Harvath didn’t need to ask for her help. She understood what was happening. Immediately, she began shouting in Sámi and gesturing for people to get back inside their homes.
The killing had only just begun.
CHAPTER 53
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Slinging his rifle, Harvath pulled the pistol he had taken off the dead snowmobiler and quickly approached Jompá’s cabin.
The minute he was in range, he head-shot every Wagner mercenary he saw—just to be sure. He wanted to be absolutely certain that they were dead.
After he drilled the four at the door, he took a quick peek inside. Blood and pieces of flesh from the other two operatives were splattered everywhere. The IED had done its job. Nevertheless, each of the bodies inside received a head-shot as well. Now, he needed to get to the helicopter.
Taking a quick peek outside to make sure no one was lying in wait, he stepped through the doorway, helped himself to fresh magazines and extra frag grenades from the dead men.
One of the mercenaries had been carrying two incendiary grenades and Harvath grabbed those as well. They were used for destroying equipment and could burn at four thousand degrees for forty seconds.
As he had with the snowmobilers back on the trail, he decided against booby-trapping the bodies.
Shoving everything into his pockets, he left the bodies alone and ran for the snowmobile. Along the way, he picked up his other guns and ammunition. There was no telling what he was going to encounter at the downed chopper.
After tossing away the branches, he secured his rucksack and equipment, fired up the snowmobile, and took off.
He had a general idea of where the crash had happened, but didn’t know what the terrain was like or how close he was going to be able to get to it.
Using his night vision goggles to see by, he kept the headlight turned off. It was bad enough that the loud whine of the engine would give away his approach—he didn’t intend to add a visual beacon on top of it.
About half a klick into the forest, he began to see light in the distance. It had to be coming from the downed helicopter. He kept going, getting as close as he felt comfortable, then killed the engine and went in the rest of the way on foot.
The snow, as it was everywhere else in this godforsaken country, was deep and he struggled to push through it. If he never saw a single flake of it again, it would be too soon.
As he moved, he made sure to take advantage of the natural camouflage of the trees. There was no telling who had survived the crash. Any number of them could be headed his way, or worse, preparing an ambush.
Every few yards, he stopped and listened. But even as he closed in on the chopper, he didn’t hear anything. It was still—deathly still.
Cresting a small rise, he saw the helicopter beneath him. It was down in a gulley, lying on its side. All around, the tall pine trees had been snapped like toothpicks. The helo’s rotors had been shorn off and there were pieces of wreckage strewn everywhere. Using a tree for cover, he crouched down. For several moments, he watched and waited.
No one moved. No one made a sound. He had a bad feeling that Christina might be dead. He wouldn’t know, though, until he got down there.
Picking the route that provided the most protection, he slowly descended into the gulley.
It reminded him of an operation he had conducted in Norway, on similar terrain and in similar conditions. There had been an ambush and it had turned into a bloodbath. Gripping his rifle, he kept his eyes open, stopping every few feet to listen.
The only sounds he heard were the last gasps of the helicopter’s mechanical and electrical systems, punctuated every so often by the hiss of hydraulic fluid as it spat from a severed hose somewhere.
Once in the gulley, he carefully approached the helo from its nose. Peering through the shattered cockpit windscreen, his AK-15 up and at the ready, he could see the pilot and copilot. They were both dead.
It was hard to see any deeper inside—some piece of cargo was obstructing the view. He kept moving.
With the bird lying on its side, the helicopter’s porthole-style windows were pointing either up toward the sky or down toward the ground. He’d have to climb on top of the helo if he wanted to look through the windows. He decided to