inside, they commandeered the Xerox machine in the office and made hundreds of copies of Harvath’s photo. They made sure everyone in the place had one before leaving with tape, staple guns, and the rest of the copies.
As they exited, Teplov kept an eye on the crowd until his men were safely out the door. If anyone was going to do something stupid, like throw a bottle, this was when it normally happened. No one did.
Once the Wagner men had moved away from the entrance, several of the patrons rushed outside to retrieve their beaten friend. Christina, who had been there to pick up her order, rushed outside with them.
Careful to make sure his head and neck were supported, they carried him back inside, laid him down, and covered him with a coat to help warm him up.
Everyone was aghast at what the soldiers had done. “This isn’t the Soviet Union,” one said. “They cannot do that to us,” said another. “We have our rights!” exclaimed a third person.
Christina, though, knew differently. “Rights” were whatever the oligarchs in Moscow decided they were. They could be given and they could be taken away at a moment’s notice.
She also knew that those men were not soldiers—not in the traditional sense. They weren’t current members of the Russian Army. They were mercenaries. She had recognized the patch they were all wearing on their parkas. It was just like the one her husband had worn as part of his uniform. They belonged to Wagner.
And if Wagner was here in Nivsky, it could mean only one thing—the Kremlin was keeping the hunt for Harvath a secret.
Why they would do that she didn’t know. She also didn’t care. She had seen the condition of Harvath’s body. She had also just seen the brutality they were capable of firsthand.
The Wagner men were dangerous. They were also about to close off the town and begin a house-to-house search. With four SUVs and several snowmobiles, they would be able to cover a lot of ground in a short time. She needed to get back to Harvath as soon as possible.
But with all eyes on her as the town’s doctor, she first needed to tend to the man who had been so savagely attacked.
CHAPTER 38
* * *
* * *
Get your things,” said Christina as she burst through the back door of the clinic and began gathering up supplies. “We’re leaving. Right now.”
“I heard the helicopters,” replied Harvath, already dressed and ready to go. “What’s going on?”
“They know you’re here. They’re passing around your photo and are closing off the town.”
He implored her to take a breath. “Who knows I’m here?”
“Mercenaries. Wagner, the company my husband worked for.”
Harvath was familiar with them. Most were ex-Spetsnaz. “How many did you see?”
“Around twenty. Maybe more.”
“How were they equipped?”
“White uniforms. Helmets with night vision. They were carrying rifles. And pistols, too.”
“How do they plan to close off the town?”
“They are blocking the road at both ends. Anyone coming in or going out will be checked. They are offering a reward for your capture.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen thousand dollars, American. That’s a lot of money around here.”
He didn’t doubt it. He knew enough about Russia to have an idea what the average person earned, especially someone who didn’t live in Moscow or St. Petersburg.
“How are we going to get out?” he asked.
It was a good question—one her mind had been working overtime on. “Driving is impossible,” she replied. “I’m afraid the snowmobile is, too. We’ll have to figure something else out, but we can’t stay here. They’re right behind me. We need to get going. Now.”
The “Now” kicked Harvath into high gear.
Christina had struck him as a calm, very competent medical professional, someone capable of staying cool under pressure. When she intimated it was time to haul ass, he took it seriously.
Having upward of twenty, and possibly more, former Spetsnaz soldiers on his tail wasn’t something he relished. He had made it this far because of good training, good luck, and one hell of a head start.
The head start was now all but gone. All he had left was his training and whatever good luck ended up in his path.
Before she had left to pick up the food, he had asked her to help him send a message back to the United States. Without revealing completely how the process worked, he had assured her that it couldn’t be traced back to her and that there was no risk.
Knowing how the Russian Internet was used to hunt down