Savage Son (James Reece #3) - Jack Carr Page 0,138

understanding. He had wanted to die when his wife and daughter were taken from him, and he’d wanted to kill as many of those responsible before he went down. He opened his mouth to argue, but another voice broke through the sub-Siberian air, an American voice with no hint of a Russian accent.

“Drop your weapons or die.”

CHAPTER 85

REECE AND JONATHAN INSTINCTIVELY went to a knee as three dark dry-suit-clad commandos holding M4 carbines converged on their position.

“Names!” the unknown voice commanded.

“Fuck you,” Jonathan hissed.

Reece pushed his FAL toward the ground.

“It’s okay,” Reece said before directing his attention to the new threat. “I’m James Reece. I’m here with Raife and Jonathan Hastings.”

“I’d ask you the word of the day, but I’m sure you don’t know it,” the man who was obviously in charge said as he moved in closer, lowering his rifle. “I’m Lieutenant Kevin O’Malley, SDV Team One. You guys must be pretty important to divert us from a [Redacted X X X].”

[Redacted X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X].

“We’ve got a man down in the back of the truck,” Reece said, moving to his feet. “He can’t walk and needs a medic. Multiple EKIA are down. I don’t think there are any others, but Russian military is probably inbound.”

“Oh, they’re inbound all right,” the SEAL leader confirmed.

“Charlie-zero-one to Nautilus, I pass TOUCHDOWN. I say again, TOUCHDOWN,” the platoon commander said into his OSK headset. Then, hitting a push-to-talk attached to what Reece recognized as an L3Harris AN/PRC-163 handheld radio, he said, “Charlie one-one, call in the z-birds, and send Spanky up; we’ve got a nonambulatory friendly here.”

O’Malley put out his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you. Not sure what you’re doing in Russia, but whatever it is, we are here to get you out.”

The team’s medic emerged out of the morning light and climbed into the odd-looking 6x6 to assess his patient.

“What happened?” he asked as his hands checked for a pulse and worked his way down Raife’s body.

“He took a tumble off a cliff and nearly drowned,” Reece replied. “That was after he was shot with a crossbow. Is he going to make it?”

“He’s hypothermic. He’s breathing and has strong distal pulses, but these displaced compound fractures have me worried. Starting IV. Need to get him to the IDC. We need to extract now,” the medic directed at his platoon commander.

O’Malley turned back to Reece. “Sir, we have got to get you off this beach. We have a JMAU SRT standing by. He’ll be in good hands. The extract platforms are on their way. They might be a little different than the ones you used. Sub is waiting for us four nautical miles out.”

“What? How did you know where we were?”

“Above my pay grade,” O’Malley said, clearly not sure what he was allowed to divulge. “All I know is that this is an Agency-directed op. We have a Maritime Branch liaison on the sub with us who helped coordinate.”

A change in the tone of the surf caused Reece to pick his head up.

“That’s our ride,” O’Malley said in response to Reece’s questioning look.

The two Zodiacs, or Combat Rubber Raiding Craft, that emerged out of the fog looked more akin to stealth fighters than the z-birds Reece had used in the Teams.

“Times change,” O’Malley said before keying his mic. “Chief, we need a couple guys to