the bourbon from his glass, he stood and extended his hand. The two men shook.
“Just don’t take too long,” the SPEHA said. “If you do, both of our nations are going to regret it.”
CHAPTER 36
* * *
* * *
MURMANSK OBLAST
Harvath was on edge. He disliked not having a plan. As the doctor thoroughly cleaned and dressed his wounds, he tried to build rapport by asking her questions.
Her name was Christina. She had attended medical school in the city of Archangel at the Northern State Medical University. As part of her training, she had studied abroad in London. After returning home, she had taken over the clinic.
The town, known as Nivsky, had been founded in 1929 as a settlement for laborers building a nearby hydroelectric plant. Not much happened in Nivsky. Its people were proud, worked hard, and hoped for better lives for their children.
Christina and her husband had met at medical school, where he was studying military medicine. They had no children.
She was about ten years younger than Harvath, and in addition to being very pretty, she was also very athletic. In the winter, she did a lot of snowshoeing and cross-country skiing. The rest of the year, when the Oblast wasn’t frozen solid, she was into hiking and mountain biking.
The rifle she had been carrying was a Russian-made Molot-Oruzhie. Though they were far enough from the ice not to worry about polar bears, the wolves had been a big problem. Everyone in town was carrying some sort of firearm. Considering how much drinking went on in Nivsky, Christina expressed surprise that there hadn’t been any “friendly fire” incidents yet.
Harvath smiled at her joke. She hadn’t responded to his request to get him to the border, and he wasn’t going to push her—yet. He knew she was thinking about it.
“When was the last time you ate?” she asked.
“Besides the yogurt I found in your fridge?”
She nodded.
“I had some of your uncle’s smoked bear meat and a can of carrots earlier today.”
The woman shuddered. “Are you hungry?”
Harvath nodded. He was ravenous.
Christina walked up to the front office, returned with a paper takeout menu, and handed it to him. It was from the bar and café he had passed on his way through the center of town. His inability to read Russian was negated by the fact that there were pictures of everything.
“Is this for real?” he asked, pointing at one of the items.
“The cheeseburger?” she replied. “It’s actually quite good. Even better if you get it with bacon.”
“Perfect. I’ll take two of them. And a slice of the chocolate cake.”
The woman laughed. “And to drink?”
“A Diet Coke.”
“Because you’re concerned about calories.”
Harvath smiled. “Obviously.”
She shook her head, walked over to the phone on the wall, and dialed the number.
He paid attention as she placed the order, alert for any sign that she was giving him away to the authorities. There was nothing, though—not in the way she spoke or in what she said—to give him any concern.
“Twenty minutes,” she stated as she hung up the phone and turned back to face him.
One of the few things he had not lost when he plunged into the icy river was the money he had taken off the dead Spetsnaz soldiers. He peeled off several bills and handed them to her. “For the food and the medical care.” Then, peeling off several more, added, “And for the damage to your door.”
Christina accepted his offer, and then took the rest of his money as well. “If I’m going to help get you to the border, we’re going to need additional supplies. I think it’s better if I do the shopping. Your Russian really is terrible.”
Harvath was incredibly relieved. His odds of escape had just improved dramatically. He wanted to throw his arms around her. Instead, he maintained his professional composure. “Thank you,” he said.
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait till we’re at the border.”
Once again, he smiled. “Fair enough.”
Over the last several days he had endured physical, psychological, and emotional torture. He hadn’t thought he’d ever be able to smile again. Now, he’d done so twice in less than five minutes.
“What can I do for you in return?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe nothing. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“How far ahead have you thought?”
“Dinner, as well as hiding my uncle’s snowmobile before people start wondering why he’s back and no one has seen him.”
Good point. “What can I do?”
“First, I’m going to give you an antibiotic injection,” she replied. “Then I’m going to give