Triple Crown. But if his years in the field had taught him anything, it was that things usually got worse, often much worse, before they ever got better.
CHAPTER 26
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Bouncing back and forth between the shed and the cabin wasn’t very efficient, but both fires needed to be tended. Unfortunately, even with the cast-iron stove going full blast, the poorly insulated workshop remained drafty and quite cold. So cold, in fact, that Harvath was concerned about whether he could sufficiently warm the snowmobile. Without taking it apart, there was no way of knowing what if any damage had been caused by the extreme arctic air.
The battery, though, seemed to be doing better. Resting near but not too near the fireplace, its temperature had greatly improved.
Outside, the sun had grown more visible as the storm died and the clouds began breaking up. That meant good news for the solar panel. Though all it needed was daylight, direct sunlight packed the biggest punch.
Not wanting to drain a moment of energy from the booster pack, he resisted the urge to turn it on and check its meter. He figured, at best, he was going to get one shot with it. The challenge was to pick his moment. If he tried too soon, he could blow all his gains. But if he waited too long, he was going to lose precious time.
Once search aircraft were airborne, their number-one goal would be to find the crash site. As soon as the site was located, a rescue team would be launched. But until the Russians had done a thorough search of the wreckage and the surrounding area, no one would be looking for him. That meant he had time; the only question was how much.
The other person they’d be looking for was Josef. For all he knew, the man was lying dead only a few hundred yards from the plane. Not that it mattered. One man or two, the search was going to be intense. Of that, he was positive.
On his first trip back to the cabin, he had downed several cups of melted water from the pail. Shoveling snow and dragging a snowmobile, he had worked up a powerful thirst. He had also worked up a powerful appetite.
Slicing up some of the bear meat, he placed it in the saucepan with a can of carrots and some more water. It wouldn’t be the best meal he had ever eaten, but he had eaten worse—much worse.
Placing the saucepan near the fire to heat, he got to work loading up the gear he’d be taking with him. It didn’t take long, as there wasn’t much to pack. Everything went into a sturdy canvas rucksack he had discovered in the workshop.
After zipping over to the shed to check on the fire there, he returned to the cabin, tested his “stew,” and decided to pour himself a drink.
Among the kitchen items he had found was a small etched glass. No doubt the trapper had used it for the same purpose Harvath was now. Unscrewing the cap, he filled it with ice-cold vodka.
The spirit burned going down, but it was followed by a numbing warmth that quickly spread to the rest of his body. The vodka was the closest thing he’d had to a painkiller since popping the two Russian aspirins back at the wreckage.
He was covered in bruises and lacerations from the beatings he had taken. For the most part, he had been able to ignore the pain. It was when he sat down to rest that it was inescapable. The vodka, though, helped, and he poured himself another glass.
Two would have to be the limit. He was still in extreme danger. Deadening his senses any further would have been a big mistake.
Alcohol was also a depressant, and the only thing that came racing back into his moments of rest more acutely than his physical pain was his anguish.
One drink was bad enough. Two, though, and his walls would start to lower. Abetted by any more vodka, he knew it was a steep, slippery slope into a dark, emotional pit. The luxury of guilt and self-loathing was a gift he’d give himself once he made it out of Russia—and only after he gave Lara, Lydia, and the Old Man the gift of revenge.
Sipping on the second vodka, his listened to the logs crackle in the fireplace. It was a sound that often put him at ease, something he associated with home. But not here. Every snap,