The Bear

Day Twenty-three Moscow

The sun melted into the western sky, its remnant nothing more than an orange glow blistered across the darkening heavens. Night would settle in over the Russian capital within the hour. He lifted the glass to his lips as the clear liquid filled his mouth. He felt its soft burn against his tongue. It warmed him; something he needed in the midst of this drafty safe house. But he knew it wouldn’t be much longer and this situation would be over. He swirled the drink around the glass before draining it completely. Tonight would end it all.

The crowd continued to build as the evening wore on. It seemed that a Friday night was just like a Friday night anywhere else in the world. For the first time, the place they had watched for days seemed to have a life all its own. Western music filled the club as the dance floor began to come to life and the liquor began to flow. Ivan and Polina watched from a corner booth as youth overtook common sense in the world of the young.

“They sure know how to party.” Polina rolled her glass around on its base. She had a habit of doing that, Ivan noticed.

“You don’t drink much, do you?”

“Not all that much, Ivan. I put that behind me a long time ago. Too many hangovers, too many issues.”

“I hear you.” Ivan extended his legs beneath the table. His face cramped at the effort, just like the muscles in his thighs. “Why can’t they make things for tall people?”

“There’s tall,” Polina said as she looked up to Ivan and smiled, “and then there’s you.”

“Funny.” Ivan smiled back. He felt comfortable with her. “We need to try and blend in a bit more.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Ivan winked as he grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the booth as he stood up.

“No way in hell, stretch.”

But Polina was no match for his strength. One step backward and she was up on her feet. He stooped, bending at the knees as he pulled her toward him. He began to sway, the music moving him from side to side. She thought he looked like a scarecrow flailing in the wind. He smiled again as he pulled her forward. She rolled her eyes as her feet made the edges of the dance floor, and her hips caught the sway of the music.

“Damn you, I love this song.”

The music slowed and Ivan pulled her close. He could feel the shape of her handgun in the small of her back as his hand closed about her waist. She put her hand up to his chest to keep him slightly away. But just slightly.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I’m just trying to blend in, remember?”

They stayed on the floor for another song before the booth, and their mission called them back. Another hour passed and more young Moskovites packed the club. They could tell it would be a long night. At least it felt good to be out and around people. Ivan looked up as another couple, this one a bit older closed the door behind them. Anya and Sasha slid along the wall and up to the bar. Sasha fluffed his coat as he straddled the stool. He could feel his own weapon push against his leg. He nodded as Anya ordered their drinks.

Danil slipped into the club, unnoticed by the others. He bellied up to the end of the bar, standing next to Sasha. His eyes found their targets, sitting in the same corner in the same booth they had for the past several days. The only difference was they had smirks and smiles plastered across their faces as more and more young women rolled into the club, because those women were followed by young men and both loved to drink. The take would be a good one tonight.

“They’re drinking right along with their customers,” Danil noted. “Stupid.”

“But they’re used to it,” Sasha said in almost a whisper. “This is their world, not ours. And, they know where the walls are. We’re guessing at everything we do. All the alcohol does is shift the odds a little in our favor.”

Sasha sipped his drink slowly as he began to think about the next couple hours. He noted Ivan and Polina in the corner, then not. They were mixing and socializing. They were trying to fit in. It worked for them being closer in age to the average person jumping around on the dance floor. Sweat was mixing with booze. He realized you could plop this club down anywhere in the civilized world and you couldn’t tell where you were. Youth was full of optimism; he was almost a lost cause.

Danil looked at his watch as the last hour began to close down. He slid his empty glass into the middle of the bar, tossed his money on to the wet surface and pulled his coat tightly around himself. He nodded to the man sitting next to him and hit the exit, the cold night air pushing through the door as he left. His car was just a brief walk down the street. The nondescript auto had everything they needed.

The end of the night was coming quickly as couples and the last of the desperate, single loners looked to walk out the door with someone in the late-night hours. The men in the dark corner booth began to stir and make their way out into the club as the last of their patrons filed out the door. Anya laid her hand on Sasha’s arm, giving a tug as one of the Russians approached.

“Come on love,” she said. “It’s time to go.”

Sasha wavered as if he had drunk just a little too much liquid relaxation. He looked up as a heavy-set Russian stepped to his side.

“Time to go.” His words were not as polite as Anya’s. “Do as your little lady asked.” He reached down and laid his thick hand on Sasha’s shoulder.

“I’m going,” Sasha replied. He looked up from the stool with a gentle smile. The big Russian smirked as he helped Sasha to his feet.

Sasha waved his hand as Anya wrapped her arm around his and she guided him toward the door. Sasha slid his hands inside his pockets, pulling the flaps of his coat around to the front. It would be cold outside. He turned and smiled as Anya pushed through the door while he held it open an extra second. The next sound was as unexpected as it was distinct, and everyone in the club knew what it was.

The round slammed into the big Russian who grabbed his chest as he fell to the side, his knees buckling instantly. He was dead before he hit the floor. Ivan and Polina crashed through the doors as the Russians scattered. They dove behind the bar and beneath tables, any place to avoid the bullets. Polina rolled to the right and shot off a burst at the table. Their targets cleared like rats. The spray was enough to tear the cheap wood trim to shards as Danil rushed through the door. Sasha and Anya grabbed the assault rifles Danil left on the sidewalk and followed him in, ducking off to the left with Ivan. Danil ran straight ahead, making for a half-wall near the dance floor. They were in!

Ivan peered around a booth as the first shots were returned. He ducked as Polina returned covering fire. Danil made the bar and slid behind it, surprising the Russian hiding there. A single slug meant two down. The bar was the most solid wall to be behind, but it was open at the end. He looked up just as a large, blond Russian raised a pistol in his direction. A blistering salvo cut him down, throwing him against a column to his right, his blood a smeared streak as his body slid down the white plaster. Anya appeared in his place and waved Danil forward.

“Up the stairs!” Sasha yelled, his first words in English in over a week. He cursed himself for his stupidity. Their prime target had fled to the second story.

A few stray rounds made their way back into the bar as three of the Russians crashed through the rear doors of the kitchen and out into the alley. Sasha was sure they were headed for the warehouse behind. ‘Three down’, he thought.

Polina crouched at the bottom of the stairs around the corner by the kitchen. Commotion from the second floor froze her. She tucked the assault rifle close against her ribs and took a deep breath. She turned quickly as a burst came down the stairs obliterating the railing beside her. She felt a sting on her right arm and knew what it meant. Ivan slid to the floor beside her.

“You okay?”

He received a nod in reply. She pointed up the stairs and then to the ceiling. People were up there. Another burst peppered the stair treads causing them to turn away. They couldn’t sit here. Ivan leaned back and pulled Polina with him. She flinched as he grabbed her arm but said nothing. She could hear herself breathing heavily, could feel the sweat running beneath her clothing. Sasha stepped over the dead blond Russian and leaned against the blood-stained column.

“We aren’t equipped to go up a stair. We don’t know who’s up there.”

“Boris is up there,” Polina replied. “I saw him.”

“I did too. That’s where we need to focus.”

“We can’t just leave the others behind. They need to be taken out.”

Sasha nodded. It was outside of the prime mission objective, but he didn’t want to leave loose ends. He waved Anya and Danil over. No one else seemed to be left on the main floor of the club. The Russians were caught off guard and fled. Anya leaned into the wall, sighing heavily.

“Everyone okay?” Sasha looked over his team. Danil stayed behind the bar keeping his rifle trained on the door. He didn’t want any surprises from that direction. “Ivan, you, Polina and I will go after the three. If we don’t engage them in five minutes, we’ll come back here.” The mission commander looked up to Anya. “Can you and Danil get up to the second floor?”

“Piece of cake,” Anya replied. “Done it a hundred times in training exercises.”

“Let’s do it.”

Sasha nodded toward the kitchen door, hiked his rifle and rolled off the bloodied column. Ivan and Polina followed closely, keeping low between the kitchen counters. No surprises. They reached the open door and stopped, peering into the darkness. The alley was nearly as black as charcoal, the strip unlit in the early morning hours. Polina looked around the kitchen as she held her rifle against her chest. The place was a disgusting mess.

“Christ, I’m glad we didn’t order any food in this dump.”

“Clear,” Sasha whispered.

They slid silently into the alley, the light from the kitchen throwing their shadows before them like specters. The path they needed was easy to follow, the door in front of them into the warehouse, wide open. They fell against the cold exterior walls with their weapons up. Sasha cocked his head, peering inside. He stepped in and slid to the floor behind the first thing he could find. Ivan and Polina jumped to his left, coming to rest behind a backhoe. They were quickly greeted with bullets ricocheting off the thick metal. Ivan’s eyes went wide at the sound.

“Damn!”

“Is our five minutes up?” Polina asked with a smirk.

Sasha replied with a salvo directed toward the oncoming fire. The short burst echoed in the low light. The warehouse sounded nearly empty. He counted the seconds to himself. Ten, twenty. He would move on twenty-five. He stood only to be greeted with a cascade of bullets. He ducked quickly behind his shield. Polina pointed her rifle through an opening and squeezed off several rounds. Sasha jumped at the opportunity to move up the side to the next object. Their movement went on for several minutes as each laid down covering fire for the other to jump ahead. It was a classic army tactic.

They were half-way across the warehouse when Ivan slid down behind a pile of burlap sacks, next to a door. A burst from above forced him to duck as the rounds thumped into the sacks. He was breathing heavily, the sweat now rolling down his forehead. Footsteps from above were quickly silenced as Polina returned fire. The body hit the concrete floor with a dull crack, the bones splintering as the lifeless body landed awkwardly. She slid in beside him and leaned her head against the sacks.

“I don’t know what is in these bags, but I’m glad as hell they’re here.”

The sound of metal raking across metal brought their attention back to their situation. A door; an overhead door sliding along its rails echoed through the warehouse followed by running footsteps. A burst of light blazed into the darkness before being extinguished by the closing door. Twenty seconds passed without a sound.

“It’s over.” Sasha’s voice broke the silence. “They’re gone. We need to get back to the club. Let’s go.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure, Ivan. Let’s go help the others before reinforcements arrive.”

“You want to go up first?”

“Me? You’d probably put a bullet up my butt,” Danil chuckled.

“Only if I wanted to, Danil.” Anya waved her hand toward the stairs. “I’ll lay up a burst and you need to move as fast as you can and get your ass up there. There’s a lot of steps. You’ve got to hustle.”

Danil nodded as he took a deep breath. Air Force life was nothing like this. This was Army crap. He should be cruising above the clouds in the wild blue yonder or sitting behind a desk pushing papers. He let his lungs slowly deflate, turned toward Anya and nodded. She pointed her rifle directly up and flooded the ceiling with bullets. The sound of scampering feet told her there was more than one up there. She leveled her sights and sprayed the upper platform of the stairs, the bullets ripping through the drywall until there was nothing left. Danil took his cue and sprinted up, his feet feeling like lead as he struggled to make the top. He landed on the last step falling short of the floor, tucked his rifle around the corner and shot off a burst. Anya was standing at his feet seconds later.

“Go go go,” she urged.

Danil scurried onto the floor and slammed himself into the wall. Anya followed close behind. Ahead was a closed door and an open door frame to their left. Anya pumped several bursts into the open doorway and charged inside. She was greeted by a spray of gunfire that flew out the opening, peppering the wall where Danil stood. His eyes went wide as he felt a round tear into his thigh. He dove to the floor, crossing the threshold of the opening. His leg burned like fire as it scraped across the floor. Someone on the other side of the dark room stood, extended his arms and pulled the trigger, losing everything in the clip. It was all he had left. Danil raised his rifle and cut him down in a burst.

“Anya.”

“Here.” She stood, then lowered herself to a crouch. “Check him out and see if it’s our guy. I’m going down the hall to the door.” She was out into the hall before Danil could object, or even cry in pain. Seconds later, a burst of gunfire echoed back down the hall. He felt his breath leave him again.

Several minutes passed before he felt the urge to move. His leg was throbbing. He reached down and pulled back a handful of blood, then wiped his palm across his pant leg. Danil left his rifle on the floor and crawled over to the body that was sprawled across the desk his target had been hiding behind. Danil pulled himself up to look. It was Boris. ‘Where was Anya?’ he thought. She’s been gone too long.

“So, things have not gone exactly as I planned.”

Danil turned at the unexpected voice to see a figure silhouetted by the dim light of the hallway. He took a step in, leveling a pistol in Danil’s direction.

“It’s him. We got him.”

“And that is too bad, my friend.”

“Donald, what?” Danil was confused. He turned and leaned against the wooden desk as the blood from his leg smeared across the floor. “He’s dead.”

“Well, that is one consolation,” Donald said as he walked into the room. “I’d hoped my friends would have done a better job of killing you all off. Since there’s no one in the club downstairs, I assume you are the last one left.” Donald took a step closer and picked up the assault rifle. “Now I won’t need to work around him.”

“I don’t understand.” Danil’s head was beginning to spin. “We got the caller. We got Boris.” He leaned forward resting his head in his hands. He was dizzy. Nothing was making sense.

“You got Boris,” Donald said as he smiled. “You didn’t get the caller. He was nothing but a pawn. And a rather stupid one at that.” Donald took another step forward. “Didn’t you think finding him was rather easy?”

“But the number. They saw you call it. He answered it.”

“They saw me dial a number from nothing more than a digital display. I called a number I knew would be answered.”

“But the device …”

“This?” Donald shrugged as he pulled the small black box from his pocket. “This is nothing more than a digital box I can key any number into.” The CIA agent tossed it on the floor. “It’s worthless, a child’s toy. You’ve been had.”

“What about the calls? Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t you get it? I made the calls,” Donald laughed. “I grew tired of the honorable undercover war. Everyone here was making a profit but me. I wanted, I needed some of the cash that was rolling into the country.” He took another step forward and leveled the gun at Danil’s face. “I earned it. All the years I hid in this retched place and what do I have to show for it? Not a damn thing.”

“Who is it that I just killed then?”

“Oh, he’s someone important. He’s the son of a real Russian mafia head. Unfortunately, this mafia head has no idea what’s been going on. I’ve set the wheels in motion. I’ve invested heavily in the Russian military contractors. This war will start, and I’ll get my money, and all I have to do is let the war machine do its thing.”

Danil began to shake. He was tired; exhausted. He could feel the cold beginning to settle in. This wasn’t what he thought it would be. He pulled his hand over his thigh and felt the hole in his leg. It burned, like the air that surged in and out of his lungs. He felt helpless; sick to his stomach.

“So my friend. Your time has come. I’m certain the others, whoever is left, will be hunted down once Boris’ father becomes aware of what’s happened. And that won’t take very long. I’ll make sure of that.” Donald’s grin widened as he stared at Danil. “Goodbye, my friend”

Three shots rang out above the club, an empty, rundown shell caught in the grasp of a cold Russian night.

“Fucking bastard,” Anya yelled as Donald’s lifeless body collapsed to the floor.

Anya ducked into the room at the sound of footsteps frantically climbing the stairs. She took cover behind a desk and trained her weapon on the door.

“Anya!”

“Here, Sasha!” She rose from her position letting her weapon fall as Sasha led the others inside.

“We’re all fine. Did we get him?”

“We’re clear here.” Anya looked down to Danil who lay still against the desk, then up to Boris’ lifeless body. “Oh damn,” she said under her breath as she quickly knelt down to Danil. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I got him,” Danil said weakly. “I got him.”

“And who got you?” Anya pulled apart the hole in his trouser to see the damage. It wasn’t pretty. “Someone give me a belt.” Anya worked feverishly on Danil to lessen the flow of blood, pulling the belt around his thigh. She could only hope the bullet hadn’t hit a major vessel.

“What the hell happened here?” Sasha turned the other body on the floor over and was shocked. “Donald?”

“It’s a rather long story,” Anya replied. “Danil? How do you feel?”

“I’m okay. At least my head isn’t spinning any longer.”

“Can you get to your feet?”

“With a little help, I think.”

Ivan bent down and hauled Danil to his feet practically by himself. Danil leaned against the desk and ran his blood-soaked hands across his face and through his hair.

“Oh, that’s a much better look,” Polina remarked.

“Anya. What the hell is going on?”

“We don’t have time to stand here and recount the whole story Sasha. We need to get to the car. I’ll tell you then.”

“Time to make our exit, folks. Ivan, get Danil down the steps. Polina, you’re our driver now.” Sasha waved his hand toward the door. “Anya, take the point. Let’s make sure there isn’t anyone hiding down there.”

Anya nodded and raised the PP-2000 to shoulder level. It was time to clear the road. She moved out the door to the stair and listened for … anything. Quiet. Ivan wrapped Danil’s arm around his neck, holding him up as Anya took her initial steps down the stairs. She froze at the first creak of the floor tread. Another step down as her team made the top of the stairs. She landed with a hop and trained her rifle around the club. It was empty. She waved them down emphatically.

“Hurry!”

Anya was at the door seconds later with Polina at her side. The doors were solid wood, nothing to see through. They looked at each other and Anya nodded, then leaned her shoulder into the door. The sliver of light from Moscow’s night slipped in. The street seemed quiet, the dirty snow a blanket to the world. She could see the car sitting in the shadows and it felt a thousand miles away. She waved them forward, Danil hopping on his good leg between Ivan and Sasha. Anya held the door as Polina slipped out into the street.

“Should we bring the car up?”

“Let’s just get to it. We can’t afford to stay here any longer. I don’t know if anyone heard the shooting, but I’m sure whoever got away is bringing someone back.”

“Someone got away?” Anya was wide-eyed in disbelief. “What the hell?”

“We followed them into the warehouse, but we couldn’t get close enough. At least one got away,” Sasha replied. “We’ve got to move, now.”

Danil and Ivan stumbled through the door and the team was out into the street, the cold from winter’s night raking across their sweaty, exposed skin. Polina sprinted toward the car. Every second counted as Ivan and Sasha dragged Danil forward. Anya reached the car second and had the doors open on the running vehicle. She stood there silently trying to drag them forward.

“Come on, come on,” Polina demanded. She could see the three silhouettes stumbling forward. At last, they made the car and Ivan nearly threw Danil into the back seat. Anya slammed the door after him and jumped into the front seat, her rifle tucked down between her legs.

Polina stomped on the accelerator, the tires squealing as rubber struggled to grab the cold asphalt. Ahead, two cars turned the corner, their tires sliding in the gray slop, stopping with their headlights pointed at the club. The doors burst open as bullets flew into the club. It was like watching a movie, one that Polina didn’t want to see the ending to. She turned abruptly left, letting the rear wheels slide around, pointing the car in the opposite direction as rounds found the rear of their vehicle.

“Go girl, go!” Anya shouted.

Sasha looked over his shoulder as Danil half-lay against him. One set of headlights from behind turned and headed toward them.

“We’ve got company.”

“I see them.” Polina put her foot down firmly on the pedal and the car hurtled down the dark street. She veered left just as another salvo bounced around them. She drove wildly, turning in and out of any street that may throw them off her trail. For the first time in her life, she wished for traffic. It would have been good cover, assuming their friends had any reservations about shooting and filling a public street with lead.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Not a clue, Sasha,” she yelled back.”

“What the hell happened back there?” Sasha grabbed the front seat and leaned forward. “What happened to Donald?”

Anya laid her head back on the seat recounting the story. She had left Danil not knowing he had been shot. She needed to make sure no one was in the other room. She shot the final target before sitting down on a broken chair. She needed a minute to collect herself. She put her face in her hands, letting the tears run across her fingers. She gathered herself and turned back down the hall. That’s when she heard a familiar voice, one she hadn’t expected to find on the second floor. As she relayed Donald’s words, the others were stunned.

“Fucking bastard is right,” Polina said.

Traffic began to get heavy as Polina exited onto a busier thoroughfare. The lights in the mirror had vanished but she didn’t let off.

“How’s Danil?”

“I’m okay, Anya.” Danil nearly chocked at his words. “I want to thank you for what you did back there.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“We follow the plan, Ivan.”

“How do we do that? If you hadn’t noticed, Danil isn’t in shape to get onto public transportation.”

“I’m aware of that, Lieutenant.” Sasha’s tone was curt. “You however are fine. That part of the plan is still in place. We’ll drop you and Polina at a train station. All your IDs and papers are in the trunk. That part hasn’t changed.”

“We can’t just leave you with Danil in the shape he is.”

“That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

The sound of bullets bouncing off the car caught their attention again. Ivan and Anya each leaned out their window and returned fire.

“Where did they come from? I thought we lost them!”

“They must have fallen back to track us. We need to lose them, Polina. I wouldn’t be surprised if they called for help.”

“Hang on.”

She punched the accelerator and the car’s engine surged. Another burst from Ivan and Anya and the trailing car fell back. Polina swerved from lane to lane as she began to dodge the heavier traffic. Though still dark, the city would begin to wake up in the next few hours, and this was likely just the start of it. The train station. They needed to find the nearest train station.

“You sure this is how you want us to do it?”

“I’m sure Ivan. Even when things go wrong, the best policy is to follow the plan.” Sasha extended his arm through the open window and shook the hand of his team member. “We’ll get Danil out. You two get each other out.”

Ivan resisted the urge to snap off a perfect salute to his commanding officer. It wasn’t the right place; it wasn’t the right time. Sasha watched as the young couple walked into the train station, the doors closing behind them.

“Good luck,” he said under his breath. “Anya, let’s get going.”

Ivan stood inside the terminal as he watched the sedan pull away, its tail lights lost in the gathering traffic. He hiked his pack higher on his shoulder, just another traveler in the eyes of strangers. He smiled at Polina as he turned toward the terminal and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. They were traveling as a couple. That was also part of the plan. They needed to play the part, and she didn’t seem to shy away.

The line was short and as they stepped to the counter, the agent was yawning as she asked them their destination.

“We’re headed to Warsaw,” Polina said as she laid her arms across the counter. She was beginning to get nervous. Funny, she thought, just minutes from an armed confrontation and she was sweating talking to an agent from the railroad. Maybe it was the adrenaline beginning to leave her body. Ivan stayed close as he looked down at them, his face a blank canvass.

“Best I can do is book you through Minsk. After that, you’ll have to make your own arrangements when you get there.”

“Oh,” Polina said with a raised eye. “Why is that? You can’t book us all the way through?”

“No. Russian Railways has no agreements with them west of the city. Here, we share tracks.” The agent looked up, her smile fading the closer it came to quitting time. Morning was just around the corner and her long shift was nearly over.

Polina looked up to Ivan as he squeezed her shoulder. His eyes were focused in another direction. She resisted the urge to follow his stare. Her job was to get the tickets. She laid Ivan’s identification on the counter as she fumbled for her own. She pulled her ID from her pocket laying it atop his. The agent typed in the information before handing their papers back with the tickets. Polina nodded with a tired smile as she turned and wrapped her arm around Ivan’s waist.

“Time for our journey to begin, love,” she said as she followed Ivan’s stare. She knew instantly his concern as she caught sight of two Russian policemen standing near a corner, their eyes fixed on Ivan. She pulled him around and faced the other direction. “We don’t have anything to fear,” she whispered as she leaned in close. “They know nothing about us.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. It was wet with perspiration. “They probably have never seen anyone as tall as you,” she said with a smile only a girlfriend could manage.

They made the far end of the building easily, watching the crowds begin to gather. Moscow was waking up and travel seemed to be the order of the day. Still thirty minutes before they needed to board, they plopped themselves on a bench and leaned close, Ivan’s arm making its way back around her shoulders. Polina laid her hand on his leg. He was still nervous.

“Stop bouncing your leg.”

“Sorry. Nervous habit. I get that way when I have to sit.”

“We’ll only be a few minutes.”

“More police,” he said as he tilted his head to the right.

“We’re just an ordinary couple. Nothing more.”

“We know that, but do they know that? Who knows what was passed along to whom? A gunfight in the middle of the city and no one reports it to the police? I’d rather be suspicious.”

“Point taken,” she replied.

The train pulled in, its doors letting go of a flood of passengers. This was their ticket out, their first stop on the way home. Ivan stood as another pair of police walked to the doors and stood beside the train. They weren’t paying attention to those getting off the train.

“It’s show-time, girlfriend.”

Ivan stood, hoisting his pack again on his shoulder. Polina stood and placed her arm around his waist again. She tugged on his coat sleeve and he bent down to be rewarded with a quick kiss on the lips.

“Got to play the part, right?”

Ivan grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. Her show gave him a new sense of security. They were just a young couple out for an adventure, out to see the world. They waited until a few moved in front and tried to blend in with the crowd, as much as a six foot seven inch man can do in public. As they made the door, Ivan ducked as he nodded toward the policeman, who simply stared at him, then looked away.

The train station faded into the background as Anya accelerated into the growing traffic. The lights of the city only foreshadowed the coming morning. As Anya looked into her mirror, the tell-tale embers of mornings first light were tapping the horizon. She swerved abruptly as another vehicle cut her off.

“Ohhh. Can you stay in one lane?”

“Sorry Danil. Just trying to get used to Russian drivers.”

“How you feeling?” Sasha asked.

“Not too bad, considering. Although I really don’t know how I should feel after being shot.”

“The bleeding seems to have stopped. You did a good job on that, Anya.”

“I had some training, Sasha. Best I could do under the circumstances.” She looked up into the mirror again and tried to find Sasha’s face. “What do we do now?”

“We can’t leave on public transportation like we hoped. Not like this, anyway.” He looked over to Danil who leaned against the seat with his eyes closed. It looks like our last resort is our best option.”

“The plane? He can’t pilot a plane in that condition.”

“Well, we sure can’t drive out of Russia.”

“I can fly that plane in my sleep.”

“I don’t doubt that, Danil, but being wounded does funny things to a person. I don’t know that we can take that chance,” Sasha replied.

“I don’t know that we have another option. Get me behind the wheel of that thing and I’ll get us out of here.”

“At least no one knows about the place,” Anya noted. “That gives us a leg up.”

“A leg up. Funny,” Danil chuckled. “Oww, that hurt. Why does a leg hurt when you laugh?”

“I sure as hell hope they don’t know about the farm. If Donald is tied up with them, seeing his body with three bullets in his back may give them some ideas. We’ve been under the illusion that Donald was a lone wolf. That might be completely false. They may have their own team on the way.”

“Something we have to take into account,” Sasha replied. “How long till we make the farm?”

“About an hour, give or take. I have no idea on earth what traffic will be like.”

“But we’ll be heading out while others head in to the city.”

“It works that way in America. Maybe here too. Who knows,” Anya replied.

As the sun wandered over the horizon, with first light breaking the skyline to the east, Anya eased up on the accelerator. Traffic seemed to be lighter on their side of the road, something she was grateful for. She didn’t want to risk getting a speeding ticket, ‘or whatever the hell happens over here’, she thought. She was sure Moscow had their own brand of rogue cops and sure as hell, it would happen to them. She decided the best course of action was to keep her eyes on the road and obey the laws as best she could understand them. She looked in the mirror again, finding Sasha’s face in the reflection. He was looking out the window, watching the city pass by, obviously deep in thought. She found Danil resting his head on the seat. He was asleep. ‘Less than an hour’, she told herself.

The large grouping of trees that signaled the beginning of the lane leading to the farm seemed to spring out of nowhere. She had been daydreaming. She scanned the snow-covered fields as they closed the distance. Nothing was in sight. It would be a beautiful place in the summer. Her thoughts took her back to her home town and the care-free days of her youth. The city was her life, but she often wondered what life would have been like in small-town USA. She slowed but kept going, looking down the lane as she passed. The acceleration woke Sasha from a nodding sleep.

“What?”

“Tire tracks in the snow up the lane.”

“Not ours?”

“I don’t think so. There are two sets. One out, which would be ours … “

“And one in,” Sasha replied.

“What now?”

“There’s a back way in, an old gravel road that leads in from the west side of the property. It’ll take us a few minutes to get there, but we might be able to sneak in on their flank.”

“Spoken like a true infantryman, Major.” Anya turned toward the rear seat. “We can’t just jump on board the plane and fly it out of here.”

“Why not?”

“I thought you were asleep,” Anya said as she looked at Danil.

“Just resting.”

“Because they’d be on us like maggots, and we sure can’t drag you into a firefight. Not like this, anyway.”

“I can hold my own,” Danil replied as he looked at Sasha. “I can still hold a gun.”

“Get on down the road, Anya. Let me think about this for a minute.”

The car pulled in before an old gate that looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. It was nearly buried in a snow drift, its wooden rails split and rotted. Sasha opened the car door and pushed through the snow to the gate. Its end posts were overgrown with thick bushes that did not look like they had been tended to in decades. At least that’s what it seemed. Sasha reached for the gate to pull it through the snow, but the rails simply pulled out of their sockets. He shrugged as he threw them one by one into the snow.

“I hope this car can clear the drifts,” Anya said as Sasha slid in beside her in the front seat.

“I hope so too. At least it’s quiet.”

“Do you know how far this takes us in?”

“Not a clue.”

“Donald told me about this way in. I don’t think he meant to. It might have been just a slip, something he didn’t think was important.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“Get as close to the plane as you can. Since the path was cleared in case we needed it, we’re ready to go.” Sasha looked at Danil, who looked exhausted. “You’ve preflighted everything?”

“Did it two days ago. This plane won’t need a long stretch to get off the ground, so the original idea should still work.”

“Should?” Sasha’s face showed surprise at the remark.

“We hadn’t planned on new snow. It isn’t much, but it does put a new layer beneath the wheels.”

“Oh. Hadn’t thought of that. Think we can still make it?”

“No guarantees,” Danil said as he leaned forward. “Just get me to it.”

Anya pulled through the snow, the bottom of the car scraping out and clearing a path as they went. She pulled up behind the building furthest from the farmhouse and cut the engine. Sasha helped Danil from the rear seat and pulled his arm around his neck while Anya gathered their weapons. Three minutes later, Danil was perched behind the wheel of the Cessna, his face bathed in sweat.

“You sure you’re going to be able to do this?”

“We don’t have much of a choice now, do we?” Danil pointed to the large doors. “Push those doors open. As soon as you tell me, I’ll fire the engines. I don’t want to make too much noise before things start happening.” He looked over the controls one last time before leaning back into the seat. “It’s a good thing these doors face away from the house. They won’t see us for a few minutes.”

“Why don’t we just leave now?” Anya asked.

“Can’t take that chance. As soon as the engines start, they’d be on us quickly. We’ve got to surprise them first. I’d rather have a clear takeoff.” Sasha handed Danil his assault rifle. “If we don’t make it back, you need to decide how you want to handle this thing.”

Danil nodded in reply. He could go out fighting, or flying.

“Let’s go, Ruth. We’ve got work to do.”

She smiled at the sound of her name. It was the first time she’d heard it in over a week. She didn’t want to be Russian any longer. She handed Sasha his weapon and headed toward the door.

The building gave them cover only for a short distance as the yard behind the house was an open expanse. The farmhouse was situated to defend, with wide killing zones on all sides. They skirted along a line of bushes that acted as a windbreak to the fields for as long as they could, before kneeling down in the wet snow. The house was still almost one hundred yards in front of them.

“Not quite the ideal situation,” Sasha noted.

“I liked the openness from inside,” she whispered. “I didn’t think I’d need to assault my own safe-house.”

A single car was parked beside the house at the end of the lane. One person remained in it, the driver who was casually smoking a cigarette, the smoke drifting out the window into the cold, morning air.

“He doesn’t seem too worried, does he?” Anya leveled her weapon and sighted him. “I could pick him off with a single shot if I had the right rifle.”

“You that good?”

“Yeah,” Anya replied quietly. “I’m that good.”

The minutes dragged on as they listened for tell-tale signs from others. Surely there were others inside. Just as the thought formed in Sasha’s mind, the driver opened the door and yelled a reply to someone in the house.

“They aren’t being very secretive about their presence.”

“My guess is they found the house empty and are just waiting for someone, meaning us,” Sasha replied, “to come pay them a visit.”

“Well, let’s get this show on the road. No telling when others may show up.”

Their best plan was simply a sprint to the wall closest to them. It was a sitting room with only a single window pointing away from the lane. They nodded in unison and sprang forward. Sasha could feel his heart pounding. He hadn’t done anything like this in years. He had left live-fire drills behind, long ago. They dropped to the ground at the base of the wall after an agonizing run. They’d felt naked. If anyone had seen them, they’d know in the next few moments. Their breath hung in the still air as their eyes locked on each other.

The sound of scraping across a floor told them the room above was occupied. Sasha stood, glancing into the window from the side. He could see nothing but a wall. The sound of voices suddenly reverberated against the thin glass. He held up three fingers, and Anya nodded. They needed to get to a door. Anya pointed over her shoulder. They’d try the rear door that led to the kitchen. It opened into a small mudroom, something it seemed was common to farm houses around the world.

Anya led and came to rest beside the door, her weapon held tightly against her side. She reached up to the door knob, giving it a turn. It was unlocked. A full turn and she felt the wood door begin to give way. She let it stand silently as she listened intently. Nothing. It was time to move. She eased the door open and slipped inside, crouching as she went. The small hall was dark, lit only by a filtered light from the kitchen. Sasha stepped in behind her, his weapon trained ahead. He slipped past, landing his shoulder against the wall as he looked out into the kitchen. Empty. They were somewhere else.

Sasha pointed toward the sitting room and again they heard voices. ‘Sloppy’, he thought. But then he had to remind himself, they weren’t dealing with military types. They were dealing with criminals, thugs. They ruled with brute force and intimidation. They weren’t a tactical unit.

Anya stood as Sasha took a deep breath. It was show-time. They crept into the kitchen coming to the outer wall of their target. Sasha lowered his weapon as he stepped in front of the opening and sprayed a burst inside. His targets didn’t have time to even know he was there. Two went down instantly as Anya stepped into the opening and sent a single shot into the third. They spun around and began systematically searching the house for others. They couldn’t be this lucky, could they? Within three minutes, the house was cleared. No other targets.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.” Sasha lowered his rifle and wiped his sleeve across his face. He couldn’t remember sweating so much in winter before. He felt like he was getting old.

As they walked past the sitting room a single shot splintered the door frame next to him. He dove to the floor as Anya tucked her rifle around the corner and put a slug in the chest of the Russian that had survived the initial assault.

“Damn. We should have checked them.”

“Agreed,” Anya answered. “But we also had to make sure no one would be coming in behind us.”

“Let’s get this plane in the air. It’s time to go home.”

They were out the door in seconds, sprinting through the wet snow. The house they’d come to know so well would be nothing but a memory and they were glad to leave it behind. As they rounded the barn, the hangar building came into view. It seemed an agonizingly long run to get there. They pushed through the door and sprinted toward the Cessna.

“Go Danil, go.”

Sasha’s words were returned with silence. As he made the cabin, he knew why. Danil sat there, half-slumped over the controls. The blood from his wound saturating his pants. He was bleeding again. Sasha leaned him back against the seat. He could see the sweat pouring down his face. His decision was instant.

“Danil?”

“Huh?” The Air Force pilot blinked at the sound of Sasha’s voice.

“You okay?”

“Danil. You’ve got to fly this plane,” Anya yelled.

“He can’t,” Sasha replied. “Help me get him into the other seat.”

“For what? You think you’re going to fly this thing?”

“I don’t think we have another choice.”

“I can walk you through it,” Danil replied in a low voice. “It’s easy.”

“If you can stay awake long enough.”

Sasha now found himself staring at the controls of a plane he’d never seen. He had no piloting experience. He knew nothing.

“Well, now what, skipper?” she said sarcastically.

“Danil, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

Danil leaned his head back and wiped his face with his hands.

“Danil, you’ve got to think,” Anya yelled.

Danil began mumbling. He was going through a pre-flight check in his thoughts. “Ignition,” he blurted out. Danil raised his hand and pointed to the switches to start the engines. Sasha inhaled deeply and began following the steps Danil was pointing out. Within a minute, both engines on the Cessna were turning and they were headed out the hangar door.

Sasha pointed the plane toward the makeshift runway that ran parallel to the lane. It was nothing more than a gravel strip piled on the edge of the fields. He could feel the wheels struggling in the snow. The new layer from the night before did nothing but hide the frozen crust and just made it more difficult. As he added thrust to push through the snow, he heard the engines spiral up and watched the gauges react. The wheels slipped as he turned onto the runway and the plane slid sideways. He held his breath until he felt the crust give way and the plane began to roll easily. Danil laid his hand on Sasha’s arm.

“Flaps.” He pointed and made a gesture with his hand. Sasha nodded and mimicked the movement. Danil turned and noted the movement on the wings. “Down.”

The path they were taking was bumpy, not the smooth concrete strip of an airport. They were rolling atop large gravel stones. It felt like baseballs beneath the wheels, but the twin-engines pulled it easily along. Sasha brought them to a standstill as Danil straightened himself in the second seat. It was all he could do. That small effort drained him. He heard Anya’s voice from behind.

“We gonna do this?”

Sasha’s answer was a throttle up of the engines as he kept the plane motionless. They had a short ramp and they needed as much speed as they could manage. He released the brakes just as Anya yelled out from behind.

“Shit!” She pointed ahead of them toward the front of the lane. A dark sedan was speeding down the road and there was little doubt where he was heading. “Go, go, go!” She pulled her rifle from the seat beside her and with a quick burst, shot out the window beside her.

“Damn, Anya. Scare the hell out of me!” Sasha screamed.

They could hear stray rounds hit as they ricocheted off the plane’s metal skin. Sasha flinched at the sound and pushed the throttle forward giving it as much power as the plane could manage. They were heading toward each other and the frequency of hits was growing rapidly. Anya returned fire as the angle closed, desperately trying to avoid hitting the wing. More rounds peppered the metal skin and Anya instinctively ducked.

“That last guy I plugged must have made a call,” she shouted.

“They got here too fast. They were probably already been on their way,” Sasha yelled.

“Get this thing off the ground,” she screamed as she let loose another burst, this time emptying her magazine.

The car began to angle toward them but the drift between the lane and their runway proved too much. It plowed into the drift throwing its front end into the air. It came down hard, its wheel buckling beneath the weight as the Cessna roared past to another hail of bullets.

“Pull back,” Danil ordered.

Sasha responded and the plane seemed to lurch as the wheels cleared the snow, the twin engines lifting them away cleanly. Sasha could barely contain himself. He was shaking, his nerves on fire as they lifted into the brightening, morning light.

“Keep going up,” Danil said as he leaned forward. His finger landed on the compass. “Climb to three thousand feet and make your heading two-nine-zero degrees.” He nearly choked on his words as his body fell back into the seat.

Anya pulled herself up behind his seat and put her hand on his forehead.

“He’s burning up.” She pulled back her hand and wiped Danil’s sweat off on her pants. He was drenched.

“You just get some rest, Danil. We’ve got it from here,” Major Francis Brown said.

“Three thousand feet isn’t very high.”

“He probably wants us below any tracking radars.”

“Where’s that course take us?”

“Not quite sure exactly, but it heads us toward the coast. It’s the shortest flight route out of Russia. We’ll make the Baltic States, Latvia, I think.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” she replied. Captain Ruth Garrison leaned back into her seat and folded her arms across her chest. “One other thing. I sure as hell hope you know how to land this thing.”

“Piece of cake,” Frank said as he began to laugh. “I’ll make you a deal. If I can get us there, you can land it.”

“I don’t think so, Major. Not my line of work you understand. I generally like to keep my feet on the ground.” Ruth leaned back into her seat. It wasn’t very comfortable, but she was tired. She knew if she closed her eyes, she’d be asleep within minutes. She couldn’t do that to Frank. “How long until we get out of Russia?”

“That’s a good question. I don’t really know. I know our airspeed, but I don’t know the distance we’ve got to travel. If I had to make a stupid guess, I’d say a couple hours.”

“I’ll take that stupid guess. We might just make it.”

Ruth watched as the ground passed slowly beneath them. It was hard to believe they were traveling at two-hundred forty miles per hour. The featureless, white blanket below droned on endlessly. Had it not been for the occasional building, she wouldn’t have been able to tell they were moving. She guessed they were over mostly farmland, but with the white blanket, few details of the landscape made themselves known. She shook her head as she thought of pilots who flew over the arctic. How did they do it? They’d only been at this for less than an hour. The sounds of the engines suddenly intruded into her thoughts, the dull roar encompassing the cabin. A small town below broke up the monotony.

“How you doing up there?”

“Easiest thing I’ve done on this mission,” Frank answered. “I think I missed my calling.” Frank leaned forward and tapped on a gauge. “Hmmm.”

“What?”

“Fuel seems to be dropping faster than I would have thought.”

“That’s not good. Do we have enough to make it?”

“I have no idea. I hope so.” Frank looked ahead as the landscape passed below. “What we need is a big sign that says you have left Russia.”

“I wonder if one of those rounds did some damage?”

“Wonderful,” Frank replied sarcastically. “Couldn’t hit a damn window. Shit!”

“Climb.”

“You okay, Will?”

“Climb,” Jenner choked. “Gain some altitude.”

“How high?”

“Get to,” Will closed his eyes, his mind scrambling. “Get to ten thousand.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Aye Captain,” Frank replied.

He pulled back on the wheel and let the plane begin a slow climb. He called it off as he went. Five thousand. Seven thousand. Eight. Nine thousand. Ten thousand feet.

“How long have we been in the air?”

“About an hour and a half.”

“That should put us over the Baltic states.”

“And out of Russia,” Ruth answered, finishing his sentence. “That makes me feel safer.” She pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders. “It’s cold in here.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have shot out the window,” Frank replied.

“Whew.” Will wiped his forehead with this sleeve. “How long have I been out?” His voice was strained. He grimaced as he coughed. “Ohhhh. I have a splitting headache.”

“Now where to?”

“Just keep going. We’re more exposed at this altitude, but we don’t have a choice if we’re losing fuel.”

“At least we’ve left Ivan behind.”

“Don’t bet on that Ruth,” Will said. “The Russian Air Force still has a long reach, even these days.”

“Well, don’t that just make me feel better.”

“They still pretty much have free reign over the Baltic skies.” Will adjusted himself in the seat, his leg rebelling at the action. “Adjust your course to two-seven-zero degrees.”

Frank scanned the panel before finding the compass. He was beginning to feel comfortable with the instruments, but knew in a moment of panic, he could easily get into trouble. He gave the wheel a gentle turn and watched the ground slip beneath them. Piloting was a wonderful feeling.

The doors closed behind them as the exiting crowd pushed them out into the terminal. Polina had a death grip on Ivan’s hand and he pulled her along behind. He stopped amid the bustle, searching for … there! Polina nearly toppled to the ground when he started off. They were up against the terminal wall moments later.

“Who are you going to call? I don’t remember having a check-in for this mission.”

“We don’t, at least as far as anything I was told. Maybe Sasha had a contact for trouble. If he did, it should have been something passed along to us.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“A couple weeks after getting my first assignment as a lieutenant, my CO and I had a long discussion. He sort of, took me under his wing.”

“That’s kind of hard to do with you being as tall as a goalpost,” she said with a grin.”

“Anyway,” Ivan replied, “he told me if I ever got into a jamb, give him a call.” He turned and picked up the receiver on the phone and tried to read the instructions. “So, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” A few minutes later the line was picked up on the other end.

“Colonel Masters’ office.”

“Colonel Masters please.”

“May I ask who is calling?”

“Lieutenant Kyle Anthony. Please tell Colonel Masters it’s urgent.”

“I’ll patch you through, Lieutenant.”

“Masters.” The voice on the other end was the best thing he’d heard in weeks.

“Colonel? Kyle Anthony.”

“Anthony. Good to hear from you. When can I expect you back? I’m in the dark about what’s happening with you.”

“For good reason, sir. But I need your help, big time. Things haven’t gone completely as planned.” Ivan turned into the phone to shield his voice from the passing crowd. As he hung up the phone, he felt relieved. It was like talking to his father. ‘A few calls, that’s all that has to happen’, he thought.

Colonel Brett Masters leaned back in his chair as the phone dropped from his hand. He was summarily stunned. It was completely out of his character to be caught off guard by, well, nearly anything. What he’d just heard was almost unimaginable, a deep mission inside Russia itself. And it was with one of his men. In all his thirty years, he’d never heard of anything like this, and he’d heard a lot. The intercom buzzed and his aide picked it up quickly.

“Yes Colonel?”

“I need the number to the White House, and I need it quickly.”

“The White House, yes sir.”

Masters slid the cordless phone across his desk as he leaned back. He had to think. What was he going to say? Who was he going to say it to? His thoughts were interrupted within a few minutes when his aide walked into his office.

“Colonel,” his aide said as he handed over the paper, “here is the number you requested.” Masters took the paper and scanned it.

“Thank you.” His reply was short which told the aide he needed to leave quietly. He heard the phone dialing as he made the doorway. The next words he heard raised his eyebrows.

“This is Colonel Brett Masters. I need to speak to Mr. Martin Powell. It’s rather urgent.” Masters stood and began to pace behind his desk. It would take some time to get through, he was sure of it.

“Martin Powell.”

“Mr. Powell,” Masters said in a surprised voice, “Colonel Brett Masters. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

“I’m sorry, Colonel, do I know you?”

“No sir. We have never met. But we have a friend in common that needs your help.”

“We do? And who would that be?”

“Yes sir. Lieutenant Kyle Anthony.”

“You have my attention, Colonel.”

“I wish I knew where we actually were.”

“Doesn’t this thing have GPS?”

“Not his old tub Ruth,” Will replied, “but I think I know where we are.”

“Any how would you know that?”

“A few landmarks. A pilot always studies landmarks. It’s an occupational habit,” Will said with a weak reply.

“So, where are we?”

“Less than an hour from the coast, I think. When you see the coast, just follow it to Denmark and we’re home.”

“But we’re running out of fuel.”

“Better to run out near land than over water. We’ll have a landing platform somewhere.” Will sounded exhausted. He leaned his head back in the seat and patted Frank’s leg. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He was asleep again moments later.

Will suddenly perked up as he felt a dull rumble through his bones. It was a feeling only a fighter pilot would know. He looked down the side of the Cessna, then above and below. The next sound was unmistakable.

“Shit!”

“Shit is right, Frank,” Ruth yelled. “Get us the hell out of here.”

“Will?”

“Down, Frank. Down!”

The Cessna dove, its engines whining as Will reached over and pushed the throttle levers full up.

“Turn away from him.”

Frank responded by turning the wheel left. His eyes widened as the ground rushed toward them. The roar that passed began to make its presence known again. The Russian fighter blew past and the Cessna wobbled in its wake.

“What the hell is that?”

“A MIG-29; one bad-ass fighter.” Will reached up and pulled the wheel in front of him back. Even in his state, he was a better match for the MIG than Frank. “I’ve got it from here.”

The Cessna leveled off, the altimeter reading eighteen hundred feet. The scenarios played through his clouded thoughts. He could slow and try to stall the fighter. He could keep trying to turn away, but he would be like a leaf in the wind. He was outclassed in every way. The MIG looped above and came down behind them, a tracer of rounds filling the air. Will banked hard right.

“What’s he doing?”

“He’s playing with us,” Will answered. “He could drop us any second he chooses.”

“Then what’s he waiting for?”

Their dance continued, the fighter rushing the Cessna on the left side time after time.

“He’s pushing us out to sea.” Frank pointed as the coast appeared ahead, the dark waters of the Baltic a stark contrast to the snow-covered ground below. “He doesn’t want to shoot us down. He wants to drive us into the water.”

“Can’t cause an international incident if you don’t shoot,” Will replied. “Either way, we’re running out of fuel, fast.” He was regaining his wits as the adrenaline pulsed through his body. He was a fighter pilot again. He reacted to another salvo of canon fire driving the Cessna out over the Baltic. There was nothing he could do. The Russian was winning.

He cringed as the starboard engine sputtered. The gauge read empty. He could feel the change in attitude. This Cessna wasn’t built to fly on a single engine. The nose lurched sideways as he tried to correct for the loss. The starboard wing dipped. He turned into the wing to try to control the spin. They began to spiral inward and Captain Will Jenner fought to keep from spiraling down face-first into the rolling ocean. With every trick he could think of he worked to keep the plane as level as possible; flaps, thrust, turns. Everything was in play. If he could control the yawl he had a fighting chance of skimming the water instead of diving head first; a sure death sentence. He could hear Ruth sobbing behind him. It was his show. He was in control. He could see the MIG circling as they spun inward. The fighter had disengaged and was watching their slow death from above.

The black waters spun below as another roar rushed atop the stricken plane. The MIG was coming in for a kill. Will tried to look sideways to catch a glimpse. It was like driving by an accident. You couldn’t not look. What he saw both shocked and amazed him as two dark shapes streaked overhead and blew past the MIG. They veered right and came back around making another pass at the Russian. The MIG kicked in his afterburners, the flames shooting from the twin Klimov engines as he headed back toward the coast. Will pulled back on the yoke as he struggled to level the plane, just as two F-16 Falcons broke off from pursuit. They circled overhead as Captain Will Jenner flattened the wings and skimmed the whitecaps of the Baltic. The starboard wingtip caught the top of the water and spun the plane sideways. Ruth was thrown against the side of the cabin, her face bloodied as she landed across the seats.

Frank looked up, nearly in shock, his eyes awash in warmth. He mindlessly wiped his palm across the wheel, pulling back a bloodied hand. He stared ahead as the plane rolled atop the dark waves of the Baltic Sea, its flat surfaces the only thing keeping them afloat. He turned toward Will who had slumped unconscious against the controls. He had given everything he had to keep them alive. Frank coughed, sending a spurt of blood against the windshield. The sea rolled before him as they rocked back and forth, the dark waters broken only by the whitecaps pushed by the arctic winds. He blinked, his vision clouded. He watched in a fog as the blackness began to lighten and a circle of dark green seemed to appear from nowhere. Green foam splashed with white. And bubbles. Millions of bubbles began to soil the blackness. They churned and rode the waves like thunder from the heavens. The plane rocked as water surged over the wings, pushed by a leviathan as the dark shape broke the surface before him.

The sleek hull crested the waves rising in a quiet rush as water poured from the openings and the planes along the sail, forming a classic silhouette against the sky as it escaped the water’s grip. The plane began to bob uncontrollably. From his coffin, he watched the hatch pop open and fall back as dark figures in orange vests clambered out onto the deck. A raft thrown into the water was quickly joined by figures jumping into the roiling sea. In his state, he could not imagine why anyone would sacrifice themselves to the god of the waters. Major Francis Brown closed his eyes as the rumble of jet engines faded in his ears.