He was at a serious disadvantage. Teplov was driving him backward, through the wreckage-strewn snow, and he couldn’t see where he was going.
With his long arms, the Russian was able to keep the knife out well in front of his large body. It was absolutely impossible for Harvath to land any blows to the man’s head or body. His only options were to either trap the knife and wrench it away, or create another feint, and this time actually drive his boot into one of the Russian’s knees.
Considering how skilled and how fast Teplov was with the knife, Harvath decided to go for the man’s knee—the right one.
But no sooner had he made the decision than he hit a piece of debris and stumbled. He tried to catch himself, but only caught a handful of air as the knife sang past and sliced off the top of his glove, missing his index finger by a millimeter.
As he fell backward, the Russian kept coming, lunging for him and incorporating himself into the fall.
Harvath hit the ground with the taller, heavier, and considerably stronger Teplov right on top of him.
The Russian switched the knife into his left hand and wrapped his right around Harvath’s throat and began to squeeze.
Harvath tried to summon every grappling and ground fighting technique he had ever learned, but none of them worked
As he struggled in the snow, the Russian increased the pressure of his choke on him. Harvath was starting to see stars—little points of light—as his vision dimmed. Then he saw the man pull back the knife and raise it into the air.
There appeared to be a glint in the blade. Maybe it was light from the burning helicopter, or perhaps it was a trick caused by the oxygen being cut off from his brain. But he thought he saw something. Movement.
Before he brought the knife plunging down, Teplov increased his impossibly tight hold on Harvath’s throat even further.
With the last ounces of strength he had remaining, he attempted to drive his knee up and into the Russian. The moment he did, he heard a crack—and everything went black.
CHAPTER 57
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Like a bungee jump in reverse, oxygen filled his body and Harvath was snapped back up onto the bridge of his consciousness.
Upon opening his eyes, he found himself staring right into the same face again. But something was different. Teplov’s eyes were lifeless.
He was no longer straddling Harvath, trying to plunge the knife into him. Instead, he had fallen partway to the side. Harvath pushed him the rest of the way off and rolled away from him.
As he did, he could see that a piece of the back of the man’s head was missing. What the hell had happened?
Scrambling away from the body, he struggled to get to his feet.
“Easy. Go slow,” a voice said. It was Christina’s.
Turning, he saw her walking toward him, his AK-15 in her hands. The crack he had heard wasn’t from bones or cartilage snapping, but from the rifle. She had shot Teplov and in so doing had saved his life.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she replied. “We need to get moving, though. The copilot put out a distress call. Reinforcements are coming.”
Harvath had gotten lucky bringing down the first helicopter. He didn’t expect to get that lucky again. What’s more, he had lost the element of surprise. The second Wagner helo would be coming in hot and probably shooting at anything that moved. They needed to be gone before it arrived.
He found his helmet, with the night vision goggles still intact, but there was no sign of his coat, so he stripped Teplov of his and put it on, along with the man’s gloves. While he did, Christina went to get Sini’s husband, Mokci.
The man had taken some shrapnel in the explosion, but he was conscious and fully ambulatory.
Joining them, Harvath asked Christina to translate that Sini was back in Adjágas, that she was unharmed, and that there was a snowmobile nearby. They would all ride back together.
As Mokci nodded, Harvath accepted the AK-15 from Christina. He then pointed the way out of the gulley and told them he would catch up.
“Why?” asked Christina. “What are you doing?”
“Just go,” he insisted, not wanting her to see. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Once they were out of sight, Harvath scalped what was left of Teplov’s head and used the Russian’s own knife to nail the bloody trophy to