Page 44 of Dead Fall

His rifle primed and ready, Harvath leaned out the window and scanned for threats. Not seeing any, he took care to avoid the bits of broken glass and rusty nail heads along the sill, swung his legs out, and jumped down.

The moment his feet touched the ground, he moved for cover and took up a defensive firing position. Then, covering her, he signaled for the woman to join him. The little building was going up like a tinderbox.

He watched as she balanced on the sill and hung one leg out the window and then attempted to swing the other. But something happened.

“I’m stuck,” she exclaimed. “I’m caught on something.”

“Jump,” Harvath told her.

“I can’t.”

Behind her, he could see bright orange flames licking the dining room and headed in her direction. “Jump,” he repeated.

Throwing the AK-47 down onto the ground, she used both hands to pull at the part of her pants that was caught.

With the flames continuing to get closer, Harvath noticed something even more dangerous behind her.

“Get down!” he yelled.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she bent over, threw all of her weight toward her outside leg, and forced herself to tumble out of the window.

She hit the ground hard and landed on top of her rifle as Harvath let loose with a furious barrage of rounds from his Galil. He kept firing until he could no longer see the man inside.

Swapping magazines, he motioned for the woman to come to him and kept his rifle trained on the house.

The woman’s pants were torn and she was bleeding from a pretty good gash, but it wasn’t anything life-threatening.

“We need to move,” he said. “Now, while we know he’s still in the house. Are you good?”

She nodded and readied her rifle.

“We’re going to go for the Land Cruiser. Stay behind me and stay close. Understand?”

Once more, she nodded.

Getting up, Harvath led her around the rear of the dacha. There were more trees and brush that way and therefore more cover. The last thing he intended to do was loop around the front.

The building was completely enveloped in flames at this point. Thick pillars of smoke could be seen billowing up into the sky. The pops and crackle from the fire were almost as loud as gunshots.

Having witnessed the state of Kharkiv, he doubted any of the local fire services had the capacity to come put water on a tiny cottage out in the forest. Besides, by the time they got here, it would only be a pile of embers.

Coming around the back of the dacha, he saw a traditional sauna, or banya as it was known. They were such a custom in Ukraine that Harvath remembered having read about soldiers building fortified versions in the trenches along the front lines.

Just beyond it was the Land Cruiser, fully intact, but a little too close to the burning building for his taste. He picked up the pace, anxious to get the hell out of there.

As they drew even with the SUV, Harvath pulled out the keys he had taken off the dead woman and stood guard as the woman he had just saved climbed into the passenger seat.

Closing her door, he was about to move around the front of the vehicle and get behind the wheel when one of the dacha’s unbroken windows exploded.

He spun, expecting it to have been caused by the heat from fire. Instead what he saw was the man from the attic, bleeding and engulfed by flames, stand up and hobble toward him.

Gone was his rifle. How and where he had lost it was no concern of Harvath’s. In its place, the man now carried a knife.

Raising his own rifle, Harvath seated the stock against his shoulder and took careful aim. As the man was moving, it was a difficult shot to make.

Convinced he had a good sight picture, he pressed the trigger. Then, for good measure, he fired again.

He watched as the man went down, a bullet through each of his knees.

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