Page 70 of Dead Fall

“The UAZ. When we capture Russian vehicles, we repaint them—at least partially, so people know they belong to the good guys.”

“Don’t you have a Ukrainian flag or something we can drape over the hood?”

“We did,” said Givi, mimicking the explosion of the APC, then adding, “But not anymore.”

“Not my fault,” Harvath reminded him.

“I know. The Russians did it. And they’re continuing to be an additional part of our problem.”

“In what way?”

“As we saw, our intelligence about this area was not as fresh as it should be. We don’t know if there are more Russians between us and the battlefield.”

“Which means,” said Harvath, “driving a Russian vehicle could be a good thing.”

“Or a very bad thing. As the reports of what happened here circulate, everyone’s going to be on edge. It’s getting dark. And nighttime is the worst. You’re tired and your mind starts playing tricks. You begin to see and hear Russians everywhere. We could be mistaken for the enemy.”

“Which, with us rolling around in one of their vehicles, could also happen in broad daylight,” said Harvath. “What’s Plan B?”

Givi, again, thought for a moment and then said, “In the Kherson region, our soldiers have been painting a white cross on their vehicles. But we don’t have any white paint, either.”

“I’ll handle the paint,” Harvath replied. “You radio forward and let them know we’re coming. Tell them the type of vehicle we are driving and that ours will have white crosses on the hood and doors. Make sure that they know any patrols or checkpoints need to let us pass.”

As Givi got on his radio, Harvath hopped in the UAZ and drove it back to the school.

In the past, there had been some small, tradecraft-style elements he had used to identify his vehicles—things like a ballcap or a certain colored folder on the dash, a chem light behind the grille, or a special LED in the corner of the windshield. But those had been civilian vehicles and they hadn’t been in a war zone. He wanted something as unmistakable as possible.

Back at the school, it took him several minutes to track downeverything he was looking for. There was neither an art classroom nor an art supplies cabinet. While he had held out hope that there might be some children’s paint lying around, it was only a slim hope. Finding some, especially under these circumstances, would have been like hitting the lottery.

On the other hand, there was one item that was in good supply—chalk. Gathering up every piece he could find, he placed them in a plastic bag and pulverized them with the butt of his pistol, creating a fine dust.

In a bucket, he mixed what appeared to be some sort of talcum powder with water and glue. Then he added the chalk and adjusted the mix of ingredients as he stirred and came to the consistency he wanted.

While he allowed it to rest, he searched out something he could use to apply the paint to the vehicle. He found an old sponge in the school’s bathroom. It would have to do.

After painting the symbol on the hood, doors, and canvas roof of the vehicle, he drove over to the barn to meet up with Givi.

There was one additional item he wanted. By the time he got there, the Ukrainian soldier already had it waiting.

“That’s it?” Harvath asked, looking at the aged device sitting on a table.

“Be grateful,” Givi replied. “Most Russian units don’t have any night-vision capability at all.”

To help them avoid enemy detection, Harvath wanted to do as much of the drive as they could with the lights off. The only way that would be possible was with night vision.

“How are you going to hold that device, steer the vehicle, and shift gears?”

“You’re going to shift for me,” said Givi.

“And on your way back?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

Harvath didn’t like it, but Givi was a soldier. He knew the risks.

After confirming a handful of important points on the map, they loaded their gear into the UAZ.

“Good job on the crosses,” the Ukrainian said, admiring Harvath’s work. “Where’d you find the paint?”