by Jack Carr
Vitya would never know.
CHAPTER 31
Kumba Ranch, Flathead Valley, Montana
REECE AWOKE EARLY, HIS body unaccustomed to the warmth of someone else in his bed. He didn’t move, not wanting to disturb Katie’s sleep as she lay on her side next to him. She looked peaceful, her face content, the rhythmic rising and falling of her bare shoulder the only movement. He watched her for an eternity in the semidarkness, taking in every detail. A tiny gold cross hung askew around her neck on a wire-thin chain. Reece felt a sense of harmony that he hadn’t known since his family was taken from him.
As the sun shone through the crack in the bedroom’s heavy curtain, she stirred, her hand sliding across the cotton sheet until it found the musculature of his bare chest. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, sliding her leg toward his own and pulling herself into his embrace.
“Good morning,” she purred.
Afterward, they lay side by side, Katie running her fingers over Reece’s lean chest and stomach, tracing the outline of each muscle with her fingers.
“How did you manage to spend almost twenty years in the military and walk away without a tattoo?”
“That was probably my greatest accomplishment.” Reece smiled.
“Ha! Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
* * *
After bringing in split logs and stoking the coals in the stone fireplace to take off the morning chill, they ate a breakfast of scrambled eggs and fruit, before packing a lunch and heading for the mountain. Reece led the lakeside hike uphill to one of the small tributaries that fed the larger body of water. They fished each pool in the rocky creek from below, out of the trout’s line of sight, working their way uphill as they went. Katie looked like she’d been born with a fly rod in her hand, the sunlight filtering through the trees and catching the long leader as it S-curved its way through the air before settling onto the water’s surface.
They pushed off their waders and ate their lunch in a sunny meadow, taking in the midday warmth as they drank 75 Wine Co sauvignon blanc from enameled metal cups. They made love under the cloudless sky before dozing on the blanket Reece had spread out on the hillside. Katie caught the first trout of the day that afternoon, a beautiful rainbow that she held up for a photo before they put it on ice in the soft-sided Yeti cooler that had carried their lunch. She caught two more fish to Reece’s one as the day progressed, which led to an amusing discussion of his angling abilities.
That evening, Reece drove her to one of his favorite spots on the ranch, a high vista where they sat on his tailgate drinking local microbrews as the elk herds grazed into the grassy valley below. Katie slipped on Reece’s jacket as the sun fell beneath the next ridge. In the coming weeks, the bulls would begin to rut, filling the mountain air with the enchanting sound of their bugles. The young bulls were already acting the part, posturing and chasing one another halfheartedly as the mature males watched patiently from the timber.
Back at the cabin, Reece pan-fried the breaded trout filets while Katie stood at the stove beside him, preparing a dish of brussels sprouts mixed with bacon. They selected a Silver Oak cabernet from Napa Valley as Katie recounted how her skill with a fly rod had put their dinner on the table.
As what was one of her best days in memory came to a close, Katie’s eyes once again took in the room and came to rest on her suitor’s back right hip. It had not gone unnoticed that Reece was never out of arm’s reach of a weapon.
CHAPTER 32
Flathead Valley, Montana
AFTER TWO COLD NIGHTS spent in the mountains, Dimitry’s men were beginning to bitch. Despite their training, he had to remember that these men were street thugs, not soldiers, and were unfamiliar with prolonged physical suffering and hardship. He cursed Ivan for not figuring out a way to bring professionals in to handle the hit. They had camped in a patch of thick timber without even the luxury of a fire. Each morning he had led them to their overwatch position and waited for the call from Vitya that would initiate the second phase of the operation, the elimination of Raife Hastings.
They were four hundred yards from the Land Rover and its sole occupant, Raife Hastings. They watched him climb a ridge and stare through his telescope at some distant object. Dimitry studied the man through binoculars, careful not to risk any lens glare that would give away his position. He moved like one of the mountain lions that were known to inhabit the area, light on his feet yet powerful, covering rough ground swiftly and efficiently. Still, he only carried a handgun, a short-range weapon against a half-dozen men with rifles. Add in the element of surprise and their advantage of holding the high ground, and it wouldn’t even be a contest. Even if their target got lucky and took out one or two of them, Dimitry’s team would overwhelm him with sheer firepower. It was the Russian way.
Dimitry suppressed a smile, thinking of Stalin’s adage, Quantity has a quality all its own. All they needed now was the signal to execute.
Dimitry checked the sat phone for the hundredth time that morning, ensuring it was powered up and had a strong signal. He resisted the temptation to call the other team and see what the holdup was, but the rules were clear: his team was not to engage until it was confirmed the first target had been terminated.
What had he heard in one of the American movies he was so fond of? Terminate with extreme prejudice. Dimitry liked that.
He watched the disappointment on his men’s faces as their target collapsed the legs of his tripod, strapped the optic back onto his day pack, and moved toward his vehicle. It was the second day in a row that they’d had him in their sights, completely unaware of their presence, and were forced to let him slip away. How long could their luck hold out?
As the Rover’s 2.5-liter turbo diesel engine grunted to life, Dimitry signaled the men to move back, pulling them to the concealment and relative security of the thick evergreen forest. If the signal came before tomorrow morning, they would move as quickly as possible overland and hit him at home. Doing so would give up many of their tactical advantages, but it would be their only option.
The order to kill would come soon enough.
CHAPTER 33
Kumba Ranch, Flathead Valley, Montana
IT WAS SUNDAY BEFORE Reece was finally willing to share Katie Buranek with the Hastings family. Raife’s mother, Caroline, had arranged a lunch to welcome Reece’s friend to the ranch and attendance was nonnegotiable. Reece and Katie went on a long hike that morning and Katie, who was raised to never show up at someone’s home empty-handed, took the opportunity to gather wildflowers that she’d assembled into an impressive arrangement of glacier lily, clematis, and purple asters upon their return to the cabin.
“Awful quiet over there,” Reece said as they made the short drive up to the main house.
“After all you’ve told me about this family, from the Rhodesian Bush Wars to the Selous Scouts and everything they’ve accomplished in this country, I’m more excited than anything else. And Raife’s father-in-law is Senator Tim Thornton, of all people! I feel like we are going to meet royalty.”
“They will be more intrigued by you and your family’s story. Nothing to worry about. Besides, Jonathan is probably already drunk.”
“Ha! Okay, my kind of people.”
As they rounded the corner toward the homestead, the lake and dock came into view, the Grumman Albatross rocking gently at its mooring.
“Whose plane is that?” Katie asked in astonishment.
“That’s Thorn’s. He flies it in from one of his surrounding properties in Montana or Idaho. He’s here for opening day tomorrow morning. He hasn’t missed one since…” Reece paused. “Since his wife died.”
They pulled up in front of the house and Katie let Reece open the door for her. She was pleasantly surprised when he took her arm in his as they walked toward the home’s sprawling front porch, the simple gesture helping put her at ease.
Jonathan and Caroline greeted the couple with genuine joy, both hugging her before she could get through the do
or. True to his reputation, Jonathan held a green bottle of Namibian Windhoek Lager in his paw and handed another to Reece as he entered the foyer.
A man who reminded her a bit of an older Indiana Jones rose from a leather chair by the fireplace and extended his hand, “Ms. Buranek, Tim Thornton. I am very pleased to meet you.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, Senator.”
“Please, call me Thorn. I much prefer that. ‘Senator’ conjures up too many memories of my time in the swamp,” he said, referring to Washington’s unofficial moniker. “And, thank you for your series of articles and the book on the Benghazi mess,” he continued, shaking his head. “Those boys deserved better. Politicians in and out of uniform left them to die. But, enough unpleasantness. Let’s get you a drink.”
“What can I offer you, Katie?” Caroline Hastings asked.
“What are you having, Mrs. Hastings?”
“Please call me Caroline. I’m having champagne.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
Jonathan appeared with a crystal flute of France’s finest and handed it to their guest.
“We have one other surprise for you both,” he said. “Liz, would you be a dear and join us?”
Reece’s eyebrows arched in amazement as all five feet, four inches of Elizabeth Riley appeared from a back guest room. The two had first met in Iraq during the height of the insurgency. Riley’s OH-58 Kiowa had been shot down in Najaf, her capture and torture seemingly inevitable. A few blocks away Reece’s sniper team was set up in an overwatch position of a heavily IED’d stretch of road. Hearing the situation on the radio, Reece defied orders and launched a hastily organized rescue, putting the aviator deeply in his debt. She recovered from her injuries but was medically retired from the army. She became like a sister to Reece and his late wife, Lauren, and a close aunt to their daughter Lucy. Riley was unflinchingly loyal to her friends and, when Reece needed help avenging the deaths of Lauren and Lucy, she was there on wings.
“Liz, what are you doing here?” Reece asked after a strong embrace.
“I work for Thorn now,” she replied in her thick southern accent. “He has more planes than he can keep track of.”
“Liz, you remember Katie.”
“Of course, we’ve kept in touch. It’s not every day you spirit a kidnapped reporter off Fishers Island in a Pilatus in the middle of the night.”
The two women embraced like old friends.
“Come out and have a seat. Caroline has everything set up out back,” Jonathan said, leading his guests through the home and onto the back deck via the open French doors. A long table flanked with wicker chairs had been set up on the back lawn overlooking the lake. The table was covered with a flawless white starched tablecloth of fine linen, and place settings of the family’s best English silver and bone china were located at each seat. Brightly colored fresh flowers, now including the ones that Katie had brought, overflowed from a vase at the table’s center.
Jonathan had just pulled out a chair for Katie when Raife and Annika came strolling across the lawn.
“Katie, I’d like you to meet my friends, Raife and Annika Hastings.”
She rose, shaking hands with Raife. “So nice to meet both of you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Annika hugged her warmly.
“We’re just glad that you are real, Katie. I was beginning to think that you were a figment of Reece’s imagination,” Raife said with a grin.
“We promise not to scare you off, Katie,” Annika added, elbowing her husband in the ribs.
“Please, everyone, sit,” Caroline said, before taking her seat at the far end of the rectangular table from Jonathan.
Both younger couples sat beside one another, arranged so the women could chat at one end of the table while the men gathered at the other.
Jonathan and Caroline brought the meal out in courses, each with an appropriate wine pairing. Raife drank sparingly. Opening day of archery season was the following morning, and he had work to do. Reece and Katie had no such obligations. They both joined in the festivities with Thorn, Liz, and the elder Hastingses, enjoying the fine South African vintages.
“Don’t be afraid to try my famous hot sauce,” Jonathan reminded the table. “Goes great with everything.”
“Don’t believe him,” Raife warned. “He makes it with homegrown ghost peppers. If you value your taste buds, you’ll shy away.”
The conversation was light and jovial, much of it surrounding humorous stories from Reece’s and Raife’s younger days.
“Does Katie know about your crazy Alaskan adventure, Reece?” Jonathan prodded.
“Ah, I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet,” Reece responded.
“Alaskan adventure?” Katie asked.
“Yeah, how long did that insane escapade take you?” Raife teased. “Three months, wasn’t it?”
“Sixty-four days,” Reece responded, shaking a finger at his friend.
“Oh, do tell,” Katie pushed.
“I’ll tell you,” Jonathan jumped in, ever the storyteller. “Your man here, Katie, he decides he wants to spend some time in Alaska before he ships off for boot camp. His father, Tom, God rest his soul, had a trapper’s cabin in the middle of nowhere up there so Reece had a bit of experience in austere conditions, but of course he wanted to take things to the next bloody level. He decides he wants to trek across, what was it, Reece, the Talkeetna glacier?”
“Close.” Reece smiled, looking sideways at Katie.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jonathan continued. “This wild bloke decides he’s going to head into the Alaskan wilderness, alone, trek across the Talkeetna glacier, to the, uh, what river was it? No matter, to some glacial river and then kayak to the ocean.”
“Kayak?” Katie asked. “Where was he going to find a kayak in the middle of the backcountry?”
“Ha! That’s the best part, Katie,” Jonathan went on. “He pulled it behind him, over the snow.”
“You did what?” Katie asked, turning her attention back to Reece.
“Well, I had it tied to me so if I fell in a crevasse the idea was that the kayak would slide over the top and I’d be suspended underneath. Then I’d just jumar up and continue on.”
“Jumar?” Katie asked.
“Ascenders. They allow you to pull yourself up a rope. You can use a smaller piece of line and make your own as well.”
“Best part is,” Jonathan said, jumping back into the story, “this was before cell phones and sat phones and constant connectivity. He tells us and his parents that he’ll be back in a month. Sixty-four days later he comes kayaking into Cook Inlet none the worse for wear, other than looking like a vagrant.”
Reece shrugged. “It was a good pre-BUD/S workout.”
“And that wasn’t the end of it,” Jonathan continued. “This mountain man then sells his whitewater boat and mountaineering gear, buys a sea kayak, and spends a month island-hopping his away around Prince William Sound.”
“What did you eat?” Katie asked.
“I pulled a lot of the staples behind me in the kayak, potatoes and rice, and I hunted and fished my way across for protein. I had a little .22 in the kayak that I’d use for squirrels and beavers, and a fly rod for trout and arctic grayling. Once in the sound, I trolled off the kayak for salmon.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t starve to death. Remember, I’ve seen your fishing abilities,” Katie joked.
Laughter was a near constant around the table, with Jonathan having an amusing tale to tell about everyone there.
As the early evening dinner wore to a close and the air temperature began to drop, the men moved to the fire pit while the women moved inside. Thorn packed a pipe, knowing his friend would like nothing more than to roll a fresh tobacco cigarette, yet with Caroline so close, he wouldn’t dare. When the old warhorses started discussing their plan for the following day, Reece and Raife stepped a few feet away, Raife not wanting the scent of tobacco to negatively impact the next day’s hunt.
“Thanks, buddy. If you’re around, I may need help packing the meat out.”
“Well then, I changed my mind. I hope you don’t get him.” Reece chuckled. “I’m planning to take Katie into town in the morning, but we’ll zip back if you need me.”
“Reece,” his friend began, “what were you looking at during dinner?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. At times you were here, but you weren’t really here.”
Reece had forgotten how well his blood brother knew him.
“Nothing. Well, not nothing. Just a feeling. Something’s not right.”
“Something’s always not right, brother,” Raife offered, scanning the distant tree line. “Remember what your dad used to tell us?”
“Trust your instincts,” Reece recalled.
“After everything you’ve been through, don’t let the past ruin your today,” Raife said wisely, nodding toward the main room, where Katie sat with the rest of the family.
“Remember what your dad used to tell us?” Reece responded in kind, nodding toward the weathered old Selous Scout.
“He’s always full of what he thinks is good advice.”
Reece’s eyes narrowed and his head turned back toward the shadows.
“He said, ‘It’s not paranoia if they’re really hunting you.’ ”
PART TWO THE STALK
“Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing.”
—Robert E. Howard, The Tower of the Elephant
CHAPTER 34
Saint Petersburg, Russia
THE STRAIN WAS BEGINNING to wear on Grey, who had scarcely left his desk in days. The plan was contingent upon Reece leaving the ranch yet he hadn’t left the property in seventy-two hours. Changing the operation at this stage was a recipe for disaster and would require breaking his self-imposed ban on active electronic communications. Remembering what the duo had done to his mentor and handler with an RPG-32, Grey was beginning to worry.
