Backlash: A Thriller

by Brad Thor

  Tomorrow, though, was a long way off. There were still many hours of darkness to go. And under the cover of darkness was where some of the worst things were known to happen.

  CHAPTER 47

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  * * *

  Teplov had dragged Christina out of the house by her hair. He didn’t care who saw. The more the better as far as he was concerned. Just as at the bar, it would send a message. She had lied to him, repeatedly, and in so doing had only made things worse for herself.

  As intelligent as she was, it baffled him that she never thought they would check her vehicle. She should have burned the page she tore from the atlas, not shoved it down between the seats.

  It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Teplov and his men knew where Harvath was headed and that they had been saved from a massive wild-goose chase.

  Now, they were going to get a chance to drag her through the center of town before putting her on one of the helicopters. Seeing their beloved Doctor Volkova dealt with so sternly would help solidify any cooperation they might need going forward.

  And God help her if they needed it. If she had lied to him again, the beating she had received inside her uncle’s house was nothing compared to what would be coming. If they went through all the trouble to load the bird and fly out to Friddja, only to find no one had even seen Harvath, there’d be hell to pay.

  Teplov had radioed ahead. He knew whom he wanted with him and how to make the biggest spectacle in order to draw the most attention.

  He planned on leaving a sizable stay-behind contingent, just in case Doctor Volkova had lied again. The contingent would continue searching for Harvath in and around town.

  The fresh ski tracks they had found outside the uncle’s house, though, were a good sign. They led in the direction of the village he was allegedly headed toward.

  He had sent his men to follow them, but with the wind and blowing snow, the tracks had quickly disappeared. Their best hope now was to fly overhead and catch Harvath en route, or to isolate him on the ground in Friddja and capture him there.

  The moment they arrived at the town square, the cargo helicopter came alive. As its engine began to roar and its rotors started to spin, townspeople, including all of the patrons inside the bar and café, were drawn to the windows around the square. He had their attention.

  They had previously witnessed the beating his men had doled out to the bar patron who had refused to cooperate. Now they would see their doctor, beaten and bloody, dragged out of a vehicle, placed in the helicopter, and flown away.

  It was yet another SS tactic he found useful. You always dealt harshly with those who showed initial resistance. Afterward, it was often necessary to make an example of a highly respected member of the community—someone whom people looked up to and who was seen as being above reproach.

  Pulling up outside, he saw all the patrons, just as before, glued to the windows. He parked his SUV right in front and had his men remove Doctor Volkova.

  She refused to comply as they tried to parade her forward. Teplov ordered his men to let her be.

  When they stood aside, he walked over and punched her in her lower back. Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, where she spat blood into the snow.

  People inside the bar and the café gasped. It was barbaric, what was happening outside. None of them, though, dared to react. They had no doubt that the soldiers would shoot them dead on the spot. Instead, they did the only thing they could do. They cowered inside and watched it all unfold.

  Teplov grabbed Christina by the hair and pulled up her head so everyone inside could see her face. Several of them turned away in horror, unable to watch what was happening.

  Letting go of her head, Teplov stood and commanded his men to walk her to the helicopter. If she refused to walk, she was to be beaten until she complied.

  Christina had suffered enough. When the soldiers helped her to her feet, she did exactly as she was told. With a man holding each of her arms, she allowed them to guide her forward and then up the ramp.

  Once Teplov and his people were all present and accounted for, the spinning of the rotors increased and the helicopter lifted off, throwing snow and ice in all directions and pelting all the vehicles parked around the square.

  It banked to the north, hovered briefly over the uncle’s home, and then made its way west toward the Sámi village of Friddja.

  As the helicopter slowly flew, the crew scanned their instruments for any signs of Harvath. Attached inside, heavy black ropes sat coiled on the floor, ready to be kicked out the doors if the Wagner mercenaries needed to rappel down and grab him.

  When out of the darkness the village appeared up ahead, the men checked their weapons and prepared their night vision goggles.

  As with the Nazi SS, to be a member of Wagner, recruits not only had to have been tops in their previous military units, but they also had to have “pure” Russian blood. They had to have demonstrated obedience and an absolute commitment to Russia, the Russian President, and the Russian people.

  The Wagner motto was identical to that of the SS: My honor is loyalty. Teplov led the men in a recital of their oath. “We swear to you, O Russia, fidelity and bravery. We solemnly pledge obedience to the death to you, and to those named as our leaders.”

  Inside the helicopter, the men exploded in the Russian battle cry, popular since the days of the Imperial Russian Army, “Ura! Ura! Ura!”

  If Harvath was down there, Teplov had no doubt that his fired-up, highly disciplined, and highly experienced men would find him.

  CHAPTER 48

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  * * *

  Harvath hadn’t been asleep that long when he heard the helicopter pass. Instantly, he shot straight up in bed.

  Sini, who was sitting nearby and watching her patient, had heard it, too.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Bad news,” replied Harvath. “Very bad news.”

  The letter from Christina had explained that he was in trouble, but that it wasn’t his fault and that he could be trusted. Her only request had been for Sini to see to his injuries and to keep him safe until she could get there.

  The Sámi woman saw Harvath eyeing the shotgun. This time she didn’t argue with him. Walking over to the door, she picked it up and carefully brought it to him.

  “What else do you need?”

  “A rag,” he replied. “And some oil if you have it.”

  Sini hunted the items down and carried them over to Harvath. She watched as he unloaded the weapon and expertly took it apart, examining each piece, rubbing some with the cloth, and applying small drops of oil where necessary.

  Then, as quickly as he had broken the shotgun down, he reassembled it, loaded the rounds, and racked one into the chamber.

  His confidence with the weapon spoke to a certain level of expertise. The injuries to his body, as well as his detached demeanor, suggested to her a man all too familiar with violence. His concern over the helicopter suggested he was being pursued by the state.

  “That helicopter is looking for you,” she said. “Isn’t it?”

  Harvath nodded.

  “And you think they will come here?”

  “I know they will.”

  “Why?” she asked. “What happened?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. How far are we from Friddja?”

  “You think that is where the helicopter is going?”

  It had to be. There was no other reason he could think of for it to be out here.

  But, if it was heading for Friddja, that could only mean one thing—Christina had given him up. There was no way they could have tracked him through the snow. Any trail he left was quickly covered over. It had to have been Christina.

  Though he barely knew her, he doubted she had given him up willingly. The soldiers from Wagner had proven their brutality outside the bar in Nivsky. It wasn’t a stretch to believe they would have beaten Christina as well if they thought she had information they need
ed.

  “The men in that helicopter are mercenaries. They beat a man back in town unconscious because he refused to give them his vehicle. If they are headed to Friddja, it’s because they figured out Christina was helping me and they forced her to talk. When they get there, and can’t find me, they’re going to come here. We need to get moving. Now, how far away is Friddja?”

  “Poronkusema,” she replied. “One poronkusema.”

  “I don’t know that word,” he said, as he removed the poultices and began pulling his clothes on.

  “In this area, we herd reindeer. Reindeer can’t walk and urinate at the same time. They have to stop. A poronkusema is the average distance between stops,” said Sini as she tried to come up with an equivalent he would understand. “Somewhere between nine and ten kilometers. We’ll say nine and a half.”

  It was way too close. “Who knows you’re here?”

  “My husband, of course. Why?”

  “Who else?”

  “No one. Just him.”

  “What did you tell him?” he asked.

  “I didn’t tell him anything,” she said. “Jompá, one of the brothers who rescued you, put together a new dog team and came to get me. When he arrived, he showed me the letter they had found in your pocket.

  “He told us the story of how they had found you in the snow. He asked me to come back to Adjágas with him. That was all. I told my husband to send Christina as soon as she arrived.”

  “Are we in Jompá’s home right now?”

  She nodded. “He is at his brother’s.”

  “Okay. Listen to me very carefully. All of you are in danger because of me.”

  “We could hide you until—”

  “You can’t hide me. These men can smell a lie from a mile away. And once that happens they will hurt you. All of you.”

  “So what are we supposed to do?”

  “Tell them the truth, all of it—that they found me in the snow, that you gave me medical attention, and that when I heard the helicopter, I fled.”

  “But Christina asked me to take care of you, to keep you safe.”

  “I am very grateful for all that you have done,” he said, lacing up his boots, then putting on his coat and zipping it up.

  “I’m sorry,” Sini replied. “I wish there was more that we could do. I know Jompá and his brother will feel the same.”

  “You need to go be with them. Please tell them that I said thank you. You saved my life.”

  “Where will you go? It’s freezing out there.”

  “I’ll figure something out. Where are my skis?”

  “Just outside,” she said, “along with your poles.”

  Removing the bladder from his rucksack, he handed it to her. “Can you fill this for me please while I put them on?”

  Sini did as he requested. Then, putting on her own coat, she stepped outside and handed it to him.

  He thanked her and asked one last question. “Which way is Friddja? That’s the way they’ll be coming from.”

  She raised her arm and pointed. “That way,” she said. “Through the trees. You can’t miss the path.” She then watched as he skied off in the opposite direction.

  It was completely black and only took a matter of seconds before he was swallowed up by the darkness.

  In her heart, Sini wanted to believe that he would make it, but in her head she knew that wasn’t going to happen. A man in his condition, alone in the bitterly cold wilderness, hunted by mercenaries with a helicopter, didn’t stand a chance.

  The woman, though, didn’t know Scot Harvath.

  CHAPTER 49

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  * * *

  As smoke rose from the chimneys and stove pipes of Friddja’s snow-covered houses, the arctic helicopter touched down on the edge of the village, spooking a herd of reindeer kept in a pen nearby.

  Squeezing the back of Christina’s neck, Teplov pushed her out the door and ordered her to identify the dwelling where she was supposed to meet Harvath. She resisted until the pain became unbearable. Only then did she point it out.

  After two snowmobiles had raced down the helicopter’s loading ramp to secure the perimeter, Teplov ordered his men to move in and encircle the house.

  Just as in Nivsky, residents had gathered at windows and even more had poured outside to see what all the commotion was about. Sini’s husband, Mokci, made the mistake of opening his door just as one of Teplov’s goons had stepped up to kick it open.

  For his trouble, Mokci caught a rifle butt in the mouth and was shoved back inside. He fell to the floor as the assault team spilled in searching for Harvath.

  Standing outside, Teplov took satisfaction in the villagers’ shocked and indignant reactions. He, along with several more men, watched and waited for someone to make the mistake of picking up a rifle, but none of them did. Mission accomplished.

  Moments later, the assault team leader stepped back outside and signaled the all clear. Harvath was not inside.

  Trying to keep his anger under control, Teplov marched Christina up to the house and pushed her through the door.

  When she saw Mokci sitting in a chair, blood gushing from his face, her professional instincts kicked in and she rushed to help him. Teplov didn’t stop her.

  She found a clean towel and had him hold it to his mouth and apply pressure. In the meantime, she asked and was granted permission to retrieve a piece of ice from outside. When she came back in, she wrapped it in another clean towel and had Mokci hold that against his wound.

  He was almost an identical male version of his wife—small, but sturdy with a kind, weathered face, dark hair, and brown eyes.

  “What is wrong with you people?” Christina demanded as she turned to face Teplov. “That was completely unnecessary.”

  “Shut up,” the mercenary ordered, as he grabbed the Sámi man’s face and examined it by twisting it from one side to the other. “He’ll be fine.”

  “You might have broken his jaw.”

  “I told you to shut up,” he barked, focusing on Mokci. “Where’s the American?”

  “What American?” Mokci blubbered through a quickly swelling and still bleeding lip.

  “The one Doctor Volkova sent here. The one who was supposed to meet with your wife.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Teplov could tell by the way the man refused to make eye contact that he was hiding something. Drawing his cupped hand back, he aimed for his left ear and slapped him as hard as he could in the side of the head.

  The blow was so intense, it knocked the Sámi out of his chair and down onto the floor, where he screamed in pain.

  “Stop it!” Christina shouted. “First you try to break his jaw and now you’re trying to rupture his eardrum. He said he doesn’t know.”

  Teplov spun on her and grabbed her by the throat. “I’m not going to tell you again. Shut. Up.”

  Casting her aside, he nodded at his men, who picked Mokci up and placed him back in his chair. Tears were streaming down his face.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong,” the man pleaded.

  “That wasn’t what I asked you,” retorted Teplov. “I asked you where the American is.”

  “I told you. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have not seen any American. No American has been here.”

  Teplov, scanning the main living area, demanded, “What about your wife?”

  “What about her?”

  “She is a noaidi, is she not?”

  Mokci nodded.

  “Where is she?”

  “Adjágas,” he replied. “A village not far from here.”

  Teplov looked at one of his men, who located it on his map and showed him. “Why?”

  “Someone was ill.”

  “Someone who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Teplov raised his hand to strike him again.

  Mokci cowered and told him everything he knew. “A man named Jompá said he and his brother had found a m
an, more dead than alive, in the snow. They brought him back to Adjágas and then Jompá came here to get Sini. That’s all I know. I am telling you the truth.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Several hours at least.”

  “And do you know what house in Adjágas belongs to this Jompá?”

  The Sámi man hesitated and that was the only confirmation Teplov needed.

  Over the radio, he sent the two snowmobiles on ahead. Before they boarded the helicopter and took off, he wanted to conduct a search of the village. He had too much riding on this to lose Harvath just because the Sámis had heard the helicopter coming and were smart enough to have hidden him in another house.

  It wouldn’t have been the first time something like that had happened. It wouldn’t matter, though. He would turn over every rock, look under every branch, and search every house in the Oblast until he found him. There was no way Harvath was going to make it to the border.

  CHAPTER 50

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  Once out of sight of Adjágas, Harvath cut into the woods. Because of all of the heavy snow, there were broken pine boughs scattered around.

  He skied in circles, joined back up with his tracks on the main trail, then returned to the woods where he removed a length of rope from his rucksack and tied it around his waist.

  Spotting the perfect pine bough—wide, but not too heavy—he tied it to the other end and dragged it behind him in an attempt to partially cover his tracks.

  On a scale of one to ten, the results were a four, but it was better than nothing. He hoped that, in the dark, it would be enough. He only needed a little head start.

  Soundlessly, he moved through the trees, making his way back toward the village as quickly as he could. The only hope he had of being successful was via the element of surprise.