Page 89 of Dead Fall

“A little late for villagers to be paying a visit,” Krueger replied.

Harvath shook his head. “These aren’t villagers. They’re Russians.”

“Agreed,” said Jacks. “Someone in the village must be on their payroll and ratted us out.”

“Or the Ravens are returning to the scene of the crime,” Krueger stated.

“We’ll know soon enough,” Harvath said. As he took the lead, he told the men, “On me.”

His plan was to get away from the structure. He wanted to set up in adifferent, more secure position where they could still create interlocking fields of fire with Hookah and Biscuit. Though it had been a smart decision to stash the Novator in the garage, it sure would have been nice to have it outside to hide behind.

Instead, he made a beeline for a small, open-air chapel. It was constructed from stacked, interlocking logs about four feet high, which supported a corrugated, teepee-like metal roof with a gilded dome about the size of a beach ball on top. It was the best cover they were going to be able to get.

Once they were in position, they radioed Hookah and Biscuit for a SITREP. The men could still see the enemy team approaching and stated that Harvath and his men should see them any moment.

The one upside to all of this was that the two old Ukrainians who had been guarding the front doors of the convent had gone home. There was no need to stay. The Americans were here, they had seen what they needed to see, and so the old guardians had locked everything up. As Harvath was unloading his gear, they had told him they’d be back in the morning. That act had probably saved their lives. At least Harvath and his guys didn’t have to worry about collateral damage. It was a small consolation.

As the enemy team approached, the first thing Harvath noticed was how well they moved. They were practiced, and extremely precise, with each man and his weapon covering a different angle. They moved as one; as an experienced unit. Everything about them radiated professionalism. These weren’t random soldiers. This was a Special Operations team.

Keeping his eyes focused on the threat, Harvath listened for any sound of a drone overhead. It was quiet, which meant that so far, they had dodged a particularly nasty bullet. Not only could drones use night vision to pinpoint you and alert the enemy to your position, but they could also drop a multitude of deadly munitions right on top of you.

The picture Harvath was seeing through his thermal monocular was different from what his colleagues were seeing through their night-vision goggles. His device was designed to detect heat, while theirs was designed to detect ambient light. And even though they had a much crisper picture than he did, one thing was obvious—the Russians had very sophisticated gear and had come loaded for bear.

Their rifles were outfitted with chunky, high-end night-vision scopes. Two of the men had bandoliers with 40mm grenades strapped across their chests, and launchers hanging from their backs. This was no ordinary fireteam. These were straight-up headhunters. Assaulters like this only got dispatched when a high-value target was in the offing.

Harvath was beginning to doubt that some random village spy had given them up. There had to be another reason why the Russians had sent such a crack team. Now wasn’t the time to figure that out. Now it was time to fight.

Over the radio he whispered, “Hookah, how’s your line of sight?”

“Gooder than good,” the man replied.

“Good copy,” said Harvath. “Get ready to shred these guys. On my mark.”

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Krueger and Jacks—like a perfectly trained pair of attack dogs—responded to his command. Adjusting their grips on their rifles, the men crouched even lower and prepared to pop up above the logs and begin firing.

Harvath gave the countdown. “Three. Two. One.Now.”

Jacks was unbelievably fast. He had leapt up and had his rifle barrel over the top of the log wall before Harvath or Krueger. But when he acquired his target and pressed his trigger, he didn’t get abang, he got a shit-your-pantsclick. For some reason, the round didn’t fire.

To their credit, instead of acting like a pack of rabid dogs and rushing toward Jacks, the Russians relied on their teammate, who already had his weapon trained in that direction. The man put down a withering and extremely accurate barrage of fire.

A round skipped off the top of Jacks’s Kevlar helmet as he dropped to the ground. Had he hesitated even a fraction of a second, he would have been dead.

Aborting their attack, Harvath and Krueger had also dropped to the ground as logs splintered all around them.

From their position, Hookah and Biscuit opened up and began shooting. The Russian at the front of the team instantly returned fire.

Seeing that Jacks had cycled his weapon and had purged the bad round, Harvath nodded to him and Krueger. They needed to get theirguns in the fight, especially before one of those Russians could transition to their launcher and let loose with a grenade.

In unison, the men jumped up, pressed their triggers the moment their barrels had cleared the wall, and sent a wave of high-speed lead toward the enemy.

The two Russians closest were cut down like someone had gone through them with a lightsaber.

The remaining two were focused on the fire they were taking from Hookah and Biscuit, who had a much harder time with their accuracy, as they were farther away.

Nevertheless, they were able to put multiple rounds on the point man, sending him down into the dirt. Which left only one.

The man got all four blades of the blender as Harvath and his team lit him up. Once the last Russian had collapsed to the ground, Harvath ordered his men to cease fire.

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