Backlash (Scot Harvath #19) - Brad Thor Page 0,74

she pointed to some boxes and some things hanging on the opposite wall. “My uncle didn’t think it was healthy for me to be holding on to his things.”

“Where are your skis?”

“At my house, but there’s no time. I’ll show you on the GPS where you’re going and whom to ask for. Sini speaks English. She’ll take care of you.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. First I need to deal with those Wagner assholes. If I’m right, they’re going to be calling me any minute about a break-in at the clinic.”

“Before I go, I need you to promise me you’ll do something,” he replied.

“We’ve already wasted too much time. You need to hurry up and get out of here.”

“I’m not going unless you promise me.”

She couldn’t believe this guy. Two dozen former Russian Spetsnaz soldiers with helicopters, snowmobiles, and stolen SUVs were all looking for him, yet he wasn’t going to flee until he got a promise from her. She couldn’t decide if he was incredibly brave or just incredibly insane.

In the interest of getting him moving, she agreed. And while he geared up, she created a route on the GPS and wrote down everything he needed to do.

Then, standing outside in the snow, he handed her a small, folded piece of paper. “This is all you have to do.”

She looked at it. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as cancer,” he said, as he turned and skied off into the woods.

CHAPTER 40

* * *

* * *

A litany of things had been flying through Christina’s mind as she maneuvered home. She had to remind herself not to speed. Though they were a tight-knit community, loyalty wasn’t guaranteed—not with soldiers in town offering rewards for information and beating people who resisted.

It reminded her of the stories her grandparents used to tell of life under communism. The most dangerous people weren’t the apparatchiks or the secret police. The most dangerous people were your neighbors, your coworkers, the babushka who swept the street. The reign of communist terror was successful at preventing another revolution because it was impossible to organize. You didn’t know who you could trust. Every person on every corner was a potential informant. Christina needed to be very careful.

She left the car outside, so the engine would cool more rapidly. She didn’t want to give away that she just arrived. When the Wagner thugs came calling, she wanted her alibi to be airtight. She had worked late, called in a takeout order, and had gone straight home.

Gathering up Harvath’s takeout containers, she brought them inside and spread them out across her kitchen counter. The meal had come with fries, which he had neglected, so she helped herself as she downed two quick shots of vodka to steady her nerves.

If anyone came calling, it was important that she appear to have been home, alone, drinking.

She had just poured a large glass of wine, from a half-empty bottle, when her bell rang. There was little doubt in her mind who it was.

Fries in hand, she walked up to the front door and opened it. Standing outside were three Wagner mercenaries. Front and center was the man in charge—the one from the bar who had held up Harvath’s picture and had given all the orders.

He was tall, with blond hair and several prominent facial scars. “Doctor Volkova?”

“Yes?” she replied, a half-eaten French fry in her mouth.

“My name is Colonel Kazimir Teplov. I am sorry to disturb you. May we come in?”

“What do you want?”

“It’s somewhat cold outside. If you wouldn’t mind I’d rather do this inside.”

Taking a moment to finish chewing her French fry, she then stood back and allowed the men to enter.

The rifle Teplov had been carrying at the bar was gone. From what she could see, he had only the sidearm holstered at his thigh. The two goons behind him, however, were not only carrying rifles, but appeared jumpy, ready to fire if anyone so much as sneezed.

“Thank you,” said Teplov, as he and his men stepped into her home. “As I said, my name is—”

“Kazimir Teplov. I know. I was in the bar when you and your people arrived.”

“Is that so?” he asked.

“It is so. By the way, the man your soldiers beat unconscious, were you aware that he served honorably in the Russian Navy? And that he is also our auto mechanic.”

“I did not know that. I’m sorry. It was a most unfortunate incident.”

Christina despised this guy and was having a very hard time disguising it.

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