Savage Son (James Reece #3) - Jack Carr Page 0,139
help carry. Time to load up.”
Two SEALs wearing dark green dry suits materialized from the perimeter and two more maneuvered up the beach from the black Zodiacs. One carried a SKEDCO Tactical SKED that he transformed into a stretcher in the center of the perimeter. They all assisted the medic in moving Raife’s broken and unconscious body from the vehicle and strapped him into the green flexible plastic stretcher, IV bag on his chest.
Reece grabbed a handle and heard O’Malley say, “Moving,” into his radio.
They patrolled toward the ocean, toward freedom, the naval commandos bracketing the stretcher in a tight diamond formation with weapons up looking for threats. As they reached the surf zone Reece could see that their extraction platforms were very similar to the Zodiacs he’d used in the Teams, but had what looked to be a radar-deflecting or absorbing shell over the top to eliminate or reduce radar signature. The engines were muffled or possibly even electric to reduce sound.
The naval commandos turned the boats so the bows were pointed back out to sea in a well-practiced maneuver. They loaded from the front as the helmsman timed the waves, waiting for everyone to climb aboard, judging his opportunity to race through the breakers.
As they loaded Raife into their extract platform, Reece turned to Jonathan and over the sound of the cascading surf pulled him close: “I’m not coming with you.”
“What the bloody hell?”
“My mission’s not over. You go. Get home to Caroline. Mourn your daughter. Take care of Raife. Also, I need you to talk with Thorn and have him get in touch with Vic Rodriguez at the CIA. It is imperative that he lets the Agency think I made it back with you through official channels. The Russians can’t think I’m still here.”
“Get in the boat, you bloody idiot!” Jonathan shot back.
“The man who killed my father is here, not on Medny, but he’s close. And I know where.”
Overhearing the conversation, Lieutenant O’Malley turned, the angry sea surging around his waist, the other operators looking impatiently at their senior officer.
“Sir, my orders are to bring you back. We can’t have an American captured dead or alive on Russian soil!”
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant, I have a history of doing things like this.”
“You’ll never leave here alive, son.” Jonathan’s demeanor changed as he unslung his FAL and handed it to the former frogman.
“If that’s true, I want you to tell Katie something for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Semper.”
With that, Reece turned and sprinted back up the beach.
CHAPTER 86
Siberia, Russian Far East
Winter
AS WINTER SETTLED UPON the harsh land, a rumor began to swirl among the villages of the Krasnoyarsk Krai. A ghost was moving across the tundra, sometimes taking the shape of the animals that inhabited the wilderness. Some of the stories described him as half man and half beast. Still others were sure one of the brown bears that inhabited the interior had killed a nomadic hunter, merging their souls. The stories were passed along in the way they had since the first peoples had moved into this land, following the herds that gave them sustenance.
The ghost would occasionally steal food and supplies from villages along his path, always a gift left in exchange. No one knew his destination, but it was rumored he was heading west, toward what or whom, was unknown.
Mothers maintained an attentive eye on their children, keeping them closer than usual. Fathers and hunters took an extra minute to pause and study the landscape before closing their doors at night.
Once a village heard a gunshot in the distance. Even specters had to eat.
A native kayak had been found by children playing on the peninsula. It had been dragged into the tree line. Its owner was nowhere to be found. A motorcycle had disappeared in Elita and the phantom had stolen a snowmobile in Tanzybey. When the men of the settlement caught up with it, it was abandoned and empty of gas. An offering of fresh meat was on the seat as payment, tracks of native snowshoes leading off into the snow. The men knew better than to track an apparition, wearing snowshoes or not. That would not end well. It was best not to meddle in the ways of the spirit world.
The wise old men of the villages believed the hunter was caught between this world and the next. He was on a journey and wouldn’t rest until it was done.
Village to village the rumor spread, some leaving offerings to the spirit as he drifted across the land: