Page 51 of Dead Fall

The cost of this war would continue far beyond any hoped-forcessation of hostilities. The bill would be revisited upon many of the survivors for the rest of their lives. War, without question, absolutely was hell. The Russians deserved every bad thing that was coming to them.

Pausing near the square, Harvath had Oleh radio their sniper for a SITREP. For the moment, everything was still quiet, and so they kept moving.

Scrambling over splintered timbers, piles of broken bricks, and jagged pieces of metal roofing panels, Harvath was careful where he placed his footholds. The last thing he needed was to suffer some stupid, preventable injury that would slow him down or, worse, knock him out of the fight. He had come too far and had already been through too much to allow that to happen.

Completing their hook behind the square, they were coming up along the other side of the village when Harvath spotted something up ahead and gave Oleh the signal to halt.

Adjusting the magnifier atop his suppressed rifle, Harvath peered through his optic and assessed the situation.

“What do you see?” Oleh whispered.

“Four Russian soldiers,” Harvath replied. “And they’re headed right toward us.”

The young Ukrainian was confused. “Toward us? That doesn’t make any sense. Unless—”

“Unless they’re a flanking element and the rest of their team is already headed for our APC.”

At that moment, almost in answer to their question, the sniper’s quiet voice came over the radio and Oleh translated, “Multiple Russian soldiers, moving fast, approaching from the east.”

“How many?” asked Harvath.

“Ten, maybe twelve. At least two are carrying RPGs. What do you want to do?”

Harvath would have loved to have waited until the Ukrainians back at the school had as many fish in the barrel as possible. Then, with their shots all lined up, let them be the first to fire. But that wasn’t in the cards.

Directing Oleh behind some rubble, he told him to take up a firing position and to radio two orders to the others. First, the sniper’s primarytargets were the men with the RPGs. Second, neither the sniper, nor anyone else, was allowed to shoot until Harvath gave the command.

Oleh relayed the message and then confirmed that it had been received by the others. “Now what?” the young Ukrainian asked.

Preparing his magnifier for closer combat, Harvath replied, “We get ready for one hell of a gunfight.”

CHAPTER 16

There were a lot of things Harvath would have preferred—more guns, more men, a better-prepared trap—but in warfare, having the element of surprise was an advantage you never squandered. That was why he had seized the moment.

As the four Russian soldiers approached, he made ready. They were moving exactly as he and Oleh had—carefully, from building to building, optimizing their cover and concealment. There was an area coming up, an open piece of uneven ground, where they were going to be in the open and exposed. That’s where they would take them.

At the same instant, on the other side of the village, their sniper would take out the two Russian soldiers who were carrying the RPGs. Once those soldiers were down, the sniper had permission to take out any other Russians at will.

It was Harvath’s hope that the sniper fire would drive the remaining Russians toward the school, where the balance of the Ukrainian soldiers would be waiting to finish them off. A lot was going to have to go right for his plan to be successful.

Looking through his holographic sight, he gauged the distance of the four Russians closing in on them. He had no idea how good a shooter Oleh was. Because of that, he wanted to wait until they were within a hundred yards before engaging them. The only downside was that they’d mostly be through the open space and almost to cover by then.

If Harvath was lucky and if nothing went wrong, he figured he could take out two of the men. The other two were Oleh’s responsibility. He was about to see what they both were made of.

“Ready?” he asked.

Oleh nodded and snugged the butt of his weapon in tighter against his shoulder. Like his colleagues’ rifles, it was an older, Russian AK-74 with no fancy optics or attachments—just iron sights and heavily worn, wood furniture. It looked like it had been liberated from some Cold War museum.

When the AK-74 had entered service via Soviet forces in Afghanistan sometime around 1979, the CIA had been anxious to study it and had allegedly offered a $5,000 bounty for the first one captured by Afghan mujahideen forces.

Judging by the condition of Oleh’s weapon, it might have been the very same rifle. Harvath’s concern about the young Ukrainian’s ability to make not one but both of his shots was growing. That said, it was too late to change the plan. The Russians were almost in range.

They had agreed that Harvath would take the first two targets and Oleh would take the remainders.

Though the soldiers were wearing plate carriers, there was no guarantee that they had any ballistic plates inserted. Nevertheless, Harvath would be targeting vulnerable areas other than center mass. He had encouraged Oleh to take the best shots he could. The object was to take these men out of the fight by any means possible.

With the first of the Russians coming into range, Harvath waited for the second and then sent two squelch clicks over the radio, which began their five-second countdown. Applying pressure to his trigger, he exhaled and lined up his shot.

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