had something to do with Ukraine. “Get in. Do what you have to do. And then get out—as quickly as you can.”

They told each other “I love you” and then ended their encrypted video call. It didn’t make any sense to draw things out. It would have only made it harder for each of them.

Harvath had been concerned about canceling their plans. Just as she could read him, he could also read her. Her job had been weighing on her.

In the wake of Finland’s formal application to join NATO, that country had recently begun the construction of a barrier wall along their border with Russia.

If Moscow decided to get scrappy with the Finns, the Norwegians would be the closest NATO ally called to action. A significant portion of that work would flow through Sølvi’s office. It would be enough to keep anyone on edge, even someone as icy cool as she was.

He had hoped to talk it all out while they were in Warsaw, to make some solid, long-term plans. He wanted them to have something concrete to look forward to. They couldn’t be a couple yet apart from each other forever. Where should they aim to be in one year? Two? What would things look like for them five years from now?

On his last visit to Norway, he had met an ex-CIA operative—anAmerican—who still did contract work for the Agency. He had married a beautiful Norwegian woman and had set up house in northern Norway.

By all outward appearances, the man was retired. Langley, however, gave him enough to keep him busy—especially with Russia’s northern fleet in his backyard along with an enormous state-of-the-art American/Norwegian radar installation.

Harvath could see himself getting used to something like that, provided there was enough action going on. He wasn’t about to toddle off into the sunset and begin bird-watching. Not now. In fact, not ever.

However, if dialing down his op tempo—just a smidge—meant that he might be able to live in the same place with Sølvi, he was willing to consider it.

Right now, though, he had to compartmentalize all of that. Thoughts of Sølvi and their future had to be locked in that steel box he kept in the attic of his mind and shoved into its farthest corner. From this moment forward, his entire focus needed to be on the mission. Thinking of anything else would only end up getting him killed.

Stepping away from the window, he turned his attention back to the gear while Nicholas assembled something for them to eat.

As the train neared Lviv, the first major Ukrainian city since crossing the border, the PA system crackled to life. Passengers were warned to keep their window curtains drawn and to continue practicing light discipline. They were further notified that the train would be making a brief stop in Lviv to pick up Ukrainian Border Control officers and that under no circumstances should anyone attempt to disembark.

“I once knew a woman from Lviv,” Nicholas said, after the announcement had ended. “She had the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Like glaciers. Absolutely remarkable.”

No doubt there was a story behind this woman, and, to be honest, considering the little man’s past, Harvath probably didn’t want to hear it. So instead of taking the bait, he changed the subject. “Is this where we meet our escort?”

Nicholas nodded. “It’s not too late to turn back.”

Harvath smiled. “And let somebody else have all the fun? Not a chance.”

They rode the last few kilometers in silence, each man attending to his own thoughts. With the arrival of the GUR team, things were about to get very real, right down to Harvath swearing an oath to Ukraine’s International Legion—something he had been instructed was integral to his assignment.

Once the train had pulled into the Lviv station and come to a stop, Border Control officers entered the first public compartment up near the locomotive, while two more entered the dining car.

As this was happening, four men from Ukrainian Intelligence quietly slipped aboard the private carriage and knocked on the conference room door. Nicholas brought his dogs to obedience at his side while Harvath opened it.

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