Page 178 of Enemy of My Enemy
Russia
Volga Air Base
Sergey had lostthe battle over Sasha taking the flight up to the Arctic. There was too much to gain, too much intel potential, and with the world on the line, the choice was already made.
At the Volga Air Base, one MiG still functioned. Their small recon team pulled it from the blackened wreckage of its hangar. The base had been obliterated, but the one fighter remained, and even better, one of the runways had only minimal damage. Getting the MiG out of the hangar and rolled to a smooth section of tarmac had nearly killed them all.
Sergey remained bitterly opposed to the mission, almost petulant in his fury. He hovered behind Sasha, pouncing on every problem.
The MiG wasn’t fueled up. The runway was damaged. There was no tower, no air traffic controls. No secure radio to communicate back and forth.
Sasha found fuel and directed everyone to clear the runway, sweeping the surface clear of any debris that could catch on the tires. He plotted his own course, calculated the winds and navigation based on charts and his memory.
He stared at Sergey, silent, when Sergey complained about the radio.
Scott, Jack, and Ethan stayed back, waiting for the keg to blow.
* * *
“I found these.”Sasha dumped two satellite phones on the burned table they were using in the wreckage of the hangar. One side of the table had snapped off, but Jack had rolled over a few giant jet rims to stack and use as table legs. It was tilted, but it worked.
Sergey glared at the phones and then at Sasha, his face scrunched up like he was looking at something repugnant.
“No radio. We cannot use the Russian frequencies. But we can use sat phones.”
“Flying and talking?” Sergey arched an eyebrow. “This sounds terrible. Sounds even worse than driving and talking!”
“For reporting back what I find.”
Sergey fingered the plastic casing. “You will be blown out of the sky as soon as you take off. Moroshkin will track your plane. You will be dead in minutes.”
Reaching into the pocket of his flight suit, Sasha pulled free the MiG’s GPS beacon and tossed it in front of Sergey. Black soot puffed up from the table.
“How will you navigate?”
“The old-fashioned way. With maps and a compass.” Sasha scowled. “I know what I am doing. Despite your lack of confidence in me.” He glared, and when the angry knot in his chest tightened, he turned and left, heading back for his MiG, parked just past the destroyed and blackened asphalt.
Sasha tilted his head back, staring up at the slate-gray sky. He’d found a flight suit in the destroyed ready room and he’d rolled down the top, tying the arms around his waist. It wasn’t warm, but the day’s hard labor had wrecked him. He’d ditched his shirt hours ago. His pale chest heaved, the dog tags he could never bring himself to get rid of resting in the hollow between his pecs.
If final flight checks went well, he’d be taking off in just under an hour. A strange mixture of relief and regret flowed through him, an itch under his skin that desperately wanted to be scratched. Should he say something? Should he confess—
No. It was better this way. This was his purpose. He could finally be useful, die for his motherland. Maybe Sergey would say beautiful things at his funeral. He kicked at a bit of torn rubber tire.
Footfalls pounded the ground behind him.
Sergey’s snarling voice broke his reverie. “I am not a fool. You think I have not figured it out?”
Sasha’s heart clenched. No, no pretty words, nothing beautiful would be said for him. After everything, after watching Sergey unconditionally accept everyone else, this was how it would come out between them?
Fine. It would all be over soon anyway.
He walked away from Sergey, focused on his jet. His gaze traveled over her lines, cataloging her features, searching for dents and dings, tears in the metal, shorn or loose bolts. Anything at all. He tried to block out Sergey.
“Sasha! I am speaking to you!” Sergey stormed after him, following under the MiG’s wings and toward the jets.
Sasha’s shaking fingers danced over the cool metal.It is nothing. I will get through this moment like I have gotten through everything else.
“You think this is some kind of joke? You can fool everyone else, but you cannot fool me!”
