Page 128 of Dead Fall
Seconds later, the Ukrainian President stuck his head inside.
“Thank you,” he said. “For everything. We were right to put our trust in you. You did an amazing job. I don’t know how you did it.”
“I don’t know, either, sir,” Harvath replied, smiling. “I had about ten percent of what I needed to get the job done.”
The President smiled. “Now you know what it means to be Ukrainian. Slava Ukraïni!”
Harvath smiled back and declared, “Heroiam slava!”
Once the President and his detail had disembarked, the rest of the passengers were allowed to gather their things and step off the train.
Harvath had no clue what he was going to do next. There was no private jet waiting for him at the airport and even if he wanted to hop a train back up to Warsaw, he had no idea when the next one was scheduled to leave. All he knew was that he was grateful to be back in NATO territory.
What he wanted most now was that beach, that bucket of ice-cold beers, and Sølvi.
Pulling out his phone, he texted her, but she didn’t reply.
Figuring that she must be busy, he found an open café, ordered the world’s biggest breakfast, and finally allowed himself to breathe.
An hour later, as he was savoring the last sip of orange juice from his glass, he paid his bill and exited the café.
The sun had risen and all around him, despite the war, life continued.
Crossing the square, he walked into the train station and studied the schedule. He needed to pick a destination, someplace to go.
As he studied his options, his phone rang. It was Sølvi.
“Hey,” he answered. “Did you get my text?”
“I did.”
“So, what do you think?”
“Are you kidding me?” she replied. “A beach vacation sounds wonderful. But I just had something major drop in my lap.”
“How major?”
“Between us, I now have a high-ranking Russian Intelligence officer on my plate.”
“That’s major,” Harvath replied. “How about if I come up to Oslo?”
“Can you do that? Can you get the time off?”
Selecting the train to the nearest airport, he replied, “Let them try to stop me.”
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