Man on Ice: Russia vs the USA - in Alaska

TWELVE

The roar of the F-22s faded to a distant growl. They would be back. Two lines of helicopters faced each other like airborne gladiators marking ground to see which would move first. The Russian ones glowed like Christmas trees. The Americans remained darkened, no lights at all.

Rake had to get Timo to safety. Surrender might save Timo’s life, but not Carrie’s and those of the hostages in the school. He drew Timo firmly towards him, shielding him from the Russians with his body. Timo clung to his jacket as Rake made two simultaneous judgments. Timo’s outburst would have exposed his identity to the Russians. Golov would cut his losses and turn Rake in before his own cover was blown. The Russians would be under orders to avoid casualties, which gave Rake an advantage. But trained soldiers do not allow themselves to be shot. Either Rake faced them down or he surrendered and, if he did that, there were plenty of reasons why he would not survive. Golov would need Rake dead to protect himself. He and the others would not forgive Rake’s killing their comrade. Surrender would make him a dead man walking.

Golov looked at Rake, eyes squinted against the weather. For a few minutes, Rake had been his ticket to New York, but no more. They both knew it. Once again, they were kill-or-be-killed enemies. Golov was quick, fast, and good, except Rake had emptied his weapon of ammunition, which gave him an advantage, probably for five seconds. Maybe seven. The soldier behind Golov was just a kid, red-faced and feeling the cold.

Rake shot the young soldier in the neck, a single round, just above the flak jacket. The bullet caught the carotid artery and a jet of blood sprayed onto the snow as the man crumpled.

Golov, in a sideways leap, went for the soldier’s automatic rifle as it fell. He skillfully picked it up, familiar with the mechanism and moving fast, but as he lifted the rifle the heel of his boot slid under the snow.

Rake hurled himself forward and drew his knife. As they hit the iron-hard surface, he drove it into the side of Golov’s neck, withdrew it, and plunged it back into his right eye, twisting the blade. A moment of quiet was broken by a soft cry from Timo and a crackle on the radio, a Russian voice asking about the gunshot. Rake grabbed the radio. ‘Turned out to be a kid,’ he said in Russian. ‘Sending him down now.’

Rake pushed himself to his feet. Soaking blood from the two bodies created a blanket of speckled maroon and red in the snow. He dragged them into the old army post. He went through their pockets. Neither carried ID. He took the radio, ammunition, and the phone. Timo squatted, staring at the snow, shaking. Rake knelt with him and held his face between his hands. ‘Look at me, Timo.’ The boy raised his head.

‘It’s OK,’ said Rake. ‘You’re safe.’

‘I’m not scared. I’ll soon be old enough to kill men too.’ Timo looked down again, his hands tightly clasped.

Rake pressed a flashlight in his hand. ‘I want you walk down towards the school. Put your hands high above your head and shine the flashlight into your face.’

Timo nodded.

‘Soldiers will meet you. They’ll take you to the school and they’ll ask you what happened. Tell them you saw nothing. You heard a gunshot. That you’re frightened.’

Timo nodded again.

‘Good man.’ Rake lifted him to his feet.

‘Uncle Rake, look.’ Timo twisted around to face the Russian island where a firefight between Russian and American helicopters had broken out. A Black Hawk dissolved into an airborne furnace. The fuselage lit up, lurched clumsily, and dropped fast towards the ice. Its rotor blades trailed red and yellow flames. An F-22 roared overhead, a missile speeding out from its starboard wing pod. A Russian helicopter evaporated into a white inferno.

‘Go.’ Rake pushed Timo gently out onto the path. The boy turned on the flashlight, raised his arms above his head, and walked surefootedly down towards two Russian soldiers who stepped into his path.

Carrie’s phone vibrated and lit up with an incoming call from the number that Rake had messaged.