Savage Son (James Reece #3) - Jack Carr Page 0,122

JOINED his men on the high ground and checked their position, arranged overlooking a choke point along the most likely avenue of approach to Deputy Director Aleksandr Zharkov’s lodge. He’d shut down the tactical EMP and patrolled to the ambush site with his seven-man team, all combat veterans of Russia’s forays into its former territories over the past decade. It would take twenty minutes for the EMP to rejuvenate and store enough power for another shot but by that time the Americans would be on the ground wondering why their high-tech gear was fried. They needed that deadly advantage over the Americans, whose technological superiority would now be reduced to useless pieces of wires and metal.

The United States had outpaced their old adversary in technological advances since the fall of the Soviet Union. The new Russian Federation could stamp out machine parts and build the ever-reliable AK, but when it came to the weapons of the Information Age, computers and microchips, Russia was not even in the running. That meant they had to focus on how to eliminate the technological advantages of their enemies.

Though export restricted, the NODs and lasers that adorned the team’s M4s were purchased in the United States legally by Aleksandr Zharkov’s illegals. They were then dismantled and smuggled into Russia using the deputy director’s bratva network to supply his private security detail with the best weapons and optics available. Night-vision tubes were disguised inside binoculars and M4s were disassembled and disguised as machine parts, then reassembled once safely inside the borders of Mother Russia.

The one sniper in the group cradled a Chukavin rifle chambered in 7.62x54R in his arms. A recent replacement for the revered Cold War–era Dragunov, he knew the Schmidt & Bender optic that graced its top rail was not what soldiers in the Russian military would be using. The expensive scopes were for demonstrations and show purposes. True to form, the bureaucrats would ensure that the ground pounders would be given suboptimal glass so that more of them could be fielded. What was it Stalin had said about quantity? No matter, he had his rifle, scope, and a U.S.-made forward-mounted night optic along with an IR laser. He would have preferred the Orsis T-5000 Tochnost in .338 Lapua but that could not be helped. He’d sent more than a few insurgents to their graves in Chechnya and Dagestan from behind the iconic-looking Dragunov, though having spent so much time with it, he knew the effective range only extended that of the AK by three hundred meters. This new Kalashnikov Concern Chukavin was different. With it, he’d kill his first American.

Vasilievich’s men had emplaced MON-50 anti-personnel devices just minutes earlier on what amounted to the choke point at the most likely avenue of approach to the lodge. Though the men had no personal experience with the American Claymore mine, they knew the MON-50 was their country’s equivalent and had seen their devastating effectiveness in combat in Chechnya and the North Caucasus.

His former soldiers knew their trade. Most important, they possessed the element of surprise and had taken away the technological advantages of their opposition.

Anyone the explosives didn’t eviscerate would be systematically gunned down by his team.

Now it was time to watch and wait.

* * *

Aleksandr was awake at 3:00 a.m., admiring the falling snow. The Buran snowmobile was gassed up and was idling next to the KAMAZ 6x6 in the detached garage. Sergei’s new dogs were not yet at the level of the two the Hastings woman had killed, though they were showing promising attributes. He’d shunned alcohol at dinner, as was his custom the night before a hunt, but still hadn’t slept well. The anticipation overpowered his need for sleep. That worried him some. He wanted to be at his best.

The team coming to kill him would be slaughtered on their approach, thanks to the intelligence from Grant Larue and his lackey in the executive branch. The lobbyist lived and operated in plain sight, right under the noses of the Americans. The lobbying industry had been ripe for exploitation by the SVR.

What to do with the bodies? As the national deputy director of clandestine services, he could turn this into a major international incident and push the United States and Russia to the brink of war, but what good would that do? There was a smarter back-channel move to make.

Later; focus on the hunt.

He’d hoped to somehow capture Commander Reece alive but the odds of capturing any of the American force alive were