Page 19 of Enemy Within

“Where did the RPG come from?” Jack, over the radio, was all business. “Sergey’s trying to spot something through the binos, but with this weather…”

Aleksey hovered at Ethan’s shoulder, gripping his rifle. “It came from that ridge,” he growled, pointing to a crest above Jack and Sergey. “We saw spark up there, before impact.”

A spark. The back blow from the rocket’s launch, a fireball from the exhaust of the RPG. If it had been a spark to Aleksey, then it had to be some distance away. They had that, at least, on their side.

Jack still had to move, though.Get out of there, now.

Boiling frustration raged against his heart, clawed at the insides of his ribs. Fire raced down his arms, burned his muscles, and made his hands clench into shaking fists. Damn it, he was supposed to be with Jack, protecting him at all times. Now, someone had fired on them, destroyed their best way across the river, and separated him from Jack.

His only consolation, and it was a cold, thin comfort, was that Jack wasn’t alone.

“I cannot see shit in this snow.” Sergey’s grumbles erupted over the radio. “Not a damn thing.”

“We need to move. Get out of the area.”

“Agreed.” Jack’s voice made him close his eyes. Snow pelted his face, like daggers slashing his skin, but if he could, he’d run across the river and back to Jack’s side. Didn’t they do that in cartoons? Leap from ice cap to ice cap? Couldn’t he? “Do you think it was Moroshkin’s men?”

“With that kind of weaponry? I’d put money on it.” Ethan stood still, staring across the river.

Sergey cut in. “Whoever it is, we need to be gone before they come down to investigate!”

He’d stay close, right on the riverbank. When the snow stopped, he’d be able to see Jack. That would be workable. Not ideal, but he could still see Jack, still know he was all right. “Get going. Keep a low profile. We’ll shadow you on this side—”

“No,” Sergey interrupted. “You will trap yourself between the mountains and the river. Head east. We will rendezvous at Ust’Ilga. A settlement, and where we turn north before Baikal.”

Ethan bristled. Being across the Angara river was bad enough. Putting more distance between him and Jack was liable to send him over the edge. His stomach twisted, bile rising in the back of his throat. “I don’t—”

“I will keep him safe, Ethan.” Sergey’s deep voice rumbled through the radio static. “I swear it.”

Scott appeared at his elbow, frowning, his eyes pinched and hard. “The storm’s getting worse. We’ve got to get moving, or we’ll get stuck here.”

They’d left behind the roads and were back to tracks and game trails. Getting stuck in the snow in the mountains—or worse, sliding down the side of a ravine—was not in the plans.

But leave Jack?

How bad would it be if he swam back across the river to him? Would he die after three or six feet in the frigid waters?

Groaning, Ethan slammed his fist down on the hood of Aleksey’s jeep. Snow jumped from the metal, puffing around him. It was just supposed to be a quick recon of the ice, and now they were being pulled apart.Again.“Jack…” he said, speaking into the radio.

“I know, Ethan. I don’t like it either.”

Maybe the shooter didn’t know about Jack and Sergey. Most of the convoy was on the east side of the river. Ethan could keep whoever it was that shot at him and Scott on the ice focused entirely on him. If Jack and Sergey slipped away quietly. If he drew attention to himself. As long as Jack stayed safe, he’d do whatever it took.

“You guys head out. Move quietly. We’ll try to draw the attention of our shooter.” He nodded to Scott, still at his side, to spread the word.

“It is a day’s drive overland to Ust’Ilga. We will see you soon.” Sergey spoke, and then the dim, almost non-existent light from Jack and Sergey’s jeep, on the far side of the river, winked off.

Behind him, the convoy was revving engines and spinning tires. Snow sprayed when some of the wheels skidded out, sliding on the riverbank. A cacophony of noise, a distraction. Hopefully.

“Stay safe,” he radioed back.

8

Northern Siberian Permafrost

ALOW HUM FILTERED through Sasha’s fuzzy mind, a droning warble. Smoke stung his nostrils. His eyes burned.

Swimming through a dark haze, he struggled to make sense of the world. Molasses-slow, he watched his thoughts drip through his mind like fat drops of water, quivering before falling away. The Kara Sea. The missile, his ejection. Sergey’s face, his smile. TheSpetsnazlieutenant. The forest. Sergey’s laugh. Falling into the snow. The look on Sergey’s face, just after he’d kissed him.